Page 12 of Taken to the Grave
Mr. Gye’s efforts to keep the previous murders from becoming public knowledge had been thwarted—and yet, only one publication had printed the story. As she and Greer had just been discussing, it seemed an informant had gone toThe Morning Post. The evening editions would all run similar articles, spreading the truth throughout London before nightfall. Three murders would certainly cause a stir, though it was the murder of Sir’s father that had plagued Audrey throughout the night.
Worry for the boy had kept her restless and unable to sleep soundly, and she wondered if Hugh had managed to locate him. He had shared some of Sir’s past with her, including the fact that his father had treated him appallingly. However, as any son would, Sir had continued to hope for his father to remakehimself and become a better man. Her heart broke for him. Harlan Givens may have been a dreadful parent, but he’d still been Sir’s. Hugh had tried to protect the boy by taking him in, giving him an education, and a real chance at a future. She’d never brought it up with Hugh, but a part of her suspected he felt fatherly toward Sir. It made her love him even more.
The missing Miss Bethany Silas had also kept her awake most of the night, pacing her room at Violet House. The young woman needed to be her only focus right then, especially since Audrey was currently waiting in her carriage for her footman, Travers, to present her card at Miss Gwendolyn Bertram’s home. She’d tried to formulate a credible excuse to visit Miss Bertram without giving away the truth about Bethany’s disappearance. But no matter which path she started down she always ran up against a wall. There was no way around it—she would have to be frank, and hopefully neither Miss Bertram nor her mother were prone to hysterics or overreaction.
“Let us hope Mrs. Bertram has not yet seen the latest issue ofAll the Chatter,” Greer said as they spied Travers returning to the carriage. “Otherwise, she will never let you in.”
Audrey shot her maid a withering look but enjoyed the bit of drollness. Ever since Greer and Carrigan had become romantically attached, she had seemed to have a lighter step and a much lighter tongue as well. It was also possible that, after confessing that she knew about Philip, her maid felt a sense of relief. Audrey knew the weight that accumulated when guarding a secret; sharing with another person did relieve some of the burden. When they’d been in Dover in January, and Audrey had started to connect the murder of a private inquiry agent to a mysterious and anonymous note, which had threatened to reveal the truth about Philip, Greer had admitted that she’d known all along. Instead of judging her, Greer had wanted only to help protect the story. Help protect Audrey.
Travers opened the carriage door. “The lady is in, Your Grace.”
She exhaled, relieved Mrs. Bertram would not turn her away.
“It seems she hasnotseen the latest copy,” Greer murmured as Travers handed Audrey down.
“I will return shortly,” she told her maid with an arched brow of teasing censure.
A maid allowed Audrey into the foyer of the modest but fine home. The Bertrams were upper middle class, with Mr. Bertram owning several merchant warehouses. While Sir had not delivered information on the Bertram family, Audrey had applied to an unexpectedly helpful resource: Genie, the new Duchess of Fournier. At breakfast, Audrey had avoided accompanying Genie to her modiste by saying that she would be taking tea with a new acquaintance, Mrs. Bertram.
“How did you meet Belinda?” Genie had asked, astonished.
Audrey had stumbled through a fib, and Genie had explained that her late father had business dealings with Mr. Bertram, and that she and Mrs. Bertram had gotten along well.
Now, as she entered the drawing room, Audrey at least knew to mention the Duchess of Fournier if things became awkward. However, the warm greeting she received put her instantly at ease.
“Your Grace, what a pleasure it is to receive you,” a middle-aged woman, whom she took to be Belinda Bertram, said. She stood near a collection of chairs and sofas, and near her were two others—a young woman of about eighteen or nineteen, and a younger girl, of about eleven or twelve. Each significantly resembled Mrs. Bertram, who introduced her daughters as Gwendolyn and Flora. They each smiled, though Audrey thought Gwendolyn’s was a bit more reluctant than her younger sister’s.
Mrs. Bertram invited her to sit and announced that tea was on its way. After that, a silence descended. Audrey, normally somewhat awkward in social situations, pushed on a grin.
“Do forgive my unannounced call,” she said to which Mrs. Bertram eagerly told her that she was not to apologize on any account.
“But to what do we owe the honor?” she tacked on, asking what her entire household must have been wondering.
She’d already decided to speak plainly, and so, she did.
“Concern for a friend’s daughter.” As expected, Mrs. Bertram’s brow pleated in concern and confusion. “I am told Miss Bertram is good friends with Miss Bethany Silas.”
Immediately, Gwendolyn’s eyes went stony. Her lips thinned, and her chin hitched.
“She is indeed,” Mrs. Bertram answered with a quick, curious look at her daughter. “What concern do you have about Miss Silas?”
Gwendolyn cast her attention to the carpet, while the younger Flora sat riveted, her eyes wide.
“I am afraid she has not been seen in a week.” Audrey bit her tongue after that, knowing to allow the natural responses to occur—and to observe them closely for anything she might have missed had she continued speaking.
Mrs. Bertram’s gasp of dismay, and her hand pressing to her chest, appeared genuine. But it was Gwendolyn’s delayed reaction—pausing to inhale deeply before attempting to match her mother’s distress—that Audrey paid closer attention to.
“A week? How awful! But where has she gone?” Flustered, Mrs. Bertram half-rose from her seat on the sofa before changing her mind and sitting again.
“I have offered my assistance to Mrs. Silas to help discover that,” Audrey went on, manipulating the truth somewhat toavoid mentioning Hugh. “As you can imagine, she is quite distressed.”
“Undoubtedly,” she agreed. “Gwendolyn, dear, have you any idea what this is about?”
“Why should I know anything?”
“You are her closest friend, I’ve been told,” Audrey said. “And there is some speculation that Miss Silas may have made an unwise decision regarding a certain young man…” She allowed her prompt to draw out. As expected, Mrs. Bertram’s cheeks went florid.
She waved her hand toward her youngest daughter. “Flora, take your leave now. Immediately.”
