Harmonia opened her eyes to dim grey light. It must be very early. She sat up and peered through the bed curtains. The maid had not come to open the curtains, nor to make up her fire. She listened, and heard an unusual amount of activity in the hallway. What was going on? She rang for the maid, wanting to get dressed. There was her news--the appalling way that the de Veres had spoken of Lady Fanshawe. Harmonia was bursting with it. She must see Lady Fanshawe without delay and tell her!
She got up, went to the window, and pushed the draperies aside. A thin cold drizzle was dotting her window and coating the pavement outside with a slick glaze. People were up and about? What time was it? Where was the maid? Useless people. Lady Fanshawe ought not to put up with such slovenliness. Such a noise in the hall. Was something going on with the de Veres?
The cold was oozing through the walls, and Harmonia climbed back into bed, pulling up the covers while she waited for service. The nearest book was one that her guardian had given her, wanting her to improve her mind: Mr. Pope's poems. Bored, Harmonia pick up the volume, which opened to "Eloisa to Abelard."
"Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom,
Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!"
Silly stuff. Why didn't Eloisa just run away from the convent? The door opened. At last!
"I've been waiting and waiting--" she began complaining to a maid she did not know. Then she saw that the girl was carrying a tray.
The maid bobbed, not looking at her. "Your breakfast, Miss. You're not to leave your room today."
"What do you mean?" cried Harmonia, jumping out of bed. "Who has ordered such a thing?"
"Mrs. de Vere, Miss. His lordship is sick and the doctor's been here all night. "Tis a bedlam in the house. Lady Fanshawe is ill too, and in her room. Mrs. de Vere says you are to take your meals here until everything is in order." The girl was ashamed to quote the terrible Mrs. de Vere more accurately.
"That's ridiculous. Here, don't go. I need you to help me get dressed."
The girl hesitated, but the young lady was insistent, and so she remained to lace the stays in the back and to assist Harmonia into her warmest gown.
"What about my hair?" Harmonia demanded, looking at the rat's nest on her head in despair.
"Don't know anything about hair, Miss," the girl replied, apologetically. "I'm just a housemaid, Miss."
"Well, it is never too late to learn. Here is my brush. Start with the ends and then work your way up."
While the girl brushed out Harmonia's hair, she proved a useful source of information.
"What is the matter with Lord Fanshawe?" Harmonia asked directly.
"Don't rightly know, Miss. He took sick in the night when he was with Lady Fanshawe. She called the butler." The girl lowered her voice and whispered. "Lady Fanshawe thought he was dead, and so did her maids, but Mr. de Vere said he was in a swoon, and that Doctor called it—" the girl's face twisted with effort "—a cata--cata--oh, a fit, anyway. "Twas that. So the doctor and Mr. de Vere ordered Lady Fanshawe away because of the baby—" here the girl blushed, "Beg pardon, Miss."
"Oh, don't be silly. I know that Lady Fanshawe is with child. I'll go see her after you finish my hair."
"Oh, you mustn't do that, Miss. Mrs. de Vere says you're to stay here. Lady Fanshawe isn't to be disturbed after the shock his lordship gave her last night."
"Lady Fanshawe will want to see me," Harmonia answered confidently. "And I need you to make up the fire here, too. I suppose everything is in confusion because Lord Fanshawe's illness."
"That's right, Miss. Mr. Dunner don't know what to think. I heard him say to Monsewer Collinet—that's his lordship's valet—that his lordship looked dead to him when he looked in Lady Fanshawe's chamber. And Monsewer is that put out that they won't let him tend his master. Very insulting, to be sure. And her ladyship fainted when she saw the doctor, or so I'm told."
"Lady Fanshawe doesn't much like doctors," Harmonia remembered. "She's still upset about that quack who killed Lady Carteret—that Doctor Malahyde."
The girl stopped brushing, and looked frightened.
"Don't stop, you've nearly finished. Hand me those pins—what's the matter with you?"
"Oh, Miss!" the girl whispered, "That's who it is—that doctor—I heard Mr. Dunner speak of him as Doctor Malahyde."
"What!"
"I must go!" the girl cried, dropping the heavy silver hairbrush. "I shall get such a scolding for being late!"
