Page 99 of A Ruse of Shadows
“Not quite,” answered Charlotte. “He belongs to a different bureau and helped us as a personal favor to Lord Ingram. If you ever see him around London, Miss Redmayne, pretend to have never met him.”
“Understood,” said Miss Redmayne crisply.
Charlotte, having eaten her vegetables, eyed the platter of desserts with great interest. Livia pushed it closer to her. “There’s something I still don’t understand. How did you get the crown to call off the investigation into how Lord Bancroft died?”
“Ah,” said Charlotte. “Remember his great asset?”
“His money?”
“That is a great asset, but what I meant was the evidence of wrong or scandalous doings he’d collected on various important men, a prominent royal among them. If you’re Moriarty, who loves a state secret or any kind of secret, and Lord Bancroft refused to become your minion outright, what then would you demand in return?”
“The letters and whatnot!”
“Mrs. Claiborne mentioned that Mr. Underwood had surrendered one of the keys Lord Bancroft had given him. That would have been the key to that lot. At one point we hoped to steal the lettersourselves, but once Lord Bancroft was shot dead, Lord Ingram sent word as quickly as possible and as high up as possible, alerting the crown that the letters might be found at De Lacey Industries.
“And once the crown had the letters, let’s just say that no one was really sad that Lord Bancroft was dead, especially now that the consequences he’d long threatened would not come to pass. What reason did anyone have to further investigate Lord Bancroft’s death then?”
Charlotte smiled—at everyone at the table but, Livia felt, at a pile of cream puffs in particular. “We’ve been lucky, but it’s fair to say we’ve also made our own luck.”
Thirty-seven
Johnny stared at the velvet pouch in his hand. It jingled with coins, like something out of a fairy tale.
Ten pounds, that was what Mrs. Claiborne had said.
No, that was only a small portion of what she’d said. What she’d said was,Mr. Underwood didn’t have children of his own. But with the three of you, he came to understand a little bit of fatherhood. He cared a great deal about you and was very proud of your hard work and your beautiful character.
He never made a will, but I know he would want you to be taken care of, especially you, Mr. Esposito. Before he died, he transferred all his savings to me. On his behalf, I would like to present you with a legacy of five hundred pounds. I hope you will always carry his memory in your heart.
In his youth, Mr. Underwood worked at Eastleigh Park, a great ducal estate. One of the scions of the family, Lord Ingram Ashburton, was saddened to learn of his passing. When he heard that I would be making this bequest to you, he doubled it by putting up five hundred pounds of his own.
He would invest the money for you and pay you ten pounds a month, for the next ten years. At the end of which, you may ask for the remainder in a lump sum, or continue to receive ten pounds a month for as long as the principle lasts. But in any case, you will receive no less than twelve hundred pounds over the next ten years.
Here is the first installment.
And Johnny hadn’t heard a word since.
He only gradually became aware of the bustle of the Port ofLondon, the smell of the Thames, the cawing of the gulls wheeling overhead.
“I loved him!” The words left his lips as tears escaped his eyes. He wiped them, the fabric of his sleeves rough on his face. “I loved him.”
“He knew. He took such solace in you—in all of you.” Mrs. Claiborne sighed. “It’s a shame we didn’t get to know one another better before this. But I plan to stay in touch with Mrs. Farr, and I hope to have your news from her. Good-bye and good luck.”
And then she was walking up the gangway, the last passenger to do so. The ship sailed only minutes later, sliding down the Thames Estuary.
Johnny waved until he couldn’t see her anymore, until the ship itself became only a dot on the horizon.
“Better put that in an inside pocket,” said Jessie.
Johnny did so. “I’d put it in my shoes if it would fit.”
Jessie laughed, the sound as clear as bells.
“You two got something, too, right?”
He knew he’d been singled out, but he also knew that the very kind Mrs. Claiborne wouldn’t have forgotten them.
Jessie waved a letter in her hand. “Did you hear nothing at all? We got an invitation to be founding members of the Baker Street Irregulars.”
