As I walked her to the door, I saw that Inspector Manning was outside, speaking to the officers stationed in Berkeley Square. It was the perfect opportunity to consult with him and request his assistance. He was concerned that my plan was too dangerous, but I insisted that Lady Elinor was more likely to talk to me than to him. Furthermore, so long as he and his men were near, I would be perfectly safe. He promised to meet me at the Whites' at eight-thirty.
I spent the remainder of the afternoon buried in Homer. I'd woefully neglected my Greek in the past weeks and feared that if I did not keep up, Mr. Moore might make me return to reading Xenophon, the tedious texts he'd forced upon me in the early days of my study. I was captivated by the trials of Odysseus, suffering the wrath of Poseidon, longing for home and Penelope, although I was not entirely sympathetic to the man. There were bits of his adventures that I think he enjoyed rather too much, and I wondered if he really was the equal of his wife. She was a woman to be much admired. Clever, faithful, inventive.
The hours passed quickly, and I was surprised to see that it was nearly seven o'clock. I would have to hurry to prepare myself to meet Inspector Manning, and was halfway up the stairs to change my dress when Davis handed me a note from Lady Elinor:
My dear Emily,
Ivy Brandon called on me late this afternoon and fell ill after taking tea with me. I've tried to reach her husband and her mother but can locate neither of them. Isabelle and I are to dine with the Prince and Princess of Wales this evening, and I hate to leave Ivy alone with only servants. Would you be so good as to come sit with her until Robert can be summoned?
I am yrs., etc.
E.R.
A horrible, sickening feeling crashed into my stomach. Surely Lady Elinor would not be so foolish as to harm Ivy, not in her own house? Her guilt would be immediately apparent. I felt compelled to investigate but did not have time to go to Meadowdown before I needed to be at the Whites'. Perhaps this was nothing more than a ruse to distract me from my purpose. If I hurried, I would have just enough time to go by Belgrave Square and leave an urgent message for Robert.
I was shocked to see my friend's husband, looking utterly disheveled, open the door himself. "Is she with you?" he asked, looking around me.
"Ivy? No, I've just received — "
"We're having Lord Fortescue and the prime minister to dine tonight. They'll be at the house by eight. She would have needed to start dressing by now, but she's never returned from making calls this afternoon."
"Read this," I said, thrusting the letter at him.
"She's ill? What can Lady Elinor mean, she couldn't locate me? I've been home all afternoon."
"She never tried," I said, and told him as quickly as possible all that I knew of Lady Elinor's crimes.
"I'll go to Meadowdown at once."
"It's unlikely that she would have done anything to hurt Ivy, but be careful, Robert."
"I'll pretend that nothing's amiss. You found me, and I've come to collect my wife."
"I pray that you find Ivy well. It's unlikely that you'll find Lady Elinor home."
"So help me, I will tear that woman limb from limb if she has so much as looked at my wife in a menacing way."
Robert transformed from an average-looking man into a paragon of the most handsome sort of divine wrath. I hoped that when he found her, Ivy would be in a condition to appreciate the change. I wished him luck and set off on my own errand, my heart heavy with worry for my friend. It took considerable effort to force my attention to my role in this intrigue, but I looked at my watch and knew that I could not afford the luxury of spending even another moment lamenting what might have happened to Ivy.
After sending my letter to Lady Elinor, I had asked Inspector Manning to visit Mrs. White's housekeeper. Knowing that the woman was not a particular admirer of mine, I thought the scheme I was proposing would go over better with her if it came from a policeman. When I arrived at the house, she greeted me with her usual scowl, but this time there was a hint of concern in her eyes.
"They're perfectly safe," I said to her. "They boarded the train this morning and are well on their way to Greece by now."
"I hope you're right," she said. "I don't much like you. You're the sort who brings trouble into a house."
I could hardly argue with her. On this point she was right. I'd certainly brought Ivy trouble, and Isabelle, not to mention David Francis. He had suffered the worst of all of them. It was hardly an encouraging line of thought on which to embark before trying to capture a murderer, but I found myself quite unable to stop thinking about the misery I had brought to those around me.
The housekeeper gave me the reply Lady Elinor had sent to my letter. It stated quite plainly that she had no idea what Mrs. White was talking about and that there clearly had been some sort of confusion. She apologized and said that she was unable to meet that evening, but that if Mrs. White still wanted to speak with her, she was welcome to call at Meadowdown anytime following her return from Paris.
"I didn't expect she would agree to the meeting," I said to Inspector Manning as we went over the details of our plan. "But I hope that this has instilled in her a sense of urgency, that she will decide the boy must be silenced immediately. I do believe she is scared."
As the hour grew late, we set our trap in Edward's room, and I was filled with anxiety. I took my position, hiding behind the armoire, wondering if I should have gone with Robert, chastising myself for not even considering it until now. She was my friend, and I'd left her to...to what? The darkness was claustrophobic and I began to feel chilled, unable to steady myself. Robert was perfectly capable of looking after his wife. It was right that he be the one to go to her.
I wondered what time it was and hoped that Inspector Manning, who was watching the house from the outside, was still awake. My own eyelids had grown heavier than I would have thought possible. I wished I could have stretched my legs.
After what seemed like an eternity, the floorboards creaked and the door to the nursery opened. The effect of the sound on me was more intense than that of smelling salts. I strained to listen, and heard someone walking with steps lighter than a child's, crossing the room to the small bed. I could see the intruder's form in silhouette against the moonlight that struggled through the curtains on the window. With a swift movement, she tipped a bottle against a piece of cloth she held in her hand, then pressed it over what she thought was the child's mouth. I had piled pillows under the blankets to make it look as if someone were sleeping, and her hand recoiled as she realized the boy was not there. She spun around as she heard me step out from where I'd hidden behind the armoire.
"Emily?" She stepped away from the bed. "What is this?"
"What are you doing?" I asked. There was an awful look in her eyes: scared, dazed, almost as if she were in a trance, but at the same time fiery with a deep anger.
"I can't let him live, Emily. He'll ruin everything I've done for Isabelle. And now you will, too. Why didn't you stop? You've forced me to make everything worse."
"I'm sure it's not so bad as you think."
"You've no idea how very bad it is. You haven't seen your good friend Ivy, have you? I never guessed you would abandon her so easily."
"What did you do to her?"
She laughed. "Maybe you should go see."
I knew she was trying to distract me. "Why did you kill David Francis?"
"We both know why he had to die. It was you, after all, who led me to him."