"Here, now! Wait! What about my fire?—"
It was too late. The girl had fled out the door, and Harmonia decided she had better have her breakfast before it froze. She lifted the cover, and discovered it was nothing but tea and porridge. She sniffed in annoyance, but it seemed probable that this was all there would be for some time, so she ate hungrily. She was still cold, and so retrieved a cloak from her wardrobe. It was heavy blue velvet, but the chill still struggled to penetrate it.
No one came for the next hour. There was no fire, and no hot water. Harmonia listened at the door until there was quiet, and then she cautiously opened it a crack and peered out. She saw no one. If she could get to Lady Fanshawe's room on the floor below, she could find out more of what was going on. Lady Fanshawe must be very upset to know that that horrible man was in her house. It was scandalous of Mr. and Mrs. de Vere to order everyone about so!
She would look silly wearing the cloak in the house, so she reluctantly dropped it into a chair by the door. Slipping out of the room, she shut the door softly behind her, and glided to the top of the stairs. She must be careful of the third step. That always squeaked a little, she had discovered. She ducked and looked below at the hall that led to Lord and Lady Fanshawe's apartments. Crouched on the stairs, she could see a footman on guard outside Lord Fanshawe's door. There were people coming and going. How would she get past them?
She came down a few more stairs and heard raised voices. Lady Fanshawe was quarrelling with someone.
"—No! Get out of my room! Leave me alone!—"
There were more raised voices and a deep one, giving orders. There was a thumping, rumbling noise, as if furniture was being moved about, and then the sharp sound of a scream.
"Help! Help me! Let go! Oh, my God!—"
Harmonia jumped to her feet and ran down the steps. A servant's voice behind her cried out in anger, but Harmonia ignored him and rushed to Lady Fanshawe's boudoir door, shoving to get in and see what was happening.
Why were men so tall? Two big footmen were standing in front of her, but in between, she could see Mr. de Vere and Doctor Malahyde dragging Lady Fanshawe into her bedchamber, while she screamed and struggled. Mrs. de Vere was there, smiling a little and nodding, looking pleased with all these mad goings-on. Dunner, the butler, was looking on, and did not seem happy with what he was seeing.
Harmonia called out, "What are you doing? What are you doing to Lady Fanshawe! Let go of her!"
Letty heard her and screamed out, "Harmonia! Help me! They want to bleed me! Help!"
She was dragged away, and the door slammed. Harmonia backed away as the footmen turned, looking as surprised as if a lapdog had dared to bark at them. Mrs. de Vere's furious glare was fixed on her.
"You wretched girl! Get back to your room! You were told to stay out of the way! You, take the girl back to her room and lock her in! Instantly!"
She was not allowed the dignity of walking. One of the footman heaved her up over his shoulder, and he and his mate laughed coarsely at her wriggling and protests. Her captor ran easily up the stairs and shrugged her down onto the floor of her room. She stumbled and ended up face-down.
Another leer and a chuckle. "Reckon she fell the wrong way. On her back is more what I'd fancy!"
"Shut your face, Tim," his friend advised, chuckling himself. The door slammed and the lock clicked. Harmonia jumped to her feet and gave the door a hard kick. Raucous laughs followed, and faded away.
It felt like an hour had passed. Harmonia did not have a watch of her own, and could not begin to guess the time. It was very cold. She huddled in her bed, trying to think what to do. Mrs. de Vere did not like her. What if she never sent any food up again? Did she mean for Harmonia to starve? The conversation of the day before ran through her mind. Were they plotting to kill Lady Fanshawe while Lord Fanshawe lay sick and helpless? Maybe if she could get to Lord Fanshawe, he would help—
No—if were laying insensible in a fit of some sort, he could do nothing. Besides, Harmonia would not dare force her way into his room. It just seemed indecent, somehow. If only she had made friends among the servants! Reluctantly, she acknowledged that none of them would like her now. She must get away and tell someone about Lady Fanshawe, but whom?
Mrs. Tavington!She would be furious if she knew someone was hurting her sister. Harmonia was afraid of the hot-tempered Mrs. Tavington, whom she knew did not like her, either, but if it were a question of Lady Fanshawe's life—
All right. She knew where Mrs. Tavington lived—Number Twelve, Mortimer Square. Could she send a message?
No. There was no one she could trust with a message. She would have to go by herself. To do that, she must get out of the house, and get to Mortimer Square from Fanshawe House. She knew the address, and had been there a number of times, but always by carriage. She could not find it if she had to walk. She could not possibly walk so far, anyway. Which way was Mortimer Square?
