The Bellingham Bloodbath (22 page)

S
ergeant Mulrooney was furious. We had presented ourselves at the Chelsea Barracks, not far from Parliament on Chelsea Bridge Road, and made our presence known to the officer in charge. While he had been quite disturbed by our reprehensibly late intrusion, reminding us repeatedly that it was after one in the morning, he had agreed to allow us access to Sergeant Mulrooney after Colin mentioned the Bellingham murders, Scotland Yard, and our sovereign herself, referring to her vaguely as the increasingly alarmed Mrs. Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. That had finally forced the man to jump to the obvious conclusion without Colin having to completely perjure himself. Nevertheless, Sergeant Mulrooney was another matter entirely.

“This is bloody well insufferable!” he bellowed at us, his face ferocious with rage. “Who the hell do you think you are, wheedling your way in here and disturbing me with this rot in the middle of the night?! This is unconscionable. This is—”

“Oh, come now, Sergeant,” Colin interrupted, his tone soft and smooth. “Doesn't our arrival at this ungodly hour stir the least curiosity in you?”

The man's frown deepened. “And why would it? Do you think I don't know why you're here?”

“Then do you care so little about your sister?”

“To hell with you!” he growled. “You rouse me in the middle of the night to judge my character?! I'll not stand for this.” And with that, he strode to the door with the clear intent to be done with us.

“Is it shame for your sister's husband that drives such vehemence from you?” Colin asked, his voice tightening appreciably. “Is that what you would have me understand, sir?”

Sergeant Mulrooney came to a halt just inside the small room, his posture ramrod straight as he glared out into the hallway, wondering, I presumed, whether he shouldn't just keep walking. “What would you know of any of that?” he said after a moment, his tone as rigid as his manner.

“More than you can imagine,” Colin shot back, before adding, “I am an investigator, Sergeant. I am paid quite handsomely to find things out. Now may we have this discussion so our intrusion is not without reason?”

“I have nothing to add to what you already seem to have learned!” he snapped, his back still toward us.

“And I should like to judge that for myself. Will you not sit down for even a minute? We have already done the damage to your night.”

“I shall not,” he seethed.

Colin glared at me and I tried to encourage him to remain calm with the look in my eyes. As the man had yet to step from the room, I considered that progress. “Very well then,” Colin said brusquely as he stood up. “When did you discover that your brother-in-law had proclivities outside of his marriage?”

The sergeant didn't answer for a moment and I thought perhaps he had no intention of doing so, but just as it seemed his silence was the only answer we would get, he slowly turned and leveled a most hateful gaze on Colin. “Is that what it's to be then, Mr. Pendragon? Euphemisms?” He took a step back into the room, his body hulking in the doorway. “Trevor was an abomination and I have nothing but pity for my sister for shielding him.”

“Pity, is it?”

“Her misguided affections made her a casualty in this war.”

“And was it your war, Sergeant?”

“It is the war of every God-fearing man, woman, and child. Does that include you, Mr. Pendragon?” His eyes flipped between Colin and me, but I refused to allow even the slightest reaction.

“Then I don't believe we share the same God, Sergeant,” Colin fired back. “For mine would never condone such ignorance.”

Sergeant Mulrooney scoffed at him before, quite suddenly, taking a step back and spitting on the floor. Before either of us could react, he stalked out.

F
or reasons I have never understood, the hour before dawn is always the coldest. Even though I was well insulated in a thick woolen coat that ended well below my knees with a cashmere scarf around my neck and a cap on my head, I could still feel the bracing chill of the predawn air fingering at my bones. I stomped my feet and rocked from side to side as though such antics might truly warm me, but they were of little use. At least the cold was keeping me awake after my woefully brief two-hour nap.

