Banquet of Lies (25 page)

The sun had yet to rise, and she used the darkness to her advantage, keeping the footman between her and the shadow man.

When they reached the lane she increased her speed, dodging around the women and running to the corner, then turning right, in the opposite direction of the one she needed to get back to Aldridge House.

She kept up her pace, working her way back to Chapel by a circuitous route as the sun rose at last, checking behind her at every corner.

She really was a little mouse, just as she’d told Aldridge.
But she was alive, and the letter was still safe in the pocket of her petticoat. Now that she’d made her decision to trust Aldridge, she couldn’t wait to spill her secrets to him and be rid of it. If the shadow man was going to get her, she wanted the letter in the right hands, at least.

It was still early, but Edgars would expect her back by now. Long before now, truth be told. And he would have a mean temper and a pounding head on top of it, if she were any judge.

She stopped at the corner of Curzon Street and South Audley, looking down the street. All she’d need was to slip onto South Street, which ran parallel to Chapel, and then access the back lane from there. If the shadow man were watching anywhere on Chapel Street, he wouldn’t see her return to Aldridge House.

There was a sound of female voices behind her, and she turned to look.

Two women, one plump and trying to juggle three baskets, the other sturdy enough but not as rounded as her companion, were stepping out of a small bakery, the only shop open on the narrow street at this hour. Gigi was surprised when the sturdy one raised her hand in greeting.

She waited for them, trying to think where she could know them from.

“Thanks for waiting, love; thought it were you standing there. It’s time we ’ad a chat.” The sturdy woman set down her baskets and studied her. “ ’Specially when I heard it said at market t’other day you be the new French cook at Aldridge
House. Could ’ardly believe me ears. I’m Mrs. Thakery. I’m to the back o’ you and down a little way, facing South Street. Cook for Lord Matherton.” She nodded to her companion. “This be Mrs. Lambert. Works three doors down from you on Chapel, at the Ingleton place.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you. I am Madame Levéel.”

“Madame Levéel, is it?” Mrs. Thakery gave her a hard, disbelieving look, and Gigi stared back in surprise.

This woman couldn’t recognize her; she’d never seen her before.

To cover the moment of sharp silence Gigi turned to Mrs. Lambert. “May I help you carry your extra basket?” The older woman lifted her head with a jerk, then smiled.

“Much obliged.”

Gigi took it from her and waited for Mrs. Thakery to pick up hers. She’d stopped staring and was rubbing her hands to get the circulation going in her fingers before she picked up her heavy load again.

“Tell me, Madame Levéel, you take after your mother, do you, in your looks?” Mrs. Thakery spoke conversationally as they walked toward South Street from the bottom end of South Audley. The sun was high enough now to illuminate Mrs. Thakery’s face clearly. Her lips were set in a twist, and her brows were arched.

“I do.” Gigi hefted Mrs. Lambert’s basket.

“Knew a Frenchwoman who looked very like your mother would have looked, then. Years ago, this was. I worked for her in her kitchen as a maid. Not like most ladies, she was. Came
down into the kitchen all the time. Knew her way around an oven, did my lady.” Mrs. Thakery didn’t so much as glance her way. “Did me a big favor. Got me the job as cook for Lord Matherton, truth be told.”

“Is that so?” Gigi’s throat tightened.

“Heard you got a job for someone, yourself. That little wisp of a girl Iris was trying to feed up. Over at Goldfern House she is, now.” Mrs. Thakery set her baskets down, and they stopped and waited for her to rub her hands again.

“Where did you hear that?” The tension in her wound a little tighter. She had hoped there would be no outside talk about Mavis’s move down the road, but Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper at Goldfern, could be a gossip. It seemed that she was.

“News travels fast down the back lane,” Mrs. Thakery answered, and something in her eyes gave Gigi a little comfort. This woman did not mean her harm. “Speaking of back lanes, did Lord Aldridge find you yesterday?”