Perhaps she had enough money for a hired carriage! She felt in her pocket, and could come up with only a few coins. The rest of her money was put away for safekeeping in Lord Fanshawe's study. It would be impossible to find it in there. Stay! In her jewelry box was a new gold guinea that she had kept because it was so pretty. With something to do, she rummaged through her jewelry box, and dumped much of it into her pocket. She put her gold chain around her neck and slid her ring set with seed pearls onto the middle finger of her right hand. She would need her cloak and her stoutest shoes--
She made her preparations with great excitement, realizing that she was having a real adventure. The first part of her escape was crucial, for she would have but one chance. Beginning it was the one issue that did not much worry her. Among her other accomplishments acquired at boarding school was the art of picking locks with a hairpin. Harmonia selected a pin and bent it with practiced care. At school, she had learned to sneak into the cabinet that contained the sugar and raisins, into her schoolmates' trunks and treasure boxes, into her teachers' private letters. She had felt no guilt in doing this, since she was convinced that nearly all her fellows were doing exactly the same. Louisa Bromley had even picked the lock of the school's front door to run away with her soldier two years before. Harmonia remembered that briefly, and did not allow herself to recall how very badly that adventure had come a-cropper.
Besides, the lock could be picked, because she had already picked it, a few weeks ago when Lord Fanshawe had ordered her to stay in her room. She had picked the lock as an act of defiance, and had paraded up and down the deserted hallway, but had not dared to venture below. It could be done, but she must be certain that there was no one in the hall. Then, she would go down the back stairs, avoiding the servants in front of her guardian's apartments. With luck, she could get down to the first floor, and be out the front door before anyone heard a sound. If she were very lucky, no one would even know she was gone until her next meal was brought, and who knew when that would be?
She lay down in front of the door, peering at the crack of light between the threshold and bottom of the door. She could see no feet. She crawled closer, listening for any sound, half-afraid that someone would suddenly enter and bang her head with the door. She listened, running over the bones of her plan in her mind again and again, and then she rose to her knees and slowly introduced the end of her pin into the keyhole.
The scraping noise seemed fit to raise the house. Harmonia's hands were cold and fumbling, but there was a catch, and a click!
Triumphant, Harmonia seized the knob and turned. The door opened silently and she looked out. The hall was empty and silent. Fearfully, she glanced down toward the de Veres' chamber. No doubt they were downstairs, either tormenting Lady Fanshawe or hovering over Lord Fanshawe's sickbed like the vultures they were. Harmonia clutched her bright blue cloak about her, wishing it were grey, or black, or some unobtrusive color, more suited to the heroine of Gothick romance. She listened at the back stairs for any activity, but heard nothing. These stairs were bare and hard, and it was all she could do to descend them quietly. She would not even look down the next hall. To do so would be to risk discovery.
She waited at the landing, listening for footsteps, her heart pounding. She had never been down the back stairs. How narrow and ugly they were! She was so accustomed to the elegance of Fanshawe House that the utilitarian nature of the servants' stairs was something of a surprise to her. There were voices below, and she was poised to dash back upstairs in an instant, but the sounds faded.
Harmonia took a deep breath and went down to the drawing room floor. Here she looked out around the corner of a wall, trying to get her bearings. She was in the back of the house, and next to her would be the end of the ballroom. Oh, her ball! Would it ever take place? Why did Lord Fanshawe have to be sick now, of all times? Would he be angry with her, for disobeying his son and daughter-in-law? Surely he would forgive her, if he understood she was on a mission to rescue his lady.
Her own noble self-sacrifice rose up before her, wrapped in a golden glow. Why, she was a heroine! She was risking all to save a friend. Well, perhaps not a friend, exactly, but her guardian's wife, and a very nice woman. That was close enough.
Oh, Heavens! Someone was coming! Not sure which was to go, Harmonia darted down the steps and headed for the ground floor. This was the riskiest part of the journey, for it was very likely that there would be a great deal of movement between the dining room and the kitchens below. Harmonia fled the stairwell and pressed herself against the wall. A manservant in mourning livery stalked pompously, tray in hand, toward the staircase. Harmonia clung to the shadows with her fingernails, willing the man not to look in her direction.
