Corey McFadden (40 page)

John continued his walk, pausing down the block to seat himself unobtrusively on a wrought-iron bench. He unfolded his paper and pretended to read it, as he watched the door of the house and thought furiously about his next move.

Surely he must get to Mr. Parsons as soon as possible, although he would first like to ascertain with whom Maude had found shelter. Then they must plan how to spirit her away, making it appear as if she had left of her own volition. The situation was complicated and it must be handled correctly so as not to bring this unknown benefactor down on their heads. No, he could make no move until he could find out more of Maude’s present circumstances.

As he pondered, a coach drew up before the house in question. It was a fine equipage, with a perfectly matched set of horses and a footman riding behind. John watched as a cloaked gentleman stepped down from the carriage and entered the house. Cursing the nearsightedness which had prevented him from getting a good look at the man, John peered hard at the crest which emblazoned the door of the carriage. It appeared to be the same as the crest he had glimpsed on the livery of Maude’s groom, although he was too far away to be sure.

John resumed his pose with the newspaper and steadied himself to wait, hoping it would not be long, for he could not go on sitting there all day without possibly being noticed. He was elated. His mother had nearly worn a track in the carpet, pacing these last two months, and the expensive detectives had turned up nothing, and yet, here he was, out for a stroll and he had found her! It would only be a matter of time before she was his again.

He was relieved when some twenty minutes later the front door of the townhouse opened and Maude and the gentleman came out. John watched as they got into the carriage. Ah, so much the better! They were driving this way. Holding the newspaper up closer to his face to avoid recognition, John was nevertheless able to see around the sides as the vehicle approached at a staid pace.

When it was nearly upon him, he let out a gasp. He’d know that coach and crest anywhere and his snotty neighbor as well! Edward Almsworth, Earl of Radford had had little to do with the Romneys, making it clear that he considered them beneath his notice. He had cold-shouldered Claire’s suggestion that Amelia was available to wed and had not bothered to attend any of the few parties given in London in her honor. In all the years he and John had attended the same parties or routs, Radford had never given John more than a nod of acquaintance. And now the sodding bastard had Maude, and with her, John’s only hope of solvency.

John’s knuckles were white as he gripped the newspaper and waited for the carriage to pass. Radford’s appearance had changed the situation dramatically. John knew enough of Radford’s reputation to know that the man was considered to be a formidable enemy. And the fact that Maude had been so cleverly hidden in what must be the earl’s house for such a long time meant she had obviously poisoned the earl against John and his mother. The more John thought about it, the clearer it became. The Earl of Radford must die. The only question was how?

The germ of an idea began to form in his brain. Yes, it might work, if he was careful and if his mother didn’t lose her nerve. He almost laughed out loud at the thought. Claire’s malevolence as far as Maude was concerned was the one constant in his life. Her resolve would be the least of his problems. First, he must make careful inquiry as to Maude’s circumstances, under a pseudonym, of course. Then he could proceed to the parts he would really enjoy.

With great nonchalance, John stood up from the bench and tucked his paper under his arm. He ambled down the street in the direction of the earl’s house. Knowing that the earl and Maude were both away from the house at this moment was a great boon, but there was no way of knowing how long they’d be gone. Surely he’d have at least a half hour and he could accomplish all his business in less time than that.

At the front door he lifted the large brass knocker and let it fall with an echoing boom. A moment later the door was answered, not by the usual butler or footman, but by a rather out-of-breath young servant girl. John smiled beneficently at her. Perhaps this would be easier than he had thought.

“Good day,” he began genially. “I’ve come to see Lord Radford. I was told I might find him here. Is he available?”

“Oh, no, sir, I’m sorry, sir,” the girl replied breathlessly. “’E’s just gone out this minute, sir.”

“I see. How very disappointing.” John frowned in apparent consternation. “We’re old friends and I’m visiting only for a short time.” He appeared to be giving the matter some thought, then he brightened. “Oh, I say, what about the young lady? Drat, I cannot remember her name. How utterly silly of me...” he trailed off hopefully, waiting for the young maid to pick up her cue, hoping she was not too stupid to follow the lead.

“Oh, yes, sir. You’ll mean Miss Ramsey, sir, ’is lordship’s ward. She lives ’ere.”

