Slightly Shady (24 page)

mouth tightened. "I do hope he's not drunk. Pomfrey is quite capable of making an ass of himself when he's in his cups." "I am very well aware of that. I cannot allow him to make another scene. Not here in Lady Colchester's ballroom." Lavinia snapped her fan closed and moved out of the alcove. "I must put a stop to this. I will be right back." "Try to stay calm, Lavinia. I assure you that Lady Colchester won't allow any unpleasant behavior to occur in her ballroom." Lavinia did not respond. She pushed her way through the crowd as discreetly as possible. Her progress was not an easy affair. She lost sight of her objective on several occasions when large persons loomed in front of her. When she finally emerged, a trifle breathless, on the far side of the dance floor, she saw that Emeline had matters in hand. Pomfrey was already turning away He did not even notice Lavinia bearing down on him. Emeline's eyes lit with amusement. "It's all right. Pomfrey merely wanted to apologize for the events at the theater the other evening." "As well he should." Lavinia came to a halt and glowered at Poraftey's retreating back. Emeline smiled at the confused-looking Mr. Geddis. "Thank you, Sir." "My pleasure." Geddis collected himself, bowed over her hand, and quickly hurried off into the crowd. Lavinia watched him depart. "He seemed very nice." "Try not to look so wistful," Emeline said. "It is embarrassing." "Come, we must return to the alcove where Mrs. Dove is waiting." She led the way around the edge of the dance floor, forging a trail through the crowd. Emeline followed close behind her. When they broke through the last barrier of guests, however, she saw that the alcove was empty save for a harried-looking footman who was collecting used glasses on a tray Lavinia halted, a shock of panic washing through her. "She's gone." "I'm sure she's somewhere nearby," Emeline said soothingly. "She would not have left without telling you where she was going.,, "She's gone, I tell you." Lavinia grabbed a nearby chair and hopped up onto it. "I cannot see her anywhere." The footman stared at her, appalled. Emeline turned on her heel, searching the crowd. "Neither can 1. Perhaps she went into the card room." Lavinia clutched her skirts and jumped down from the chair. She pinned the footman. "Did you see a lady in a silver-gray gown? She was standing here in this very spot a few minutes ago." "Yes, ma'am. I gave her the message and she left." Lavinia and Emeline exchanged a glance. Then they both moved in on the footman. "What message?" Lavinia demanded. The hapless footman was clearly terrified. Sweat beaded his brow. "I don't know what it said, ma'am. It was written on a piece of paper. I didn't read it. I was instructed to give it to her and I did. She glanced at it and left immediately." Lavinia took another step toward him. "Who gave you the message to give to her?" The footman swallowed and took another step back. His nervous gaze switched from Lavinia to Emeline and then returned to Lavinia. "One of the footmen hired for the evening gave me the message. I don't know him. He didn't say who gave him the note." Lavinia turned to Emeline. "I will take that side of the room. You take the other. We shall meet at the far end." "Yes." Emeline started to turn away, "Emeline." Lavinia grabbed her arm to get her attention. "Do not leave the ballroom under any circumstances, do you understand? " Emeline nodded and plunged headlong into the crowd. Lavinia whirled and threaded her way into the throng on the terrace side of the long ballroom. She was halfway toward the buffet when it occurred to her that she would have a much better view of the room from the interior balcony that encircled the chamber. She changed direction and veered toward the staircase. A few eyebrows rose when she pushed her way determinedly through the crush. There were some rude remarks, but for the most part, people ignored her. She gained the stairs and managed by an effort of will not to break into a run. When she reached the balcony, she gripped the railing and looked down. There was no sign of Joan's silver-gray gown among the hundreds of glowing satins and silks below. She forced herself to think logically What if there had been something in the message that had provoked Joan to leave the safety of the ballroom? She turned and crossed to the windows overlooking the vast gardens. She opened one and leaned out. The hedges and shrubs nearest the house were flooded with the light spilling from the French doors that lined the terrace side of the ballroom. The illu- mination did not extend far, however. Most of the heavily planted landscape lay in darkness. She could just make out the looming shape of a large stone monument. A tribute to Lady Colchester's late husband, no doubt. A flash of movement near a hedge caught her eye. She turned her head quickly and glimpsed pale satin skirts. In the shadows it was impossible to make out the color of the