She realized that she was just outside the Painted Parlor. She considered hiding inside. It was such a beautiful room. Her hand reached for the doorknob, when she heard voices within, and she cringed back in fright. It was Mrs. de Vere's voice, sounded very content and confident. Harmonia could not make out the words, but she was sure that if Mrs. de Vere was happy, it could mean no good for anyone else. She slid along the side of the wall, with the back of the great stairs shrouded her from a casual glance. She crouched and looked at the big marble entryway. It looked unnervingly exposed. She could see no one, but if she were spotted, she would have to run fast to get through the door. How did the lock work?
She waited, studying it, and crept out a little farther. Oh, no! Someone was coming to the door! Out of nowhere, a footman appeared, to open the door slightly. Harmonia could hear his low tones, explaining to the unseen caller that the Fanshawes were not receiving, and accepting the caller's card instead. He closed the door and locked it. Harmonia nearly fell over, trying to see what he did, and then the footman deposited the card on the silver receptacle and walked away in the direction of his lordship's study. His back was turned! Harmonia dashed out on tiptoe, hiding behind one pillar and then another. She made a last rush, and was hidden in a corner behind the wall of the entryway. She stared at the heavy double door, and the lock. Now!
The latch was easy, so very easy, but the door was dreadfully heavy. She opened it a little way, and then was through and outside the prison walls and into the cold rain. It occurred to her then, that getting back in might be as difficult as getting out.
How did one hire a hack carriage? One had a servant call one, but Harmonia was on her own. She seemed to remember that carriages had always headed left out of the square when they went to Mrs. Tavington's, so she started walking that way, the hood of her cloak pulled down to protect herself from the rain. She did not see any empty carriages. Perhaps if she saw a respectable woman, she could ask directions. It was very inconvenient that it must rain on the day Harmonia had an adventure. How many houses there were in St. James Square, and what a long way to walk!
"Not a fit day for man nor beast, eh, Miss?"
She looked up startled. Two men were looming over her. She nearly started running, until she saw what sat between them. A sedan chair! Harmonia had never traveled in one. It looked very small, but it would get her out of the wet.
"Spoil yer fine cloak in this muck, Miss," said the second man. His breath was foul and most of his teeth were missing, but he grinned cheerfully. "Couple o' bob to take you anywhere in Lunnon!"
"I don't know how much a 'bob' is," she replied, feeling warily in her pocket for her jumble of coins, "but I would like to hire your chair, yes. Do you know Mortimer Square?"
The first, taller man, waved his arms in indignation. "Do we know Mortimer Square? What kind o' thing to say is that? O' course we know Mortimer Square. Get you there in a tick. Two bob—two shillings—for such a quality fine lady!"
She brought out her small collection of copper and silver. "Is this enough?"
The men squawked in consternation. Frightened, Harmonia added her guinea, "How about this? Will you take me to Number Twelve, Mortimer Square? It's a matter of life or death!"
Their expression underwent an odd transformation at the sight of the gold. "Reckon it's real?" the toothless man wondered to his mate.
"Reckon so. Get in, Miss! We'll take you anywhere in the kingdom for a guinea!"
"I just want to go to Mortimer Square!" she protested, as they shoved her into the tiny box and shut the door. They grabbed the poles on either side, and Harmonia was jostled about as they lifted her off the ground. Suddenly they broke into an alarmingly fast trot, chanting "Make way!" as they jogged through the streets.
There was only a small opening on either side. Harmonia tried to see where they were going. She soon realized that the openings were small and high up in order to keep the filth the men were splashing up from soiling her clothes. All sorts of foul smells assailed her: the smell of human urine and dog droppings; horse manure and rotten fish; unwashed bodies and thick coal smoke. They turned a corner, and Harmonia was almost certain that this was Jermyn Street. At least they were going in the right direction!
"Make way!"
There was a bump, and the chair swayed. Outside, a gentleman cursed furiously. Harmonia stifled a giggle at the man's naughty language. A horse squealed, it seemed by her ear, and Harmonia flinched, hoping they were not to be run down. It was not as rough as she had feared, but the chair smelled very badly of the countless occupants who had been there before her. It was dark, too, and Harmonia was glad she could not see the interior more distinctly.
"Make way!"
-----
It was a quiet Tuesday morning at Number Twelve. Bellini had called early, to assure Jane that Letty had received her message, and was as well as could be expected. Jane heard with some concern that Lord Fanshawe's son had arrived to stay for a week, since Letty had told her how unfriendly her stepson and his wife had proved. Their conversation was quiet, while Caroline and Penelope kept Emily Martingale entertained. They had considered visiting the shops before John returned. The house in Berkeley Square had been resolved upon, and there was endless talk of draperies and porcelain and silver. John wanted everything to be perfect for his new family. The butler appeared in the doorway, looking concerned.
