Page 40 of Nature of the Crime
“I ain’t pestering.”
“No, you’re not,” she cut in before the two of them could squabble. “It’s all right, Carrigan. I can’t explain fully, but we’re looking for Grayson’s packet from last June.”
Greer already knew about Grayson’s fate, but Carrigan didn’t. His confusion was expected. “The duke’s valet? What could he want with this business?”
Under his breath, Sir murmured, “Now who’s pestering.”
The driver didn’t rise to the bait. Audrey gave a shortened version of the truth: “I’m afraid Grayson is dead.” At Carrigan’s staggered expression, she continued, “Before he left Paris to return home, Grayson might have met with the person who eventually hired Mr. Vaillancourt to follow me. It’s possible that man’s name is on the same manifest as Grayson’s for the Calais-to-Dover packet.”
The details of how and why Audrey had connected Grayson to their current situation remained unsaid, and because Carrigan took his own advice to Sir to heart, he did not inquire. Sir, however, peered at Audrey with interest and no such compunction.
“What’s him cocking up his toes have to do with it?”
The clerk saved Audrey from having to answer when he reappeared from the back room. He held a few papers in his hand.
“Two packets arrived on June the eighth.” He laid the sheets of paper on the counter. “What passenger are you searching for?”
“Daniel Grayson,” she said, and his finger began running down the lists of names on each manifest. It came to a stop.
“He came in on theGorse,” the clerk announced.
“May I?” Audrey asked, reaching for the paper. She turned it toward her, a tight ball of anticipation in her stomach. She found Grayson’s name quickly, but as she read the other two dozen names on the passenger list, her expectation evaporated. Not a single other name rang familiar.
“I know I said I didn’t need to take this,” she said, forcing what she hoped was a charming smile onto her lips. “However, if I were to promise to have it returned by the end of the day, would it be possible?”
The clerk heaved a sigh and crossed his arms. But then shrugged. “As no deaths took place aboardthatcrossing, I suppose it won’t hurt. But mind you, end of the day. Your Grace,” he tacked on with a bob of his head.
Audrey took the list and thanked him as they left. She read it again, and then a third and fourth time as they walked back to Liverpool Street. The names were still unfamiliar, except for Daniel Grayson’s, but as she went down the columns again and again, careful not to walk into a post or off a pavement curb, she realized her eyes kept sticking to another name:S.J. Jewell. There was no indication that this passenger had been male or female, and no person came to mind when she read it. Just a location: Jewell House in Seven Dials, London. It was where Philip had leased a set of cheap rooms to meet with his lover. It had also been where Miss Belladora Lovejoy had been murderedand Philip framed for the crime. Augustus St. John, the Marquess of Wimbly had been the one behind it all. He’d learned of his son and heir’s relationship with Philip through Belladora, the actress having also been intimate with young Auggie, just out of university at the time. Wanting to punish his son, and get rid of Philip once and for all, he’d arranged for the murder and for Philip’s arrest.
Jewell…
She pondered it and was eager to show Hugh and gain his perspective. Expecting the inquest to have been quick, she was disappointed to return to the inn and see that he and Thornton were still gone. What more, Mrs. Plimpton and Becky were also absent. The innkeeper had been summoned to the inquest to answer questions about the theft of Audrey’s hair comb. She’d left Becky in charge, but the chambermaid wasn’t anywhere to be found.
“I’m sure their lordships are at the Barrelhouse having a pint, mulling it over,” Carrigan said before sneezing loudly.
“Go to bed, Carrigan. That is a direct order,” she said. Perhaps because they were now safely back at the inn, her driver relented and shuffled off toward his room upstairs.
Audrey went to her own room, contemplating whether she should make her way to the Barrelhouse herself. She was impatient to know what had unfolded at the inquest. When she entered her room, however, a piece of paper on her pillow gave her pause. It was just like the one that had been left in her Paris hotel. Greer picked it up and handed it to her.
“I’m sure Becky left it for you when she was tidying the room, Your Grace.”
Audrey opened it with trembling fingers, expecting to see another threat regarding Philip. At least Greer knew everything now; she could share it with her if need be. But as she read,relief spiraled through her, unkinking her stomach, even as astonishment followed.
“It’s from Mrs. Edmunds,” she said, reading it quickly, the penmanship unskilled and riddled with misspellings. “The lieutenant’s wife. She’s invited me for tea at their private quarters at the barracks.”
Audrey folded the letter, astonished. Lieutenant Edmunds had not mentioned having a wife. Then again, he’d had no call to. Especially since at first, Audrey had been suspected of murder. She couldn’t fault his wife for not wanting to be associated with her. But now, perhaps this was a peace offering of sorts. A way to show the rest of the town that the dowager duchess was not to be treated aspersona non grata.
“I know the way,” Audrey told Greer as they put on their pelisses again and prepared to go out. Sir met them at the bottom of the stairs.
“I should go with you, duchess.”
She appreciated that he did not call herdowagerduchess, as it made her feel inordinately wizened.
“I’ll have Greer, and we will be in the company of soldiers,” she replied. Then grinning, “Besides, I don’t think you’d enjoy tea with the ladies.”
He grimaced. “On second thought, I’ll stay put.” His nose twitched toward the yeasty and sweet aromas coming from the direction of Mrs. Plimpton’s kitchen. Perhaps Becky had returned and was preparing something for midday. She recalled Hugh saying that Sir thought with his belly most of the time, and miraculously, it was always empty, even after a full meal.
“Stay and give Lord Neatham this when he returns,” Audrey said, handing the passenger manifest to Sir. He pocketed it, creasing it irreparably. The clerk wasn’t going to like that, Audrey thought with a smirk.