gown, nor could she see the woman's face, but something about the long stride and the fact that the lady was alone told Lavinia everything she needed to know. She thought about calling out to the hurrying figure, but she doubted that Joan would be able to hear her over the laughter and music. She whipped around, spotted a smaller staircase at the end of the balcony, and rushed toward it. A footman carrying a tray of canaps appeared just as she was about to descend. "Can I get outside into the gardens from here?" she asked. "Yes, ma'am. There's a door at the foot of the steps." "Thank you." She grabbed the banister and used it to steady herself as she plunged downward. She found the door at the bottom of the small staircase, opened it, and stepped out into the chilly darkness. There was no one about. Those guests who sought a breath of fresh air had confined themselves to the terrace. It occurred to her that if the woman in the pale gown continued in the direction in which she had been headed a moment ago, she would intersect with the monument. The stone memorial would be a natural choice for a meeting point in this vast garden. She picked up her skirts and hurried away from the lights toward the monument. The laughter and music faded as she moved deeper into the ornately cut hedges and plantings. The graveled path spun away into the shadows. She could feel the small pebbles through the thin soles of her dancing slippers. She rounded the end of a hedge that was a foot higher than she was and saw the columns of the monument. Its cavernous interior was drenched in inky darkness. Something moved in the deep river of night that flowed just inside the entrance. With the flap of a huge bat wing, it vanished. She opened her mouth to call out to Joan but stopped before she uttered a word. The bat-wing shape she had glimpsed could well have been the comer of a greatcoat. Whoever lurked inside the ruin was not Joan. She could not even be certain it was a woman. A man awaiting a lady with whom he had planned a tryst, perhaps. She hovered in the thick shadows of the hedge for a few seconds, suddenly very conscious of the chill in the air. Out of the comer of her eye, she caught the glint of watery moonlight on pale satin. Joan emerged from the dense foliage near the edge of the monument. She paused next to one of the stone columns. Then she started toward the dark entrance. Suddenly Lavinia understood. 'Joan, no!" Lavinia hurried toward her. "Don't go inside." Startled, Joan turned quickly. "Lavinia? What are you-" There was a sudden rush of movement from the entrance of the monument. "Look out!" Lavinia seized Joan's arm and hauled her away from the pillar. A figure garbed in a greatcoat and hat rushed from the monument and disappeared into the deep darkness of the vast garden. Moonlight gleamed for an instant on what appeared to be a length of iron. "I would not even think of giving chase, if I were you," Joan said. "Something tells me Mr. March would not approve." here is, of course, only one reason why I would have rushed out into the garden without waiting to tell you what had occurred, Lavinia," Joan said wearily. "I received a message informing me that my daughter's life was in danger and that I must meet the messenger at the garden monument at once for further details. I fear I succumbed to panic." "It never occurred to you the message was a lure meant to get you away from the safety of the ballroom?" Tobias asked. Lavinia, seated on the velvet cushions opposite, gave him a look he recognized immediately He ignored it. He knew very well his tone had been harsh, but he did not care a jot if he had offended Joan's sensibilities. He was not in a good mood. When he had walked into the Colchester ballroom with Anthony a short time ago and discovered that both Joan and Lavinia had disappeared, he had been ready to tear the house apart. It was Emeline who had prevented him from creating a truly memorable scene. She had been watching for signs of Lavinia and Joan from the balcony and had just spotted the pair slinking back through the gardens. Tobias had whisked all of them away at once, commandeering Joan's elegant carriage without a by-your-leave. Joan had made no protest as he had bundled her, together with Lavinia, Emeline, Anthony, and himself, into the vehicle. It was only after they were all secure inside the cab that Lavinia had given him a crisply rendered version of events in the ballroom and the garden. The cold satisfaction he had experienced upon finding the letter in Neville's wardrobe had immediately evaporated. All he could think about at that moment was that Joan had not only placed herself at risk in the night-shrouded garden, she had caused Lavinia to rush into grave peril too. Absently he flexed his hand on his thigh, seeking to ease the dull ache. Joan's elegant, well-sprung carriage was considerably more comfortable than the hackney Anthony had secured earlier to pluck him off the street, but the soft