Page 43 of Miss Moriarty, I Presume?
Miss Ellery gave her a wary look, as if suspecting a trap. “We asked ourselves the very same question. Someone came to see Miss Baxter on his behalf only the month before. Granted, it was a different gentleman who came that time. But he had the correct letter of introduction and he followed all the usual procedures. It made no sense that Mr. Baxter should have been satisfied in November but sent someone to commit espionage in December.
“Mrs. Crosby said Miss Baxter was as baffled as anyone else. And we were all most disconcerted when yet another gentleman showed up some weeks later, claiming that he, and not the person who came in November, truly represented Mr. Baxter.”
“Did Miss Baxter not know either of them?” asked Miss Charlotte. Her expression betrayed no disbelief, yet every syllable radiated skepticism.
Miss Ellery, in response, went to fetch a cushion to place behind Miss Fairchild’s back—she seemed to perform these services not because Miss Fairchild needed them, but as an outlet for her own nerves. “Miss Baxter did not know either man. She did not, in fact, meet with this second caller. But when he was received by Mrs. Crosby, Miss Baxter was in the next room. And when he was gone she was highly upset. Later Mrs. Crosby told us that Miss Baxter feared something was terribly wrong.”
Miss Charlotte raised a brow. “Because two different men she didn’t know had been sent to see her?”
“That, and they both carried letters of introduction written by her father, yet the second ‘solicitor’ claimed that the first one must be counterfeit.”
Mrs. Watson was confused. She raised her glass to her lips. “In such situations, shouldn’t she have met the second ‘solicitor’, too?”
Miss Ellery, now once again standing beside Miss Fairchild’s chair, lifted her chin a fraction of an inch, looking triumphant. “According to Mrs. Crosby, who heard all this from Miss Baxter, the last time a different person was ‘sent’ by her father, Miss Baxter was kidnapped.”
Mrs. Watson stopped sipping her sherry. “Goodness gracious! How terrifying that must have been!”
But also, what a wonderful explanation for Miss Baxter’s refusal to meet with anyone sent by her father, if her fellow acolytes had indeed done away with her. Had Miss Ellery or Miss Fairchild come up with this fanciful tale?
“Kidnapping...” murmured Miss Charlotte, sounding even more unconvinced.
Miss Ellery went to her own chair and braced her hands on top, as if that would lend her words greater authority. “Miss Baxter was a child then. Her grandmother had just passed away and she was waiting for her father’s people to come and take her to him on the Continent. A woman who wasn’t the one who had visited her regularly on her father’s behalf showed up and said that the other was unfortunately unwell, so she had been sent in her stead. Like the one before her, she presented proper credentials and took charge of Miss Baxter. They traveled to London, then crossed the Channel. But there was a telegram waiting for them at their hotel in Paris, saying that Mr. Baxter had some business in Greece and would they please join him there instead? So from Paris, they went to Marseille and got on a boat for Athens.
“In Athens they disembarked and toured the sites of antiquity. But after a week or two they left again, this time in a smaller vessel that made a leisurely tour of the Aegean Sea, then up the Dardanelles to the Sea of Marmara, then ultimately Constantinople. Her third day in Constantinople, Miss Baxter woke up alone in her hotel room. The woman who had been looking after her was gone. She waited and waited. She was a young woman of great fortitude. So instead of telling anyone that something was wrong, she simply ordered food to be brought up and left outside the door.
“Two days passed and on the third morning her father arrived, took her in his arms, and informed her that he and his men had been seeking her with all their might. Because the woman who had taken her from her grandmother’s had not been sent by him at all but was a kidnapper who had made a huge ransom demand.
“He had paid the ransom by wire immediately, but it was only weeks later that he was told to come to Constantinople to retrieve her. Needless to say, all this was tremendously confusing and disturbing for young Miss Baxter. Many years have passed since the incident, and she stopped fearing for her safety, but when that second man came, she was forced to relive that entire episode and she could not help but be distressed.”
Two seconds after Miss Ellery finished, Mrs. Watson realized that her jaw hung slack. She closed her mouth and glanced at Miss Charlotte, who folded her hands together in her lap in a gesture of great primness.
Mrs. Watson had previously considered herself an expert at gauging truthfulness. After Lady Ingram had come to them with a sorrowful tale that had later proved entirely false, she’d become a little more mistrustful of her judgment, knowing that she could be carried away by her own sympathetic nature.
But this thirdhand account, even refracted via the prism of her newfound cynicism, had a ring of truth to it. Perhaps it was Constantinople as the apogee of the flight, perhaps it was the detailed itinerary, but Mrs. Watson found herself close to believing that Miss Baxter had truly been whisked away as a child and taken on a memorable, if sinister, grand tour.
“Does Miss Baxter believe that the same people who kidnapped her years ago are back to make more trouble?” mused Miss Charlotte.
“According to Mrs. Crosby, Miss Baxter does not know. All she would say to Mrs. Crosby was that her father is a powerful man, but has dangerous and equally powerful enemies. And that she once again fears for her own safety.”
Miss Charlotte’s gaze swept over their hostesses. “Do you suppose that her father might also be worried for her safety, especially if the second solicitor that came was the real one and she refused to see him?”
Miss Ellery puffed her chest out. “Mrs. Crosby asked her the same, and she said that she must concentrate on her own safety above all and that if her father was alive and well and in charge of his own movement, he would come to see her himself and she would learn everything from his own lips. Until then, she must view with suspicion anyone who claims to have been dispatched by her father.”
Since Mrs. Watsonand Miss Charlotte were very much Moriarty’s emissaries, at Miss Ellery’s righteous declaration, the conversation came to a dead halt.
Fortunately, at that moment, a knock came at the front door.
Miss Ellery, who answered the door, brought back four people, introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Steele, Dr. Robinson, and Mr. Peters.
Mrs. Watson took a deep breath. Upon meeting Mrs. Felton, it had become clear that despite de Lacey’s assertions otherwise, the rather naïve Mrs. Felton couldn’t possibly be Moriarty’s only eyes and ears inside the Garden. Who else worked for Moriarty? Was it one of these four new arrivals?
Dr. Robinson, a tall, dignified man of around sixty, laughed easily. Mr. Steele had wire-rimmed glasses and a scholarly air; Mrs. Steele’s ornate coiffure, twisted, braided, and studded with pearls, made Mrs. Watson wonder if the woman badly missed ordinary society. Mr. Peters, probably a year or two younger than Miss Charlotte, had a mop of brown curls and charming features. Had he appeared at a London function during the Season, young ladies would have flocked to him.
They greeted Charlotte and Mrs. Watson with a mixture of curiosity and caution, and inquired after the absent “Mr. Hudson,” not very different from how anyone would react, in a small isolated community, to a sudden influx of new people.
The rattan-and-leather baskets they’d carried in, on the other hand...
At Mrs. Watson’s quizzical look, Mrs. Steele said, in an eager-to-please tone, “Oh, has no one explained to you about the baskets yet, ladies? You see, since we do not practice communal dining, the kitchen instead prepares baskets. They are to be picked up for luncheon or dinner at the kitchen or Mrs. Brown’s assistant can deliver them—and collect them again later—for a small fee.”
