Unraveling Secrets (The Secret Trilogy) (27 page)

“What is on your agenda for the rest of the day, my dear?” Irene asked from the settee in the drawing room.

Abigail looked up from her tea, well aware Irene had been studying her, waiting for an explanation for her behavior of the previous day. She knew the dark shadows under her eyes told of her sleepless night, and she couldn
’t hide her melancholy. She’d managed to avoid her stepmother most of the day, but they always shared tea each afternoon when they were both home. “I’m staying in this evening.”

“I thought you were going to the Smithby
’s ball.” She sipped her tea, her brow puckered in concern.

“I
’m not feeling up to it. I’ve sent my regrets.”

Irene nodded, clearly waiting for Abigail to say something more.

Abigail set down her tea, deciding it best to tell her the truth. Or at least part of it. “My...ah...association with Lord Ashbury has come to an end.”

“I
’m terribly sorry to hear that. May I ask why?” The sympathy in her expression caused a lump in Abigail’s throat.

She
looked away to stare out the window, deciding how to explain it. “We didn’t agree on the correct method of removing the threat of Simmons.”

“Oh dear. If Lord Ashbury is no longer helping us, then who is?”

“We will have to rely on ourselves.”

Irene visibly paled. “Are you certain this is wise? What about the guards he posted? Are they gone as well?”

“I suppose so, although I haven’t checked.” Abigail drew a shaky breath. “I intend to speak with Simmons and propose some sort of agreement with him. In exchange for the stone he wants, I’ll request he leave us alone. That he never bothers us again.”

“Abigail! Honestly, what are you thinking? How can you trust the word of a murderer and a thief?” Irene
’s voice rose as she continued, “His agreement to your trade would mean nothing. Why would you think otherwise?”

“I hope that once he has what he wants, he
’ll keep his distance. He’ll have no reason to threaten us anymore.” Abigail was taken aback at having to defend herself. Yet she had to admit the logic that had seemed sound as she’d lain awake in the middle of the night, now sounded ridiculous.

“
We still don’t know why he wants the stone. That makes it all the more suspicious. I think you should reconsider. What happened with Lord Ashbury? He seemed quite reliable.”

Frustrated, Abigail moved to the edge of her chair. “He was never forthcoming with information and I had to constantly ask him to report new developments to me.”

“For goodness sake! He’s a viscount, not an employee. How can you possibly expect him to act in any other capacity?”

Abigail hesitated. She hadn
’t considered that.

“Darling,” Irene said with a frown, “I think you should reconsider. Having a man in your life means relinquishing control, letting go of the details in some situations, trusting him.”

“I did trust him,” Abigail protested.

“It doesn
’t sound like it.”

Abigail refused to consider the truth of that. “
My agreement with Lord Ashbury was for him to warn off Simmons and instead, he spent his time trying to discover who else is involved.”

“That makes perfect sense.”

Abigail stood and paced the room, trying to gather her thoughts, to separate her emotions from logic. “I only want Simmons gone. I can’t stand it anymore. If anything happens to you or the girls...” She couldn’t finish the thought let alone the sentence.

Irene rose to take Abigail
’s hands in her own. “But don’t you see? If we don’t get to the bottom of what Simmons is really after, then he could come back. And if he’s up to no good, then he might hurt someone else.”

With a heavy sigh, Abigail
closed her eyes as the truth of her stepmother’s words sunk in. “You’re right. We need to follow through the whole affair and stop him. But we can’t simply wait to see what he does next. Action of some sort is needed.”

“Then you
’ll get back in touch with Lord Ashbury?”

Her eyes flew open at the thought. “No.” She couldn
’t deal with that. She hurt too much already. “There has to be another way. Someone else who could help us.”

“Do you have
anyone in mind?”

“Perhaps Mr. Nesbitt could be of assistance. He recently had some interaction with the
police.” Abigail hoped he’d formed some sort of relationship with whoever had come to investigate the break-in at his office. Maybe together they could convince the police of the threat Simmons posed. She already felt better for having a plan even though it was still forming.

“Does Lord Ashbury still have the stone
Simmons wants?”

Abigail had almost forgotten that. “Yes. I
’ll send a message requesting he return it.”

Irene tipped her head to the side, studying Abigail. “
Does your riff with Lord Ashbury involve something more than this business with Simmons?”

Abigail paused, wondering how much to say. “I do have feelings for him, but I fear he doesn
’t return them.”

“Are you certain? The other day when he was here, I thought
—”

“No.”
So had I, Abigail thought with an ache. “Nothing of the sort. It’s better if I refrain from seeing him for any reason.” She couldn’t risk hurting herself any further as she feared she wouldn’t recover from it.

Irene gave her a warm hug. “I am sorry, darling, for I can see how hurt you are. Perhaps you
’ll be able to work things out.”

Abigail pushed back her tears as she took comfort in the embrace. Reconciling with Stephen seemed impossible. How could she win his love when she couldn
’t even gain his trust?

***

The expert Weston had found was a retired Cambridge professor. At first glance, Professor Embersley appeared well dressed until one looked closer. Apparently his pension hadn’t provided for him very well or perhaps he couldn’t be bothered with such details.

His
jacket was frayed along the cuffs and collar, and bore stains that made Stephen wonder when it had last been cleaned. His balding head was partially concealed by an overly long section of white hair combed from one side to the other. When he bent down, the over comb flapped dangerously, mixing with his long white sideburns and large moustache.

