Page 29 of Murder in Matrimony
Lord Drake wagged a finger at the paper. “It seems to me they are trying to force her hand, even going so far as to suggest her interference with justice. I do not want any ill will to come to this woman. If she indeed knows my secret, she deserves my thanks for keeping it.”
Amelia smiled. The longer she knew Lord Drake, the more she liked him. His first thought wasn’t for his crime or subsequent punishment but for a stranger. “If this person knew your or Lady Agony’s identity, would they not take their complaints to the Metropolitan Police themselves?”
His brow puckered. “I take your point.”
“Certainly, you do.” She shut the magazine. “All columnsof this nature are known for their sensationalism. They need subscribers, and one way to lure them is with grandiose statements such as this.”
“Still, A Concerned Citizen seeks revenge. In my experience, revenge is a dangerous motivator.”
It was Amelia’s experience as well. People didn’t think or act rationally when their feelings had been hurt or their security had been threatened. The latter had been the case with A Concerned Citizen. In Amelia’s opinion, the person was upset at Mayfair homes being entered without permission. Little did they know that Lord Drake, as one of the most eligible bachelors this season, had been extended an invitation to every home he’d thieved.
“Which is why I must turn myself in to the Metropolitan Police.” Lord Drake took a deep breath, and the next words came out in a quick, steady stream of air. “It is the right thing to do, so do not try to dissuade me. I stole the items. I must pay for my crimes. It is the only solution.”
“What of your ill father? He cannot manage alone.” Amelia tossed the magazine aside. “Turning yourself in is not the solution.”
“There is no other. I thought on it all morning, and this is the only answer that causes harm to no one but myself.”
“It causes harm to your father, and you cannot allow that, and neither can I. I have a different plan. What if we find out who A Concerned Citizen is?” Lord Drake opened his mouth, as if to interrupt, and she continued more quickly. “As you stated, the person wants revenge, and it does no one in town any good to have a spiteful person such as that making threats. I could reach out to the person. Make certain whoever it is feels less anxious. It might prevent future violence.”
“You would do that?” he asked.
“Of course I would.” Amelia felt his surprise. Very few people in the upper echelons did something without gaining something in return. “As a victim of the thefts myself, I have an advantage that you don’t. I can allow the person to voice their frustrations and empathize with them.” Saying the words aloud revealed an idea. A Concerned Citizen might be concernedbecause they themselves had been a victim of the thefts. If so, their motive for revenge was clear. Amelia expressed the idea to Lord Drake.
“It’s a reasonable idea, and one with limited possibilities. I committed five thefts this season. If what you propose is true, the letter writer has to be someone from those five families. Oh!” Lord Drake’s brown eyes grew as round as two cups of coffee. “What of Lady Tabitha?” He put his hand to his mouth, half covering a gasp. “She’s known for her unwillingness to compromise.”
That was a nice way of putting it. Tabitha had a strong sense of justice that imbued all aspects of her life. She would not abide wrongness; it simply would not do. But spitefulness wasn’t in her nature. Amelia couldn’t reconcile the vengeful spirit of the letter writer with the aunt she knew and loved.
Furthermore, Tabitha would never threaten the Amesbury reputation by naming Amelia as Lady Agony, which, she supposed, could point to why the threats had come to nil. The threat itself may be enough for Amelia to stop writing under the pseudonym. Still, the idea was unfathomable. “I do not believe it is her, but living in the same house, I can easily confirm the fact. I’ll check her name off the list first and foremost. Then we can move on to the other possibilities, which include …”
Lord Drake ticked off the thefts on one hand. “Lord and Lady Applegate, Lord and Lady Hamsted, Mr. Timmons, and his neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Heigh.”
“Lord Applegate said something the other night at Lord Bainbridge’s dinner party that might be of interest.” Amelia thought back to the moment in the drawing room before dinner. “He was discussing the thefts and used the words ‘concerned citizen.’ It may be nothing, but it may be he is the concerned citizen who wrote this letter.”
