"Lady Elinor?" Ivy asked. I brought her up to date on all that had transpired since we last spoke. "Oh, how dreadful. Poor Isabelle. Whatever shall happen?"
"Nothing good, I'm afraid," I said. "I've just been trying to determine how I can prove beyond question that she is the one responsible for the deaths in Richmond."
Ivy hesitated for just a moment. "Could the police..."
"I shall, of course, include Inspector Manning. But I don't want the police sprung upon her, nor do I want Isabelle there."
"Where did you send Mrs. White and her boy?" Ivy asked.
"They're to go to Greece and stay at the villa. Meg's going to travel with them." An idea came to me, vaguely at first, and then gradually formed into something approaching coherence. "Lady Elinor believes that there is no surviving heir of the dauphin, correct? What if she learned about Edward? Believed that he, or his mother, could come forward and make a claim to the throne?"
"I like this idea, Emily," Margaret said, still puffing on her cigar.
"But what if the boy were to get hurt?" Ivy asked.
"We couldn't tell her until after he is safely out of the country," I said. "But then, I could call on her, subtly alert her to the situation, and then wait for her to come to the Whites' house."
"But how would you know when to expect her?" Ivy asked.
"I wouldn't, really. Colin once told me that most of the time his work is little more than waiting for something interesting to happen. I'm beginning to understand what he meant."
"You could skulk about the house and sleep in the boy's room," Margaret suggested. "Eventually, she would figure out a way to come to you."
"We might be able to force her hand somehow. Make her think that Edward's identity was going to be revealed on a certain day."
"What a pity Bastille Day's already passed," Ivy said.
"I'm afraid it won't work," I said, my mind racing. "Whoever committed these crimes knows that I've been investigating. That person has had me followed, forced my coach off the road, flung a brick through my window, sent a maid to spy on me. If I tell Lady Elinor about Edward, she will know at once that I'm aware of her guilt, no matter how congenial my guise for delivering the information. What would she have to lose at that moment? I promised Colin I would take no unnecessary risks. I'm afraid this course of action would fall into that category."
"You're right," Margaret said. "It's too dangerous."
"We'll just have to keep thinking," I said. Davis tapped on the door and entered, his face ashen.
"Madam, I'm afraid that someone's attacked Baines. Could you please come right away?"
32
"It was his day off," Davis explained, as I followed him, along with Margaret and Ivy, up to the servants' quarters. "He was walking home, and as he approached the back of the house, someone struck him over the head. I've sent for a doctor."
I was greatly relieved to learn from the physician that my footman's injuries were not serious. Less welcome was the response of the police. The officers assigned by Inspector Manning had caught a man they'd seen running from the house and questioned him, but their conclusion was that this had been nothing more than a simple robbery. Baines's money and watch had been stolen, and the culprit had been implicated in more than one other similar crime.
"How can they possibly think this is unrelated to the attacks on me?" I asked. "It makes no sense."
"I begin to see why you feel that you cannot rely wholeheartedly on the police," Ivy said.
The next day was exceedingly hectic. Between getting Mrs. White, Edward, and Meg off to Greece and checking on Baines, I had not a moment to return to the question of how to trap Lady Elinor. Meg was thrilled to be going to Santorini, and I smiled when I thought of how, less than a year ago, she had dreaded traveling. I wished that Cécile could join them, but until she was finished with Monsieur Garnier, she would not be able to leave Paris. Still, they would be in capable hands with my maid, who would manage every detail of the trip with her usual smooth efficiency.
Once the morning mail arrived, I was able to convince Inspector Manning that Baines's attack was not an isolated incident. Someone had sent a letter with a sinister message:
Who will suffer next for your impudence? Abandon your investigation.
After speaking to the inspector, I was left to consider my options and felt immediately out of my depth. I had not the slightest idea how to trick Lady Elinor into implicating herself. It would have been so easy to turn to Colin, if he weren't in Paris, or Sebastian, if he could be reached without going through the Times. Either of them was certain to have insights into the matter beyond mine.
It was a frightening feeling, knowing that so much was at stake, that if I did not handle matters in the best possible way, more people could be hurt than those already affected by Lady Elinor's crimes. I could not allow another member of my staff to be brutalized as Baines had been. If I could resolve all this on my own, it would be a significant accomplishment, and the thought of achieving such a thing filled me with a surge of inspiration that led to a new idea. It was so obvious now that I laughed at myself for not having come to it earlier. Not wanting to waste another instant, I sent for Margaret at once.
"It's inspired!" she cried. "Does it have to happen tonight, though? Jeremy and I've arranged everything for our public falling-out to take place at the lord mayor's ball tonight. I don't see how we can possibly reschedule."
"You don't need to come with me, Margaret. The fewer people on hand the better, and you know that I must have Inspector Manning. What I need you to do is write the letter. Lady Elinor would recognize my handwriting."
"Very well," Margaret said. "But I don't like missing the adventure. You must promise me that the next time you unmask a murderer, you do it at a time when I can help in a more exciting way."
"I'll do my best," I said. "Now, here's what I want you to write." We spent the next half hour crafting our letter. In the end, I was most satisfied with it.
Dear Lady Elinor,
It has come to my attention that your daughter's future happiness depends not only upon the marriage you have arranged for her, but on the success of her fiancé's claim to the French throne. My own dear son, only six years old, is the child of David Francis. I've no doubt that you grasp the implications of this statement. I assure you that I've no interest in seeing him named king; politics is a risky business, and when I consider what happened to his ancestors, I cannot hope that he would ever sit on a throne. But if I am to hold him back, I cannot do so in good faith without asking for some sort of compensation on your part. I will gladly remain silent and hand you the keys to the kingdom, as it were, if you would be so kind as to make it worth my while. You might imagine that our circumstances are no longer quite so comfortable now his father is dead. If this is agreeable to you, I should like to see you this evening at my house. Call no earlier than nine o'clock, as the boy will be asleep by then and I can guarantee us a reasonable amount of privacy. We will be leaving for Paris in the morning, and I would very much like to have finished with this matter before then.
I am yrs., etc.,
Mrs. Elizabeth White
"I don't see how she could refrain from coming," Margaret said. "I must go if I'm to be ready for my grand performance. Oh, Emily, I do envy you all this excitement!"
"I don't know if 'excitement' is the proper word."
"If I didn't have absolute confidence in you, it wouldn't be. But I'm not worried that you'll come to harm. You're perfectly capable of outwitting Lady Elinor. She doesn't stand a chance."