The professor lived alone
off High Street in a townhome stuffed to the brim with books, stacks of papers, boxes, and odd artifacts tucked in unusual places. The entryway was no longer an open hall, but merely a path from the front door to other rooms.

The piles were organized in some manner visible only to him. As soon as they
’d explained the reason for their visit, Professor Embersley had gone immediately to his library to dig through a selection of books and papers.

“A bit of a maze, isn
’t it?” Weston muttered to Stephen as they followed the Professor to where he searched through one of the piles stacked on the floor.

“What did you say?” The professor looked up from the book he held to peer at them over the
top of his smudged spectacles.

“Nothing, sir. We were admiring your...collection,” Stephen offered. He elbowed Weston in the side to reprimand him. There was nothing wrong with the old man
’s hearing.

“Humph.”

Apparently Stephen’s attempt at flattery had fallen short.

The professor straightened with a book in his hand, his spectacles sliding to the end of his nose. “Where d
id you say you found the rock?”

W
eston raised a brow at Stephen.

“An acquaintance of ours provided it to us.” Stephen didn
’t see any point in going through the story of where he’d found it.

“Humph.” The professor flipped through the book for several long moments, muttering as he scanned the pages. “Ah. Just as I thought.”

He looked up and studied the pair of them, his hazel eyes still sharp. “Attended Cambridge, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Stephen answered.

“I believe I remember you. There were three of you, were there not? Students of Professor Grisby’s.”

Stephen shared a look with Weston. “Yes, that
’s right.”

“Terrible accident that took Grisby.” Embersley shook his h
ead as his gaze became clouded with memories. “Terrible. I retired soon after that.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Weston asked.

“Indeed. Right here.” He pointed to a place in the book. “Dr. Woolaston discovered rhodite in 1803. I’ve never before had the pleasure of seeing it for myself.”

“Rhodite? What is it used for?” Stephen
turned the reddish stone over in his hand.

“May I see
it again?” the professor asked.

Stephen handed
it to him and watched as he examined it.

“Apparently this particular ore is from Brazil. Dr. Woolaston developed a process somewhat similar to what he used for platinum to obtain it. The resulting powder of sodium chlorohodate is dark red in color.”
He mumbled as he continued reading the text. “It doesn’t seem he found any particular use for it.”

Stephen sighed in disappointment. He
’d hoped this stone would lead to something.

“Wait. Wait. There
’s something else.” The old man set down the book to pick up another. “Something else,” he muttered and hurriedly paged through the large tomb.

Stephen and Weston waited as the professor
’s lips moved with his finger on the text.

“Here it is
: ‘This rare ore contains the ability to act as a conductor with electric machines. In fact, it carries the potential to enhance the reciprocal relationship between electricity and magnetism’.”

“Interesting,” Stephen said
. “Professor, did you read an article last week in the newspaper about a scientist who claimed some success conducting experiments with electromagnetism?”

Embersley set down the book
with a thump. “Nonsense. What sort of scientist publishes anything until their findings are complete? The man’s either a braggart or a sham. Most likely both.”

Stephen nodded. “We figured as much. Thought you might
’ve heard who he is.”

“No. Don
’t care to until he comes forward to reveal his name and his results. As a matter of fact, we were discussing it at the Association for the Advancement of Science just the other day.”

“Professor, we can
’t thank you enough for your time,” Stephen interrupted before the old man launched into a summary of the meeting.

“Of course. Happy to help. You should know that rhodite is rare and quite valuable. You wouldn
’t want to leave it lying around. Though not many people would recognize it.”

“If you think of anything else of importance, please let us know,” Weston said.

“I say, do you know what happened that night to Grisby? All sorts of rumors were flying about regarding his experiments.”

How many times had they been asked this question? The only thing they
’d been able to answer was a version of the truth.

“It all happened so fast. Difficult to say exactly,” Weston said.

Stephen cleared his throat. “Grisby had diverse interests and electromagnetism was one of them.” Even after all these years, they still had some loyalty to him. To Stephen’s knowledge, none of them had offered specific details as to what Professor Grisby had been doing or what he’d hoped to accomplish.

Embersley removed his spectacles to wipe them with his handkerchief. “We all mourned his loss. Always hard to lose a colleague. Grisby had moments of brilliance.”

Weston gave Stephen a wry glance. That was a very apt statement of their former professor.

They bid Professor Embersley farewell and
saw themselves out, leaving the professor muttering to himself as he pulled another book from a stack.

“Moments of brilliance.” Stephen shook his head as
he took a seat in Weston’s carriage.

“That was Grisby.
How interesting that this stone could serve the same purpose as the meteorite when used with electromagnetism. But I’m not certain where that takes us.”

“I
’ll contact the newspaper and see if they’ve heard anything further from our elusive scientist.” Stephen wished more action could be taken. They drew to a halt before his home, and he stepped out of the carriage. “We’re awaiting several other inquires but haven’t heard anything yet. Do you have any suggestions?”

“My lord!”

Stephen turned to see Markus, one of his associates, approaching.

“
Do you have news?” he asked the boy.

Markus
’s grin gave him his answer. “Only one of the boys in the workhouse was willing to talk. He says a man named Mikey offered payment to a few of the lads for a job. None of those have returned. Of late, a tall, thin man in a bowler hat was looking for boys interested in assisting with a scientific experiment.”