I could see the cleverness of Lord Clifford’s plan, but only if their victim did not put together that he and Mr. Fielding knew each other. Knew each other well by now. I ought to have known two rogues would get on together.
“Tomorrow, you will go back and fetch that necklace.” Cynthia shook a finger at her father. “You will thank the duke for keeping it safe and you will say nothing about needing to sell it. Bring the damned thing home.”
“Such language in front of the staff, Cynthia—”
“No.” I cut into the argument. Father and daughter turned to stare at me. “No, I believe your lordship could do some good with this. Do return to the duke, and do try to sell the necklace to him. Let him contact Mr. Fielding and have Mr. Fielding actually purchase the necklace. If the police are right, and the duke is trying to fund anarchists, he will be happy for a quick way to make several thousand guineas. The police can watch what happens to those funds, and perhaps catch him in the act.”
19
My, my.” Lord Clifford looked me up and down in admiration. “I was right about your cook, Cynthia. An uncommonly clever young lady. And she can turn her hand to a decent pudding.”
“You are trusting in my father a great deal, Mrs. H.,” Cynthia said in warning. “I think I should just tell Mummy and let her have a word with him.”
“Now, Cynthia, darling, do not be so hasty.” Lord Clifford tried a laugh. “Mrs. Holloway is correct—I can do some good here. Help out jolly old England. Your mum never needs to know how I go about it.”
“Because you promised and promised her you’d never do this again.” Cynthia glowered. “You promised me as well.”
“Dash it all, we truly are hard-pressed, Cyn. I am not exaggerating when I say the house and lands are an appalling expense. I do not tell your mother all this, because I don’t want to upset her.”
“But you are willing to go along with her scheme of marrying me off to a wealthy simpleton?” Cynthia demanded. “One with enough money to help you, but not enough brains to understand you are gouging him.”
“As to that . . .” Lord Clifford laid gentle hands on Cynthia’s shoulders. “You do not need to worry about marrying right away. Plenty of time, my dear. You are a beautiful young lady. Any chap would leap at the chance to take you to wife.”
“Only because they believe an earl’s daughter will bring them wealth and position. More fool they.” Cynthia’s tone softened. “I think we can come to some sort of arrangement, don’t you, Papa?”
“Indeed. Indeed.” Lord Clifford released Cynthia and rubbed his hands. “Of course. Be entertaining to use my powers to do some good, what?”
“Not on your own.” Cynthia became stern again. “Mrs. H., I think we need to let him be guided by Mr. McAdam.”
“I agree,” I said. “He will instruct you, but you must do exactly what he says.”
Lord Clifford blinked. “Who the devil is Mr. McAdam?”
“The fatuous idiot, Mr. Lancaster,” I said.
I admit I drew great satisfaction from the astonishment on Lord Clifford’s face.
* * *
* * *
Daniel must have remained in Surrey, because he did not visit that night. I chafed, needing to tell him about Lord Clifford and how I thought his ruse could assist Daniel’s mission. I wanted to put my hands on Mr. Fielding as well, to shake him soundly.
But whatever went on in the world, I had to cook breakfast for the household the next morning. Tess and I poached eggs, fried ham, and toasted bread, and I made up a hollandaise sauce for the eggs. I was so distracted by my thoughts that the sauce almost turned—reverting to eggs and butter. Tess relieved me of it and beat in a squeeze of lemon juice and cold water, as I had taught her, and all was well.
Once the staff had finished their breakfast of the hash I made from the extra ham and leftover potatoes and had gone about their duties, the kitchen quieted. I sent Charlie, when he could be spared, to find James, who had likely spent the night in his father’s rooms in Southampton Street, judging from the direction he’d run when he left the hansom. I gave Charlie a note and strict instructions to deliver it into James’s hands.
While he was gone and Elsie was up to her elbows in suds in the scullery, Tess approached me.
“Caleb dropped by on his beat this morning,” she said in a loud whisper. “He says the police know what the poison is.”
I ceased kneading bread dough and stared at her, flour drifting from my hands. “Do they? Inspector McGregor must have chivvied the Sydenham coroner.”
“Suppose.” Tess leaned closer, smelling of the fresh herbs she’d been chopping. “Inspector McGregor didn’t say nothing about it, but Caleb had a butcher’s at the report when no one was looking.”
“He ought not to have done that,” I said in worry. I wanted very much to know what was in the report, but I did not wish Caleb to get into trouble.
“He’s very careful, and besides, he could always say he’s interested and wants to help. The poison was . . .” Tess’s brow puckered. “Something with a long, fancy name. Caleb didn’t know what it was either. He copied it out for me.” Tess drew a scrap of paper from her pocket and handed it to me. “I don’t even want to try to pronounce it.”
I studied the long scientific words, carefully written in block capitals: carbohydrate andromedotoxin. “Means nothing to me,” I said, studying the paper. “I will have to look it up.”
“Can you? Where would ya look up things like that?”
“In a medical textbook. Or I could ask a chemist. Or consult with a brilliant man who knows almost everything.”
Tess relaxed. “You mean Mr. Thanos, don’t you? Give him me best. Is that helpful?” She pointed at the paper.
“I believe it will be, once I know what it means.”
“Good.” Tess grinned and skipped back to her herbs. “I hope you find whoever’s doing this. How’s a cook to keep her post if people drop dead in the dining room?”
She had a good point.
Once we had luncheon prepared enough that I could leave Tess to it, I took up my basket and headed for the greengrocers. I walked a circuitous route that put me on Regent Street in front of the house where Mr. Thanos now had rooms.
For all my pains, Mr. Thanos was not in. His landlady told me he’d gone to the Polytechnic.
That building was closer to the markets than Mr. Thanos’s abode, so I’d come out of my way for nothing. I held my basket closer and trudged up Regent Street toward Cavendish Square.