Page 19 of Speculations in Sin

He spoke as a wise adviser should, with the right amount of encouragement tempered with warnings of prudence. Miss Swann completely agreed with him without saying a word. I wondered if she were here to reassure Cynthia, another woman showing that Lady Cynthia could have full confidence in Mr. Zachary.

And yet, beneath this play of perfect financial advice, I sensed uneasiness. I saw it in the flick of Mr. Zachary’s fingers on the paper and Miss Swann’s shift of weight. Her feet might ache in her narrow shoes, but there was more to it than that, I wagered.

“You will be paid a dividend at the end of every year,” Mr. Zachary continued. “We will set up an account for those dividends and send a letter to your uncle when they are available. I recommend leaving them in place to be reinvested, but you can always have a little pin money out of the proceeds. Your uncle indicated he was to be the correspondent, but if you prefer your father, his lordship, to assist you, I am certain Mr. Bywater would understand.”

Cynthia hid a wince at the suggestion of her father anywhere near her money and beamed Mr. Zachary a large smile. “My father is rarely in London, and my uncle is so very good at finance. I am lucky to have such fine male relations to look out for me.”

I wanted to surreptitiously kick her to warn her not to overdo it, but I was too far from her. I held myself still and sipped more tea.

Mr. Zachary took Cynthia’s words at face value, and Miss Swann made a note. Mr. Zachary did nothing so unprofessional as smile, but his eyes tried to tell Cynthia she should let him do whatever he liked with her money.

Cynthia opened her lips to either ask another question or gush more about her uncle, when shouting erupted in the corridor. Doors banged, and then came the sound of quickly tramping feet. More shouting, including a loud and very inappropriate curse.

“Gracious,” Cynthia said cranking around to stare at the door. “Whatever is the matter?”

Miss Swann and Mr. Zachary exchanged a nervous glance.

“Nothing at all to worry you,” Mr. Zachary said quickly. “Now, I will send your uncle a prospectus of the sorts of investments we’ll make for you. He knows much about stock, and he can tell you whether—”

The shouting grew louder, then a thick Cockney rose above the rest of the voices. “Now then, you. Don’t be giving us no trouble.”

Mr. Zachary and Miss Swann exchanged another glance.

“I did nothing.” A man’s voice shouted his answer. “I swear to you. Nothing!”

I was on my feet, my legs propelling me upward against my will. I knew that voice, had heard it rumbling through Joanna’shouse for many years. Usually, it was welcoming and friendly to me, fond and loving to Joanna and the children.

Today, Sam’s voice shook with incredulity and fear. They were arresting him.

Fortunately, the two in the office thought I’d risen in general alarm at the commotion. Miss Swann turned a smile on me that was supposed to be reassuring, but it wavered.

“A tramp must have gotten into the building,” Miss Swann offered. “The constables will see it right.”

The blatant lie grated on my nerves. Sam was being hauled away unjustly, and these people had the audacity to pretend nothing was wrong.

Lady Cynthia sprang up, slamming her teacup to the table. “I suggest you tell us exactly what has happened,” she said in her most commanding tones. “At once.”

Mr. Zachary instantly rose—no gentleman remained seated when a lady stood. The fact that he’d stayed planted in his chair when I’d left mine told me exactly where he placed me in his world.

“I assure you, your ladyship—” he began.

“I suppose it will be in all the newspapers tomorrow,” Miss Swann interrupted him with resignation. “No sense in trying to hide things.”

Mr. Zachary made a gesture of defeat with his thin hand, but it was Miss Swann who explained.

“I am afraid, your ladyship, that a man was killed here this morning.”

Cynthia’s eyes widened, but the floor teetered under my feet. I grasped the back of the chair before I could collapse.

The others didn’t note me—they were focused on Cynthia, much more concerned about her reaction.

“Do not worry.” Miss Swann held up her hands as though toprevent Cynthia from racing out in a panic. “The murderer has already been caught. The police are taking him away now. It was a quarrel between two men in the clerks’ room, nothing to do with anyone else. There is absolutely no danger to you.”

The shouting now sounded outside in the lane. Unnoticed, I hurried to one of the windows and pulled back its lace under-curtain to peer out.

Three constables had burst from the doorway below me, dragging the struggling form of Sam Millburn between them. His customary pleasant tones deserted him as they shoved him at the waiting black police wagon, the South London cant he’d spoken as a youth returning.

“Take your hands off me, bloody peelers. I ain’t done nothing.”

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