Lavinia raised her brows. “Forgive us for our little lapse in manners, Anthony. It is just that we have grown so accustomed to Tobias’s charming way of making himself at home. He no longer waits upon an invitation, as you can see.”
Tobias ignored the pointed remark. He poured coffee for himself and handed the pot to Anthony. “I have concluded that those two footpads we encountered last night must have reported their failure to Pelling. He no doubt realized that if we knew enough to interview Maggie, we were getting too close. He may have passed the warning along to Hudson. Or perhaps the damned mesmerist came to the conclusion on his own that it was time to leave.”
Emeline looked at him. “Where do you think they went?”
“No way to know yet.” Tobias surveyed the dishes on the table, an irritable Minotaur eyeing sacrificial offerings. He settled upon the tray of eggs. “I doubt if either of them would dare return to their former residences. Wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they are on their way to the Continent. Perhaps Hudson will elect to return to America.”
“They certainly will not be showing their faces in London in the near future,” Anthony said with some satisfaction.
“The fact that both men decamped together proves once and for all that they were, indeed, associates in this affair,” Tobias said.
“Not necessarily.” Lavinia took a bite of egg and gave him a quelling look. “Howard may well have left Town because he was intimidated by your attitude when you called upon him the other day. After all, you more or less threatened him, did you not?”
Tobias shrugged. “More, not less.”
Anthony glanced at him. “You did not mention that you had talked to Hudson. What did you say to him?”
“It was a private matter.” Tobias caught Lavinia’s eye while he piled eggs on his plate. “Nothing that need concern us this morning.”
Mrs. Chilton bustled in with a fresh plate of eggs. “Getting to be quite a crowd out here in the mornings. We’ll have to see about increasing our order with the dairymaid.”
Lavinia cleared her throat. “Large quantities of eggs and milk are costly.”
“I’m sure we can afford a few extra eggs,” Emeline said quickly.
“Whitby mentioned this morning that he is not using the usual number of eggs lately,” Tobias put in helpfully. “I’ll instruct him to send some to you, Mrs. Chilton.”
“Very well, sir.” Mrs. Chilton started back through the door. “I’ll go and fetch some more toast.”
“And jam,” Tobias added. “We’ve run out again.”
“Aye, sir. More jam.”
“Speaking of your excellent jam,” Tobias said, “how is your supply of currants?”
It was really too much, Lavinia thought. Now he was presuming to take charge of her kitchen. The next thing she knew, he would be inspecting the linens and dictating the choice of herbs to be planted in the garden.
“There is no need to concern yourself with our supply of currants, sir,” she said forcefully. “I’m quite sure we have a sufficient quantity on hand.”
“But we wouldn’t want to take the chance of running out altogether.” Tobias smiled at Mrs. Chilton. “You’re certain you don’t need to shop for some this afternoon, Mrs. Chilton? It promises to be a fine day.”
Mrs. Chilton heaved a sigh. “I expect it wouldn’t hurt to purchase a few more.” She went through the door.
Emeline and Anthony exchanged looks. Lavinia could have sworn they were both struggling to conceal smiles.
Tobias drank some coffee and looked a good deal more pleased than he had when he had walked into the breakfast room a few minutes ago.
Lavinia wondered if the subject of currants always had such an uplifting effect on his spirits. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to keep an ample quantity on hand.
Shortly after two o’clock, Emeline looked around the door of the study, her bonnet dangling from her fingers. “Priscilla has just arrived in her mama’s carriage. We are off to meet up with Anthony and one of his friends to view the new exhibition of paintings at that little gallery in Bond Street.”
“Very well.” Lavinia did not look up from her notes on the Medusa bracelet affair. “Enjoy yourself.”
“We probably will not return much before six. Priscilla wants to shop for a new fan, and then Anthony and his friend are going to take us driving in the park in Lady Wortham’s carriage.”
“Mmm.”
“Mrs. Chilton just left to shop for currants.”
“Yes, I know.” Lavinia dipped her quill in the ink and started a new sentence.
“I can see you are deep into your journal. I will bid you farewell.”
“Good-bye.”
The front door closed behind Emeline a moment later. A curious silence descended on the house.
Lavinia completed another sentence and paused to read what she had written.
… a most unsatisfactory conclusion to the affair. It is evident that Oscar Pelling murdered Celeste Hudson, but it is clear that he will never pay for his crime. The Blue Medusa has disappeared and with it any hope of collecting a fee for our services from anyone involved in this matter.
Several questions remain unanswered. I cannot bring myself to believe that my good friend Dr. Hudson is a thief, but Mr. March strongly disagrees with that conclusion.
Where did Celeste conceal the relic before she went to meet Pelling on the night of her death? I cannot forget the valet’s assurance that the only person who could have taken the bracelet undetected was Mrs. Rushton. But she had no motive.
She put down the quill and looked out into the garden. The spidery threads of melancholia were drifting around her, threatening to entangle her in one of her rare moods. She considered putting aside her journal and turning to some poetry.
No, she thought, given the unfortunate ending to the Medusa affair, it would behoove her to return to work on writing an advertisement for the papers. New business must be found as soon as possible. There was some refining yet to be done on her notice. She was rather taken with the notion of adding a line or two about references being available upon request.
Perhaps what she really needed at that moment was some fresh air to raise her spirits, she decided. She should have gone with Emeline and the others to view the paintings and shop for fans.
References.
Fans.
The familiar snap and sizzle of intuition crackled through her, leaving her very nearly breathless. Very deliberately, she reached for her pen and wrote down her conclusion to see if it still made sense when viewed as a statement of fact.
She stared at what she had written for a long time, searching for flaws. She saw none. But there was only one way to be certain.
The Banks mansion loomed above the small, overgrown park, as bleak and cheerless as ever. When the housekeeper opened the door, she seemed surprised to see a live person on the front step.
“Is Mrs. Rushton home?” Lavinia asked.
“Aye.”
“Please inform her that Mrs. Lake wishes to speak with her concerning her missing bracelet.”
The housekeeper did not look overly optimistic about the prospects of an interview, but she went off to inform her mistress that she had a caller.
Mrs. Rushton received her in the gloomy drawing room. She frowned in disappointment when she saw that Lavinia was alone.
“I had rather hoped that Mr. March would accompany you,” she said. “Or that nice young man Mr. Sinclair.”
“They are both occupied with pressing matters of business this afternoon,” Lavinia said, taking the seat across from Mrs. Rushton. “I have come to give you a full report.”
Mrs. Rushton brightened somewhat at that news. “You recovered my relic?”
“Not yet.”
“Now, see here, I made it quite clear that I am not about to pay you unless you find it.”
“I think I may know where it is.” Lavinia touched the silver pendant that she wore at her throat. “Or perhaps I should say that I think you know where it is.”