cushions did nothing to assuage his temper. "I am not a stupid woman, Mr. March." Joan looked out the carriage window. "I realized the message might be bait. But it implied a threat to my daughter. I had no choice but to obey the summons. I was really quite frantic." "A perfectly understandable response," Lavinia said bracingly, "Any parent would have done the same. And not just any parent, I might add." She shot a meaningful look at Tobias. "What would you have done, sir, if you had received a message indicating Anthony was in great danger?" Anthony made an odd sound that might have been a smothered snort of laughter. Tobias swallowed an oath. The answer to her question was obvious to all of them. What would he have done had he received a message indicating Lavinia was in jeopardy? He knew the answer to that question too. There was no point in continuing this line of argument, he thought. Lavinia was firmly on the side of her client. "It seems quite clear," Lavinia said, moving decisively to change the subject, "that Neville set the stage for all of the events this evening. I would not be surprised to learn that he even provoked Pomfrey into making the apology to Emeline because he wanted to create a distraction." Emeline's brows drew together in a considering look. "Do you think he arranged to have a message delivered to himself as well as to Mrs. Dove?" "It appears that way, does it not? It gave him the perfect excuse to leave the ballroom. If anyone inquires, there will no doubt be a number of people who can testtfy to the fact that he received a summons and was obliged to leave." "But he left the house through the front door," Anthony said. "Which meant one of the footmen would have brought him his greatcoat and hat," Lavinia said softly. "It also allowed him to go to his carriage to collect the poker or whatever it was he carried as a weapon." Emeline nodded. "Yes, that makes sense. It would have been simple enough for him to make his way back into the Colchester gardens unseen. The grounds are quite extensive. There must be any number of places where one could go over the wall." "When my body was eventually discovered, there would have been nothing to link Neville to the crime of murder," Joan said softly. Tobias saw Lavinia give a small but distinct shudder. "It all fits," Anthony said. "Neville tried to kill you tonight, just as he killed those other women. Perhaps he intended to dump your body into the river too. He could have hauled it there in his carriage easily enough." Joan gave him an odd look. "Such a vivid imagination you have, Sir." Anthony grimaced with embarrassment. "Sorry." Joan's mouth twisted wryly "One cannot help but wonder if he intended to give his private artist a commission to create a death mask of me. Just imagine, my features might well have wound up on one of those erotic statues in Huggett's Museum." For a moment no one spoke. Joan turned to Tobias, her eyes grim and somber. "It would seem that you and Lavinia are correct in your analysis of this matter, Sir. I am forced to conclude that Neville is indeed a murderer and quite possibly a member of this Blue Chamber you described. I can scarcely credit that my husband was the master of a criminal organization, but nothing else makes any sense. Evidently, Neville thinks I know too much and he wishes to silence me." Lavinia sat down behind her desk a short while later. Anthony crouched in front of the hearth to light the fire. Emeline took one of the reading chairs. Tobias opened the sherry cabinet. Lavinia watched him pour two glasses of sherry. Something about the way he moved told her his leg was aching badly. Little wonder. He had given it a great deal of exercise tonight. "Do you think Joan Dove is telling the truth when she claims she never knew her husband was Azure?" Anthony asked of no one in particular. "Who can say?" Tobias put a glass down on the desk in front of Lavinia and took a swallow of sherry from his own. "Gentlemen in the ton rarely discuss any of their affairs, financial or otherwise, with their wives. As Lavinia said, widows are often the last to become acquainted with details of the family assets. It would certainly have been possible for Dove to keep his wife in the dark concerning his criminal activities.,, "She knew," Lavinia said softly There was a startled pause. Everyone looked at her. She shrugged. "She is a very intelligent woman. She loved him deeply and theirs was clearly a very close bond. She had to know, or at least suspect, that Fielding Dove was Azure." Emeline nodded. "I agree." "Whatever the case may be, she will certainly never admit it," Tobias said. "One can hardly blame her," Lavinia said. "in her place, I would do anything I could to conceal the truth." "For fear of gossip?" Tobias asked with mild interest. "No," Lavinia said. "Mrs. Dove is perfectly capable of withstanding a storm of gossip." "You are right," Tobias said. "There are other reasons why a woman would do whatever was necessary to