“Lord Aldridge?” She couldn’t think what the woman was talking about, until she recalled the way Aldridge had appeared out of nowhere at the rag-and-bone man’s cart. She’d been so startled, felt so guilty for her subterfuge, it hadn’t occurred to her to ask him what he was doing back there. “He was looking for me?”

“Oh, aye.” Mrs. Lambert spoke for the first time, chewing on the words like a particularly tasty morsel. “Came round the corner while me and Mrs. Thakery were having a little chat in the back lane. Were in a mighty hurry to find you, he was.”

Gigi breathed in sharply. Why had Aldridge been looking for her?

She supposed it no longer mattered. She would have to face him after breakfast this morning and tell him the truth. “He found me.”

“Well.” Mrs. Thakery slid her a speculative glance. “That’s all right then.” She looked up ahead, and Gigi saw a man stumbling down the road toward them. “Would you say Lord Aldridge is a man who keeps his promises?”

Gigi stopped short. “Why do you ask?” She tried to keep her tone even as she squinted in the growing light to see if it was the shadow man or not.

“Made a promise to me, yesterday. To sort out a little problem he heard Mrs. Lambert and me discussing. Just wondered if his word is good.”

“I hope so,” Gigi said. “I’m counting on him myself.”

Mrs. Thakery’s gaze never left the man coming toward them.

“I hope so, too.” Mrs. Lambert’s voice was low and nervous. She was staring ahead as well.

Mrs. Thakery bumped her basket to Mrs. Lambert’s in a gesture that spoke of solidarity.

“Would the man coming down the street be the problem Lord Aldridge promised help with?” They’d moved forward enough that the sun wasn’t completely in her eyes anymore, and she had a good view of him. He wasn’t the man who’d followed her. He was younger, wearing evening dress and barely able to walk in a straight line.

“Yes. Sir Ingleton’s son.” Mrs. Thakery kept walking forward, but there was a heaviness to her tread that hadn’t been there before.

“Well, I doubt Lord Aldridge has had a chance to do anything yet,” Gigi said. “Let’s turn down South Street, shall we, walk you to your door? Mrs. Lambert and I can take a side alley to the back lane. Avoid any unpleasantness.”

It was what she’d planned to do anyway, but having Ingleton stumbling about, sure to cross paths with herself and Mrs. Lambert if they carried on past South Street, was a convenient excuse.

Mrs. Lambert relaxed. “Quite right, m’dear. Much more sensible.”

They turned down South, and for the first time since she’d seen the shadow man that morning, Gigi felt safe.

T
here was a strange carriage waiting out on Chapel Street. Gigi caught sight of it as she came down the side alley to the kitchen door. She stopped and stared at it for a moment, dread sinking through her. She’d be in trouble if Aldridge needed to go out early, and her not in the kitchen to make his breakfast.

Ah well, it was only seven in the morning, and if he wanted such an early start, he should have told her sooner.

She pulled open the door and had taken three steps down into the kitchen before she registered the crowd of people below her. She stopped and stared at them.

“What’s wrong? Has something happened?” She caught the gaze of a slim, foxy-looking man with ginger whiskers and a brown jacket, and then noticed Iris, standing white-lipped and wide-eyed beside the fire, away from the rest of them.

“Who are you?” The man with the brown coat had a
deeper voice than she would have guessed, from the look of him. He was of medium height, and while his coat and trousers weren’t expensive, they fit him well and were neatly pressed. His brown eyes didn’t leave her face.

“That’s Madame Levéel.” Edgars shouldered past a group that Gigi had finally sorted into Rob, Harry, Babs and two strangers. “That’s the thief.”

She looked at Edgars with astonishment. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“She’s no thief and you know it.” Iris took a farther step away from the crowd, as if they were tainted. “
You’re
the one with something to answer for, going through her things.”

Gigi gaped. “You went through my private belongings?” She caught Edgars’ eye and he glared back at her before dropping his gaze.

“My name is Gilbert. I’m a senior constable from the Queen Square Public Office.” The man in the brown coat stepped forward. “Mr. Edgars called my colleagues and me in early this morning. Claims the jewelry in your trunks is stolen.” He gestured with his hand, and for the first time she saw her mother’s jewelry laid out on the kitchen table, the black velvet pouches she used to store it piled to one side.

