The Waylaid Heart (24 page)

"Kearney is dead," he said without preamble. "Stabbed," he continued, answering her startled look and questioning glance. "The Bow Street runner got to him before he died. He muttered something about someone going to kill them all."

"Kill who all?"

"We don't know. Most likely all the London connections that could identify the leader. Hewitt reports there's been increased lighter activity in and out of the Waddley docks, yet the only ship there is riding high in the water."

"I suppose human cargo is not as heavy as crates of cotton goods."

"No, but it does seem unusual not to take legitimate cargo as well."

"That's true. Mr. Waddley would have had the ship filled with all manner of goods."

He nodded. "It makes good business sense. I did learn something that may ease your mind, however. This spice trade has not gone entirely unnoticed by the authorities. Due to the international nature of this business, the Home Office has been involved. They have an infiltrator in the group. He has been several years gaining their confidence, but evidently he recently has seen some measure of success."

"Who is it, do you know?"

"No. It is safer for us, and for him, if we don't."

"Yes, I see—"

"You said you have some news?"

"Angel came to see me this evening. Angel Swafford."

"Haukstrom's mistress?"

She nodded. "She came to tell me that Randolph foresaw his own death. She told me—she told me—" she gulped, struggling over the lump that formed in her throat, her eyes blurring with tears. "Oh, James, I've been so wrong about Randolph for so many years!" she burst out, tears now streaming down her cheeks.

Instantly Branstoke was at her side. He picked her up out of the chair as if she were a featherweight and sat himself in her place, settling her on his lap. Her head nestled on his shoulder, she cried herself out with a release of tears, finally able to mourn her brother's death. When the torrent passed, she told him, between little hiccups and shudders, all that Angel Swafford had told her.

He stroked her back in comfort, though he frowned in concern. "It's been more than two hours since the end of the play. She should have been here by now."

Cecilia raised her head to look at him. "Do you think she has been prevented from coming?"

"I don't know. I think I'd best go to her house and see."

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not."

"James, I should have insisted she stay here. If anything has happened to her, it will be my fault. Knowing that, I can't stay here and do nothing. I have done nothing all day but sit here and worry and wait. If you don't take me with you, I shall follow you," she said determinedly.

Looking at her forward-thrust jaw and the purple glow in her eyes, he believed she would. He leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes for a moment, hugging her tightly. "All right," he relented.

Cecilia did not give him a chance to think twice. She kissed his cheek then slipped out of his grasp, hurrying to the door. "I'll get my cloak and bonnet and meet you at the door."

Branstoke rose more slowly, already regretting that he had not argued more forcefully.

Branstoke's carriage set them down before a small but very stylish house. "This is an uncommonly good address," he murmured, leading her to the door.

"She is uncommon among the demi-monde. Listening to her speech, I believe her to be gently born."

The house was dark and the front door ajar. Branstoke pushed it open. It creaked only slightly. Inside, Cecilia was about to call out to Angel when Branstoke laid a warning hand over her mouth. He shook his head. She nodded her understanding. They crept farther into the hall, peering into an empty parlor. They started for the stairs when they heard a thump from above. Branstoke motioned her to stay below while he went up to investigate.

Alone in the dark hall, with only the open front door to let in thin moonlight, Cecilia waited anxiously, her ears struggling to catch every stray sound. She shifted from one foot to another, her hands wrapped around the newel post. She strained her eyes to see into the gloom above stairs. Branstoke had slid silently out of sight.

Suddenly there was a crash, a scuffle of feet, and a groan. Cecilia ran up the stairs, colliding with a figure coming down, carrying something large over his shoulder. She stumbled back against the railing, grabbing for support lest she tumble down the stairs. The figure pushed past her and continued down the stairs and headed for the door. He paused to look up and down the street. When he turned his head she briefly saw his silhouette, though his face was hidden. She didn't stop to identify him, but raced up the stairs in search of Branstoke. In the dark shadows she saw him struggling to get to his feet, a hand cradling his head. She ran to his side, helping him up.

"James! Are you all right?"

He staggered to his feet, swearing under his breath. "I didn't even see who it was. Did you?"

She shook her head. "Only a silhouette. It was too dark to recognize who it was. But he was carrying something over his shoulder. I'm sure it was Angel, James," she said, an aborted sob wracking her body.

"Hush, crying won't help her. We'll have to trust to Bow Street and the infiltrator. I've got to get you home now. I should never have allowed you to come," he said wearily, disgustedly.

