"Heard you'd gotten yourself stabbed," she answered lightly. "I came to make sure you'd live to give me more coins."
The corners of his mouth twitched. "I should have known." He faltered. "Is there any water?"
I shoved away the blanket and got to my feet. The other two did not seem to notice me. I poured water from a porcelain pitcher into a glass and brought it to the bed.
Marianne took it from me. "I'll do it."
As gently as I'd seen her handle her son, she slid her arm beneath Grenville's neck and lifted his head. She poured the water between his lips. The liquid dribbled from the side of his mouth, but he managed to swallow.
Marianne lowered him back to the pillow and dabbed his lips with her handkerchief.
Grenville looked up at me. "Hello, Lacey. You look terrible."
"You look worse," I said. "Lie as still as you can. The knife went deep."
He grimaced. "Do not remind me." He touched the bandage. "Hurts a bit."
"Do you want laudanum?"
"No," he said quickly. "No."
"You might do better to take it. You should not move too much, and it will help you sleep."
"I do not want it, Lacey," he said, his frown increasing. "I will not move."
I wondered at his aversion, but I did not pursue it. I had learned to appreciate the benefits of laudanum on the nights when my leg pained me so that I could not sleep. I knew people grew addicted to it, so I tried to resist as much as I could, but some nights, there was nothing for it.
Our conversation had awakened Matthias, who sat up and rubbed his eyes. Grenville seemed slightly amazed to find us all in the room with him.
"I do not wish to tire you," I said. "But will you please tell me what the devil happened?"
Grenville studied Matthias' watchful face, then moved his gaze back to Marianne. Their hands were still clasped.
"You must have guessed most of it," Grenville murmured. "I saw someone moving about the quad, or thought I did. So naturally, I tried to investigate." He paused, resting for a moment until he could speak again. "I am not certain what happened. Someone brushed past me, and I never felt the knife go in. But all the sudden it was there, and I was falling."
"A tall man?" I asked.
He nodded. "Tall. I thought it was you at first."
I leaned against his bedpost. "Tell me, Grenville, why were you dressed and wandering about the school in the middle of the night?"
"Yes," Marianne said, "that's a bit unusual, don't you think?"
He looked from me to Marianne, his look ironic. "When you are both finished scolding, I will tell you. I had been to Hungerford. I met Sutcliff's lady in the public house there."
"Met her?" I asked. "Why?"
"To question her, of course. I know you had spoken to her before you went to London, but you were a bit vague about the details."
He sounded put out. I had so enjoyed my visit with Jeanne Lanier and hadn't wanted to share our conversation with anyone, other than to reveal relevant information about Sutcliff.
"What did you discuss with her?" I asked him.
"Canals, of course. She is a very charming woman."
"Yes, I found her so," I agreed.
"Indeed," Marianne said scornfully, "she has measures of charm. She must, otherwise she could not earn a living."
"It is a studied charm, I do admit," Grenville said. "She wished me to invest a good fortune in a canal scheme proposed by one of her friends. Quite convincing, she was."
"I imagine so," I said. "Her friend was Fletcher, and he is now dead."
Grenville's eyes widened. "Good Lord."
"And the lady herself has vanished. Likely with all the money. Sir Montague Harris will put the hue and cry out for her."
"Is it over then?" Grenville asked. "The murders?"
"No. The culprit has not been arrested, but I have a few ideas about that. Marianne," I said abruptly. "I would like you to go to London."
Marianne gave me an astonished look. "What the devil for? I do not wish to, if it's all the same to you."
"I need you to," I countered. "You must deliver some messages for me. They are most important."
"Go yourself," she answered.
"I do not want to leave Grenville alone, but we need to put an end to this business."
Her expression turned belligerent. "Only this morning, you told me it would be dangerous for me to leave."
"I will send Matthias with you, and you will ride in Grenville's carriage. You will be much safer in London, in any case."
Her mouth formed a bitter line. "Back to the cage."
"Marianne," I said warningly.
Grenville had listened to this exchange with a weary expression. He released Marianne's hand. "Stay there to be safe for now. When it is over, go where you want. I no longer care."
Marianne stilled. Grenville closed his eyes. Marianne stared at him, looking stricken.
I thought them fools, both of them.
Marianne at last acquiesced to my request. I saw her and Matthias to the stables where Grenville’s coachman had bunked. I knew the coachman would let absolutely no one near Grenville's horses and coach, so I did not fear too much that the vehicle would have been sabotaged.
Indeed, the coachman checked the axles and braces and the harness carefully before he even let Marianne into the carriage. I handed her in and told Matthias to not let her out of his sight. The coach rolled away toward the Hungerford road and the highway to London, leaving Grenville and Bartholomew and I stranded at the Sudbury School.
I did little for the next two days. Marianne sent me a message that she had arrived in London and was carrying out my instructions. She also added, very like her, that she expected large compensation for approaching the people I'd asked her to contact. Matthias wrote also, asking to return to be near Grenville. I knew that Grenville's other servants would watch her well, and I consented. The lad was worried.
Well he should be. Grenville relapsed into a stupor, and then a fever took him. Bartholomew and I took turns bathing his face, changing his bandage, trying to force broth into his mouth. But he could not eat and could barely drink. Bartholomew and I watched him worriedly.
At last I put a few drops of laudanum in his water and made him drink it. When he tasted the bitter sweetness of laudanum, even in his languor, he tried to spit it out. I forced him to swallow. Let him curse me when he got better.
The school went on as usual but remained quiet. No more pranks or murders marred the routine. Ramsay, it seemed, had taken my words to heart, at least for now.
I knew Ramsay had not burned Fletcher's books, however. He denied that with the sincerity of a thief who is certain of the one thing he has not stolen. I suspected the murderer had done it, trying to destroy the evidence of the fraud. But Fletcher, even in death, had thwarted him.
Bartholomew had at last discovered who'd owned the knife that had stabbed Grenville. The maid who cleaned the tutor's rooms said that Simon Fletcher had complained of missing his knife a day or so before he died. Most helpful, I thought. The knife that I had found in Fletcher’s room had no doubt been used by the murderer to cut the twine that strangled Fletcher.
Sir Montague Harris at last succeeded in getting Sebastian released. He sent a message to me, and I left Grenville in Bartholomew's care and traveled to the village.
Sebastian was much subdued. When the constable let him out of his cell, his bravado had left him, and his eyes were haunted.
"Thank you, Captain," he said as we walked toward the school together. "I was afraid I would die inside that place."
"Thank Sir Montague," I said. "His persuasion far outweighed mine."
I rather believed that Sir Montague's knowledge of the magistrate's guilty secret had much to do with Sebastian's release, but I kept such thoughts to myself.
Sebastian shook his head. "You did this for me." He looked about again at the rolling land and the common where sheep wandered freely. "I never want to be inside again, I think."