Page 59 of Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library
“What kind of emergency?” he asked impatiently.
“I’m not sure, my lord. Mr. Landry rushed out of his office nearly two hours ago and didn’t tell me where he was going.” The boy swallowed, his face pale.
“I know a few places he might be,” Cecil said as the three men exited the premises.
Their coach made its way to the gaming hell Landry often frequented. The cit was not there, nor had he been seen that day.
“He lives in Hampstead Heath.” Cecil added gruffly at Ashford’s unspoken question, “I’ve been invited, but I have never been there.”
The mansion on a hill was constructed of red brick. It was massive. Ostentatious. The front garden was a jumble of assorted topiary and a large fountain in the shape of a fish. Cecil leapt out of the carriage as soon as it came to a halt. “I will go in alone to make inquiries. I’m familiar with the butler.”
Neither he nor Nathaniel commented. If Cecil had never been to Landry’s home, how was he acquainted with Landry’s butler? Although Cecil had resigned from the Home Office, he still had friends and contacts in the department. Not for the first time, Ashford was reminded that his friend had infiltrated every part of London society.
Cecil returned to the coach a few minutes later. He shook his head at their questioning looks. “The butler hasn’t seen Landry since early this morning. I have an informant on Milk Street from my Home Office days who may be of some help.”
It took several minutes to drive from Hampstead Heath through Camden Town and Holburn. When the carriage arrived on Milk Street, the coachman rolled slowly along the thoroughfare. As the curtains of the coach were drawn, Ashford wondered how Cecil would find his informant.
The carriage came to a halt, and the driver on the box began to whistle Greensleeves. A few minutes later, the whistling stopped.
“Have you a shilling, my lord?” a shrill female voice called from outside the carriage.
“Who asks?” Cecil did not open the coach door.
“Why, Little Mary, my lord.” The female voice was reedy. The woman coughed several times.
Cecil opened the carriage door a crack and handed out a shilling. “James Landry. Where is he? What information do you have to sell?”
“I heard about the shooting I did. There is no word on where Landry is right now. There was a commotion on the docks. It seems like the murderer got murdered hisself.”
Cecil handed out another coin. “Does anyone know who committed the murder?”
The woman outside the carriage laughed, a hoarse wheezing sound. “I would think Landry did it. He likes to hurt people that one does. He doesn’t look like much, but he is as mean as they come.”
“Stay away from Landry,” Cecil said to the woman. “I will not seek you out for some time.”
He shut the door to the coach, tapped his walking stick on the ceiling of the carriage, and their conveyance rolled away.
“Do you think Landry killed the other man?” Nathaniel asked.
Cecil nodded. “A man like that doesn’t pull himself out of the gutter by being nice. He knows how to rid himself of a problem.”
He was sure Landry would count Ashford and his friends among his problems.
“Is there anything else to be done this evening?” he asked wearily. He was tired and hadn’t any ideas on how to proceed if they couldn’t find James Landry.
Cecil shook his head. “He will have run to ground. I imagine there will be a ready explanation for where he was during the murder on the docks and several witnesses to swear him an alibi.”
Ashford believed it. He needed to think of a way to end this chaos. End it without violence. Despite his exhausted state, he had the kernel of an idea. It involved his solicitor, Nathaniel, and Mr. Jacobsen. He just needed some time to sort out the details.
“I think we are done for today,” he said to his friends. “I will contact you on the morrow. If what I have planned works, Landry will never bother the Thorne’s again.”
Chapter Nineteen
Charlotte, Edith, and Louisa were gathered in the drawing room of Charlotte’s family home. Her father was in his study while her mother made morning calls on their neighbors. William was at one of his clubs.
“What happened at Thorne’s?” Louisa asked impatiently as soon as she was seated. “My brothers won’t discuss it in front of me.”
“There was a shooting, but it wasn’t at Thorne’s. It occurred on Bruton Lane,” Charlotte replied with a shudder.