I was stationed at the fountain outside Buckingham's main gate scanning for signs of Corporal Bramwood. The only company I had was a bent street cleaner laboring over horse droppings with a shovel and cart. I had begun to suspect that perhaps Corporal Bramwood had chosen this reprehensible time simply because he knew I wouldn't dare refuse him, that he would show up in an hour or more with a jolly smirk upon his face. Even so, I had given my word and would wait until noon if I had to, god forbid.

The street cleaner gradually moved farther down the promenade and I braced myself for a protracted wait just as a carriage entered the parade grounds from out of Green Park. I prayed it was Corporal Bramwood. I had thought the young man would arrive on foot, but the carriage was old and well worn, and I decided an enterprising young corporal could commandeer such a benefit for himself. He would likely send it right back out to collect his major.

I began walking toward the approaching carriage, and just as I guessed it would, it veered in my direction as I reached the cobbled path by the palace gates. I wondered if the young man was surprised that I had kept my word and whether he might, in some small fashion, be disappointed. I pulled Captain Bellingham's letter from my pocket as the driver brought the carriage to a stop directly beside me. Nothing less would be expected from one of the Queen's horsemen.

The door swung wide, and before my eyes could adjust to the darkness within I sensed that something was terribly wrong. Corporal Bramwood's face was ashen and drawn, his eyes as red as a wound, and for a moment I thought perhaps he had suffered the same sort of sleepless night I had, and that was when Major Hampstead leaned forward with a grand smile upon his face. “What a pleasure to see you so early this morning, Mr. Pruitt.” He leered. “Get the letter, Corporal.”

Corporal Bramwood's desperate gaze did not leave my face as he reached out and pulled the letter from my fingers. He looked stricken and neither of us said a word as he leaned back in his seat, looking as though he wished it would swallow him outright.

“And where is Mr. Pendragon?” the major asked. “Sends you to do the shite errands, eh?”

“He's working,” I answered, but it sounded hollow even to me.

“Well, do me a favor and give him a message, will you?” I nodded mutely. “Given that he has seen fit to coerce one of the more impressionable members of my staff, not to mention denigrating himself by pilfering state property, I have decided it is time to end this charade—”

“We have stolen nothing,” I interrupted, holding out my empty hands as though that were proof even as the hair on the back of my neck bristled with dread.

Major Hampstead waved me off with a grunt. “Please don't demean yourself, Mr. Pruitt. Your willingness to manipulate this young man into disobeying a direct order is venal, and yet I shall overlook it.” He glowered at Corporal Bramwood before sliding his eyes back to me. “But in return for my generosity your Mr. Pendragon will address the newspapermen as quickly as I can assemble them. I will expect him at my office at eleven o'clock. Five hours from now. Do let him know, won't you?”

I nodded again, certain my voice would not work.

“You're lucky I don't throw you both in the brig!” the major growled, pounding his fist on the carriage ceiling and setting it in motion at once.

The door slammed shut as it glided away, leaving me standing there as the first pink tendrils of the rising sun stretched across the sky in an effort to abate the cold. My brain and insides took turns revolting as I made way down the central parade route toward Trafalgar. Time was even a more precious commodity now, yet I could not stop myself from walking back to our flat until a lumbering carriage crossed my path, making it impossible to ignore. Only then did I halfheartedly hail it and allow myself to be delivered home with some haste. I paused on the steps of our flat and pulled out my watch: four and a half hours left.

I let myself in and gently swung the door shut. My head ached and I don't believe my stomach could have been more sour if I had licked the floor. I poked my head into the kitchen and caught Mrs. Behmoth stirring a pot. She glared at me with a knit brow and said, “Wot?”

“Something smells good,” I lied.

“Porridge,” she tsked. “Same as yesterday, same as tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course. Colin still home?”

“ 'E's in the bath.”

“Good,” I said for no reason, and got a scowl for my efforts. “And Lady Priscilla?”

“Asleep in me room, so don't go disturbin' 'er. She's 'ad enough without you pawin' 'er. Now go on.”

I moved back to the foyer and looked at the stairs. There was nothing else to do but go up.

