The Sudbury School Murders (29 page)

Sir Montague Harris took a long gulp of port.
"Ah, excellent. You are a clever young woman."

Jeanne shook her head and sent Sir Montague
her winsome half-smile. "Not clever. I could not decide how to
destroy them without calling attention to myself. Cloth burning in
a fireplace smells foul, and I did not want to risk being arrested
in Dover carrying a man's suit with blood on it."

"Most excellent," Sir Montague repeated. "I
will dispatch a Runner to find them. Do you believe, Captain, that
your former sergeant Pomeroy would be interested in such a
commission?" His eyes twinkled.

"I believe it would interest him greatly," I
answered. Pomeroy, a tall, solid, bluff man, once my sergeant and
now one of the famed Bow Street Runners, liked nothing better than
an obvious piece of evidence. He would arrest Sutcliff with
glee.

Denis' face was as hard as marble. I could
feel his anger at Sutcliff, and I reasoned that Sutcliff would be
lucky to be arrested by Pomeroy. Pomeroy would make sure that
Sutcliff was punished by the full force of the law, but Denis'
retribution would be far more frightening. I remembered the
coachman who had displeased Denis in the affair of Hanover Square.
He'd dispatched that man without turning a hair, and he had not
been as angry then as he was now.

Grenville fingered the stem of his glass. As
though understanding the tension in the room, he went on with his
questions. "What I do not understand is why? Sutcliff and the
others were making a nice little fortune on their canal scheme. Why
kill Middleton and Fletcher and end all that?"

"Because," I said, "Middleton was preparing
to report everything to James Denis."

"Indeed," Denis answered, the word tight.

Grenville nodded. "I believe I see."

"Denis' servant told us that Middleton was
growing weary of living in the country," I said. "He was a city
man, for all his love of horses. And working for Rutledge is
trying, as I came to know. Perhaps Middleton wanted out, perhaps he
was ready to tell Denis about it, perhaps preparing to turn over
the scheme to him."

"And so Sutcliff killed Middleton," Grenville
said slowly.

"And Fletcher knew he did," I went on. "He
must have known, perhaps threatened to reveal all. So, Sutcliff was
forced to kill Fletcher, as well."

"Poor man," Grenville said feelingly.

"Fletcher must have been excellent at drawing
people into the swindle. Who could resist hardworking, friendly
Fletcher? If Fletcher had thought I had money, he likely would have
tried to persuade me to invest. If he had not been distressed by
Middleton's murder by the time you appeared, I imagine he would
have begun persuading you, as well. I liked poor Fletcher, but he
certainly fleeced quite a few people."

Grenville frowned. "But why on earth did
Sutcliff burn Fletcher's books? To frighten him? It seems to have
made Fletcher terribly angry instead. Remember how he thrashed
Sutcliff that day?"

Sir Montague leaned forward, listening
avidly. Jeanne listened, but she kept her eyes on the carpet, her
posture neutral, as though she had no interest in the rest of the
story.

"Sutcliff burned the books because he knew
that Fletcher kept the contracts hidden in them. He went to
Fletcher's rooms, stole the books, set them alight, and chucked
them into the quad. Rutledge assumed it was just another
prank--Sutcliff knew he would. But Sutcliff's motive was twofold,
to destroy the incriminating papers, and to warn Fletcher to keep
quiet about Middleton."

"But he missed a book."

"Yes, the one Fletcher kept hidden in his
robe. Sutcliff must have been looking for that on the night he
killed Fletcher. Perhaps Fletcher surprised him, or perhaps they
quarreled, or perhaps he'd intercepted my note to you telling you
to ask Fletcher about canals and knew the game was up. Sutcliff
told Jeanne to get ready to depart with the money for France, then
he returned to the school and went to Fletcher. After he killed
Fletcher, he looked for the book, could not find it, knew the
household would be stirring soon, and fled back to the Head
Master's house. But he ran into you in the quad returning from
Hungerford. Panicked, he stabbed you as he ran past you and into
the house."

Grenville scowled. "The little bugger. He
ruined my suit."

"Hang your suit," I said evenly. "You are
lucky you aren't dead. Sutcliff is a murderer, and I do not intend
to let him get away with it."