"Miss James to see you, Madam." Rivers eyed Jane anxiously. "She says that Lady Fanshawe is in 'deadly peril.'"
"What! Show her in!"
Harmonia James, her hair down about her ears, and in a wet velvet cloak, ran up the stairs and threw herself through the drawing room door, declaring, "Lord Fanshawe is sick, and I think they are killing Lady Fanshawe!"
Aghast at such terrific pronouncements, the women all exclaimed at once. Bellini hurried to the young girl's side and persuaded her to sit and tell them calmly what had happened.
It was dreadful news, of course, but quite thrilling to be the absolutely riveting center of attention. Harmonia tried to compose her thoughts and the story poured out of her in torrents.
"This morning Mrs. de Vere said I was to stay in my room, because Lord Fanshawe had taken ill in the night. I wanted to see Lady Fanshawe—to see if she was all right, because she had been with Lord Fanshawe when he had his fit, or whatever it was. I was told I wasn't allowed, and that the doctor wouldn't permit Lady Fanshawe to see his lordship for the sake of her health." With intense excitement, she relayed an important detail. "And I was also told that Lady Fanshawe and her maids thought his lordship was dead, but the doctor said it was a fit. Anyway, I tried to see Lady Fanshawe and that horrible Doctor Malahyde was there and he and Mr. de Vere were using her very roughly, and she saw me and screamed for help! She said they wanted to bleed her!"
Jane made a small, dreadful sound. "Doctor Malahyde? He is with Letty!"
"Yes! And that is not the worst! I overheard Mr. and Mrs. de Vere talking among themselves about how they hated that Lady Fanshawe would inherit anything and how angry they were about her child, and how much better it would be if she died before his lordship!"
She was rather satisfied with the horror-struck expressions all around her, until Mrs. Tavington said in a low, terrible voice. "They said that? You're not exaggerating?"
Offended, Harmonia drew her chin up. "On my honor, I'm telling the truth. Mrs. de Vere asked if there were not people who could take care of such problems, and Mr. de Vere said he had already talked to someone! Yes! And then when they were dragging Lady Fanshawe away to bleed her, there was Mrs. de Vere, smirking like anything, pleased as may be! You must send for the Colonel, and he will save Lady Fanshawe!"
"Yes, Jane!" cried Caroline. "You must send a message to Will right away! He was going to be at Horse Guards this morning! Peter could be there in less than half an hour!
Penelope agreed, but added, "And we must send for John, too. He has friends among the magistrates. We must send him a message and have him bring his friends to arrest Mr. de Vere, if he is trying to harm dear Letty!"
Jane's head was perfectly, terribly clear. "Yes. A good plan, as far as it goes. Caroline, you write to Will, and Penelope, you write to John. Send the messages out immediately. You might also want to contact Edward—a lawyer might be very useful. Tell them to go directly to Fanshawe House." She made to leave the room.
"Wait, Jane!" cried Caroline. "Where are you going?"
"I am going to Letty instantly," Jane replied, hardly slowing. "I have no idea how long it will take for them to receive the messages. They may be talking in the street with friends, or they may have gone to a coffee house, or they might be in meetings that cannot be disturbed. I cannot wait. I am going now."
"You shall not go alone!" Bellini exclaimed. "I shall escort you!"
"That is very good of you, sir," Jane said, very touched, but still intent on her mission.. "Are you armed?"
"Of course." He gestured to the narrow dress sword at his side. It was not a perfectly practical weapon.
"Anything else? A pistol?" Jane asked.
"A dagger."
"You need a pistol. I have a pistol upstairs which I shall fetch. Penelope, please ring for the carriage to be brought round."
Harmonia stared at these astounding plans. "What shall I do? Could I come along?"
Jane nearly snapped at her, but relented. "No. I need you to stay here and help my sisters-in-law with their notes, so every detail is correct. It is very important that they receive accurate information, especially if the law is to be summoned. Besides, I think you could do with a cup of tea and some time warming before the fire." She turned back to Bellini. "Wait here, Signore. I shall fetch my pistol, and then go downstairs to the study." She muttered, half to herself. "Guns. We need more guns. I know where William's weapons are."