protect her husband's good name," Lavinia said. Tobias elevated one brow. "Such as?" "Love. Devotion." She studied the sherry in the glass in front of her. "That sort of thing." Tobias watched the flames. "Yes, of course. That sort of thing." There was another lengthy silence. This time Emeline broke it. "You have not told us what you discovered in Neville's mansion tonight, Mr. March," she said. He lounged against the mantel. "I found a letter that links Neville to Bennett Ruckland's death. It appears he paid Carlisle a large sum of money to see to it that Ruckland was murdered in Rome." Anthony whistled softly. "So it is finished at last." "Almost." Tobias downed more sherry. Lavinia frowned. "What do you mean? What is going on here? " Tobias looked at her. "The time has come to give you a bit more background on this matter." She narrowed her eyes. "Proceed, Sir." "Bennett Ruckland was an explorer and a student of antiquities. During the war, he spent a good deal of time in Spain and Italy. His profession occasionally put him in the way of being able to acquire information that was useful to the Crown." "What sort of information?" Tobias swirled the sherry in his glass. "In the course of his work, he sometimes learned the details of French shipping routes, heard rumors concerning the movement of military supplies and troops. That sort of thing." Emeline looked intrigued. "In other words, he served as a spy?" "Yes." Tobias paused a beat. "His contact in England, the man to whom he reported this information, was Lord Neville." Lavinia went very still. "Oh my." "The information Ruckland supplied to Neville via a chain of couriers was supposedly turned over to the proper authorities. And, indeed, much of it was." "But not all of it?" "No. But Ruckland did not discover the truth until after the war. About a year ago he went back to Italy to continue his scholarly research. While he was there, one of his old informants told him of some rumors concerning the fate of a particular shipment of goods that had been sent from Spain by the French late in the war. The intended destination was Paris. Ruckland had obtained details of the secret route and had reported them to Neville at the time." "Military supplies?" Emeline asked. Tobias shook his head. "Antiquities. Napoleon was very keen on such things. When he invaded Egypt, for example, he brought along a host of scholars to study the artifacts and temples there." "Everyone knows that. The Rosetta stone was among those artifacts, after all, and we have it now, safe and sound," Anthony said. "Continue with your tale," Lavinia said. "What sort of antiquities were included in this shipment you mentioned?" "Many valuable things. Among them was a collection of ancient jeweled objects that Napoleon's men had discovered concealed in a convent in Spain." "What happened?" "The shipment of jewels and antiquities vanished en route to Paris," Tobias said. "Ruckland assumed that Neville had arranged to have the shipment intercepted and taken to England. And, in a way, that is precisely what happened." Lavinia frowned. "What do you mean?" "The antiquities certainly disappeared on schedule," Tobias said. "But after talking to his old informant in Italy last year, Ruckland began to suspect that Neville had stolen the shipment for himself. He began to make inquiries. One question led to another." Lavinia exhaled slowly. "Ruckland uncovered information about the Blue Chamber, didn't he?" "Yes. Do not forget that he had had a great deal of experience as a spy He knew how to conduct an investigation. He also had a network of old informants left over from the war. He started turn- ing over stones and found snakes." She took a quick sip of sherry. "One of which was named Lord Neville? " "Ruckland learned that not only had Neville stolen any number of valuable cargos during the war, he had also betrayed his country on several occasions by selling British military information to France." "Neville was a traitor?" "Yes. And well connected to the criminal class because of his association with the Blue Chamber. He too had informants. A few months ago he learned that Ruckland was investigating his activities and getting close to the truth. He made arrangements with the other surviving member of the Blue Chamber, Carlisle, to get rid of Ruckland. " Tobias's jaw tightened. "The business cost Neville ten thousand pounds." Lavinia's mouth fell open. "Ten thousand pounds? To kill a man? But that's a fortune. We both know there are any number of footpads in any city in Europe, including Rome, who would have committed murder for a handful of coins." "The ten thousand was not intended to cover the cost of mur- der," Tobias said evenly. "It was a premium charged because of Neville's delicate position. Carlisle knew Neville would pay any price for silence." "Yes, of course," Lavinia muttered. "One criminal blackmailing another. There is a sort of irony in that, is there not?" "Perhaps," Tobias