Page 97 of A Ruse of Shadows
On the third morning after the jailbreaking, Charlotte and Mrs. Watson arrived in Paris. Livia and Miss Redmayne greeted them with delight and relief, but did not pepper them with questions. The new arrivals visited Bernadine, then spoke with Mrs. Watson’s valiant staff, who had acquitted themselves beautifully during the ordeal.
Livia ushered them upstairs to bathe and rest—these overnight trips from London were quite brutal. They woke up at around two, and everyone gathered on the veranda for a late luncheon.
Neither Livia nor Miss Redmayne was acquainted with the scale of the entire operation, though Livia was possibly the most ignorant of everyone, traveling in faraway places while the plan had been laid. She was wondering how long she ought to hold back her curiosity and let Charlotte and Mrs. Watson eat in peace when Miss Redmayne piped up. “I’m dying to know why Lady Ingram was in the papers!”
Mrs. Watson gave her a look. “You mean the former Lady Ingram, my dear.”
A divorce was such a rare thing that they were none of them sure how to refer to the woman who was no longer married to Lord Ingram. Well, Charlotte probably knew from some thick, dusty tomeon etiquette, but she showed no inclination to change anyone’s appellation.
Instead, she spread copious butter on a slice of crusty bread. “Lady Ingram played a most substantial role in this whole affair.”
Mrs. Watson, who was not as charitably disposed to Lady Ingram as Charlotte, said, “But if we are to tell the story chronologically, we need to start with Miss Marbleton.”
Miss Marbleton was Mr. Marbleton’s sister. Toward the end of the previous year, Moriarty had nabbed her parents and her brother. Miss Marbleton, who had remained free, had been desperate to free her family.
“Miss Marbleton, of course, led the digging crew—we none of us had any idea she was so talented at it. But she was the one who pointed out early on,” continued Mrs. Watson, “that after Moriarty’s trip to England this past February, he left, but she saw no evidence that he took Mr. Marbleton with him.”
February was the last time Livia had seen Mr. Marbleton, walking past her in the Reading Room of the British Museum, flanked by a minder on either side.
Charlotte took a sip of her lobster bisque and a bite of her luxuriously buttered bread, and sighed happily—she still looked a bit tired, but at least she relished her meal. “After the events in Cornwall, when I was in hiding—but before I sailed on theProvence—I met our brother and Miss Moriarty.”
The Holmes sisters had an illegitimate brother named Myron Finch. He and Miss Moriarty, James Moriarty’s estranged daughter, were a pair of lovers far more star-crossed than Livia and Mr. Marbleton.
“During our discussion,” Charlotte went on, “I relayed Miss Marbleton’s speculation that perhaps her brother was still in the country. Miss Moriarty immediately told me about the existence of a dungeon at the headquarters of De Lacey Industries.
“Most people, even those acquainted with what De Lacey Industries actually does, don’t know about the subbasement, as it was builtbefore Moriarty became the head of the organization. Once Moriarty took over, he preferred to concentrate his energy on the Continent and chose to detain enemies and traitors at Château Vaudrieu rather than in the more limited cells of De Lacey Industries.
“But in the wake of the internal revolt that dethroned Moriarty for months, perhaps he became less trusting of his people on the Continent. The British branch, on the other hand, had remained loyal throughout.
“That loyalty, coupled with the fact that the dungeon at De Lacey Industries was almost entirely unknown, even to those inside the organization, made it likely that Mr. Marbleton could be held there. But we could not act on mere likelihood. We needed to know for certain.”
Miss Redmayne waved her own piece of bread in the air. “And that’s where Lady Ingram came in?”
“Right you are,” answered Charlotte. “Lady Ingram had been in England for some time before that. She volunteered to infiltrate De Lacey Industries’ headquarters because she holds a great grudge against Moriarty, and also because she hoped to render a service to the Marbletons.
“Those who have become Moriarty’s foes hold the Marbletons in extraordinary esteem for how long they managed to elude Moriarty’s grasp—and how much help they gave to others like themselves. Even though they were now at a temporary disadvantage, Lady Ingram decided that she’d still rather throw in her lot with them, in the hope that after they regained their freedom, they’d take her on as a protégée.”
Livia used to wish that Mr. Marbleton could have enjoyed a normal, simple life. Now she was glad that he excelled at living the life that was his.
“But didn’t Lady Ingram work for Moriarty for some time?” asked Miss Redmayne, loading a cutlet onto her plate. “Did she worry that she’d be recognized?”
“She met with very few people from De Lacey Industries, andmost of them have since died,” said Mrs. Watson. “And we gave her our method of creating wrinkled skin, so she went in disguised as an old woman.”
“So if Mrs. Watson hadn’t discovered the ingenious method of using crumpled tissue paper, we’d have achieved nothing,” said Charlotte.
She set down her soup spoon and clapped. Miss Redmayne and Livia joined in. The veranda rang with applause. Mrs. Watson, who must have received much more thunderous ovations when she’d been onstage, blushed as she stood up and took a bow.
“Now where were we?” said Miss Redmayne, after Mrs. Watson sat down again.
“Lady Ingram infiltrating De Lacey Industries’ headquarters,” said Livia. She felt tense even though the rescue had been effected days ago. To help with that, she drank from her wineglass. So civilized, a glass of wine with luncheon.
“Lady Ingram started her role as the dungeon helper in March,” said Charlotte. “According to her, because the building hadn’t been used as a detention center before, and because Moriarty demanded absolute secrecy, de Lacey was reduced to minding the prisoners himself. He desperately wanted to hand the job to someone else, and who better than a deaf-mute crone who also appeared to be illiterate?
“At first he let her into the dungeon himself each time, and watched her as she did her work. After a few weeks passed and nothing untoward happened, he stopped standing over her. Instead, he opened the hidden door to the subbasement, locked her in to do her chores, then let her out sometime later—repeating this process several times a day. This allowed her to verify that not only was Mr. Marbleton there, but also his parents.
“There was one door that de Lacey never opened. Lady Ingram inquired in gestures whether the room needed to be cleaned. He started to tell her about the expensive wines inside before he remembered that she was a deaf-mute and shook his head.
“She picked the padlock on the door one day and saw that deLacey had told the truth. Behind the door wasn’t an even more secret dungeon but a cellar, albeit not a very well-stocked one, with only a hundred bottles or so in a space that could have easily held thousands. She made sure to report that there were also racks that had once held wine barrels but were now empty and covered with a large tarp.”