"You couldn't have stopped me," she said with a wan smile as they made their way down the stairs.

"Yes, I could have. If I'd been thinking clearly, I would have had you locked in your room. Unfortunately, when I'm around you my thinking becomes a bit fuzzy," he admitted, looking up and down the street for his carriage. He left her side to hail his man.

Left alone for a moment, Cecilia hugged herself, his last words ringing delightfully in her ears. Whatever transpired from this sordid mess, there was one bright spot to help dispel the gloom, her growing relationship with Sir Branstoke. Perhaps she had a chance for happiness after all, she thought, as she allowed him to help her into his carriage. Unmindful of proprieties, she snuggled close to him for the ride back to Meriton House.

Cecilia woke, groggy. She squinted against the light and turned over, pulling the covers over her head. Then a face drifted dreamily into her mind. A face framed with red ringlets and oversized black feathers. A face that held fear in its eyes.

"Angel!" she cried, throwing the covers aside and sitting up.

"Did you say something, ma'am?" asked Sarah, rising from a chair by the fireplace where she'd been mending a chemise.

She looked about, disoriented, as the picture of Angel Swafford faded from her mind. She threw her feet over the edge of the bed and reached for her wrapper. "What time is it?" she asked, stuffing her arms into the sleeves and knotting the sash about her.

"Going on eleven o'clock, I'd say, ma'am."

"Eleven? I've missed services. Why didn't you wake me?"

"Lady Meriton said to let you sleep as long as you would. Now that you're awake, I'm to inform her."

"Could you have some breakfast sent up as well? I'm famished."

"Right away, ma'am," Sarah said, ducking out of the room.

Cecilia was seated at her dressing table brushing her hair when Lady Meriton entered. She looked at her aunt through the mirror. "How could you allow me to sleep so long? I should have been at services."

Lady Meriton sat down in a chair within view of the mirror. "You were physically and emotionally exhausted. You needed your sleep. I put it about that you were prostrate over your brother's death. No one showed the least surprise at that."

Cecilia smiled into the mirror. "My reputation precedes me, eh?"

"Verily. Oh, and father arrived, as did the baron. I sent them both over to Cheney House where they are more than likely squaring off over the body like two dogs over a bone. I also directed all callers to them. I think I should love to be a mouse viewing the happenings over there today," she mused.

Cecilia laughed and turned to face her aunt directly. "Those two together? You are too bad, Jessamine."

"I know, but I so tire of their posturing. Besides, I felt it should reasonably keep society entertained and out of your realm."

Cecilia nodded. "That's true."

"So tell me what happened last night. All I know is what Loudon told me, that you went out with Sir Branstoke after midnight and it was more than an hour before you returned again. What were you about, Cecilia? I shudder to consider the ramifications should that get about the ton. Between the two of us, Loudon and I have assured ourselves of our servants' loyalty. The story shall not get spread abroad from here."

"Admittedly, I'd not considered that. My concern was for Angel Swafford. She never got here last night."

"I know."

"We went to her home to see if she was detained. We were, perhaps, just minutes too late." She told her what happened and also about Branstoke's discovery that the government had a spy in the group. "All I can hope is that, whoever he is, he can save Angel."

"I'm sorry, my dear. I know you feel this deeply."

"Oh, Jessamine, how could I have been wrong about so many things? I feel responsible, for if I hadn't made wrong assumptions and deductions, none of this may have happened. I'm so stupid."

"Nonsense. You had no breadth of knowledge against which to judge the situation or people. Do not hold yourself accountable. Given the information you had, your deductions were quite reasonable."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Don't wish it, believe it. Ah, here's Sarah with your breakfast. Why don't you relax and eat a nice meal? I shall see you downstairs when you are dressed."

Cecilia nodded and rose to cross to a table near the fireplace where Sarah was laying out breakfast.

When she came downstairs less than an hour later, she found Lady Meriton entertaining Miss Amblethorp.

"Janine! Hello, I'm glad to see you," she said, crossing the room to where her friend sat on the sofa. She sank down next to her, taking her hands.

Janine Amblethorp smiled shyly. "I told mama I was going to visit Lucy Farnham. Mother dislikes Mrs. Farnham, so she let me out with just my maid."

Cecilia laughed delightedly. She glanced over at her aunt. "Didn't I tell you, Jessamine, that there was a streak of independence and stubbornness hidden in Miss Amblethorp?"

Lady Meriton chuckled. "Yes, you did."