said. "In any event, Neville must have been greatly relieved when the matter was settled. With Ruckland dead, he could proceed with his plans to take control of what was left of the Blue Chamber organization here in England." Anthony looked at Lavinia. "But what Neville did not know was that Ruckland had already reported his suspicions to certain highly placed gentlemen. When he was murdered in Rome, they immediately knew it had likely not been a random killing. " "Hah." Lavinia slammed both palms flat on the desk and looked grimly at Tobias. "I knew it. I knew there was more to this than you had told me. Neville never really was your client, was he?" Tobias exhaled slowly. "Well, it depends on your view of the situation." She leveled a finger at him. "Don't even think of trying to wriggle out of the truth here. Who hired you to look into Ruckland's death?" "A man named Crackenburne." Lavinia turned to Emeline. "I told you Mr. March was playing a deep game, did I not?" Emeline smiled. "Yes, Aunt Lavinia. You did say something of the kind." Lavinia switched back to Tobias. "How did your connection with Neville come about?" "When rumors of the valet's diary began to circulate soon after Carlisle's death, I saw a chance to tighten the web around Neville. I approached him in my capacity as a man of business and an opportunist and told him of the dangerous gossip. I offered my services to locate it." "Neville was desperate to find the diary," Anthony explained. "He had no way of knowing exactly what was in it, but he feared it could expose him." "I suspect that shortly after he employed me to find the diary, Neville himself received one of Holton Felix's little blackmail notes," Tobias said. "He tracked Felix to his rooms, just as you and I did, Lavinia, but he got to him first, murdered him, and took the diary." "He could hardly explain that to you, however, so he allowed you to continue your inquiries, and when he judged the time was right, he arranged for you to find the thing burned to cinders," Lavinia concluded. "Yes." She met his eyes. "Tobias, when Lord Neville returns home tonight, he will learn there was an intruder in his house. That guard you fought with will inform him." "No doubt." "He will suspect you. He might well decide you know too much. You must end this thing now. Immediately. Tonight." "Odd you should bring up the subject." He finished the last of the sherry and put down the glass. "I intend to do precisely that." gas lamp marked the front steps of the brothel. The weak --ball of light was little match for the fog-drenched darkness. Tobias stood in the shadows and watched the door open. Neville emerged. He paused long enough to pull the high collar of his greatcoat up around his ears and then he went down the steps without looking to the right or the left. He strode quickly toward the carriage that stood waiting in the street. The coachman, draped in a heavy, many-tiered coat, waited, unmoving and silent. Tobias stepped from the shadows and stopped a few paces away from Neville. He was careful to stay just outside the small spill of light from the gas lamp. "I see you got my message," he said. " What the devil?" Neville started violently and whipped around. His hand went into the pocket of his greatcoat. When he saw Tobias, some of the tension seeped out of his stance. "Bloody hell, March, you gave me a start. You ought to know better than to sneak up on a man in this part of town. You're liable to get yourself shot." "At this distance and in this very poor light, it is unlikely your pistol would hit your target, especially if you tried to shoot through the fabric of your coat." Neville scowled but he did not take his hand out of his pocket. "I got your message but I thought you were going to meet me at my club. What's this all about? Do you have some news? Have you found the person who killed Felix and took the diary?" "I grow weary of this game," Tobias said. "You have no more time to play it, in any event." Neville scowled. "What the devil are you talking about, man?" "It ends here. Tonight. There will be no more killing." "What's this? Are you accusing me of murder?" "Several murders," Tobias said. "Including that of Bennett Ruckland." "Ruckland?" Neville fell back a step. He yanked his hand out of his pocket to reveal the pistol he held. "You're mad. I had nothing to do with his death. I was here in London at the time he died. I can prove it." "We both know you arranged for his murder." Tobias glanced at the pistol Neville was pointing at him and then switched his gaze back to the man's face. "When you return home tonight, you will learn there was an intruder in your house while you were out." Neville frowned. Then his eyes widened in rage. "You." "I found a certain letter that provides a great deal of evidence against you." Neville looked stunned. "A letter." "Addressed to you and signed by Carlisle. It summarizes the arrangements for Ruckland's death quite succinctly." "No. Impossible. Absolutely