Page 43 of Murder in Matrimony
Mad Men Make Mischief
Dear Mad Men Make Mischief,
Of course I mind. I never want to offend half of the population. However, since my correspondents sign their letters, as I do, with a pseudonym, I have no idea if they’re really gone. For example, are you a Mad Man Making Mischief? That is for you to know and none of us to find out. Indeed, we work better together when we mutually respect each other’s identity.
Yours in Secret,
Lady Agony
In Kitty’s carriage, Amelia considered the information they’d gleaned at St. George-in-the-East. First and perhaps most important was the oven fires at the Plate & Bottle. Mr. Cross must have believed they were intentionally set for him to suggest Mrs. Rothschild write to Lady Agony. He had mentioned her helping someone in Wapping the morning of his death; it hadto have been Mrs. Rothschild. If something happened to him, she would have the name in the newspaper clipping, and from there, she would be able to discern the problem.
If all that was true, he knew he was in danger the day he died, which meant his death wasn’t a random act of violence but murder. She had always known its certainty, but now, she had proof.
The truth hung unchallenged in the carriage. Finally, a piece of evidence among the scattered possibilities in her brain. Knowing he might be harmed, Mr. Cross gave the clipping to the curate. If the worst happened to him, Amelia would be able to discern the message. If not, he would be able to explain it himself upon their next meeting.
“You never believed it was a thief after the poor box, and now you know you were right.” Kitty opened her reticule, which was plain and gray like her dress. She glanced up and smiled. “Well done.”
“We cannot celebrate yet, I’m afraid,” Amelia cautioned. “I do not know how the Rothschilds’ trouble connects to Mr. Cross’s.”
“Maybe it doesn’t.” Kitty continued the search in her reticule. “You won’t know for certain until you have all the information.” She sniffed. “I hate switching handbags. I always forget something.”
“A hankie?” Amelia opened her bag and saw the folded white handkerchief she meant to show Kitty earlier. “I almost forgot. I was accosted on my walk yesterday, and this fell out of the cab that almost ran me over.”
“Truly?” Kitty put a hand to her chest. “Why did you not tell me until now?”
“I meant to, but I had Lady Applegate’s party to attend and then the prayer meeting. I suppose it slipped my mind.”
“Only you could allow a near-death experience to slip your mind. Gracious, Amelia. You might be more careful.”
“I’m sorry.” Amelia was chastened by Kitty’s raised voice. She hated for Kitty to think her careless. “Would you look at it?”
“Of course.” Kitty held out her hand.
Amelia gave her the cloth.
Kitty unfolded the square, and her breath hitched. “Where did you get this?”
“As I told you …” Amelia was confused. She had never seen Kitty’s jaw set in such a way. “It was dropped by a person in a cab which nearly ran me over.”
“In a hansom?” Kitty pressed.
“Indeed, but why are you acting this way?”
“I know whose handkerchief this is.” Kitty’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Amelia understood Kitty was good with fabric, but this was outstanding. “Whose?”
“Lady Hamsted.”
“Are you certain?”
Kitty did not waver. “Positive.”
Amelia was stunned by the revelation. It couldn’t be so, yet it must be. Kitty knew her mother-in-law intimately. She recognized the cloth beyond a shadow of a doubt. No matter how improbable, the discovery made sense with her theory. The blackmailer had to be a person whose house had been burgled, and Lady Hamsted’s house was indeed one the Mayfair Marauder had broken into.
Amelia closed her eyes, the truth seeping in like a cold, damp cloth. Her skin began to prickle, and she felt ill. Lady Hamsted’s beloved ruby had been stolen, and she wanted vengeance. Despite the jewel being returned, she was vindictive enough to hold a grudge. Nothing but public humiliation would satisfy her. She would want the thief revealed to all of Mayfair.
What was even more terrifying, however, was that this spiteful human being knew she was Lady Agony. She must know, for she waited in hiding for Amelia’s daily walk, disguised in a cab. There was no other reason for her to take a hansom; she had a carriage at her disposal. Furthermore, the blackmailer threatened to upend her schedule. This must have been the threat she meant. Finally, she was missing from Lady Applegate’s garden party, forcing Oliver to go in her stead. She must have wanted to avoid seeing her after the near accident. It all added up to Lady Hamsted being the blackmailer.