The other ladies begged her not to go. Emily was shocked at Jane even dreaming of confronting such wickedness herself, and Caroline begged her to think again. Jane could not be persuaded.
"I cannot wait. It did not take Doctor Malahyde long to kill Lady Carteret when she was in his power. If the de Veres imagine that they can harm my sister with impunity, they are much deceived. Please—write the notes. I cannot stay to talk."
She ran out the door and was flying up the steps to her room in an instant. Pullen was sewing there, and looked up in surprise.
"Don't mind me, Pullen." Jane muttered, distracted. "I'm just here for my pistol." She snatched up the box out of her chest of drawers, and took a quick survey of the contents. William had instructed her to always keep her pistol loaded, as possible assailants were unlikely to give her time to use powder, ball, and ramrod. She could not carry the box. She could not walk down the street, pistol in hand. How to conceal it, and still have access to it?
A muff! Her biggest was of fox fur, dyed black for mourning wear. The pistol slid nicely into a hiding place in the silk lining. She opened the malachite box William had given her, snatched up a fistful of gold, and shoved it into a pocket. She raced back down the stairs, collected Bellini, and took him down to the study, where she found William's best pistols in their elaborate case. They were not loaded, and she put Bellini to work on one, while she dealt with the other, glancing over to make certain the tall Italian knew what he was about.
He did, in fact, know the proper way to load a pistol, and by the time the carriage was pulling up by the front door, they were armed and ready.
The four ladies crowded about.
"Oh, Jane! Do reflect! William will be here soon!"
"Sir John can put it right, Mrs. Tavington!"
"Be very careful, my dear! Here is Peter," called Caroline. She rounded on the footman. "Peter, you should be quicker when Mrs. Tavington needs to go out. Stay with her, whatever happens!"
Harmonia whined, "Why cannot I go with you?"
Jane snapped, "Do you know how to use a pistol?"
"What? No!"
"Then stay here!" Too stirred up for civility, Jane blazed to Scoggins, "To Fanshawe House, as fast as you can!" Peter, the footman, hastily opened the door, let down the stairs, and stepped back while Bellini handed Jane up into the carriage. He barely had time to leap up behind and hold on when the carriage lurched away. He wondered what was about to happen. The money he received from Lord Fanshawe was a tidy sum, as were the payments from the other gentlemen. He sighed, knowing it had been too good to last, and hoping no one ever knew he had been talking behind the Tavingtons' backs.
Jane threw herself back against the carriage cushions, raging. In the tense silence Bellini asked, "Do you have a plan, Signora? I do not think the servants will permit either of us to enter."
"I shall offer them sufficient inducement," Jane said fiercely, wishing that Moll were here with her musket. "I have a great deal of money upon me, or they can have a bullet if they prefer."
"Ah." Bellini considered the matter, as the horses clattered past Colchester House. "You do not object if I attempt words before deeds?"
"No. I suppose not. Anything that gets me to Letty."
Scoggins was shouting to the horses. Jane could not find even their current dangerous speed satisfactory, and shifted restlessly in her seat, wishing she were driving herself.
"Listen, Signora," Bellini considered. "If you drive up before the house, they will know you are here and that you must suspect something, for your family arms are plain to see on the door of the carriage. Let us have the coachman stop in King Street, and then we shall walk around the corner to the house and take them by stealth. Yes?"
Reluctantly, Jane nodded. Bellini leaned out the door to tell Scoggins of the change in route. They turned sooner than usual, and within ten minutes they had arrived at their destination. Some passersby turned to look at the unusual haste and bustle, as the Tavington carriage clattered to a hall. The worried and chastened Peter leaped down and got the door open. Jane nearly threw herself at him, and Bellini was quickly at her side, and steadying her. The rain had stopped, and dirty water puddled in the street. Jane stepped carefully, not wanting to get her stockings soaked.
"Let me speak first to them, Signora."
"Very well, but if they try to shut the door in my face I won't be responsible for what I do next."
"I understand. Piano, piano, Signora. Softly—that is the way to begin."
He offered his arm, and she took it, glad that she had a companion on this adventure who seemed resourceful and unafraid. She asked, "Do you often storm your patrons' houses?"
He laughed. "Sometimes, when they do not pay me. It happens. Stand back and do not let them see you at first."
