Page 61 of Solving Sophronia

They followed the long wooden building, and as they drew closer, they saw Merryweather waiting with another man. The two were dressed in working clothes and stood beside a doorway, backlit by lanterns.

The stables were set far enough away from the assembly hall that the noise and smells of the animals wouldn’t disturb the guests. Most of the horses and carriages were in the large yard beyond where the drivers and stable staff tended to the animals, and Jonathan could hear the sounds of the men socializing as they waited to return the guests home. He glanced back at the assembly hall. The ballroom windows glowed in the darkness, and a few others showed light behind their curtains. Music drifted out through the ballroom doors.

He didn’t think his and Sergeant Lester’s departures had been noticed, but he wasn’t certain about Sophie’s. Beckoning with a flick of his hand, he motioned the group toward a shadowed area. In the moonlight the group could still see one another but would be inconspicuous at a distance from the assembly hall.

“Now, what have you, Constable?” Jonathan didn’t bother with introductions or niceties.

“Sir, this is Ned Tucker—works here in the stables.” Merryweather stood straighter, holding himself at attention in spite of his lack of uniform. “Claims he saw something Monday night.” He tipped his head. “Tell ’em what you told me, Ned.”

The stable hand shuffled his feet, looking nervous. Not unusual for a person dealing with the police. He glanced at Sophie, as if uncertain whether he should speak in front of her.

“Go on, then,” Sergeant Lester prompted.

“Didn’t think much of it at the time, you see—not until Mr. Merryweather started asking questions.”

Jonathan cleared his throat, giving a nod to urge the man to continue but not allowing himself to look too eager and risk putting the man on his guard.

“Monday night we were on our toes, sir. Gentlemen coming and going at random. Some carriages were hardly here for an hour before we were sent to retrieve them. Others stayed longer. But one...” He looked over his shoulder as if he could see the carriage through the building. “One remained long after the others were gone. We reckoned the gentlemen had gone along to another event with a friend. But the driver had no orders to leave, so he stayed.” Ned shrugged. “Stablemaster had sent the other lads home but kept me here to muck out the stalls while we waited for the owner to return or send word.”

“And did he return?” Sophie asked.

“Aye, and that’s the strange part, my lady.” He looked back again. “The two gentlemen didn’t arrive by cab. Returned on foot. Came by way of the river.”

Two men.Jonathan’s mind worked through different scenarios. Had they abandoned the furniture wagon and walked back to the stable yard to prevent a cabby from identifying them? Or was this merely a coincidence? Or could they even trust Ned Tucker’s story? He seemed even more nervous than was usual during inquiries.

“Did you recognize the gentlemen?” Sergeant Lester asked. “Or remember the name of their driver?”

“Driver kept to himself.” Ned shook his head. “Don’t know the gentlemen’s names, but I saw the pair again tonight. Arrived together, same as before.”

“Can you describe them?” Jonathan asked.

“Fancy-like, sir. And the carriage had a crest on the door.” He gave a meaningful look at that bit of information. Jonathan nodded. If the man was correct, the suspects were noblemen—or at least, rode in a nobleman’s carriage.

“The one in particular stood out,” Ned said. “He—”

A whistling sounded by Jonathan’s ear.

Ned Tucker dropped.

Jonathan grabbed Sophie, pulling her to the ground just as another whistling sounded overhead.

Merryweather cried out.

“We’re under fire!” Jonathan called as another shot hit the stable behind him. “Get down!”

Sergeant Lester pressed against the wall next to him. They were exposed, sitting out here in the open, with no idea of the shooter’s location.

“Inside,” Jonathan said, not sure who could hear or who was able to follow the order. Ned was most certainly hit, and perhaps Merryweather as well.

At a crouch, he pulled Sophie along the side of the building and pushed her through the doorway, pressing her against an inside wall. He covered her with his body, chest against her back and chin on her head. More shots hit the doorframe.

Sophie trembled, and he put his arms around her. “Sergeant!” he yelled. “Are you hit?”

“No, sir.” Sergeant Lester’s voice came from the other side of the doorway. “But Merryweather’s down. And Mr. Tucker.”

Jonathan was impressed at the steadiness in the man’s voice.

“Shooter’s inside the assembly hall.” The sergeant risked a peek through the doorway. “He’s stopped, I think.”

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