Page 15 of Letters to a Wallflower
He had to knock at the next door several times before a stout woman wearing a flour bedecked apron eventually answered. She stared at him with a flat expression. “Yes?”
Ben smiled.
The woman frowned.
He cleared his throat. “I was looking for?—“
“Who is it, for heaven’s sake?” A familiar figure stepped up behind the maid. Large, brown eyes met his in shocked recognition. “Never mind.” She pulled the maid away and took a hold of the door herself. “I heard you were back,” she sniffed. “Well, you can take yourself off. I’m not giving you the chance to tell lies about me again.”
“I never spoke a word against you, Maggie. Not about what I saw. And certainly not about Helen’s letters. I never even heard of the whole debacle until last week.”
She looked as if she did not believe him.
“I swear it,” he said, low. “I said my goodbyes and then I spent a year and a half chasing the French about Spain, and another half a year trying to recover from injuries. I knew nothing of this scandal until I came back.”
“You stepped back into a mess, then.”
“You could say that.”
She stared at him, considering. “Very well, then. But if not you, then who would pull such a stunt on that girl?”
“I mean to find out.”
“It’s about time,” Maggie snorted. “That family of hers. What good were they to her? Only Leighton and the old countess stood by her.”
“They accused you of posting those letters.”
She inched the door open a bit, only so she could lean out toward him. “I—did—not—do—it. And so I told the girl’s mother, but she chose not to believe me, for her own reasons.”
Ben raised a hand. “I never said a word about you and Akers.”
“I know. It’s why I believe you about the letters. That family still doesn’t know about me and Leighton.” She sighed.
“Who do you think stole those letters from Helen’s drawer?”
The girl shrugged. “One of the other maids, I daresay? They were all old retainers, though, so no suspicion fell on them.” She shook her head. “In any case, much as I enjoy the idea, it’s likely too late to do the girl any good, stirring up the old trouble. Whoever it was, they made a smart move, putting the blame on you just as you were leaving and couldn’t defend yourself. Designed so the truth wouldn’t be uncovered. A crafty plan.” She shrugged. “Might have dug out the truth if someone had forced that editor to give up his secrets. I know Major Crawford had him run out of Fleet Street, but what good did that do his girl?”
This was news to Ben. “The major questioned the editor?”
“He did, but the man was stubborn and said his honor would not allow him to discuss the matter. If the major had suspected it wasn’t you who gave the paper the letters, it might have gone differently, though, eh? He might have pressed the man good and proper. Then the newspaper man would have more to gripe on about than the loss of his position, now, wouldn’t he?”
Ben paused. “Gripe on about? You’ve heard him griping about the situation?”
“Aye. He gets in his cups and goes on about it, still. A bore, he is.”
“Lately? You’ve seen the editor who published those letters and lectures? Heard him complaining lately? The staff at the paper said he couldn’t find another position in London.”
“Yes.” She glanced back over her shoulder, but the maid had disappeared into the house. “When Leighton goes back to Hertfordshire, I sometimes go and visit my cousin in Lambeth. Her husband runs a tavern there. That McKay, the editor? He’s set up a little print shop in the main street there. Puts out religious pamphlets and radical essays. He drinks at the tavern, though, and when he’s in his cups, he complains about how he’s come down in the world.” She raised a brow. “If you want to know more about this mess, I’d say you’d best talk to him.”
“What is the name of the tavern?”
“The Swan’s Neck. Right on the main street, down from the print shop.”
Ben shot her a look of gratitude. “Thank you, Maggie.”
She nodded. “Figured I owe you, for keeping quiet.” Lifting her chin, she gave him a shooing motion. “Go on, now. Go help that girl and get a leg up on the rest of the lads. I heard the swells are getting over that old scandal and the young miss has a beau or two chasing her. About time, I say.”
He left Maggie and thought about what she’d said as he drove back toward Mayfair. He had entertained not a single thought about marriage or even dalliance. For so long he’d been focused solely on recovering from his injury. Since he’d discovered this scandal, he’d thought only of solving the mystery of it. He supposed if he’d found Helen in the state she’d been in before, he would have felt duty-bound to offer for her. But now? Now that she was finally getting a bit of her own back? Now that Parker and some other gentlemen were paying her respectful attention?
