A Conspiracy of Ravens (4 page)

She worked deftly and quickly, for she had some experience with wounds like this, having assisted her father and watched him carefully.

As she worked, in one small corner of her mind, she thought of David and how he could have been the body on this table instead of Dylan. The thought of his death unsettled her, and she forced it out of her mind as she cleaned up the leg and began to put the stitches in.

Lady Bertha Mulvane was thrown forward as the horses came to an abrupt halt. “Henry, can’t you drive more carefully?” she protested. She waited until the coachman jumped to the ground, opened the door, and lowered the step. As she got out, she began saying loudly, “I’m going to get another man if you can’t do better, Henry. You jostle me around like I was a load of potatoes.”

Henry Twiller was accustomed to this, and nothing changed in his face. “Yes, Lady Bertha, I’ll be more careful,” he said wearily.

Bertha was not through with her sermon, but she stopped suddenly when another carriage pulled up. It caught her eye, for it was one of the new expensive carriages, a Victorian, named after Queen Victoria, of course. She watched as the driver pulled the horses to a stop, and a groom came up to take them. Recognition came, and she called out loudly, “Sir Alex! Sir Alex!”

The man who turned to her was tall and well-built. Sir Alex Bolton had hair the colour of straw, and his eyes were half hooded, a pale shade of blue. He was wearing the latest fashion—tight-fitting grey trousers and a blue waistcoat.

“Good afternoon, Sir Alex.”

“I’m sorry, your name escapes me. I’m very bad with names.”

“I’m Lady Bertha Mulvane, the oldest sister of Mrs. Newton.”

“Why, of course, I remember you, Lady Mulvane.” He glanced toward the house saying, “I’m just leaving my card. I would like to call on the family if I may.”

“Why, they’ll be so happy to see you, Sir Alex. Come in at once.”

Lady Mulvane led the way, and as soon as she stepped in, she said to Daisy, a housemaid, “Is Lady Trent at home?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am, but there’s been a lot of trouble.”

“I didn’t ask you about that. I just simply want to know where Lady Trent is.”

“She’s in the small parlour, but—”

“That’s enough, girl. Come along, Sir Alex. Lady Trent will be happy to see you.”

“I feel like I’m intruding.”

“Not at all. Come this way.”

Bertha led the way down the long hallway and turned in toward the right. The door was shut, which was unusual. “This way, my dear sir.”

“After you, ma’am.”

Bertha gushed her thanks and then stepped inside the room, followed by Sir Alex. She paused, and for once Lady Bertha Mulvane was speechless.

She stared at the scene before her, and Sir Alex did the same.

“What in the world—” Bertha finally gasped. She was in shock, for the room was changed. The furniture had been removed, and a bed was placed beside a wall and a table beside it. What was even more shocking was the fact that a half-naked man sat on the side of the bed, and her niece, Lady Serafina Trent, was sitting beside him.

Serafina took the situation in at once. She had just prepared the bed and had asked Dylan to sit down while she checked the bandages to see if they were firm. He had put on a pair of linen drawers but wore nothing else. His chest had been tightly bandaged and his left leg as well. She had instructed him to sit there while she took his pulse and had sat down beside him to reach him more conveniently. She was amused by the shocked looks on Lady Bertha and Alex Bolton’s faces and said quite calmly, “Good afternoon, Sir Alex.” She knew that her aunt was desperate for her to marry into nobility, as if another title would help Lady Bertha’s lineage.

Bolton was at a loss for words and could only say, “Ma’am . . .”

“I don’t believe you’ve met my friend Mr. Dylan Tremayne. Mr. Tremayne is an actor, one of the rising stars in the world of the theatre. Mr. Tremayne, this is Sir Alex Bolton.”

Bolton had no idea how to respond to the introduction. Actors were, of course, on the lowest scale in the social order—beneath the scales of most people, as a matter of fact. He finally inclined his head, and Dylan watched him, a curious smile touching his lips. “Happy it is I am to meet you, Sir Alex. How are you, Lady Bertha?”

Bertha’s face turned red, and she demanded stridently, “What are you doing, Serafina?”

“Well, I was about to order tea for Mr. Tremayne. Perhaps you’d care to join us.”

Bolton regained his wits. “It . . . ah, doesn’t seem an opportune time, Lady Trent. Perhaps I could come another day.”

“Oh, certainly. You must come back again. Will you show Sir Alex to the door, Lady Bertha?”

As the two left the room, Dylan turned and said, “Who was that fellow?”

“Oh, just a man who wants to marry me. Here, let me help you lie down.” She assisted him in moving into a comfortable position and said, “I know you must be in pain. Those are terrible wounds.”

“I’ve had worse, me.”

“Here. I want you to take some of this. It’ll make you sleepy, but it’ll take the pain away. Dr. Goldsmith will be here soon, I’m sure.”

“Why is he coming?”

“To check for other injuries.” She looked down then, and a silence fell between the two of them. Finally she said, “Dylan, I’ll never forget what you did. David would have been killed if . . .” Serafina paused.

“Well, we couldn’t have that, could we now? The world can wag on without me, can’t it? But not without David.”

Serafina was caught by his words. “Why would you say that, Dylan?”

“Why, I’m nothing but a poor actor. That boy, he’s going to be a very important man.” He lay there for a while, and already the drug was affecting him. He spoke slowly and with some effort. “And, after all, Lady Trent, he’s your son.”

