I forced myself to turn and meet him. He came striding through the gate, plowing through boys in their dark robes like a cat scattering sparrows. He stepped up to me and spoke in thunderous tones.
"Damn you, Lacey, why did you not tell me about James Denis?"
I sensed the lads' curious stares all around us. I said to him, "Perhaps we should speak of this privately."
Rutledge opened his mouth to roar again, but just then young Timson strolled by, his mild brown eyes fixed on us with obvious interest. Rutledge noted him, snapped his mouth shut, and commanded me to follow him to his rooms.
Once in the study, Rutledge commenced shouting. I sat down, relaxing my stiff leg, and balanced my sword stick across my knees. I waited until he ran out of breath before I attempted to speak.
I said, "I had not met Middleton here until this Sunday afternoon. And I could not be certain he was the same man I'd seen in London. Before I had time to discover anything, he was dead."
"You ought to have come to me at once," Rutledge growled. "How did you know him in London? Were you in league with the man?"
"I did not know Middleton in any sense," I said impatiently. "I had seen him during my dealings with James Denis. That is all."
Rutledge's face grew still redder. "James Denis is not a gentleman with whom another gentleman has dealings. That you do speaks volumes. I cannot fathom why Grenville never mentioned this. He has sorely deceived me."
"Perhaps he did not think it relevant," I said.
"Not relevant? Denis is…" He spluttered. "He has a foul reputation. No one can deal with him and maintain his respectability. Why the devil did you seek him out?"
"I did not," I said. "He came to me. You flatter me if you believe I can afford his services."
"He came to you?" Rutledge gave me an incredulous look. "Explain what you mean."
"I cannot explain. He has assisted me in several small ways and sometimes requests my assistance. I avoid the man as much as possible, believe me."
"He asks for your assistance?" Rutledge exclaimed.
"Yes."
In fact, Denis had once told me, in his cold, calm way, that he wanted to own me utterly. He wanted me in his power, under his obligation, wanted me bound to him. Needless to say, I resisted with all my might. Still, he had manipulated me more than once to do what he wanted. It was a tense game between us.
Rutledge was looking at me as though he needed to reassess me. The look in his eye, I was delighted to see, was one of trepidation, almost fear. I wondered very much whether he had crossed James Denis in the past.
Rutledge did not press me. He told me to go away in his usual irritable manner, but his tone was wary.
My second plague was Belinda Rutledge. She accosted me, or rather her maid Bridgett did, and bade me follow her.
Bridgett led me up several flights of stairs to a darkened hall, the servants' quarters, I surmised. She took me to a servant's room containing two plain bedsteads and a washstand.
Belinda sat on one of the beds. She rose when I entered. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face wet.
"Miss Rutledge," I began, trying to sound severe. Her insistence on meeting me in clandestine places would not help matters.
"They arrested him." She sniffled. "They arrested him, Captain. You said you would help him."
I grew irritated. "I cannot simply make the coroner or the magistrate do as I like, Miss Rutledge."
She looked at me, wide-eyed, then her face crumpled.
I tamped down my annoyance and gentled my voice. "I told you that I would assist you, and I will. I am putting things in motion even now. I assure you that we will have him free before the assizes."
My voice rang with confidence, but even I did not much believe it.
"He cannot bear to be confined," she whispered.
"I know. But you and he must be patient. I have friends in London who can help."
"My father wants him hanged. He hates Sebastian."
I had to admit that had Sebastian cast his eyes at my daughter, my attitude toward him would not be as benign as it was currently.
"Many do not like the Roma, Miss Rutledge. You must be prepared for that." I paused. "I suggest that even when I do get him released, you steel yourself to send him away."
She looked up at me, eyes wide, tears on her face. I saw, though, behind her immediate pain and worry, that she knew I was right. Though Belinda was downtrodden by her father, she was not stupid. She knew that an association with Sebastian would ruin her. Her hesitation in sending him away would only put off the inevitable.
"Think hard on it," I said. "Imagine yourself at my ancient age and decide what would have been best."
She sniffled again, gave me a watery smile. "You are not ancient, Captain."
I would have been flattered, had I not suspected she spoke out of pity. "I will do what I can, Miss Rutledge. And I will let you know of any outcome. Do not seek me out again. Your father will not like it."
Her misery returned. "It is difficult to wait and do nothing."
"Yes, but it must be done." I made her a bow. "Good afternoon."
Bridgett made to lead me back downstairs again, but I told her I'd find the way. I left her to comfort Belinda and made my way back to the lower floors.
Boys were pouring up the east staircase when I strolled down it. I spied Sutcliff the prefect giving a dressing down to one of the younger boys, who listened in sullen resentment.
Sutcliff, turning away, saw me, and gave me a curious look. Then he moved his lanky shoulders and swung away down the hall, his black robe billowing behind him. I had not forgotten Ramsay's conviction that Sutcliff had followed Middleton the night of the murder. I wanted to speak to him and moved to follow him, but I lost sight of him in the sea of boys.
The third plague did not come upon me until the next morning. I woke early, determined to continue my investigations. I wanted to find Sutcliff and ask him why he'd followed Middleton-if indeed, Ramsay had been correct. I wanted to find Sebastian's elusive family, and I wanted to question the stable hand Thomas Adams myself about the quarrel he'd overheard.
I downed some bread and coffee and set off for the stables through a thick white fog. Thomas Adams was not in the yard when I arrived. A younger stable hand was there to help me saddle the brown gelding I usually rode.
"Did you hear them?" I asked him. "Middleton and Sebastian arguing?"
The young man looked phlegmatic and shook his head. "I was round t'other side. Drawing water. Didn't hear a word."
I questioned the other two stable hands, but they, too, had not heard the quarrel, neither of them having been in the yard at the time.
I gave up, mounted my horse, and rode off.
The fog became denser as I approached the canal, but the towpath was clear. I followed this path past the Sudbury lock and the lockkeeper's house. The lockkeeper was just opening the gates for a barge heading south, toward Bath. Several men stood on the deck of the narrow barge, but they were not Roma, not Sebastian's family.
The countryside was quiet, the muddy path muffling my horse's footsteps. The silent canal flowed on my right; high hedges and trees lined the path to my left. Sometimes the hedges broke, allowing me to glimpse green fields brushed by tendrils of fog. Sheep wandered across the greens, trailed by spring lambs.
As I neared Great Bedwyn, the trees became larger and more evenly spaced, the terrain flattening somewhat. I began to pass boats drifting up from Great and Little Bedwyn, the bargemen and their families continuing their journey toward Reading and the Thames.
When I reached Great Bedwyn, I saw, on a flat path on the other side of the canal, the woman I'd seen in Hungerford, the one I'd mistaken for Marianne. She wore a bonnet, and her was head bent so that I could not see her face. The gathered curls at the back of her neck were bright yellow, and her dress was fine, too fine for muddy walks through the Wiltshire countryside.