“How could I? She has looked after us all of her life. She was looking after me still. She made it her business to put me quite in the clear,” he said firmly. “If she had not fallen ill, she would have made it perfectly apparent that I was nowhere near Whitechapel during those terrible crimes.”
I did not disabuse him of his illusions. Lady Wellie’s proof of his innocence would hold in a court of law but not the court of public opinion. One whisper attaching his name to the murders and he would go down in history as an homicidal maniac.
I went on. “The Ripper murders have been a stroke of luck for Archibond,” I mused. “Nothing else could keep Special Branch so preoccupied that he could work out his schemes undetected. He has no doubt kept careful records of your visits to Madame Aurore’s house with an eye to presenting them once you were implicated in her murder.”
“You think that was his plan?” Eddy paled in horror.
“I do. That was why you had to be lured back to her house at a specific time, to ensure that Archibond and his men were there to do the deed. And the time was set for an evening when Stoker and I were there as well so that Archibond could kill three very particular birds with one stone.”
Eddy ticked them off on his fingers. “Eliminating a co-conspirator in Aurore, establishing my presence at the house at the time of her murder, and giving them an opportunity to abduct you and me, so that we would be in their power.”
“Precisely.”
“I cannot approve such actions, but they were efficiently done,” he observed.
“I think it is as much a lack of manpower as efficiency driving their actions,” I pointed out. “We have seen my uncle de Clare, Archibond, Quiet Dan, and one other. I think they have chosen to keep their little plot as quiet as possible in order to avoid word getting out.”
“That would be a reasonable precaution,” Eddy agreed.
Just then the door opened and my uncle de Clare appeared, leaning on his walking stick, with his minion, Quiet Dan, lurking behind.
“Good evening, Niece,” he said amiably.
I inclined my head. “Uncle. How kind of you to visit. It was gracious of Inspector Archibond to permit it.”
He thrust himself upwards. “What’s that?”
I opened my eyes wide. “Well, obviously he is the mastermind of this little endeavor. The kingmaker, as it were. Or I suppose we would call him a queenmaker, although it doesn’t have quite the same ring, does it?”
Eddy was watching de Clare closely but said nothing, letting me prattle on, goading my uncle in ways I knew he would never accept from a woman.
“It is understandable,” I remarked. “After all, you are merely an Irish countryman and he is an inspector at Scotland Yard, a member of Special Branch, no less. It was very wise of you to put someone cleverer than yourself in charge.”
He came forwards, his lips stretched in a thin line.
“You think I would play second fiddle to that arse-faced Englishman?” he demanded.
I shrugged. “He seems to be making all of the decisions,” I pointed out. “And why shouldn’t he? You are superfluous to his requirements.”
His eyes goggled. “Superfluous! Damn your insolence, girl. This entire plan is mine.”
“Is it? It might have been when you began. But you have given him too much rein and he has slipped the traces. He has no need of you now, does he? He knows what you intend and he has me. What use are you?”
I paused to let that sift through the murky waters of his thoughts. “It is not true,” he muttered.
“Perhaps not,” I said graciously. “He might intend for the pair of you to be partners to the very end. But if you are willing to take the risk, then you are a greater gambler than even I realized.”
“’Tis no risk,” he said mulishly. “We work together and he takes his orders from me.”
“Do I, now?” Archibond’s voice was silken. De Clare had not seen him approach, but I had noticed the shadow falling over the doorway as I framed my last remark. De Clare whirled, his expression dark.
Archibond entered, clearly intent upon placating him. “Are you listening to her? She’s an artful woman, I will give her that. She is trying to divide us by sowing discord, de Clare. Surely you can see that.”
His tone was reasonable, but the expression in his eyes was watchful. And with good reason. Quiet Dan and his companion stood at the ready. If they were prepared to abduct the prince and assault the brother of a peer, heaven knew they would not scruple to bludgeon an officer of the law if de Clare ordered it.
De Clare nodded slowly. “Aye. She is a canny bitch and no doubt about it. Her mother was another just as like.” He smiled a mirthless smile. “All the same, she has a point.”
Archibond’s mouth tightened. “Does she indeed?”
“She does. Who is to say that you won’t cut my throat for my trouble when you’ve got what you want?”
Archibond gave a patient sigh. “De Clare, we have been through this. We each have a role to play in our little drama. This is no time to give up the faith.”
“Faith! That’s a lot to ask of a man when his life is on the line,” de Clare pointed out. “We could all of us hang for this if it goes awry. And even if it don’t. Why should you see me right at the end and not come over greedy? You might have character flaws I had not anticipated.”
“Character flaws? Good God, man. Do you hear yourself?” Archibond demanded. “We are conspiring to commit treason and you have decided that this is the time to worry about character flaws? Of course I have character flaws! I agreed to the cutting of a woman’s throat for this endeavor. Does that not prove my commitment?”
“You agreed to it,” de Clare allowed. “But ’twas Danny who did the slicing,” he added with a jerk of the head towards Quiet Dan. “There’s no blood on your hands, Mr. Archibond. Lily-white, they are.”
Archibond shot me a look of purest loathing. “If you attempt to stir up trouble between us one more time, I will have you gagged, do you understand me?”
I looked to my uncle. “You notice he does not ask your permission?”
De Clare curled a lip. “She is my niece, Archibond. Touch a hair on that pretty head and I will give her your balls to keep in her pocket.”
Archibond winced. “My dear de Clare, must we descend to crude threats of violence?”
“If an Irishman has learnt violence, he has learnt it at the hands of the English, so you will spare me the lectures, Inspector,” de Clare told him in a tone of chill finality. “Now, she is a twisty little bitch, and there’s no doubt about that, but she is right. I’ve no reason to trust you. And I shall be keeping an eye on you. Mind yourself.”