impossible." Neville raised his voice to call to the coachman. "You there, on the box. Take out your pistol. Keep an eye on this man. He's threatening me." "Aye, sir." The coachman eased aside the edge of his coat. Light glinted on the barrel of a gun. The pistol in Neville's hand steadied. He was more assured now that he knew his coachman was prepared to defend him. "Let me see this letter you claim to have found," Neville snarled. "Out of curiosity," Tobias said, ignoring the demand, "how much did you make off your dealings with the French during the war? How many men died because of the information you sold to Napoleon? What did you do with that hoard of jewels you stole from the Spanish convent?" "You can prove nothing. Nothing. You are trying to frighten me. There is no record of my dealings with the French. They were destroyed along with the letteryou say you found. it no longer exists, I tell you." Tobias smiled slightly "I turned it over to a very high-ranking gentleman who expressed great interest in it." "No. " "Tell me, Neville, did you really believe you could assume Azure's position as master of the Blue Chamber?" Something snapped in Neville's expression. Rage leaped. "Damn you to bloody hell, March. I am the new master of the Blue Chamber." "You murdered Fielding Dove, didn't you? That sudden illness he suffered on the last visit to one of his estates-poison, I assume?" "I had to get rid of him. Dove started making inquiries after the war ended, you see. I do not know what brought my dealings with the French to his attention, but he was furious when he learned of them." "He ran a vast criminal organization but he was, at heart, a loyal Englishman, is that it? He drew the line at treason." Neville shrugged. "Mind you, during the war he had nothing against Carlisle or myself taking advantage of certain investment opportunities that came our way There was money to be made supplying the military with weapons, equipment, grain, and women. And then there were the odd shipments of stolen gold and jewels to be had if one had access to certain information." "Business was business. But Azure would not tolerate the selling of British secrets. He discovered what you had done." "Yes." Neville tightened his grip on the pistol. "Fortunately, I learned in time that he had marked me for death, and I took action. I had no choice but to see him dead, and quickly It was a matter of survival." "Indeed." "Had the advantage of surprise, you see. He never knew I had been warned that he was plotting against me. Even so, it probably would not have been possible to dispatch him so easily ten or fifteen years ago. But Azure was getting old, you see. Starting to lose his grip." "Did you really think you could handle an organization like the Blue Chamber?" Neville drew himself up. "I am Azure now. Under my guidance and direction the Blue Chamber will become far more powerful than it was when Dove was in charge. Within a year or two, I will be the most powerful man in Europe." "Napoleon had a similar vision. You see where it got him." "I will not make the mistake of engaging in politics. I shall stick to business." "How many women did you kill?" Neville tensed. "You know about the whores?" "I am well aware that you have attempted to tie up a few loose ends and in doing so you have murdered several innocent women." "Bah. They were not innocents. They were harlots. They had no families. No one even noticed when they died." "You didn't want them to completely disappear, did you? You wanted trophies of your handiwork. What is the name of the artist you commissioned to make those waxworks in Huggett's upstairs gallery? " Neville gave a crack of laughter. "You know about the waxworks? Amusing, are they not? I must say, I'm impressed with your thoroughness, March. I had no notion you were so good at your business." "There was no need to kill them, Neville. They were no threat to a man in your position. No one would have listened to them. No one would have taken their 'word against that of a gentleman." "I cannot afford to take any chances. Some of those light-skirts are a bit too clever for their own good. It's possible they learned too much about me in the course of our association." Neville's mouth twisted. "A man sometimes grows talkative after he's had a few bottles of wine and he finds himself with a lusty young woman who is so very eager to please him." "You did not silence all of them. Have you seen or heard of Sally recently?" "The bitch got away, but she will be found," Neville vowed. "She cannot hide in the stews forever." "She is not the only one who eluded you. Joan Dove also survived the attempt you made against her." That statement gave Neville serious pause. He tightened his hold on the pistol. "So you know about her too? You have been digging deeply. So deeply, in fact, that you have succeeded in digging your own grave." "You are right to fear her, Neville. Unlike the others, she is clever, powerful, and well