He let go her arm and advanced to the doorway. Jane stood away to his left, pressed against the wall, while Bellini rang the bell. Her hand felt for the pistol inside her muff while her heart lurched, waiting for the moment—
The door opened a little, and a voice Jane recognized as Dunner, the butler, spoke to Bellini.
"His lordship's not receiving today, sir. You'll have to come back another time."
"It matters not. I have come to see Lady Fanshawe. She is expecting me."
A confused pause. "Sorry, sir. Her ladyship is indisposed and can't be disturbed."
"She is ill?" Bellini asked with great concern. "What a misfortune! I beg you, permit me to leave my card, that the lady knows her friends are thinking of her."
Another moment of hesitation. "Well—"
"My dear Dunner! You know that I am the lady's friend! Do not keep me waiting on the doorstep. Let me come in and tell me how I may serve her. I am hers to command. May I fetch an apothecary? A cordial? A physician? But surely, his lordship has thought of these things. May I carry a message for him to his friends?"
"I haven't seen his lordship today," Dunner replied sullenly. "He's not well. Up in his room and his son says he can't see anyone. No more can her ladyship. Here, come in, but keep quiet. I'm not supposed to let anyone past the door, but I know you."
"I thank you, my friend. I wish to know everything. The patronage of this noble house is of great moment to me." Bellini smiled, and pushed the door open wide. Quickly, Jane darted in behind him. The butler gaped at the sight of her, and then opened his mouth.
With speed astonishing in such a big man, Bellini shoved him against the wall and had the tip of a dagger to his throat. "Think carefully before you shout, my friend. As you see, the lady's sister is here and, ah yes, has a pistol pointed at your heart."
Dunner froze, eyes bulging in fright. He opened his mouth again, but not to shout. "What do you want?" he gurgled.
Jane closed in, and hissed. "Where is my sister? I have heard the de Veres have imprisoned her in her room and had that fraud Malahyde bleed her! Is that true?"
"Doctor Malahyde's here, right enough, ma'am—he thinks she's in need of physick—"
"Where is Lord Fanshawe? Is he alive or not?"
In shock, the butler stammered, flinching at Bellini's knife point. "Don't know, ma'am. He looked dead to me last night, but Mr. de Vere says not. They took him off to his room, and none of his own servants have seen him. Why would he say he was alive if he wasn't? He'd have the title and money and all--"
"Take me to my sister, now!" Jane said through her teeth, tired of this silly parley. "I must see that she is all right. You know, if you are not a fool, that something very bad is happening here. If the de Veres are trying to kill her—"
"You will hang as their accomplice," Bellini put in, his teeth bared in a grimace.
"No, he won't hang," Jane snarled. "I'll kill him first. Where are the de Veres right now?
"—P—P—Painted Parlor, ma'am."
"Where is Doctor Malahyde?"
"With Lady Fanshawe."
Jane's lips were white, and she shook her head, trying to ease the tension in her neck. "All right. We're going to my sister now. You will walk ahead and look natural. If you shout for help, I shall shoot you."
The butler flinched again, looking angry. "Nobody here wants any harm to come to her ladyship, but I'll lose my place if Lord Fanshawe knows I let you in."
Bellini spoke low and soothingly. "If his lordship is dead, it cannot matter. If he is not dead, he is unconscious. Lady Fanshawe is mistress here, and she wants to see her sister very much." He smiled in a confiding, threatening way, speaking into the hapless Dunner's ear. "Mrs. Tavington has gold for you, if you do not betray us—"
Jane was wild with the delay, but added in an impatient whisper, "--And if you lose your place I shall write you a sterling character. If Lady Fanshawe is in peril, I imagine she'll be very grateful to her rescuers. Now stop talking and get moving!"
With another shove, Dunner was turned about and led a stately procession down the marble hall to the grand staircase. Jane longed to run, but that would attract attention. She glanced swiftly at Bellini, who was bright-eyed and alert, clearly enjoying the adventure. Jane once again reflected that adventures could be very unpleasant experiences. They reached the upper hall, and passed a footman, who stood up, gaping uncertainly at Jane and Bellini.
Dunner gave him a stern glare, and the servant slunk back, looking curious and rather hopeful. It occurred to Jane that Letty might be popular with the servants, and that the de Veres very likely were not. As they turned to go to the floor above, Dunner paused.
"Alcock is posted in front of his lordship's apartments. He's one of Mr. de Vere's servants. He'll sound the alarm if he sees you, ma'am."
