“Stay here,” Nick shouted, getting to his feet and running after the carriage.
“Nick!” Thom yelled after him, but he didn’t stop. If those horses continued down the street, someone else would be in danger. He ran out the end of the alleyway, skidding to a stop at the street. The coachman was sitting up, the reins firmly in his hands as he shot a look over his shoulder toward the alley. At the sight of Nick he whipped up the horses, barreling down the street without regard for anyone else.
CHAPTER Thirteen
Oh, this is ridiculous,” Plum said to herself, standing behind a bust of Shakespeare, a ribbon draped around its neck. She consulted an open book. “Slip the noose over the forefinger of the right hand…yes, I’ve done that. Pick up the remainder of your garroting cord with the left hand while silently approaching your victim. Silently, that is the key, isn’t it? Where was I?…Use your left hand to throw the noose over the head of your victim…mmm…twist it tightly…victim at arm’s length, yes, yes, I’ve done that…strangling should be instantaneous…well, pooh.”
Plum frowned at Shakespeare. She couldn’t imagine that it would be easier to throttle Charles, and yet here she was unable to successfully manipulate a ribbon around a statue. She held little hope that she would do better with a sturdier cord and a live person.
“I’m just not applying myself,” she said, taking her ribbon from the statue. “It can’t be that difficult. The book says the element of surprise is the most important part. Very well, I will practice until I am sure of myself.”
Plum made a loop with her right hand, and whistling a sprightly air, casually strolled toward the bust of Shakespeare as if she was taking an innocent walk in a garden, the thought of garroting a man to death the farthest thing from her mind. As she approached the bust, she threw the ribbon over Shakespeare’s head, jerking back quickly as the book said, only she had forgotten that the bust was not fixed to anything.
“Eek!” she shrieked as the bust flew backward past her directly toward the door, which opened at that moment to admit Thom.
The bust crashed into the wall beyond, fracturing into a dozen plaster pieces as it struck the hardwood floor.
“What on earth are you doing, Aunt Plum?”
Plum allowed herself a heartfelt sigh as she fluttered the ribbon toward the broken bust. “Trying to garrote Shakespeare, but it’s no use, I am simply no good at all at strangulation. It will have to be something else, and I just don’t think I’m up to shooting him.”
“Shooting who?” Thom asked as she stepped over the remains of Shakespeare, closing the door behind her.
“Charles,” Plum answered, then noticed her niece’s gown was sopping wet. She put her hands on her hips, and gave Thom her best scowl. “Didn’t I tell you not to let the children swim in the lake?”
Thom waved that away, her cheeks bright with excitement. “It was the mice, the little devils smuggled the mice onboard the boats and didn’t tell me until it was too late. You’ll never guess what happened on our way home!”
“You received a good number of indecent proposals from gentlemen who thought you were practicing the dubious art of dampening your muslin?”
“No, the children were almost run over by runaway horses! It was very exciting, and I’m sure we would have all been killed if it had not been for Nick. Why are you trying to kill Shakespeare?”
Plum’s knees gave out. She sank bonelessly to the chair, her heart beating widely. “It’s not good for me to be excited or startled. I must be calm, for the babe’s sake, I must be calm.”
“Are you carrying?” Thom asked, kneeling be-side her aunt. “You must be thrilled. Have you told Harry?”
Visions of little coffins danced before her eyes. “The children — they’re all right? All of them?”
“Oh, yes, didn’t I say that? Nick saved them. He’s very brave, even if he is a burglar. He walked us home, as a matter of fact. He wanted to see Harry, no doubt for a reward, but Harry’s not home yet so I told him to come back later. Aunt Plum? Are you all right? You look a bit pale.”
“A burglar saved you?” Plum asked in a weak voice. Her head was spinning in such a way that she was sure she was going to swoon, but she was not the swooning type, and made an effort to get a hold of her tumultuous emotions.
“Yes, he was walking us home. He really does have nice manners, especially for a ruffian.”
Then again, there was something to be said for a good swoon. “Thom?”
“Yes?”
“Why were you allowing a burglar to escort you home?”
“He’s a very nice burglar,” Thom said, twisting her damp skirt between her fingers. “I’m sure if you were to meet him, you’d see that right away.”
Plum tried to think of something to say to that, but she was having a little difficulty putting her thoughts into words. “The children are all right?” she asked again, not being able to think of much else.
Thom nodded, smiling as she patted Plum’s hands. “Yes, they’re fine, a little wet, but no harm done. I sent them up to Gertie and George to change into dry clothing. Who is the Charles you want to kill?”
“Charles, my Charles, or the Charles who used to be mine, not that he really ever was, a fact I find myself profoundly grateful for now that I have Harry.” Plum’s mind, a bit dazed, was beginning to return to her normal state of lucidity. She would have to tell Harry about the latest accident concerning the children. Perhaps if he thought they were too headstrong in town, he would send them all home, and then Charles wouldn’t have the opportunity…oh, but that wouldn’t work. Even if Harry did send them home, he would stay, and Charles would simply avoid him while spreading the news about Plum far and wide. No, she’d have to stay where she was and deal with him.
Thom sucked in her breath. “I thought he was dead.”
“So did I. He isn’t. He’s very much alive, and blackmailing me.”
Thom’s jaw sagged. Knowing her secrets were safe with Thom, Plum fi lled her in on the morning’s conversation with Charles, ending with her solution to the problem.
“You’re going to kill him?” Thom asked, her eyes wide.
“I don’t see any other way around it, do you?”
“Hmm.” Thom thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I think you’re right, the only way you’ll ever truly be free of him is if you silence him forever. How are you going to do it?”
“I have no idea,” Plum answered, somewhat pettishly she knew, but if anyone had a right to be pettish, surely she had. “The book I borrowed from Hookham’s is about methods of execution, not how to eliminate a blackmailer. I don’t suppose Charles would willingly put his head in a noose or allow himself to be drawn and quartered. There’s shooting, but I don’t own a pistol, let alone know how to shoot one.”
Thom rose to her feet, and paced the length of the room. “How about setting his house on fire?”
Plum waved that offering away. “No, that would harm others, and no one else should suffer for Charles’s sins.”
“Mmm. Well, there’s drowning.”
“Difficult to arrange.”
“Bow and arrow?”
“My aim is very poor.”
Thom stopped in front of her. “What about poison?”
“I wouldn’t know what to give him. Oh, this is ridiculous,” Plum said, getting to her feet to pace with Thom. “We are two intelligent, well-educated women. You would think we would be able to think of something so simple as the way to kill a man.”