Serafina did not speak but saw his eyes close, and he began to breathe deeply. She struggled for a time to put away the awful and catastrophic result that might have come if Dylan had not been there, and her heart seemed to fill. At that moment she knew something about the nature of his emotional state, which she usually tried to avoid. This was not something she could put in a test tube, nor was it a matter of little concern to her. She thought of David, and his face came before her—the bright eyes, the fair hair so much like her own. She thought of his playing in the yard with Napoleon, the enormous mastiff who guarded him like the crown jewels, and riding his horse, Patches. Despite herself, her eyes misted over. Suddenly, unable to contain herself, she reached forward and picked up Dylan’s hand. She held it in both of hers and then kissed it, something she had never done in her entire life.

“Thank you, Dylan. I will never forget it,” she whispered with a half sob.

As always when Inspector Matthew Grant approached Trentwood House, he felt a sense of apprehension. This feeling was otherwise unusual, for he had proven his physical courage time and again in his encounters with criminals. The word was out among the lawbreakers of London, “Don’t try to bribe Grant. Stay away from him. He doesn’t play games.”

As he moved up the steps that led to the front door, Grant’s mind went back to the first time he had come to this house. He had been in the company of Superintendent Winters. The two of them had come to interrogate Clive Newton, a suspect in the murder of a famous actress. Grant had a memory that was almost photo graphic. He could remember everything about that visit, but the clearest thing of all was his first sight of Aldora Newton. He did not need a painting or a daguerreotype; her features were imprinted on his mind. For one instant he stood there thinking of the woman he had come to love. He saw her auburn hair, which had a mere touch of gold, and the large, well-shaped brown eyes, the flawless complexion, and most of all, he thought of her shy, appealing manner. It was not the manner of many of the women in high society. She flushed easily, and Matthew Grant found this charming.

Shaking off his nervousness, Grant knocked firmly on the door and was greeted by Ellie Malder, the tweeny housemaid. “I suppose you’ve come to see Miss Aldora, Inspector.”

“Yes, I have, Ellie. I don’t have an appointment.”

“Never you mind.” Ellie smiled. She was an attractive girl of fifteen with her best feature being her large, brown eyes. “Come inside, Inspector. I’ll see if Miss Aldora is available.”

“Thank you.”

Stepping into the foyer, Grant once again felt his apprehensions coming back. He came from a poor background and had known hardship most of his life. The ornate furniture, decorations, and paintings, and the gleaming tile floor of the foyer, somehow depressed him. Dora appeared at the top of the stairs, and he watched her as she came down quickly. She smiled for him and held out her hands, which he took. They were soft yet firm at the same time.

“I should have asked permission to come, Miss Aldora.”

“Oh, don’t bother about that, Matthew. I’m glad you came by. Come along. I sent Ellie to make some tea, and we’ll have it in the large parlour.” It was just a chance remark on Aldora’s part, but somehow it struck Grant.
The large parlour,
which meant there were
two
parlours, while Grant had grown up in a home with no parlour at all. As he followed her down the hallway and turned into the room, he thought suddenly of what he had once read in a book on astronomy. The nearest star to our own solar system was Alpha Centauri—which was millions of miles away. He felt that his distance from Aldora’s world was at least this far.

“Sit down, and tell me what you’ve been doing.”

“Oh, we’ve had several interesting cases,” Matthew said. He began talking about some of them, for it was all he had to talk about with her. She had balls, fox hunts, and other such activities. Matthew Grant focused on only one thing in his life, and that was catching criminals and seeing that they went to jail or were hanged. He did not understand how she could be interested in such things, but somehow she was. She sat there with her eyes fixed on him, and when the tea came, there was a grace in the way she set about serving him. When he had sipped his tea from a delicate china cup, he asked, “How is Mr. Tremayne doing?”

“Oh, Dylan is doing so well! It’s been two weeks now since the accident with that awful animal, and he’s made rapid improvements.”

“That’s good to hear.” He smiled and asked, “How do you like having a famous actor in the house, Miss Aldora?”

Dora smiled and shook her head. “Oh, he’s ever so nice. He’s so polite. All the servants just love him.”

“I’ll bet all the female servants are in love with him,” Matthew said and watched the colour mount to her cheeks.

“Yes, I suppose they are. He is handsome.”

“It’s a good thing that bull’s horns didn’t catch him in the face. An actor’s good looks are his stock in trade, I suppose.”

“Yes. I thought about that.”

They talked for some time about the accident, and finally Dora changed the subject. “I’m so sorry you weren’t named superintendent. It was so
unfair
! Everyone thought you were going to get that position.”

Actually the failure to be appointed to superintendent had cut deeply into Matthew Grant. He was next in line after Superintendent Winters, and when Winters had gone, he had expected to be promoted. He could not complain to Dora nor tell the complete truth, so he said simply, “A great deal of politics was involved. The new superintendent is Edsel Fenton. He has connections in high places.”

“Do you think he’s an able man?”

“Oh, very able.”

“Well, do you like him, Matthew?”

Dora’s use of his first name made Grant glow. “Not really. He’s not a likable person, but he’s fair enough, I suppose.”

They talked as they drank tea and nibbled small pieces of jam cake. He was interrupted, however, when suddenly the door opened and Dora’s aunt Bertha came in. The heavyset woman had blunt features. She felt that it was her duty to see that the Newton family maintained its place and kept the proper behaviour.

“What’s this?” Bertha said loudly, her eyes fixed on Grant. “Sitting alone in a parlour in the dark?”

“We were just having tea, Aunt Bertha. Would you care to join us?”

“I must say we would never have had a thing like this happen in my day!” Bertha drew herself up and aimed her rather prominent nose at Matthew Grant. “It shows a lack of propriety and good taste. I’m surprised at you, Inspector, but then, you come from a world that doesn’t understand what good manners are.”