“Mr. Fitzgerald had fine brandy?” she asked in a low voice.
“He did. Plus he gave us wine and a many-coursed supper.”
“Rather tedious food at White’s, I have heard.”
“On the contrary, I found it quite edible.”
“Mmm.” Her response told me my tastes were not quite as trained as she’d like. “Lady Aline knew Mr. Fitzgerald in her salad days. I asked her about him. He was apparently much the rakehell when he was younger. Cornered her in a few ballrooms, and kissed her, much to her delight. He was the gentlemen mothers warned their daughters about. Very exciting.”
I had difficulty reconciling the portly and loud Mr. Fitzgerald with a dashing roué kissing the debutante Lady Aline in a shielded corner.
“Why ladies prefer gentlemen who lie, gamble, and womanize, I have no idea,” I mumbled. “Why do you not like them staid and stodgy?”
“We believe we can reform them, of course.” Donata snuggled closer. “That ours will be the love that changes them forever. We ladies are fond of this idea and nurture it.”
“A foolish one.” My words were a mumble.
“Do not worry. I prefer the staid and stodgy.” Donata caressed my chest.
I was too tired to respond appropriately. “Fitzgerald seems reformed enough. Or at least finished with his young foolishness. Was he the sort who would murder a small planter for being irritating?”
“In his day, yes, according to Aline. He had a prickly temper and fought several duels. Wounded a man in one, though the young man recovered. However, the gentleman’s family tried to sue Fitzgerald’s family for the injury. That was when Mr. Fitzgerald’s father sent him off to the colonies. The ordeal of island life must have frightened him into bettering himself.”
“So he says.” I yawned. “I must tell you about what he showed me.”
I tried to describe the box by van Hoogstraten, but sleep overcame me. I felt Donata’s lips on mine, heard her chuckle.
“Tell me in the morning,” she whispered, and then I met oblivion.
I FOUND Donata by my side when I woke in daylight. She was not an early riser by habit, but she stirred when I did, and then she kissed me and slid her arms around my waking body.
I did not get out of bed for some time after that.
When I did emerge from behind the bed curtains, I rang for Bartholomew and began preparing for my day. Donata dragged the covers over her head and went back to sleep.
I washed and dressed, Bartholomew shaved me, and I went down for breakfast. My overindulgence at White’s last night slowed me a bit, and the back of my neck ached, but my morning with Donata had refreshed me.
I was ready to discover who had killed Mr. Warrilow if I had to wring the information out of every person in London. I wanted to quit the city and find some peace with my family in the country.
I summoned Brewster when I finished breakfast and told him we were off to Cable Street.
CHAPTER 14
L aybourne’s lodgings, to which Brewster directed me, lay immediately north of Wellclose Square, the house nearly backing onto the one in which Warrilow had taken rooms.
“Discover whether a person can reach that house from this through the back gardens,” I said in a low voice to Brewster as we approached. “Perhaps Laybourne slipped out unnoticed, climbed over the wall, or went through a gate, or some such. Mrs. Beadle might never have seen him enter.”
Brewster gave the house a dubious glance. “Don’t know if I can find out much in this place, but I’ll do me best.”
The abode was rundown, though it had obviously once been grand. Like Wellclose Square, this street’s better days were long gone. Paint peeled from the house’s shutters, the stucco was pockmarked, and a layer of grime filmed every window.
“Mr. Laybourne, you say?” asked the thin woman who answered my knock. “He’s having breakfast, inn’t he? Who are you, love?”
“Captain Gabriel Lacey, madam.” I made her a bow. “He does not know me, but I am a friend of Major Eden, one of his shipmates on his voyage from Antigua.”
The woman looked me up and down in clear doubt. “Well, I’ll ask him.”
She shut the door in my face, leaving me in the drizzle that began to coat the street. Brewster, heading down the outside stairs, gave a breathy laugh and disappeared into the dingy recesses below.
I shivered in the rain for some time before the woman yanked open the door and stood aside to allow me to enter. “He’s in the dining room, love. Has never heard of ya and didn’t like Major Eden, but he’s curious why you’re here. Go on in.”
I thanked her and removed my hat, politely scraping my boots before I stepped onto her tiled floor. Not that my efforts would have made any difference. The floor bore scrapes and smears, bird’s feathers, and a coating of dust.
The dining room had a threadbare carpet and one long table surrounded by a few rickety chairs. A small, thin man was its only occupant. He sat at the head of the table and gazed dolefully into a bowl of porridge.
“Mr. Laybourne?” I extracted one of my cards. “Good morning to you. Apologies for disturbing you at your meal.”
“Ain’t much of a meal.” He took a bite and made a face as he gulped down the lumpy porridge. He made no move to reach for the card, and I tucked it back into my pocket. “Don’t have any spirits on ye, do you? I’m a sickly man.”
I could not place his accent, which was surprisingly neutral, but perhaps he had lost it during his time in the West Indies.
“Of course.” I removed my flask, which I kept for warmth on chill autumn days such as this and handed it to him.
Laybourne proceeded to pour a liberal amount over his porridge and another dollop into his tea. “Thank you, young man.”
I doubted he was much older than me, but I nodded. Mr. Laybourne had lean limbs in a shabby coat that was too large for him, affirming Eden’s claim that he’d left Antigua to better his health. He wore his graying hair pulled back into an old-fashioned queue, was clean shaven, and gazed at me with doleful brown eyes. His skin held the yellowish pallor of one who’d suffered from the ague.
“Did Major Eden send you?” Laybourne asked. “What the devil does he want?”
“No, I wished to see you myself. To ask you a few questions about Mr. Warrilow.”
Laybourne’s brows went up. “That pestilence? I heard someone offed him. Good riddance.”
He did not invite me to sit, but I scraped back a chair and did so anyway. “He lived in the square behind you.” I glanced at the window but could not see much through the dirty panes. “Your garden almost backs onto his.”
Laybourne briefly turned his head to stare at the window. “Does it? I’d think he’d have more funds, and sense, than to stay in these dregs.”
Warrilow’s rooms had been faded and worn, but Mrs. Beadle kept her place clean and scrubbed.
“His house is a bit nicer than this one. Perhaps you could move there.”
Laybourne scowled at me and jabbed his spoon at the mess in his bowl. “Are you meant to be amusing? Though I suppose they do have an empty room now.”
I hadn’t been attempting humor. I’d thought that I wouldn’t wish anyone to stay in this house. Even my small and cold rooms in Grimpen Lane had been more cheerful.