The girl was a veritable font of information. “Yes, of course. Miss Ramsey. How is she, by the way? She was such a lovely thing when I last had the pleasure of her company.” Unobtrusively, John had stepped into the hallway and stood looking befuddled as if at a loss as to what to do next.

“Oh, Miss Ramsey is very nice indeed, sir.” The girl warmed to the subject, encouraged that this proper-looking gentleman was being so nice to her. “She treats us ever so good. Although, there’s some as wouldn’t agree with me,” she finished with a sniff.

“Indeed, I find that very difficult to believe, my girl. I’ve never known her to utter a harsh word.” John was enjoying this. If only no one came along to spoil it.

“Well, you might ask Mr. Graves about that, sir. An’ it wasn’t that miss said anythin’ ’arsh to anybody. Quite the contrary....” the girl lowered her voice conspiratorially. “...It was that Mr. Graves and ’is airs. ’E was insolent to ’er an’ ’e got the sack for it by ’is lordship this mornin’.”

The girl was positively gloating. It was clear there was no love lost between her and this Graves, John mused.

“I’m thinkin’ ’e was too fine to work for the likes of Miss Ramsey, them not bein’ married yet an’ all. Oh, I didn’t mean...” she stopped in consternation, aware at last that she had said too much to a stranger.

“Oh, that’s all right, my dear, no harm done.” John went so far as to pat the girl on the arm. Stupid chit. He’d sack any servant in his employ who was so free with her tongue. “After all, they’ll be marrying soon, won’t they? And there’s no harm done about the ‘situation’, is there?” He fairly beamed at her, and gave her a wink.

“Oh, I ’ope not, sir. I didn’t mean nothin’ at all. An’ they will be marryin’ real soon, a few days, in fact. I ’eard that in the kitchen today. So everythin’s all right, isn’t it?”

She gave him a pleading glance as if begging to be excused for her wagging tongue.

“Absolutely. Think no more about it, my dear. I shall push off now. I tell you what, you don’t even have to mention to his lordship that I’ve come by. I’ll drop him a note next week.” John turned to leave. He glanced back as if just thinking of something else. “Where have they gone off to today by the way? Not to elope, I hope?” He chuckled, as if making a joke. If the bitch married before he got to her, all her assets would be lost.

“Oh, no, sir. They’ve gone to see some lawyers. Somethin’ about ’er property, I believe.”

The girl smiled at him, obviously proud of her ability to answer questions, as if she knew what she were about. John smiled warmly back at her and fumbled in his pocket for a small coin. “You’re a very sharp girl. What is your name by the way?” he asked, handing her the penny.

“Betsy, sir,” she said with a pleased flush and a bob of thanks.

“Well, good-bye, Betsy. And let’s keep my visit our little secret, shall we? I want to surprise his lordship.”

John gave another little wink. Betsy smiled and nodded. John turned back to descend the stairs, his heart turned to ice inside him. Behind him, he heard the door close.

Lawyers! About her property? Did that mean Booth and Parks or Radford’s own solicitors? Either way, this house of cards was about to come tumbling down around their ears and he had better get to Booth and Parks before they did. There was no time to lose. What a fool that stupid servant girl was. Hurrying down the street, John thanked his lucky stars that Graves had gotten the sack this morning, for he never would have gotten such a mother lode of information from an experienced butler.

He hailed a hansom when he reached the main thoroughfare, gave the address of Maude’s solicitors and settled back in the seat to work through his plan for the immediate deaths of Maude and the Earl of Radford.

* * * *

In Mr. Parks’ office, tastefully appointed and very stolid, emotions ran unusually high. There had been something of a stir when the Earl of Radford had come in with young Miss Maude Romney on his arm, and had demanded to see either Mr. Booth or Mr. Parks immediately. They were shown at once into Mr. Parks’ office, where that gentleman had looked somewhat confused but had affably inquired how he could be of service. Radford had quickly dispelled him of the notion that this was a congenial call, laying out his suspicions in clipped tones.

Mr. Booth had been called in immediately and dispatched to find Mr. Parsons, who was not to be warned what was in store for him. The look on Parsons’ face when he walked in and spotted Maude had laid to rest any doubt she might have had as to the reality of Radford’s suspicions. Now they sat going over the family accounts, and Maude was white-lipped with fury.