"Get rid of him," Jane snapped.
"How?" the butler asked helplessly.
Bellini snorted, "Tell him he is to fetch refreshment for the doctor, on Mrs. de Vere's orders. No such order has been given yet, has it?"
"No," answered Dunner, pulling himself together. "No. 'Twill do well enough, perhaps." He squared his shoulders and walked upstairs.
Jane hissed a wordless warning at him, gesturing with her pistol. Dunner scowled and walked on.
Carefully, Bellini took Jane by the elbow, and guided her slowly up the stairs, stopping before they would be visible from the upper hall. They heard Dunner's deep voice speaking to another man.
"—told me to stay here!"
"—I shall remain in your place. I'd advise you to have a meal yourself, while you're in the kitchen. Who knows how long you'll need to be here? Have something to eat, and then bring the gentleman a tray."
The other man strode away, and they could hear footsteps on another staircase. Bellini took a quick glance over the top of the stairs, and then pulled Jane along quickly. Dunner was waiting for them.
Jane asked him in a whisper, "My sister's apartments?"
"That they are, ma'am. There is a connecting door to his lordship's. The doctor's had no need to come out. We can't know if he's with the one or t'other."
"What about Lady Fanshawe's maids?" Jane wondered.
"Haven't seen or heard them since last night when his lordship come over queer," the butler told her.
Jane took a breath, "Well, go in and look about. I've never been in my sister's rooms here. I know there is a boudoir and a dressing room and a bedroom. The connecting door is between his lordship's dressing room and the boudoir, is it not?
Dunner nodded.
"Well," Jane decided, "go in. If Malahyde is in the boudoir, we may have to rush in. I hope not."
Dunner swallowed nervously, and then opened the door and walked in. He left the door open, and Jane listened intently for any voices. The silence was complete. Bellini gave her a nod, and the two of them glided into the room. Jane saw the amazing room as a whole, not able to spare any attention for its beauties and its splendid ornaments. Dunner was listening at the dressing room door, and beckoned quickly to them.
"Someone's in there, but I can't make out what's being said."
"Go in!" hissed Jane, giving him a push.
Dunner entered and gave a low, shocked exclamation. Jane peered around the corner.
The dressing room was dark, the windows obscured by heavy draperies. In the dim light, Jane could see two figures lying together on the floor, wriggling like snakes, their voices smothered and muffled.
Bellini strode past her and flung open the drapes. Véronique and Julie Maupin were bound and gagged, their eyes wide and furious, struggling against the laces and trimmings which held them helpless. Véronique recognized them first, and gave them a look of inexpressible relief.
Jane held a finger before her lips, and helped the two men untie the women. "Shh! I am here to rescue my sister! Don't make a sound. If Doctor Malahyde is with her, we must surprise him."
The women nodded, glaring briefly at the embarrassed Dunner. One whispered to him, "Fool! I told you the old man is dead. They will kill Madame for her inheritance, and then give out that the Vicomte died afterwards."
"But that's madness!" Jane objected, in a whisper. "You would give them the lie!"
Julie laughed mirthlessly. "Not if we are put on a ship for Africa or India or Russia and are never heard of again. We hear them talking. They care no more if we hear than if we are animals."
"Shh!" Jane hushed them again, and followed Bellini out of the dressing room. "Is my sister in her room?"
"Yes," said Julie with great compassion, squeezing Jane's arm. "We hear it all. He is there even now, gloating over her."
"He's a dead man!" Jane swore.
Bellini put out a hand to calm her. "We go quickly. The man must be silenced at once. Do not use your pistol. You may threaten, but do not fire, on your life!" His hand dropped to the doorknob. He flung open the door with silent speed.
Behind Bellini's massive back, Jane glimpsed the opulent, sunny room, with its high tester bed draped with brocade. Malahyde was sitting by the bed, humming, lancet in hand. Letty's arm was flung out limply, her blood dripping into a basin. There were other basins on the floor, full of blood, blackening and clotting. A ray of light fell on Letty's pale, unconscious face. Jane groaned aloud as she ran to her sister, and Malahyde looked up at the sound: astonished, indignant. He rose to his feet as if about to lecture them, when Bellini fell on him like a mountain.
Next—Memento Mori
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Sedan chairs were one of the hazards of London streets. All sorts of people complained about being run down by the bearers.
Happy Holidays to all!