"Nor do I," Denis said coolly.

"He'll be arrested," Sir Montague said.
"We'll pin it to him, a murderer and a blackmailer, too. Madame
Lanier, you may have to give evidence in court, but if we find the
blood-covered suit, it will help a great deal."

"I will show you where it is," Jeanne said,
raising her head. "But Captain Lacey told me-- "

"I know what the good captain told you," Sir
Montague said. "Yes, madam, if you help us, I will help you. I have
given my word."

He clicked his glass to the table and heaved
himself to his feet. "Thank you, Mr. Denis, for your hospitality. I
will send for Pomeroy, and we will depart for Berkshire. Madame, if
you will remain here until I return from Bow Street?"

Sir Montague, for all his bulk, could move
swiftly and decisively. I also believed that he wanted his hands on
Sutcliff and the evidence in case Denis, in his anger, decided to
act on his own.

Denis, too, rose and bowed coldly. "I will
provide your transportation, Sir Montague. Captain, will you remain
behind? I wish to speak with you."

As if responding to a cue, his servants came
forward, removed the port glasses, and opened the doors. Our
gathering was at an end.

Sir Montague stumped out of the room, a smile
on his face. The servants helped Grenville from his chair. He moved
slowly to the door, his form upright, his face white with pain.
Matthias and Bartholomew hovered near him, but he walked out of the
room without assistance.

Only Jeanne Lanier remained, fixed on the
settee. Denis said nothing to her. I wanted to linger and thank
her, but Denis ushered me out and closed the doors before I could
so much as say good-bye.

*** *** ***

Once upstairs in his study, Denis seated
himself behind his desk and motioned for me to sit down. A
refreshment of brandy was offered, and I declined it.

"I wanted to speak to you privately," he said
without preliminary, "to thank you for clearing up this matter for
me."

He might have been speaking of my having
thwarted a minor piece of gossip at a garden party. I inclined my
head. "I wanted Sutcliff found out."

"I imagined," he said, "that you would
discover the murderer's identity and a manner in which to gather
the proof sooner than the magistrates, and you did not fail me. I
am pleased at the outcome."

"Grenville nearly died," I said,
tight-lipped. "I want Sutcliff to pay for that."

"He will. Captain, you can understand my
anger about Middleton, because it matches yours about Grenville.
Sutcliff had no right to do what he did."

He sat back, palms flat on the desk. "Sir
Montague will arrest him and bring him to trial. That will be an
end to it. Though you may not like my gratitude; in this case, you
have it."

I nodded. I did not like Denis, but I decided
to unbend and at least accept his thanks.

"In return," he said, his voice still cool.
"I will give you this."

He removed a folded, sealed piece of paper
from his desk and pushed it across the bare wooden surface to
me.

I went still. No writing appeared on the
outside of the paper, but I knew what it was.

He had offered me this information before,
the whereabouts of my wife and daughter, in return for steadfast
loyalty to him. He wanted to own me utterly, he'd said, and had
pulled whatever strings would draw me into his web. He had found
the right strings with my wife and daughter.

Now he gave this to me freely, as a reward. I
did not need to take it. Taking it would indicate that I accepted
payment for a task he had bid me to do. Thus he would win a round
of the endless game that he and I played against each other.

I stared at the paper for a long time, my
thoughts stilling. Then, my hands unsteady, I reached for it. Under
Denis' scrutiny, I broke the seal and unfolded the paper.

Written in a clear hand was a direction, the
name of a house in a village.
Near Lyons,
it continued.
France
.

I stared at the words for a long time.
Carlotta and Gabriella were there. Alive, in the French countryside
near Lyons. Years of wondering, of doubt, of fear fell away, and my
eyes grew moist.

"Thank you," I said.

I folded the paper, put it into in my pocket,
rose from my chair, and walked out of the room.

*** *** ***

I accompanied Sir Montague, Jeanne Lanier,
and Pomeroy back to Berkshire to the boarding house in Hungerford.
Under the scrutiny of an avidly curious Mrs. Albright, Jeanne
pulled up the board in her room and removed the suit of clothing
that Sutcliff had worn when he murdered Middleton.