“That jewelry is my mother’s, which I inherited on her death.” She spoke clearly, slowly, though her heart was racing. She looked at Edgars again, trying to make sense of it. “Why would you do this?”

When Edgars wouldn’t answer or look at her, she turned to Rob. “Where is Lord Aldridge? What does he have to say
about what Edgars has done?” Her gaze went back to the pile of pearls, diamonds and gold on the table, and she had to force herself to remain in place, even though everything in her wanted to scoop it up and hold it close to her. It was a tangible link to her mother, and how
dare
Edgars touch it? Use it against her.

Gilbert looked sharply at Edgars. “A good question. Where is Lord Aldridge?”

“Off on important business for the Crown.” Edgars’ words were short.

“He sent a note. It was delivered just after you left for market, Cook.” Babs spoke up for the first time. “I were clearing the fireplace in the library when the note came, and I heard a little of what was said. There were a note for you, too.”

Everyone looked at Edgars. He shuffled back, as if the weight of their gazes were pushing at him. “Where Lord Aldridge is has nothing to do with whether Madame Levéel is a thief or not.”

“From whom do you imagine I stole the jewelry, Mr. Edgars?” Gigi asked coldly. “You know it isn’t from Lord Aldridge.”

“Why would he know that?” Gilbert asked, standing so he could watch her and Edgars easily.

“Because he would know what jewelry Lord Aldridge has in this house, if any, and if he’s been pawing through my mother’s jewelry, he knows it isn’t the same.” She could barely speak around the ice-cold stone that seemed to be stuck in her throat. When she’d taken on the role of servant, she hadn’t
realized her privacy would be so inconsequential, that a single finger pointed in her direction would be taken so seriously.

“Well?” Gilbert asked Edgars.

He looked away. “No.” He cleared his throat. “The jewelry isn’t from this house.”

One of Gilbert’s men shifted a little nervously. “Eh? That’s why we’re ’ere. Thought the theft was of his lordship’s property.”

“Yes.” Gilbert dragged the word out. “I’m afraid you haven’t been very clear, Mr. Edgars.”

“It’s ’cause of last night, isn’t it?” There was a rough edge to Rob’s voice. “She weren’t going to say nothing, Edgars. She wouldn’t even give you up to me ’n’ ’Arry, and we were right there! She would never have dropped you in it with his lordship.”

“Last night?” Gigi frowned—and then she understood. She fumbled behind her on the steps and sat down, because her legs wouldn’t hold her up any longer. “You . . .” She couldn’t finish her sentence. Edgars had thought she would use what had happened last night—the things he’d said and done—to have him dismissed. He must have greeted the news this morning that Aldridge was away as a stay of execution. And he’d seized on the opportunity to get rid of her before she could get rid of him. Before he became powerless to stop her.

When Aldridge came back, Edgars could have made up whatever story he liked. He was panicked enough, terrified enough, to have lied about it later. If he’d had to say anything at all.

Aldridge might simply have accepted that she’d moved on.

The thought of that hurt, but she had to face it. Despite the intensity there seemed to be between them, she was only his cook, after all.

She put her head in her hands. “I’m not a thief. The jewelry is mine. Mr. Edgars is mistaken.”

She really
was
the Goose Girl of London Town. The princess betrayed by her maid. Or the youngest son in “Puss in Boots,” turned out by his brothers. She’d been in fear of the danger outside, but had forgotten there was danger within as well.

She hadn’t liked Edgars, but she had never wished him harm.

He wished her in a jail cell. In a prison, or on the hulks.

She couldn’t find a better description of harm than that.

She felt a touch on her shoulder and lifted her head to see that Iris had come to stand beside her. She curled her fingers around Iris’s hand for a brief moment.

Edgars made a noise, almost a cry, of despair. She raised her eyes to his but he was looking at Iris. Then he turned to her, and she saw hot, furious hate. “Take her away.”