By the time I reached the bathroom door I had already considered a half-dozen ways to break the news to Colin. Even so, as I raised my fist to knock I had yet to settle on the best.

“What is it?” his voice drifted out.

“It's me,” I answered, poking my head inside.

“Hurry up. Don't let the cold air in.” He was reclining in the tub with a wet cloth draped across his face. “How did everything go?”

I closed the door and leaned against it, glad his face was covered. “W-w-well . . . ,” I stammered.

“He didn't show up?” Colin mumbled through the cloth.

“He showed up.” I sucked in a ragged breath. “And Major Hampstead was with him.”

“Hampstead? What the hell was he doing there?”

“Looking for me. He knew I had coerced Corporal Bramwood into giving me the letter. The poor young man looked terrified.”

“Pity.”

“But that isn't the worst of it—” My voice cracked and I clumsily cleared my throat. “Because of my manipulation of Corporal Bramwood, the major is demanding that you be at his office at eleven to address the newsmen. I'm so sorry, Colin.”

He reached up and dragged the cloth from his face to reveal an expression of grim determination. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I have been an utter fool about this case. Hand me a towel, would you?” he said as he bolted up, sending water everywhere.

“What?” I asked, unsure I'd really heard him correctly.

“Eleven will be fine, though there is much to be done by then. What time is it now?”

“Half past six.”

“Four and a half hours . . . ,” he muttered, hopping out of the tub and tying the towel about his waist. “We will do this,” he vowed as he flung the door open and burst from the room. I stood there a moment, fully startled, unable to think of anything better to do than lean over and yank the plug from the drain.
“Come on!”
I heard him holler. And that was all I needed to go rushing after him.

I
was tasked with two errands to be accomplished in just a hair less than two hours. It seemed a credible request, yet I was keenly aware that the slightest event unaccounted for would be enough to delay me past the nine forty-five deadline Colin had set for us to meet back at Buckingham. What concerned me, however, was that his timing determination hadn't taken into account the human factor, the very thing we had the least control over.

As my cab slowed among the row of houses lining Regent's Park, I leaned over and peered inside the small canvas bag nestled beside me. Lady Priscilla lay inside, curled up on a swirl of the pink blanket. The pug's fatigue was evident in that she didn't stir, her cream-colored chest rising and falling with the gentle rhythm of deep sleep. Lady Nesbitt-Normand would be ecstatic. Nevertheless, it was imperative for me to make a quick exit so I could get to Lancaster Gate as well. If the streets became impassable I would have little choice but to sprint or retreat into the Underground, two options wholly unappealing.

My furry companion and I were deposited outside the Nesbitt-Normand home and quickly made our way up the circular drive. It was evident my young charge knew precisely where she was, as she suddenly woke up and began jostling about inside the bag the closer we got to the door. By the time I stood on the portico, the bag cradled in both arms, the pup's whimpering anticipation was incontestable. I couldn't help but laugh as I grabbed the bronze knocker and slammed it firmly.

Mrs. Holloway opened the door so quickly that I wondered if she hadn't been waiting right there. “Oh,” she said with curiosity, “it's you, Mr. Pruitt.”

“It is.” I smiled. “Is Her Ladyship at home? I think she will be most pleased to receive me.”

Mrs. Holloway's eyes dropped to the squirming bag in my arms and her breath caught. “Oh my,” she gasped.
“Oh my!”
I grinned as she ushered me to the study. “Don't move,” she gushed. “I shall have Lady Nesbitt-Normand here before you can even sit down.” She ran from the study like a giggling schoolgirl, bounding up the stairs two at a time as though they were less than standard size.

I put the satchel containing Lady Priscilla onto the floor near the fireplace. The sides of the bag bulged and flattened randomly over the course of a minute and I knew the little pup was shuffling her blanket in anticipation of lying down again. She had no sooner settled when a blast of commotion drifted in from the foyer.