Leaving Jeanne at the boarding house,
Pomeroy, Sir Montague, and I went to the Sudbury School, found
Sutcliff, and, to Rutledge's great fury, arrested him.

Sutcliff fought, but Pomeroy, tall and
muscular, was practiced at bringing down culprits. "Now then," he
said, locking his great arms around Sutcliff to the delight of the
boys looking on. "It's a wicked murderer you are. A nice reward
I'll get for this conviction."

The other boys, led by Timson, shouted with
glee that their tormenting prefect had been taken, until Rutledge
bellowed them all to silence.

I left them with the magistrate and went back
to Hungerford to fetch Jeanne Lanier. She waited for me in the
tawdry parlor with its shabby furniture, where I had spoken to her
before.

The day had darkened, and the room was lit
with a sconces that flickered in the gloom.

Jeanne's face had lost its animation. Her
lips were white, her eyelids dark. "It is done?" She spoke the
words tiredly.

"Yes," I said.

She let out her breath. "Good."

We stood in the center of the room, facing
each other. I still carried the paper Denis had given me inside my
pocket. It felt heavy to me, knowledge that burned.

Jeanne stepped close to me. "I want to thank
you, Captain, for your promise to not have me arrested. It was good
of you."

I was not certain I wanted any more thanks.
Rutledge bellowing at me at the school had actually seemed
refreshing. "You had the best evidence," I said. "You might have
made it to France had I not told Denis to stop you. Do not thank
me."

She made a small shrug. "If I had reached
France, what then? I believe you would have found the means to
arrest Frederick sooner or later. But what would have become of
me?"

"I believe you will endure very nicely," I
said.

I had great belief in this woman's
resilience. She felt frightened and alone at present, but I knew
she would soon wrap another gentleman around her finger.

Her worried look left her, and she flashed me
a smile. "Touche, Captain. You have seen my true colors, peeked
beyond my façade. Can you forgive me that?"

I hadn't forgotten the afternoon I'd spent
here in her company, and how she'd made me feel--amusing,
intelligent, wanted.

"I believe I can forgive you," I said.

Humor glinted in her eyes. "You are too
kind." She hesitated. "You may think me a fool, but I wonder
whether, when all this is over, you might condescend to receive me
as a friend." Her voice softened, and she sounded almost shy.
"Indeed, I believe we might have many interesting conversations
together."

My lips parted as I gazed at her in
astonishment. Her smile was hopeful, her eyes warm. She was asking,
if I was not mistaken, whether I'd be willing to be the next
gentleman whom she wrapped around her finger.

I certainly did not mind such a wish coming
from a lady as pretty as she, but I had to wonder why.

"Madam, you know I am not a wealthy man," I
began.

"No," she admitted. "But I have met your
friends, Mr. Grenville and Mr. Denis. They are powerful
gentlemen."

I raised my brows. "You are saying you wish
me to ask Grenville or Denis to pay for the keeping of you on my
behalf?"

"Yes," she said. She flushed. "I know it is
most irregular, but that is what I wish, Captain Lacey."

"You amaze me," I said softly. "Though I
understand that you must survive. Like Marianne."

"It is not only that. I have seen enough of
men, Captain, to know when one is worth much. And so I make bold to
propose such a thing to you."

My heart beat hard. I hardly knew what to
say. She flattered me, but at the same time, I knew she made her
living by flattering. She was lovely, she could soothe me, and I
would be ten times a fool to accept her.

I wished that I had the wherewithal to be so
foolish.

I touched her cheek. "I am sorry," I said. "I
would that circumstances were different."

She looked at me a moment longer, then gave
her head a shake, conceding defeat. "As am I."

"You are resilient," I stated again. "You
will fare well."

She gave me a rueful smile, the practiced
courtesan vanishing for a moment. "You have much faith in me,
Captain." She touched the lapel of my coat. "Thank you."

"Thank you," I told her. I raised her hand to
my lips, and then the carriage that would return us to London
rattled to a halt at the end of the lane, and we made to
depart.

* * * * *

Chapter Twenty

A few days later, Grenville felt well enough
to join me and Pomeroy in the tavern in Pall Mall that we often
frequented.