She nodded fervently. "It was, oh, yes, it was. But if I'd taken her away then, we might be discovered. They'd find Mr. Horne, and Aimee would be accused of the crime. I had to leave her."
"It was wise of you." Locking Aimee back in the wardrobe would have served two purposes-the obvious one of making it seem that Aimee could not possibly have committed the murder; and second, the discovery of her in the wardrobe would expose Horne for the bastard he was. A man having sport with a maid was one thing. Making a slave of her was something else.
Josette swallowed. "I had to make certain that the bonds cut into her flesh, and then I had to walk away from her. I had to go home and wait, not knowing who would find Aimee and when. It was the next morning before Alice sent word that she was safe. I had no idea, all that night, if I'd done right. No way to know- " More tears spilled from her lovely eyes.
I pressed Josette's work-worn hand between my own. "But your deception worked. I voiced my opinion loudly to everyone who would listen that it was impossible for Aimee to have killed Horne. It wasn't until I speculated that two people might have been involved that I realized Aimee could very well have stabbed him. Her accomplice would have to have been coolheaded, brave, and utterly devoted to her. And I remembered that Aimee had an aunt who had raised her and was preparing to take her away to France."
"You are right," Josette said softly. "I am devoted to her. And I'm as guilty as she."
"You did one more thing before you left that room."
She whitened. "I barely remember it."
I smoothed my fingers over the back of her hand. "I would have been in a howling rage myself."
"I was." She raised her head, words angry. "He had hurt Aimee so deeply, and there he lay, dying, beyond my reach. I wanted to hurt him back. He'd already taken down his trousers, and there he was, exposed for the world to see. I am not certain what happened then. But the knife was in my hand, and I- "
I saw again the yellow carpet bathed in blood, smelled the pungent odor of it. I saw Josette of the beautiful eyes, the knife in her hand, rage twisting her face, savagely cutting the man who had raped her beloved niece. Blood had poured from his body, exposing his sins. He had bled the same as any other man would bleed, though his soul was foul and black.
"What will you do, Captain?" Josette asked in a quiet voice. "If you go to a magistrate, please, I beg you, let me take the blame. Tell them I killed Mr. Horne. Let Aimee go."
I stood, leaning heavily on my walking stick. "In two days, I will confess what I know to one other person and then decide what is best to do. If I wait longer, I will be tempted to hide it forever, and let the innocent Bremer be labeled the culprit. In two days, you can be in France. I advise you to tell no one exactly where you are going."
Josette looked at me for a long time before she nodded. "It will be as you say. I believe Aimee will be well enough to leave tomorrow." She paused. "You must think me hard, Captain, to do what I have done. But she is my only family. And what he did was unforgivable."
I cupped her cheek. "I think you are courageous, Josette. And quite beautiful." I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her parted lips. "God bless you," I whispered, then I left her.
The next day, James Denis sent a carriage for me, and when I climbed into it, I found Denis himself waiting for me.
"Upon reflection," he said, settling a rug with fine-gloved hands, "I decided I wanted to be present when you interviewed my former coachman."
I was not pleased at this turn of events, but I had no choice. If I wanted to find Jane Thornton, I needed Denis's assistance.
"To prevent Jemmy from telling me the wrong things?" I asked.
"Something like that."
Denis did not much like sharing the carriage with me either, if his fidgeting with his gloves and his walking stick were any indication. Also, he'd squeezed one of his massive footmen into the seat next to me, and this man watched my every move.
We went to a house in a lane that opened from the Strand. I realized as I entered the house's dark interior that this might well have been the house to which Jane had been lured by the procuress.
Jemmy sat behind a plain wooden table in a ground-floor room. Two of Denis's large men stood near him, waiting for us. Jemmy started when he saw me, then sank back into his chair, his face pasty white.
A fire had been lit, and the room was warm, but the only light came from the flames on the hearth. When I sat down opposite Jemmy, red light illuminated his pocked face and glinted on his filed teeth.
"Where is Jane Thornton?" I asked him.
Jemmy looked, not at me, but over my shoulder to where Denis waited. "Why is he here? I don't understand this."
"Answer his question," came Denis's voice, smooth as silk.
"I don't know. I don't know nothing."
"Horne must have met you in his dealings with your employer," I said. "Perhaps he asked you if you wanted to make a little extra money doing a favor for him."
"What of it? No harm in making a bit of the ready."
Denis broke in. "If you needed more money, you should have told me. I would have found extra work for you."
His quiet, matter-of-fact tone made Jemmy blench.
"You contacted the procuress," I said. "You thought of the girl you'd abduct-the young friend of Mr. Carstairs's daughter-and let the procuress make the plan. She lured away Jane and her maid, probably with the help of an accomplice, and after the fervor had died down, you returned to help carry them to Horne. Horne paid you, and you thought no more of it. Until the night he sent for you again."
Jemmy clenched his hands. "I won't listen to this."
I don't know what look Denis gave him, but Jemmy subsided at once. Behind me I heard Denis walk softly to the window.
"That night, about four weeks ago, you drove whatever conveyance you had to hand to Hanover Square," I continued. "You carried Jane Thornton from Horne's house. Where did you take her?"
Jemmy wet his lips. "I can't be sure. A place he directed me to."
"Where?"
"I don't remember, I tell you."
I started over the table for him. Jemmy slammed back in his chair, giving me a half-belligerent, half-fearful look.
Denis turned from the window. "Tell the captain what he wants to know, Jemmy."
Jemmy swallowed nervously, firelight gleaming on his sweating face. "I can't explain it. I'd have to take you."
"Take me then."
Jemmy's gaze darted to Denis as he stood up. I moved aside to let him around the table, and we left the room. One of Denis's thugs led the way, then Denis himself, then me, then Jemmy, the second large man bringing up the rear.
When we reached the street, Jemmy tried to bolt. The two servants locked themselves on either side of Jemmy and manhandled him to the top of the coach. While they held him there, Denis and I were assisted inside by Denis's stone-faced footman.
Denis instructed the coachman to follow Jemmy's directions, but I asked that we stop by the Thorntons' nearby house first. I needed to ask Alice to accompany us. I wanted there to be no mistake in Jane Thornton's identity.
Alice looked nervous about joining me and Denis inside the carriage, but she came all the same, hope in her eyes. I asked her about Mr. Thornton.
"He's mending, sir. But slowly. If we could find Miss Jane, it might make all the difference."