Page 61 of Lady Charlotte and the Lending Library
“Murder?” The other man’s face had gone pale. “I heard of a shooting in Bruton Lane. I didn’t realize Mr. Landry was connected to that unfortunate event.”
He nodded. “The murderer himself was murdered, strangled with someone’s bare hands. The police think it was a crime of passion. I understand Landry can be a violent man when he is angry.”
“So, I should anger him further by selling to you?” The man was now visibly sweating.
Ashford spread his hands wide. “If you don’t, I will tell the Bow Street Runners that I met with you before the killings and gave you information that may have led to the crime.”
“That is a bald-faced lie!” Jacobsen’s complexion was now purple with outrage. After several deep breaths he asked the solicitor, “You are bound to uphold the law, yet you would allow his lordship to lie about such a thing?”
Mr. Gibbs remained silent as he removed a sheaf of papers from a leather bag he carried and placed them on the desk in front of Mr. Jacobsen. Nathaniel merely sat quietly, looking unconcerned by the heated conversation.
Despite the anger he felt at the landlord for possibly putting Charlotte in danger, Ashford kept his voice even as he asked Jacobsen, “Did you tell James Landry that you received a visit from a Lady Charlotte?”
“You know the lady?” the man asked cautiously in reply. Jacobsen looked as if he might have a stroke at any moment.
Ashford balled his fists at his side. “If anything happens to her because of your loose lips, you’ll need protection from me.”
“Why do you want to save Thorne’s so badly?” the landlord asked. His voice sounded genuinely curious.
Ashford replied, “Lord Harbury and I feel Landry should not profit from intimidation and murder. We both will do what we must to prevent the bounder from doing so.”
Nathaniel finally spoke. “You are Mr. Thorne’s current landlord. There are witnesses to some of the sabotage his business has faced. Someone could even say that perhaps Landry wasn’t the culprit.”
“You would let me be incriminated?” Jacobsen’s eyes bulged.
The baron nodded. “Your just desserts for being in league with such a scoundrel.”
Ashford spoke into a tense silence, “If it keeps Landry from getting his hands on that land, you could be implicated in sabotage and murder.”
Jacobsen put his face in his hands. He asked in a muffled voice, “What choice do I have? I’m ruined either way.”
“I don’t think Landry will dare touch you,” he said to the other man. “Even if he is never brought up on charges for murder, the Bow Street Runners will be keeping a close eye on him. He will be afraid to put a foot out of place for some time.”
“And you can protect me from him?” Jacobsen raised his head, a glimmer of hope in his expression.
He nodded. “I have learned that you have family in Yorkshire. You and your son should leave London as soon as possible and head north. I will help protect you. If you sell me the property.”
“I’ll do it.” Jacobsen shook his head mournfully. “Where do I sign?”
* * * * *
After their gathering at Charlotte’s townhouse, Edith and Louisa returned to their homes. The friends had decided they would all plead illness and stay in the rest of the day. If Lord Ashford was worried about recent events in London, they would respect his concern.
Her mother, pale-faced, returned from an afternoon appointment and found Charlotte in the drawing room. “Did you hear about the shooting near your library?”
“William mentioned it,” she replied vaguely.
“You are to stay away from Thorne’s for the near future. I will discuss the matter with William and your father. Your brother should have informed me about the shooting.” The older woman looked as if she was on the verge of scolding Charlotte in place of William.
She couldn’t suppress a groan. Who knew how long her mother would ban her from the lending library?
“Are you all right, my dear?” her mother asked worriedly.
“I feel a migraine coming on.” It was only a little white lie. She wanted her mother to know as little as possible about recent events at Thorne’s and perhaps her concern for Charlotte would distract her from her anxiety about events near Thorne’s.
“A migraine, my dear?” her mother asked worriedly after Charlotte complained of the malady. “You must lie down. I will have the housekeeper make you a tincture.”
“Thank you, Mother,” she replied with a brief smile.