“Worse and worse!” Maude cried as she spotted yet another item that she could verify as pure embezzlement. “This rose satin dress—why, you’ll remember that one, Edward— she wore it the night of her coming-out party at Romney Manor when I sprained my ankle!” Maude was too angry to spare a moment of embarrassment over her part in that evening’s charade. “Here it is listed as my dress, just like all these other dresses she had for her Season!”

One of the minor clerks scribbled furiously on his notepad. The list of thefts grew longer and longer. Mr. Parks sat back in his chair, his face dead-white. Mr. Booth mopped his brow and breathed rapidly, looking as if he were trying not to weep.

“And look at these jewelry purchases, Edward! I remember specifically asking Aunt Claire about all the fine jewelry Amelia was wearing during her Season, and I was told to mind my own business, that it had all come from Claire’s family. How outrageous! Every bit of it is charged as if bought for me. I never wore a piece of that jewelry once in my life! Why, Amelia took most of it away with her when she married, along with all of ‘my dresses’!”

Maude sat back and pushed the books away, wanting a rest for a minute from the evidence of treachery before her eyes. She put her fingers to her temples as if she could rub away her headache. She had nearly wept over the charges for the four magnificent horses that were alleged to have been bought “for the riding instruction and traveling comfort of Miss Maude.” She hadn’t traveled outside the neighborhood of Romney Manor since her parents’ deaths. And she had been equally shocked at the housekeeping accounts which showed the manor to be staffed by three times the actual number of servants and at what appeared to be grossly inflated wages. And such repairs! Romney Manor should have been St. James for all the money spent on furnishing and refurbishing. And the letters... dozens of letters purportedly from Maude, begging for pocket money, or a bauble, or a new dress. And the handwriting so like her own she could scarce believe she had not written them! Which one of the jackals was a forger as well?

Mr. Parsons sat in a hard-backed chair in a corner of the room, far from the door, mopping at his nose which bled copiously. It had been his folly to try to run after the first of the embezzled items had been discovered. Radford had a very persuasive fist. Now he glared malevolently at Maude and spoke not a word. He must have worked it out that denying knowledge of the fraud would have been fruitless. A shudder of obvious fear ran through him as Radford picked up the last file and placed it gently in Maude’s hands.

She needed to peruse it for only a moment.

“Oh, no! This is the worst of all!” Maude fairly shrieked as she turned angry eyes directly on Mr. Parsons.

Knowing full well what she was looking at, he flushed and turned his face away from her.

“Look at this, Edward!” she went on. “Bill after bill from John’s tailors, and look at these notations in the margins. ‘Paid out of stables account,” this one says, and the next one says ‘paid out of Maude’s clothing account.’” She slammed the book down on the table and turned again to Mr. Parsons.

“Well, so much for denying you knew what was going on, you miserable snake!” she cried. “You let that evil woman and her son drive me out of my own home, believing myself penniless, and you were paying his tailor bills with my money!” Maude had a fleeting desire to punch Mr. Parsons in the nose herself.

“Edward”—she turned back to Radford— “John told me Aunt Claire had subsidized the manor all these years and that I owed her a great deal of money. Look how they have run my father’s estate into the ground!” At this mention of her father, her voice broke and she put her hands quickly to her face.

Radford reached out and pulled her close. “Shhhh,” he said softly into her hair, “don’t distress yourself further. Some of the money will be recovered and Romney Manor will be fine again, I promise you. And these scoundrels will end their days in a jail cell.”

He turned to Mr. Parks, who still looked as if his own death had been announced. “No, don’t say anything, sir,” Radford began, as that sad gentleman opened his mouth to speak. “I am well aware that you trusted Parsons with this rather small account. You were clearly negligent in your lack of overseeing him, but we will not charge either you or Mr. Booth with this fraud. But you must agree to aid in the prosecution of Parsons and I suggest you send for the constables right away. I’ve no intention of giving this viper any opportunity to warn his cohorts and hide whatever money can be found.”

Mr. Parks nodded, clearly unable to speak, and gestured to Mr. Booth to send for the law.