The River Knows (33 page)

Elwin’s mouth sagged in shock. “So I was right. You were the thief.”

“Let’s just say I retrieved it for safekeeping. I have been waiting for the right moment for it to be discovered. Tonight is a good time, I think.”

He dropped the necklace back into the pouch and drew the gold cord taut.

“What are you doing?” Elwin shrieked.

Anthony did not answer. He walked across the room to where Elwin’s black evening coat hung from a wall hook and dropped the necklace into the pocket.

“That won’t work, you bastard,” Elwin shrieked. “I’ll tell the police you put it there. It will be the word of one gentleman against another. They won’t investigate further.”

Anthony smiled. “Fortunately we will also have the verdict of the sensation press. Consider how this will look in the newspapers and penny dreadfuls. Your supposedly deceased wife is the operator of one of the most notorious brothels in London, and you were discovered naked on the premises. In addition, you have a financial interest in this house of ill repute.”

“Shut your damn mouth.”

“I think we can anticipate that when the police arrive, the first Mrs. Hastings will be only too pleased to accuse you of attempting to murder her last year. Add to that the discovery of a dead woman’s necklace in your possession and I think we can safely conclude that the weight of public opinion will be on the side of justice.”

“Son of a bitch. You can’t do this.”

“Even if the police do not charge you with murder, you are a ruined man, Hastings. At the very least you will be forced to retire to the country. No club will have you. No hostess in the Polite World will send you an invitation. And now that you’re a proven bigamist, your new bride will be free to leave you. I’m told her grandfather is an excellent businessman who took steps to protect his granddaughter’s financial interests before the marriage. When Lilly departs, she will take her inheritance with her.”

“How dare you threaten me?” Elwin’s features contorted. “You should be dead. Do you hear me? You should have died the night I followed you home from your club and very nearly put a bullet in you. If it hadn’t been for the fog and that trick you played with your coat—”

Harold Fowler appeared in the doorway, a constable behind him.

“Mr. Crawford, make a note of Mr. Hastings’s comments concerning his attempt to murder Mr. Stalbridge,” Fowler said.

“Yes, sir.” The constable took a pad and pencil out of his pocket.

Anthony looked at Fowler. “I see you got my message.”

“Yes. We waited until we saw your father depart the premises with a young woman concealed in a cloak, as you suggested.”

Elwin stared at Fowler, desperation in his eyes. “I can explain everything.”

“There will be plenty of time for explanations, sir.” Fowler looked at Anthony. “I will want to speak with you, also.”

“Of course.” Anthony inclined his head. “I am at your disposal, Detective. You might also be interested in talking to the late Victoria Hastings. The last time I saw her she was unconscious in the basement. With

luck she will still be there.”

Fowler’s bushy brows jumped. “I see. This affair sounds a bit tangled.”

“No,” Anthony said. “It is really very simple. You were right, Detective. When it comes to murder, there are only a small number of motives. Greed, revenge, the need to conceal a secret, and madness. In this case, there seems to have been something of all four.”

49

Two days later Louisa sat at her desk reading the report in the Flying Intelligencer. As usual, Mr. Spraggett had chosen a headline designed to capture attention from a wide assortment of readers. Several headlines, actually. Spraggett was never one to use a single sensational headline when two or three would suffice.

A CASE OF MURDER MOST FOUL IN HIGH SOCIETY. BLOODY EVENTS IN A BROTHEL. MEMBERS OF POLITE WORLD ARRESTED. MISSING WIFE RETURNS

FROM A WATERY GRAVE.

by

I.M.Phantom

The Polite World was shocked to learn that Mr. Elwin Hastings was recently arrested for the murder last year of a young lady named Fiona Risby and the attempted murder of his first wife, Victoria Hastings, long presumed a suicide.

The authorities discovered Mr. Hastings in a brothel. A valuable necklace that belonged to the murder victim, Miss Risby, was in his possession at the time. His wife, Victoria Hastings, long believed to be

dead, was also on the premises.

