Emma said, “It has to be a young male. The best choice would be Jacob, but he’ll be running messages between us and Sir Broderick concerning this investigation, and antiquarian books between Sir Broderick and the bookshop.”
“Sumner can take on that function. Unless you have a better answer, Your Grace,” I said. John Sumner served as the duke’s bodyguard, but I’d never figured out if the former soldier had other duties. I only knew how much the duke trusted and relied on him.
Blackford scowled for a moment before he nodded. “I don’t. I’ll see about making the arrangements to add Jacob to the Admiralty records office staff in the morning.”
I gave him a satisfied smile. Now I wasn’t the only one whose life would be turned upside down by this investigation.
“I recently had a woman who’d nursed her invalid husband approach me for a position. We’ll investigate her and then I may take her on,” Sir Broderick said, “depending on how long Jacob will need to be absent.”
Sir Broderick eyed Jacob and shook his head. “You need to understand the burglar already killed once when he was cornered. You should only identify the clerk who’s in the payroll of the Germans and pass the information on to Inspector Grantham at Scotland Yard. Let them get the clerk to name the person who received the information.”
Jacob gave him a cocky grin. “I grew up in the East End, just like Emma. No one warns her not to follow a lead. Don’t worry about me.”
Sir Broderick slumped in his wheelchair. “Oh, but my dear boy, I do.”
* * *
MY ANNOYANCE AT the duke’s interference had barely lessened by the next afternoon when Blackford escorted Phyllida into the bookshop. I glanced out the windows, surprised not to see the tall, ancient Wellington coach Blackford normally used. “Where’s your usual carriage?”
“I assured His Grace I couldn’t manage the coach he brought to Sir Broderick’s last night, so he kindly brought this one today,” Phyllida said. She appeared more assured than I’d seen her before. She held her chin at that disdainful angle the aristocracy employed and she spoke up immediately, not waiting to see if anyone else spoke first.
If the duke could help Phyllida recover some confidence, I could forgive him almost anything. But if Sir Broderick and Frances damaged my business while I was involved in this investigation, everyone, including Blackford, would have to pay merry hell.
“How did your morning go?” I asked.
“Oh, Georgia, the duke has the cutest little house in Mayfair. It’s a good size for the two of us and a small staff. There’s a room in the back on the second floor for Emma as our lady’s maid that connects to the dressing room and then into a room for you, Georgia. It’ll make it easier for you two to sneak around planning and investigating without alerting the servants.”
“Mayfair.” Emma said the name of the area with a tone of wonder. “I never thought I’d be living there. Even as a lady’s maid.”
I looked around my shop in the neighborhood of Leicester Square, my middle-class shop on my middle-class street, and wrapped my arms around my waist. “Don’t get too used to living there. This investigation will be as short as I can possibly make it.”
Phyllida patted my shoulder. “Sir Broderick and Frances will take good care in assisting you with the shop.”
“I inherited the bookshop from my parents. It’s all I have left of them, and it’s the only thing that keeps me from living on the street. I’ve worked hard to keep it going. Sir Broderick and Frances know bookselling, but they don’t know my shop and my customers like I do. They don’t care like I do.” I could feel my insides twisting in anxiety.
Phyllida’s answer was to give me a hug.
“It’s kept me from returning to a life of crime in the East End. That thought should increase Sir Broderick’s commitment,” Emma said with a grin.
Emma had been a cherub-faced child who gained access to wealthy houses through upper windows for an East End burglary ring. When the group struck a house during a murder, the entire group, including Emma, was arrested for the killing and thrown in jail. The Archivist Society identified the true killer at the request of the victim’s son. Sir Broderick then used up a great number of favors to convince the judge to have Emma placed in my custody. Emma’s sass gave Phyllida a reason to smile, and the two had formed an unshakable bond.
Emma joined in the hug. “It’ll turn out all right, Georgia.”
Perhaps it was a never-ending, three-way bond. With the two of them beside me, I felt my confidence returning.
“Later this afternoon, Miss Fenchurch, you need to go to Madame Leclerc for your fitting. When you return, Miss Keyes can visit her.” Blackford’s voice punctured my fragile calm.
“I’m getting new clothes, too?” The duke had Emma’s full attention.
“Smart but out of date. A lady’s maid gets her mistress’s castoffs,” Blackford said.
“How do you know about ladies and their maids?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. I thought the duke only knew about ducal things and investing.
“Knowledge imparted to me at a very young age by my mother.” Despite his formal tone, his eyes laughed at me. He must have guessed his words sparked jealousy.
Between the rent on the furnished house we’d use and the money for our outfits, this was costing Blackford more money than I saw in a year. “You’re going to great expense for this investigation, Your Grace. Why?”
“The safety of our nation is at stake.”
“Stuff and nonsense. I repeat. Why?”
“If the Germans obtain this ship design, it will alter the balance of world power. That in turn will affect my pocketbook. That’s the answer you’re looking for, isn’t it, Miss Fenchurch? As true as it is, I am also a patriot. My great-grandfather received that coach from Wellington for valuable and heroic service. I have the family honor to maintain and a country to protect. It is my duty.” His dark eyes shot fire at me. His always-straight posture became as rigid as his jaw.
For once, I believed him.
“I’ve arranged for you to meet Ken Gattenger, Georgia. Shall we go?”
I nodded and set aside the books I’d been shelving. “Emma, you’ll be fine on your own? Phyllida, do you have any message you want me to take to him?”
Emma shrugged her answer as she looked around our empty shop.
Phyllida considered for a moment. “Tell him I know he couldn’t have killed Clara. Tell him I believe his story about the burglar. And tell him everything will be all right, since you are helping him.”
* * *
NEWGATE PRISON, NOW used for prisoners awaiting trial or execution, sat next to the Central Criminal Court, or the Old Bailey, as everyone in London called it. The building was a stone fortress with nothing to recommend it but its forbidding, unbreakable nature. The facade had absorbed decades of smog and now appeared as grim as its reputation.
I climbed out of the duke’s carriage and followed him through the first of many gates manned by many guards. We trailed our guide down corridors still cool with stale air left from the previous winter. A faint odor of mildew and rot seemed to come out of the stones themselves, along with eerie echoes of disembodied voices and metallic clanks.
Finally we arrived in a small room with stone floors and walls. Iron bars made up the fourth wall and covered the window high in the opposite wall. Inside was a wooden table and two chairs. A third was brought in by our guide while another guard stood by silently. An oil lantern gave off a kerosene smell along with adequate light.
Kenneth Gattenger sat slumped in the chair on the opposite side of the table, fair stubble on his cheeks matching the blond hair that fell lankly over his brow. He’d always looked boyishly handsome when I saw him with Clara. Now, instead of slender, he was thin. His most prominent feature was his red, swollen eyes.