Page 58 of Taken to the Grave
“Yes, that’s correct. And his father and grandfather before him. Their family residence even abuts the property. Fine man. Very efficient. But to be completely honest, his temperament isn’t entirely conducive to the job. He’s not, shall we say, particularly solicitous to our guests. Far too serious. And this is a pleasure garden!” He opened his arms theatrically toward the windows.
Hugh’s pulse slowed; everything around him seemed to decelerate too.
“Your steward’s residence abuts the property?” Audrey asked Mr. Gye. “It is connected to Vauxhall’s grounds?”
“Of course. It’s imperative that he have access to the grounds at all hours. Now, if you don’t mind,” he said, looking about the office, “I do have quite a bit to manage here. If you’ve asked all your questions…?”
Hugh held up his hand, recalling the man’s name. “Was Mr. Hammond upset that his bid wasn’t chosen last year?”
“Not at all. He completely understood. And Hammond is his Christian name. His family name is Abbey.”
The small hairs on the back of Hugh’s neck stood up. Audrey whirled so fast to face him, her skirt billowed.
“Abbey!” she exclaimed.
“Known to be a sanctuary for nuns and monks,” Thornton said, then with a low whistle, “The man has a twisted sense of humor.”
“It’s a play on his name,” Audrey said as Hugh’s mind and heartbeat began to race again.
He turned to Mr. Gye. “Where is he?”
The proprietor peered at them quizzically. “Not here yet, I’m afraid. What is this about?”
“Does he live on Burdick Close?” Audrey asked, overruling his question.
“Yes, that’s right. Now, I must insist, what is?—”
“Where is his access to the grounds?” Hugh cut in. When Gye sealed his lips and looked to vacillate, Hugh closed in on the man until he loomed over him. “Bow Street officers are on their way. There is a young woman missing, and we’ve every reason to believe she is with your steward. Now, we need to know—where is his access point?”
Gye only wavered another second or two before capitulating. “In the southeastern corner of the grounds, near the FireworkTower. It’s a door set into a stone wall. It leads to a tunnel that runs to his house.”
The Firework Tower, Hugh knew, was secluded on the grounds, far from the main entertainments near the orchestra and supper boxes.
“Is the door locked?” Hugh asked.
Gye opened a desk drawer and with slightly shaking fingers, retrieved a ring of keys. “I think this is the one.” He fumbled to get one of the several keys off the large ring. He then placed it into Hugh’s waiting palm.
“Good. Audrey,” he turned to her. “Go to Sir. Tell him everything, and then go together across the bridge and signal the first foot patrolman you see. I don’t trust anyone on the south side of the Thames. They could all be in Abbey’s pocket.”
As he’d been speaking, she’d been visibly bristling, and he was ready for the coming dispute.
“I’m staying with you.” She said it more calmly than he’d expected. She then addressed Mr. Gye. “There is a young man in a phaeton in the coach field. He answers to the name Sir.”
Gye balked as he understood her intent. “Your Grace, you must be in jest. You wantmeto go across the bridge and signal a foot patrol? Viscount, surely, I would be of better assistance to you. I will show you where the door is.”
Audrey pinned Hugh with a stare, waiting for his reply. Although he would have rather had her and Sir both safely away from Burdick Close and whatever was unfolding there, he could not keep pushing her away, if only to shield her from harm. Audrey had already proven to be keen and competent under duress. In fact, Mr. Gye’s offer to assist fell vastly short of what Hugh knew was needed: Trust. Allegiance. The ability to read his thoughts. Just because Gye was a man did not mean he’d be a better partner when faced with some dire situation.
Hugh clenched his jaw. “We’ll find the door, Mr. Gye. It’s imperative you help by alerting the young man in the phaeton as to what is happening and sending patrolmen to Abbey’s residence as soon as they’ve gathered a number of men. One or two alone won’t help.”
Audrey beamed at him for a few glowing moments as the proprietor accepted his task and took up his hat. She shifted her countenance to one of grim determination as she, Hugh, and Thornton took an open terrace door that led directly out into the gardens.
“You have your pistol?” he asked Thornton.
His friend lifted his coat to display the polished black handle of his flintlock. “I’ve learned that when I’m with you, I tend to need it.”
Chapter
Eighteen