Readers will be further astonished to hear that the first Mrs. Hastings is the proprietor of the notorious establishment on Swanton Lane known as Phoenix House. Her husband is an investor in the brothel and a frequent patron.

When found, Mrs. Hastings was dazed and bleeding from a head wound. She was described as suffering from an acute case of shattered nerves. Confronted with the sight of her husband she flew into a violent rage. She accused Mr. Hastings of having attempted to murder her by throwing her into the river. She attributed her survival to the merest chance.

In addition to Mr. and Mrs. Hastings, another man believed to be involved in criminal activities was reported to have been at the scene. He disappeared before the authorities were able to question him….

Someone banged the front door knocker. Louisa put down the paper and listened to Mrs. Galt go toward the front hall. The door opened. She heard Anthony’s voice.

“Never mind, Mrs. Galt. I’ll show myself into the study.”

“I’ll just go and put on the kettle,” Mrs. Galt said.

Louisa listened to Anthony’s footsteps coming toward the study. The familiar little thrill of longing and anticipation tightened her insides. He walked into the cozy room, a package under one arm.

“Good day, my love,” he said, crossing to the desk. “I trust I am not interrupting?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I was just reading the morning paper.”

“The excellent report by I. M. Phantom on recent murderous events in High Society, I presume.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“Shocking stuff.” He put the package down on the desk, reached down, and hauled her up out of the chair. “Absolutely shocking, but it does make for riveting reading.”

He kissed her soundly. She put her arms around his neck and softened against him. When he eventually released her and looked down at her, a familiar, exciting heat in his eyes, she blushed and pushed her spectacles higher on her nose.

“Have you any more news from Mr. Fowler?” she asked, sitting down again very quickly.

He exhaled deeply and lowered himself into one of the reading chairs. “This, it appears, is one of the great difficulties that arises when one engages in an illicit liaison with a member of the press.”

She beetled her brows. “What are you talking about?”

He spread his hands. “The latest news, rumors, and gossip always come first.”

“Hah. You know very well that is not true. You kissed me before I even had a chance to ask you about your meeting with Fowler.”

He raised a finger. “Only because I have learned to move quickly where you are concerned.”

She folded her hands on the desk. “Well?”

“I doubt that matters will conclude as neatly as one might hope, but there will, nevertheless, be some justice.” Anthony stretched out his legs and relaxed into his chair. “There is no word of Quinby’s fate as yet, but Fowler is not overly concerned. He told me in private that he has every expectation that Clement Corvus will take care of Quinby.”

She swallowed hard. “Oh, dear.”

Anthony’s eyes hardened. “Do not trouble yourself with sympathy for Quinby. He kidnapped you without a qualm. He knew full well that Victoria Hastings planned to dump you in the river. In fact, she was going to use him to carry out the deed.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true. Still, one cannot help but feel a certain pity for the man. How dreadful it must have been for him to live all his life cut off from the privileges that would have been his if his father had acknowledged him.”

“You are entirely too softhearted, my dear. As for Quinby, he should have known better than to cross Clement Corvus.”

“What about Mr. and Mrs. Hastings?”

“According to Fowler they are still hurling accusations and offering proof of the other’s guilt. Meanwhile, the second Mrs. Hastings is said to have moved back into the home of her parents and will shortly be filing for divorce on the grounds that her husband is a bigamist. Her grandfather has cut off all funds to Hastings. In order to dampen the scandal, there are rumors that Lilly will soon be wed quietly and quickly to a young man of her choosing. I suspect that he is the very same young man she brought up to her bedroom the night I opened Hastings’s safe.”

“I’m happy for her. What of Hastings?”

“According to the gossip in the clubs Hastings will soon be destitute. The investment consortium has fallen apart, naturally. Even if he does not hang, he will be utterly destroyed, barred forever from the only world that matters to him.”

“Society.”

“Yes.”

“I wonder what will become of Victoria Hastings.”

“Fowler is convinced that Victoria is quite mad and will likely be sent to an asylum.”

“Hmm.”

Anthony raised his brows. “You doubt that she is insane?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her to act the part if she thought it would save her neck.”