“It is worth checking into.” Lord Drake buttoned his coat and stood. “After you make certain it is not Lady Tabitha, that is. I would rather jump in the Thames than have it be her.”
“You and me both,” Amelia muttered.
After he left, she walked to Aunt Tabitha’s study, which amounted to an antechamber connected to her bedroom. Aftera late breakfast, Tabitha either wrote letters at her exquisite mahogany writing desk or took a short nap. Amelia paused, listening for the tell-tale scratch of her pen. It always reminded Amelia of a painter’s knife on a canvas. Hearing nothing, Amelia continued to her bedroom door. A soft snore greeted her ear. Tabitha was indeed napping.
Amelia took a breath and returned to the study, placing a hand on the door handle. She checked the hall for servants, but there were none to be seen, their morning chores being finished hours ago. She turned the knob and pushed open the door, ducking inside the room.
Despite being in her own house, Amelia felt her chest began to heave. She felt like a sinner in church, trespassing on hallowed ground. The mahogany desk was as stunning as she remembered, and she felt a pang of jealousy bolt through her chest. Whereas some women loved beautiful gowns, shoes, and jewels, Amelia loved large desks, broad pen strokes, and lined linen paper. She laid a hand on the wood grain.Gorgeous.
Determined not to dally, Amelia opened the lid. Six dovetail drawers were shut neatly, unlike her own desk drawers, which were half open with to-do lists, reminders, and penny postage stamps, not to mention the occasional ribbon from Winifred’s hair or a chocolate wrapper from her favorite bonbon. Amelia opened the first and second drawers, finding staff allowances and Christmas gift ideas.Gracious! It’s only Summer. The third contained menus. The fourth and fifth drawers held household expenses, indoor and outdoor respectively. Running a home was work, and Amelia respected the time and effort Tabitha gave to the family.
She quickly opened the last drawer and, finding nothing of interest, turned to the large panel beneath the writing area. Ivory paper and the sweet smell of roses greeted her. She inhaled deeply. Nothing to smell here but flowers and paper and … was that a calling card? Amelia shuffled the paper to one side for a better look. Her hand started to sweat the moment she touched the card.Thomas Huxbey, Superintendent of Scotland Yard. What was Tabitha doing with the calling card of a superintendent?
Anxiously, Amelia glanced about the room, looking for copies of penny papers, convinced she would find them stuffed into a corner. What greeted her was a towering Ming vase, a chair and reading lamp, and a small table with a portrait of Tabitha’s dear brothers. Amelia shook her head. Her imagination was running amuck, and she tried to rein it in. The only time she’d seen a penny paper in the house was when Winifred’s friend Bee lifted it from the servants in her house.Although… Amelia tapped her chin. Tabitha did seem to know the goings-on in the column. She’d mentioned the trouble between Lady Agony and a few male readers not that long ago. Was it possible that she was A Concerned Citizen?
Movement from the adjoining bedroom prevented further consideration. Amelia quickly shut the desk and ducked out of the room, continuing to her own bedroom on the same floor. She needed space—and time—to think this through. When the door was shut, she proceeded to the bed and sat down, perplexed. She stared at the birds etched in the canopy bedstead.Sing to me the answers if you please. Silence assured her they were not real, no matter the lengths the artist went to make them appear lifelike. She would have to find answers all on her own.
She pondered the likelihood of Tabitha knowing her secret pseudonym. Letters came and went from the house all day every day. She met with the editor of a popular penny paper, Grady Armstrong, quite frequently, sometimes in her house, but most times in the nearby park. And despite being a countess, Amelia was no lady, not in the aristocratic sense. Tabitha had tutored and mentored and lectured, but try as she might, Amelia still didn’t fit in. Eccentric advice such as that in the column was not only possible but probable from a woman like Amelia.
Amelia put her hands over her face. The evidence was more damning than she ever considered. The question was no longer if Tabitha knew she was Lady Agony but if the entire household knew. She should have been more careful. She should have been more discreet. She shouldn’t have begun writing in the first place.
No.
She stood.
