Page 100 of From Rakes to Riches

Stephen’s wardrobe consisted of the usual male necessities. Shaving soap, tooth powder, pomade, and cologne water remained untouched beside a small inlaid jewelry chest. Theodore opened it and shifted the contents with one finger. As much as he wanted to discover something to explain Stephen’s murder, it still seemed a violation of privacy to be looking through his friend’s belongings in such a manner.

“Margaret?” Theodore picked up one of the silver coins he’d uncovered at the bottom of the chest. He brought it to where Margaret sat and placed it in her palm. “This token is stamped with the wordVauxhalland the engraving shows a scene. Did Stephen go often?”

“Not that he shared with me.” She turned the token over in her hand, looked at it closely and then passed it back to him. “Although his behavior had altered so much, I wouldn’t be surprised in the least if he did.”

Theodore slid the token into his pocket and returned to sorting through the chest. Aside from one more token with a different engraving, there were two small bronze keys, and a few broken cuff links. He walked to the writing desk next. Theexpected ink pot, writing paper and blotter lay atop the walnut escritoire, but something about the scene looked a little too arranged and tidy. He made quick work of looking through the drawers, surprised they weren’t locked, and still finding nothing useful. He even looked under the blotter which inspired a scoff from Margaret who all the while watched from the foot of the bed.

“Did Stephen keep a journal?”

“I don’t believe so, although you can ask Timmons.”

“Timmons, yes. I hadn’t thought to speak to his valet. That’s a very good idea.”

“He isn’t here right now though. His mother has taken ill and he’s gone to be with her in Ipswich. I don’t know when he plans to return and quite honestly, with Stephen gone, I’m not sure I have a position for him in the house anymore.”

“He went to Ipswich?” Theodore remembered Lola’s family lived there. “Whereabouts? Do you know?”

“Not without looking in the household ledger.” Margaret stood up and moved to a leather trunk situated beneath one of the oriel windows. “He keeps it in here with all the other budget papers and legal documents men like to read.”

“Why didn’t he keep these books in his study? Isn’t it odd to have them here in his private chambers?”

“I have no idea,” Margaret said, untroubled by his questions. “I think Stephen preferred to keep financial matters away from prying eyes. He often met with the estate solicitor here in his sitting room instead of the study or drawing room below.”

Theodore didn’t know what to make of that unusual habit. Most people didn’t invite lawyers or legal men into their private chambers. Turning his attention to the trunk, he found it locked, but remembering the bronze keys in the jewelry chest, he had the trunk opened a moment later. He lifted the lid and thenpaused a moment to remove his spectacles from his breast pocket.

“What is all of that?” Margaret asked, peering over his shoulder as he sifted through a pile of papers.

“Receipts, I think. Or maybe, vowels.”

“Vowels!” Margaret exclaimed. “My brother didn’t owe anyone money. He found that dishonorable and would have simply paid his debt instead of risk the embarrassment of someone learning he had overdue obligations.”

Theodore’s chest tightened the more he sifted through the paperwork. Clearly, Stephen was in debt. Deep debt from what the unpaid receipts, vowels and invoices implied. He tapped the stack of papers into a pile and replaced them in the trunk. Then he picked up the household ledger, an uneasy feeling accompanying the action. He had a strong idea of what he would read within.

The ledger contained page after page of withdrawals from the family account until the sums were completely depleted. Yet it didn’t make any sense. Where was all that money going?

“Did Stephen start gambling? Did he wager on horses? Make large purchases or invest in property?” He searched his mind for any reason Fremont would bankrupt the viscountcy. Because from the brief perusal Theodore had at the ledger, that’s how it appeared. The accounts were empty and nothing was left.

“No,” Margaret said. “And now you have me worried. This is exactly why I didn’t want to look at Stephen’s things.”

“Ignoring facts won’t change them,” Theodore said, mostly to himself. He thumbed through a few more pages and paused when a wrinkled piece of paper snagged his attention. It wasn’t written in Stephen’s hand and the message caused a terrible shock to pass through him. He closed the ledger quickly and stood up, relieved to see Margaret no longer watched over his shoulder.

Lola stood outside No.4 Bow Street with a written note explaining what Alessandro had shared. Even with Sofia’s support, she’d had little success in convincing him to report what he’d seen. She understood his hesitation. Interactions with lawmen rarely worked out favorably for immigrants and working-class people, no matter their honesty or cooperation.

Compounding the situation, Lola had no way to contact Theodore and share what she’d learned. Whereas the earl could walk into Vauxhall, or just about anywhere, with authority and privilege, she could hardly do the same with his property, wherever that may be. Somewhere in Mayfair or Westminster, no doubt. That was prime earl territory.

She glanced at the note again. It was hardly a valuable clue. An expensive black horse was as nondescript as a long black greatcoat and likely just as common among the aristocracy. Not that any nobleman or person with common sense would leave an animal of that caliber alone in an alleyway at night. Maybe that was the most telling part. It was a reckless act.

Regardless, Lola couldn’t keep the information to herself. What if the Runners had learned other facts that together with this news would lead to finding the killer?

A coach and four rolled down the street, the driver on the box in control of the team of high-stepping dappled grays. She smiled. Her father loved horses. He prided himself on the esteemed reputation of the estate’s expansive stable and the superior animals it held. Arabians, Andalusians, Thoroughbreds and Flemish stallions, filled stall after stall. She remembered how fond he was of the grays, but then she pushed the memory aside. Speaking to Theodore about her family yesterday had opened a Pandora’s box of memories.

So much so, this morning she’d considered hiring a hack to take her to Bond Street where she could shop for a present for her sister. But sending the package through the post troubledher. What if the markings on the package led her family to discover where she’d run off to? What if one of the solicitors kept their house under watch and somehow obtained the wrapping? Could he trace the post? There were too many unpredictable variables. One foolish mistake would cause an avalanche of trouble.

Instead, she’d hired a hack to take her to Bow Street with the intent of passing Fredrickson or Johns the note outside the office, but perhaps that was a mistake as well. Having it hand-delivered by a messenger boy was a better idea. With no names mentioned in her message and an anonymous delivery, she could breathe easier.

As she worked through the maze of her thoughts, another carriage made its way down the cobbles and this time her breath caught. She recognized the conveyance immediately because it belonged to the earl.

Withdrawing behind the boxwood shrubbery, she watched as the driver aligned the carriage in front of the Bow Street office. When the door opened, Theodore stepped out with a leather portfolio in hand. He was dressed immaculately in fine tailoring that hugged his muscular physique and declared him a dashing gentleman. Although yesterday she’d found him equally desirable in his damp linen shirt.

---