“Mrs. Holloway tells me you've brought some sort of parcel?!” Lady Nesbitt-Normand squealed as she burst into the study, Mrs. Holloway on her heels. “Tell me it's what I think . . . ,” she begged, her face as full of hope as a youngster's on Christmas morning.

“Mrs. Holloway has not steered you wrong.” I grinned, stepping back to reveal the little carrier now quite alive with motion and whining.

“Oh!” Lady Nesbitt-Normand nearly swooned at the sight, a hand racing up to her chest as though her heart were on the verge of seizing.
“Oh my lord!”
she gasped as she rocketed forward like a tidal wave.
“My baby!”
she cried, scooping the frenzied dog out of the bag and into her arms. “It's a miracle. How did you find her?
Where
did you find her?”

“A dognapping ring,” I answered as Colin had instructed. “Very bad business, but I think you will find your little lady all the same for it.” It was as close to the truth as we could offer, given Colin's deal with Edwina Easterbrooke. “Mr. Pendragon disbanded the entire operation. I believe you will find your dear girl much safer now.” And that, at least, was fully true.

“I am simply overcome!” Lady Nesbitt-Normand beamed as she pressed the little pup to her chest.

“There now,” Mrs. Holloway piped up. “The day has gotten better already.”

“It has . . . it has . . .” Lady Nesbitt-Normand agreed, plying Lady Priscilla with a bathing of kisses. “And to think how distraught I was just a short time ago.”

“Had you lost faith in Mr. Pendragon?” I chided.

“Heavens no!” she squealed as the little pug batted at her face with an errant paw. “Not at all, Mr. Pruitt. It's Elsa. She left us during the night. Put some terrible note on her door and spirited away. Mrs. Holloway found it. What did it say?”

“That she felt responsible for Lady Priscilla's disappearance and had no option but to resign.”

“Just dreadful,” Lady Nesbitt-Normand muttered, putting the dog on the couch as she settled in beside her. “I suppose it
is
the noble thing to do, but I hardly relish finding a new trainer.”

I shook my head with a smile even as I sidled toward the door. “Any trainer would be honored to work with such a beautiful ward. But you must excuse me, as I have business to attend to for Mr. Pendragon. May I give him your good wishes?”

“You may give him more than that!” Lady Nesbitt-Normand heaved herself off the couch and went round to a desk on the far side of the room. “I had a bank draft prepared for him. I knew he would succeed.” She tossed me a coquettish smile as she reached into one of the drawers and yanked out a check. “You shall give this to him with my deepest gratitude.”

I glanced down at the draft as she handed it over and saw a number many times larger than what we had agreed upon. “Oh, madam,” I almost choked, “you are too generous. We cannot possibly accept this amount for only three days' work.”

“Fie.” She waved me off. “You can and you will. I'll not hear another word about it. And you must give Mr. Pendragon one more thing.”

“Of course.” I nodded, now prepared to do whatever she asked. Even so, I was quite taken by surprise when she suddenly stepped forward and seized me in a great, plastering hug. The air heaved from my lungs as she squeezed me, and then just as abruptly she released me again and stepped back with a beatific smile.

“I am a fortunate woman,” she said, “but you and Mr. Pendragon have returned the one blessing that means more to me than anything else in this world. I could never thank you enough.”

The sincerity of her words struck me as much as the glistening tears that sprang to the corners of her eyes. “It has been our privilege,” I said, my own emotion catching in my throat. I looked at Mrs. Holloway and found her grinning happily and could not help the smile that spread across my face. As I let my eyes drift over her shoulder to a clock on the far wall, however, my pleasure came to an immediate end: eight thirty-five. My smile curdled as I realized I had just over an hour to get all the way to Lady Stuart's and back to Buckingham, an assuredly impossible feat. I glanced back at the radiant face of Lady Nesbitt-Normand and in that instant was struck by the ideal solution.