“You are convinced it is your stepbrother?”
“I am. He’s the sort of tick who’d watch his own sister die and say nothing at all.”
The chill of the house returned. “I will keep it in mind,” I said.
“And take care.” Jonathan walked me to the door, pausing as his hand rested on its handle. “George is beastly. Looks like a harmless dullard, but he’s cunning and nasty.”
With that, he opened the door and ushered me out. The maid who’d admitted me just then emerged from another bedroom with a stack of towels. She caught sight of me with Jonathan and gave me a glare that tried to sink me through the floor. I nodded to her coolly and marched down the stairs, my mind filled with all I had learned.
* * *
* * *
When I returned home, it was to find a frantic James lurking outside the scullery stairs. “Dad’s holed up in Mr. Thanos’s rooms,” James told me as I stopped to greet him. “He’s wild to see you.”
I doubted the maddeningly calm Daniel was wild about anything, but James’s eyes held worry.
“I must take these in and see to supper. Can he wait?”
“Don’t know. Said I should fetch you, sharpish.”
Now I grew troubled. Why was Daniel in London, if the duke’s house party was to have gone on through the weekend? Lord Clifford had returned, but that was to keep himself out of the way so Mr. Fielding could take over with the necklace ruse, though I’d believed Lord Clifford when he’d said he’d wanted to return to his wife. Had something gone wrong with the scheme?
“I will be as quick as I can,” I said. “Do you want to wait for me? Or run back and tell him?”
“I’ll wait.” James leaned on the railing. “If it grows dark, and I let you walk alone . . .” He trailed off, his expression telling me dire things would happen to him.
It wouldn’t be dark for hours yet, but I nodded to him and hurried down the stairs.
Before I’d departed Lady Covington’s, I’d stepped into the garden and taken Symes’s offer of the pole beans. While he’d ducked into the hothouse to fetch them, I’d taken a cutting from the nearest rhododendron bush and stuffed the leaves into my basket. I’d carefully laid a cloth over them so they’d not touch the beans and extra herbs and greens that Symes brought to me, beaming with pride. I’d thanked him for giving me so much and departed before he could take my thanks for anything more than simple gratitude.
I sorted the herbs—parsley, thyme, and dill—and the greens—spring onions, leaf lettuce, carrot tops, and radishes. I eyed the radishes, imagining their cool crunch with a bite of vinegar and a sprinkling of dill.
I instructed Tess to wash and prepare the vegetables, telling her we’d do a large salad and then a sauce of onions and thickly reduced stock, well seasoned with the fresh thyme.
Meanwhile, I carried the basket down the hall and hid the rhododendron leaves and stems I’d cut in a box on a bottom shelf, well behind the empty crates that rested there, where no one would come across them.
I’d brought the specimens home so I could decide how someone would get them into the food coming out of the kitchen or into the hamper that had accompanied the family on the train. The leaves or stems must have been chopped fine, or ground, or perhaps soaked in water for a long time and the water sprinkled over the food. I would have to ponder how it could have been done.
I hated to leave Tess on her own, but when I told her Daniel wanted to see me, she waved me off with a bright green carrot top. “I know how to cook all this.” She indicated the table. “Off ya go, Mrs. H. It’s why you have an assistant. Specially one as good as me.” Tess grinned, her nose wrinkling. “But you have to tell me everything when you come home.”
“Of course.” I prepared a basket of tea cakes for Mr. Thanos then snatched up my coat and headed upstairs. The spring afternoon was balmy, but I knew from experience that at this time of year, cold could sweep down upon London without warning.
James paced near the railings, looking relieved when I emerged. We hurried arm in arm along Mount Street to Davies Street, then northward to Brook Street and east through Hanover Square to the busy thoroughfare of Regent Street.
Mr. Thanos’s landlady knew James and me by now and welcomed us with a smile. James rapped his knuckles on the door of the upstairs landing and opened it before any could come to answer. Inside we found Mr. Thanos, Daniel, Mr. Fielding, and Lady Cynthia, all rising to greet us.
Before Daniel, who was still in his suit as Mr. Lancaster, could speak, Mr. Fielding stepped forward.
“Dear Mrs. Holloway. Would you be so kind as to reprise your role as Mrs. Holtmann from Amsterdam? We believe the duplicitous duke would be amenable to taking money offered for the necklace from you. He certainly isn’t interested in any from a dithering but well-meaning vicar.”
24
I stared in bafflement at my friends, who clearly expected me to switch my frock for a finer one on the moment and parade back to Surrey. All except Mr. Thanos, who sent me an apologetic look.
“Only if you are willing, Mrs. Holloway,” Mr. Thanos said gently. “They explained things to me, and I said it was too much risk to you. I can always pretend to be a collector who understands nothing about expense, if you like.”
Daniel came to me. I saw fury in his eyes, suppressed with difficulty. “I’m afraid I’m rather in a corner, Kat.”
“May I guess who put you in that corner?” I shot a glance at Mr. Fielding, who rubbed his beard.
“Nothing I could do,” Mr. Fielding said. “Our duke professed to be uninterested in selling the necklace he bought from Lord Clifford. I told him I had a friend who would offer a very good price, but Daventry hems and haws. I’m beginning to think he has nothing to do with anarchists, but Daniel believes otherwise.”
As Daniel was usually right about these things, I did not argue. Daniel must have discovered solid information about the duke but still was at a loss as to how to prove it. The case had to be incontrovertible before Daniel could speak out.
“None of this explains why you wish me to return to Surrey and playact again,” I said.
“Not Surrey,” Daniel said. “Berkeley Square. The duke and his wife have retreated there, the house party over.”
I widened my eyes. “I cannot go to Berkeley Square and pretend to be a lady I am not. That is hardly any distance from Mount Street. Someone will recognize me.”
“Not necessarily,” Mr. Fielding said quickly. “No one notices servants. They drudge in the shadows while the master and mistress see nothing but hands that give them things or take away what isn’t wanted.” He trailed off bitterly. “If you worry about the other servants, we’ll keep them away from you.”