Janine blushed. "I don't know how it is, but of late I have not been willing to continue this charade of husband hunting. I grow tired of mama thrusting me toward any single gentleman with the least pretensions to civility. I have not taken, as they say. All the dances and soirees I could attend will not change that."

"You are too hard on yourself, Janine. But I think you are right to follow your own inclinations," said Lady Meriton. "Smarter than some people I know who push themselves to be what they are not in order to achieve goals that are not for them." She looked pointedly at Cecilia.

Cecilia scowled in fun at her aunt; then sobered and nodded. "I know, Jessamine. Who knows if I had it to do over again what I would do? In my search for answers I've managed to open Pandora's box while at the same time waylaying my own heart. I'm uncertain as to the resolution of either. The question that stalks my every waking moment and haunts my dreams is: Did I cause Randolph's death or Angel's disappearance by my inquisitiveness?"

Janine looked from Cecilia to Lady Meriton and back, confusion written on her face. Cecilia looked over at her and smiled wanly.

"I'm sorry, Janine. That was rude to talk of things you know nothing about. I'm afraid I'm not good company as I am obsessed."

"I don't mean to be nosy," her friend said carefully, "but I have often observed that a fresh insight on a problem aids in resolution."

"I do not think a fresh insight could solve this situation," Cecilia said.

"It will not change the facts, but it may change how you view them," Lady Meriton suggested pensively. "Let me order refreshments while you consider. She needs to talk," she told Janine.

Janine looked uncertainly from one to the other. "Please, I did not mean to cause a problem. I just thought—"

"It's all right, Janine. Perhaps Jessamine is right. We're so caught up in everything, maybe we can't see things clearly any longer. Though I'm not certain you could be any more objective than we are. But you must promise that what you hear today will not go beyond this room."

"I am not my mother. You have my sincere word on it."

"All right then," Cecilia said sighing heavily. She waited while Loudon served them, using the time to gather her thoughts. After he left, she took a sip of tea, drew a deep breath, and told her how she came to marry Mr. Waddley and what she assumed were her brother's motives for arranging the match. The tale took some telling. There was some things Janine did not understand, and much that sickened her, for her life had been insulated against such atrocities. But when Cecilia told her of Mr. Thornbridge's revelations about Lord Havelock and Sir Elsdon, she would not accept Lord Havelock as the guilty party.

"I will grant you he has changed, but nothing could undermine his basic good nature to that extent. No. I refuse to believe it of him. It has to be Sir Elsdon."

"But Janine, Angel Swafford as much as said it was Lord Havelock."

"She didn't name him explicitly, did she? And you said yourself you only saw a dark silhouette of the man who took Miss Swafford. It could have been Sir Elsdon. They are of the same height."

"Janine, Janine, see how hard it is not to allow one's emotions to color one's judgment?"

"He could not have changed that radically! You didn't know him as I did. To change in the manner you're suggesting implies insanity."

"I don't know how anyone could enter into this spice trade, as they call it, without being insane," said Lady Meriton softly.

"It can't be Havelock. I could more believe him to be this government infiltrator than I could the perpetrator of such horror."

"Cecilia, I have a thought. You say you only saw his silhouette. Do you think you would recognize that silhouette if you saw it again?" Lady Meriton asked.

Cecilia nodded slowly, the light of comprehension shining in her eyes. "Yes, I believe I would. Do you have silhouettes of both gentlemen? Preferably ones I have not seen before? That way I can avoid prejudice."

"I believe I do," Lady Meriton said rising and hurrying toward the door. "I'll not be but a few moments."

"And I promise, should it prove to be Lord Havelock, I'll not make objection," said Janine.

"I should never have told you. It's not fair to burden you in this manner. I dislike burdening others in any way."

"No. Don't feel that way. I've lived too sheltered a life. I think, maybe, all of us in society lead sheltered lives. To us, evil and crime are out there somewhere, apart from our world. It's like they're enacted on stage and we sit in our protected little boxes watching it all, untouched by reality. That's not right."

Janine's face shone with an intentness and conviction that startled Cecilia. She'd not thought of the matter in the global manner Janine did. To do so hinted at a growing corruption within the very fabric of their society, regardless of any personal relationship with the perpetrators. She found herself idiotically wishing the entire matter would disappear in a puff of smoke. She chided herself for her weakness, but the wish remained.

