Page 5 of Murder in Matrimony
“If your schedule allows for it.” Despite Mr. Cross’s calm demeanor, she squirmed a little in her seat. “You see, Margaret would like the wedding to take place this month, if possible,” she added, noting the raise of his eyebrows. “She’s not the most patient person, and once she decides on a thing, she follows it through immediately.”
He leaned in slightly. “She sounds like someone else I know.”
Amelia released a laugh, relieved by his good humor. “We are quite alike. That is true. But Margaret’s passionate behavior can be trying for others at times.”
“As in the time she broke a man’s arm?”
Amelia had commiserated with him about the situation after a church service one Sunday. He’d been a great help to herthen, assuring her God would never give her more than she could handle. “Yes, as in that time.”
“Not to worry, Lady Amesbury.” Mr. Cross leaned back in his chair. “I’ve handled more trying people than your little sister. All I need is a date, and I will wed your sister and the captain into never-ending happiness.” He called to Mr. Dougal, the young curate he’d brought on six months before, who managed his schedule, among other things, while training for a living. He was a round, good-natured man with ginger hair and a ruddy complexion. Inexperienced, he knew little of parish life or patrons. But he greeted everyone as a friend or an opportunity to do good, and Amelia appreciated his attitude even if it was a little naïve. “Dougal, we must prepare for the wedding of Lady Amesbury’s sister, which is to take place …” He looked to Amelia.
Amelia provided the date.
Mr. Dougal frowned. “That does not give us much time.”
Before Amelia could apologize, Mr. Cross came to her rescue. “We have little to plan on our part, Mr. Dougal. However, Lady Amesbury has much to do, so we mustn’t keep her.”
“Quite true,” Mr. Dougal said with new determination. Mr. Cross’s attitude had that effect on others. “I’ll add it to the parish schedule, and congratulations, Lady Amesbury.”
“I do apologize for the short notice,” Amelia said after Mr. Dougal had left.
Mr. Cross waved away her concern. “You bring the bride and groom, and I’ll do the rest.”
“Thank you.” Her burdens felt lighter, and she had Mr. Cross to thank. Much was still to be done, in terms of arrangements, but he had not objected to a sudden wedding. Another priest might have questioned the timing or reason. Accommodation, however, was his natural reaction. It wasn’t so much whether a thing could be done but how. She believed it was what made him successful at his work in Wapping. Which reminded her of his look of consternation when she’d first arrived. “How is your society work progressing?”
He tapped his fingertips together. “Slowly. Not all are happy to have a man of the cloth interfering with their livelihoods.”
Amelia frowned. “How so?”
“That is a long story for another time.” He gazed over her shoulder, perhaps to ensure Mr. Dougal was not lingering in the hallway. “What of your blackmailer? Have you had any success in identifying him?”
The blackmailer. Amelia’s life had been so upended by her sister that she’d almost forgotten about the person threatening to reveal her identity to all of London.Almost.The person had written to the journal twice already, insisting that Amelia report the name of the Mayfair Marauder. If she didn’t, the writer promised to give her identity to one and all.
Amelia had endured this sort of harassment once before, months ago. At the time, she was terrified, worrying for herself and her family. But not any longer. She refused to be the victim, so, like many victims, she took justice into her own hands.
“You’ll be pleased to know the paper is publishing the letter in its entirety tomorrow.” Amelia revealed the information with marked assuredness. “I will not bear the injury of the blackmailer’s words alone. When my readers see what has been said, they will commiserate with me, and the person will stop.”
Mr. Cross frowned. “I am not certain that is a good idea.”
“It is the only idea that will work. I cannot work under fear. You know as well as I do our occupations will not allow for it.”
Mr. Cross quirked a brow, perhaps unconvinced. “Still, Lady Amesbury, I worry for your safety. Londoners can be defensive, especially when it comes to objects of wealth. This person wants retribution. Revealing him might cause more pain and anger.”
For the first time, Amelia questioned her action, but it was too late. The letter would be included in tomorrow’s paper. “What else? Am I to quit writing?”
“No.” He smiled his magnanimous smile. “Your work is too important. I want you to continue helping others always. To do that, however, you must exercise caution. People are desperate to know your name, one person in particular.” Mr. Cross looked around the room as if that person might be hiding behind the dark green curtains outlining the window behindhis desk. “Yours can be a lonely occupation, as can mine. We must be secure in the fact that what we are doing is true and right. Involving your readership will only makeyoufeel better. It will not solve the problem.”
He was right. Amelia wanted empathy, not resolution. She wanted her readers to see what she endured for their benefit. But the work benefited her too, perhaps more so, for without it, she would have no way to spend her time and creativity. “Of course you’re right. You always are.” She put a hand over her eyes. “What have I done?”
“What every other blackmailed individual has thought of doing.” He stood. “Come now. It will be all right. You have God on your side.”
She lifted her fingers from her eyes, doubtful of divine intervention.
He smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. “And you have me.”
THREE
Dear Lady Agony,