“I assure you, if she is sane, being locked up in an asylum would prove a fate worse than death.”

She shivered. “I do not doubt that.”

“There is one more thing to report,” Anthony said quietly.

“Yes?”

“I encountered Julian Easton at my club this afternoon.”

“Oh, dear. How did it go?”

“He was very subdued. He actually apologized to me. You were right. It seems he blamed himself for Fiona’s death. She had gone out into the gardens to meet him the night she died.

They had arranged a rendezvous, but she ran afoul of Mr. and Mrs. Hastings before Easton went to join her. When he arrived at the appointed spot, she was not there.”

Louisa sighed. “How very tragic.”

“That is all I have to report,” Anthony said. “I suggest we turn to another, more interesting topic of conversation.”

She looked at him curiously. “What is that?”

“You and me, of course.”

She blinked, froze, and then hastily removed her glasses. “I have been meaning to speak to you about that very subject.” She plucked a handkerchief out of her pocket and hurriedly began to polish an imaginary smudge on one lens. “I fear your family has gained an unfortunate and entirely inaccurate impression of how matters stand between us.”

He steepled his fingers. “They think that I am going to marry you.”

“Yes, I know.” She adjusted her spectacles on her nose and looked at him. “I tried to correct the misunderstanding the other night on the way home from Phoenix House, but no one would listen to me.”

He smiled. “In time you will discover that once they have fixed upon a notion, the members of my family tend to be decidedly stubborn. It is, I fear, a family trait.”

She sat forward uneasily. “It is really very awkward, Anthony. I do not feel right allowing them to believe a blatant lie.”

“Then we must make it a reality.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

He pushed himself up out of the chair, came around the desk, and pulled her to her feet for the second time.

“Anthony, please, you cannot solve this problem by kissing me.”

“I love you, Louisa.”

She felt as though the ground had fallen away beneath her feet. “What?”

“I love you,” he said again, softer this time. “Is that so hard to believe?”

She fought for breath. “But we have been acquainted for such a short period of time, and there are things you do not know that would surely change your opinion of me.”

“I sincerely doubt that.” He captured her hands and kissed her fingers. “I’ll allow you the time you need to fall in love with me. All I ask in return is that you promise me that you will give my offer of marriage serious consideration.”

“I don’t need time,” she said before stopping to think. “I am already in love with you. It is just that marriage is out of the question.”

He released her hands, picked up the package on the desk, and handed it to her. Uncertain, not knowing what else to do, she began to untie the string with trembling fingers.

“I know that you are quite taken with the notion of an illicit affair.” He said, watching her unwrap the brown paper. “I admit I cannot guarantee that marriage will offer as much in the way of excitement, but in my opinion it would be a far more comfortable proposition.”

“No, really, it wouldn’t be,” she said, fighting back tears. “Not at all.”

“Just think, we would be able to share a warm bed every night rather than having to make do with gardening benches and stolen moments. We could have breakfast together every morning while we savor your latest brilliant reports in the Flying Intelligencer.”

“Anthony, stop. You don’t know what you are saying.” The package was open now. She stared, dumbfounded, at the leather-bound copy of Milton’s Paradise Lost. “Oh, Anthony.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I didn’t steal it out of Pepper’s safe. He agreed to give it up. It was merely a matter of finding the right price.”

She touched the mottled calf binding with her fingertips. Tears burned in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say that you will marry me, my love. I predict that all of the difficulties you perceive concerning my family will cease to exist.”

She felt a great tightness inside, squeezing her heart. The tears escaped and trickled down her cheeks. She jerked off her spectacles, grabbed a handkerchief, and began blotting madly. She had known this moment was coming, she reminded herself. It was just that she had hoped for more time.

“This is the thing with an illicit affair.” She lowered the handkerchief and looked at him through her tears. “It cannot end happily.”

“There are exceptions to every rule.”

“This is not one of the occasions when the rule may be broken.”

“Why not?”

“There is a secret in my past that is so dreadful that, if you knew it, you would be horrified. I cannot allow you to bring me into your family. It would not be right.”