"Here," Lady Meriton said, coming through the door. She stopped to close it carefully behind her. "I have brought four pictures. Two are Havelock and Elsdon. The other two are not. Their names are written on the back. I shall place them on this table over here," she said, clearing a space on the cluttered table behind the sofa. "Now, Cecilia, come here and identify Miss Swafford's abductor."

Cecilia came around the sofa hesitantly, nervously. She was followed by Janine who peered around her at the four silhouettes.

She thought she recognized the man instantly, but she took an extra moment to study them all carefully. Finally she pointed to the second one from the end. "That one."

Lady Meriton flipped it over. HAVELOCK.

Janine went white, but steadied herself on the table edge. Cecilia put an arm about her and together they stared at the damning silhouette.

A soft knock on the door pulled their attention away from the black profile. "Begging your pardon, my lady, but Sir Elsdon is here."

"Send him up," Cecilia said peremptorily.

"Do you think that's wise? Though we may believe Havelock to be the leader, that does not mean he works alone," Lady Meriton said as she gathered up the pictures.

"True, but I doubt he'd have more than one in the same social circle," Cecilia said. She led Janine back around the sofa. "Sir Elsdon, my lady," announced Loudon.

"Mrs. Waddley, I am sorry to intrude on you in this fashion. Hie ho! but it seems the world is falling down around me. I shall never get my play produced. But that is not important now. Dear Mrs. Waddley, I have just come from Cheney House. I went to pay my respects to your brother. While I was there the baron suffered some sort of seizure and collapsed."

"No," whispered Cecilia. She turned to Lady Meriton. "Didn't I say I had no idea what form papa's reaction would take? I should have gone to him this morning!"

"This morning you were in no condition to be of help to anyone," her aunt said, her expression considering, her eyes never leaving Sir Elsdon.

"The place is in an uproar. The duke is yelling at everyone and the baron is asking for you," he said, holding out his hand toward Cecilia. "I said as my coach was just outside, I'd fetch you. But you must come quickly. I don't know if he has much time left."

"I'll fetch my shawl and bonnet," Cecilia said, hurrying out the door.

"Perhaps I'd best go with her," said Lady Meriton.

"Excellent idea," said Sir Elsdon. "Better yet, why don't you pack Mrs. Waddley a portmanteau and follow with it. She's bound to want to stay the night at Cheney House."

She nodded as Cecilia appeared in the doorway.

"I'll see you to the carriage," Janine said, running ahead of Sir Elsdon to Cecilia's side. She put an arm around her and led her downstairs and out the door.

Sir Elsdon's carriage was standing just outside. Quickly, Janine hugged Cecilia and saw Sir Elsdon hand her into the carriage. She stood on the step and watched as the carriage drove down the street and turned south at the corner. Slowly she turned to reenter the house, aware of shouting and scurrying as servants ran to do Lady Meriton's bidding. She asked a passing footman headed toward the servants' quarters to fetch her maid.

Something was bothering her, but she couldn't say what it was. She stood uncertainly in the hallway, trying to puzzle it out. Behind her came a loud banging of the door knocker. With the butler and footmen vanished into the nether regions of the house, she stepped forward to open the door.

On the other side stood Lord Havelock! He grasped her by the shoulders and half-pushed, half-led her into the house.

"Is Miss Swafford here?" he asked anxiously. His clothes were in wild disarray and liberally smeared with dirt.

"Loudon! Stephen! Grab that man!" ordered Lady Meriton uselessly from the top of the stairs. The two servants were not about.

He abruptly raised his hands from her shoulders, but made no move to bolt for the open door. "Wait, Lady Meriton—"

The sunlight streaming in the door was cut off by the broad-shouldered figure of Sir Branstoke. He held a pistol in his hand aimed at Lord Havelock.

Suddenly what had been bothering Janine surfaced in her mind. "The carriage went the wrong way!" she blurted out. She grabbed Lord Havelock's arm. "You're the government agent, aren't you?"

"What?—"

She shook his arm angrily. "You're the one investigating white slavery, aren't you?"

"Yes, damn it, I am! Is Miss Swafford here?"

"But Cecilia identified you as abducting Miss Swafford," said Lady Meriton, confused and increasingly frightened.

"I did. But she didn't trust me and ran. And I'm sorry for hitting you, Branstoke," he said, glancing his way. "In the dark I took you for one of Elsdon's men.'.'

Sir Branstoke lowered his gun slightly and came into the hall. He remembered Miss Amblethorp mentioned a carriage. "Where's Cecilia?" he asked in a dead voice, for he feared the answer with every particle of his being.