A Conspiracy of Ravens (7 page)

“It’s noisy, ain’t it, Mum?” David said.

“Yes, it is. I’m not sure all this is good for your ears. Come along now.”

“Mum, I’m hungry.”

“Well, let’s get you something.” She stopped beside a peddler and bought a kidney pie from a thin man with a stovepipe hat askew on his head and a soiled apron around his waist. When David finished eating, they bought sweetmeat candy and a piece of candied fruit. “You’re going to get fat,” she said, smiling down at the boy, “if you keep on eating like that.”

“I don’t care. It’s so good!”

“Well, come on. We’ve got to get your clothes fitted.” She led him toward the sign and was barely able to make it out through the fog: Jonas Tyler—Tailor.

“That took a long time, Mum,” David complained as they emerged from the tailor shop. “I don’t like to be fitted.”

“It’s necessary, David,” Serafina said.

They passed by several shops and then noticed a poster that advertised a play. Serafina saw Dylan’s name on it, and she pointed it out. “Look, Mr. Dylan’s going to be in a play.”

“Can I go see him, Mum? I’ve never seen a play.”

“I don’t think this would be exactly the right one for you to see.” Serafina remembered Dylan saying that it had such immoral features that he was reluctant to act in it. As they made their way along the crowded streets, Serafina was surprised that Dylan had agreed to be in the play. He was goverened by such strong moral rules, and she determined to go see it.

They were approaching the carriage when David said, “Listen, I hear singing.”

Indeed, Serafina heard it too. She looked ahead through the fog and saw a small crowd gathered around a few people standing with their backs to a building. “Those are church people, David. Sometimes they preach in the streets.”

“Not in a church?”

“I’m not sure why they do it, but yes, that’s correct.”

“Look, there’s Mr. Dylan!”

Serafina looked closely at the small group singing and saw Dylan Tremayne. Curiosity got the best of her, and when David said, “Let’s get closer,” she agreed.

The singing was lusty, and the group sang enthusiastically if not always on key. She could hear Dylan’s clear voice rising slightly above the rest, and she listened carefully to the words of the tune:

All hail the power of Jesus’ name!
Let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem,
And crown Him Lord of all.

Ye chosen seed of Israel’s race,
Ye ransomed from the fall,
Hail Him who saves you by His grace,
And crown Him Lord of all.

Let every kindred,
every tribe On this terrestrial ball,
To Him all majesty ascribe,
And crown Him Lord of all.

O that with yonder sacred throng
We at His feet may fall,
Join in the everlasting song,
And crown Him Lord of all.

Looking around after the singers had finished, Serafina saw that the crowd was mostly drawn from the poor people of London. A few middle-class observers were standing on the outer ring, but she saw none of whom society would call “quality people.” No high-class folks in this group.

She looked carefully at the two men standing next to Dylan. One was called Yago the Gyp, a lean, dark-complected man—a gypsy really, with a gold ring in his right ear. He was also, she knew, a former safecracker. The other man was Lorenzo Pike. Pike was a huge, burly man with florid, blunt features and a pair of bright, merry blue eyes. Both men, who were plainly dressed, had been helpful in protecting David during the affair of Clive’s trial.

Lorenzo Pike stepped forward and lifted his loud, powerful voice. “Well, beloved, we are here to give honour to Jesus, the King of Kings. He shed His blood on the cross of Cavalry so that an ex-thief and criminal such as myself might be saved and have a place in a heavenly mansion. Glory to God and the Lamb forever!”

Lorenzo preached plainly and obviously enjoyed his own sermon. Serafina listened and was puzzled. She did not understand the religion of Dylan and his fellows. She knew they were Methodists—the bottom of the ecclesiastical ladder in England. They were called “enthusiasts,” and the Anglican leaders made light of them, accusing them of all sorts of misbehaviour.

Finally the sermon ended with a rousing prayer by Lorenzo, and as soon as the amen was said, Serafina saw Dylan come straight toward her. “Well, Lady Trent, it’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Dylan.”

“Hello, Mr. Dylan,” David said. “I could hear you singing above all the rest.”

“Could you now? Well, I sounded like an old crow today, me. Bit of a cold.”

“No, you were the best of all,” David said stoutly.

Serafina was thinking of what had taken place and said, “Dylan, I don’t understand this. Do you think it would help anybody to be at a service like this?”

“Well, Lady Trent, it’s a service for those who probably wouldn’t attend any church, and I’d like to think proclaiming the Gospel to the poor is what Jesus did best.”

“I suppose that’s so.”

“We saw your name on a building, Mr. Dylan,” David piped up.

“Yes, we did.” Serafina nodded. “I see you’ve decided to be in that play you were worried about after all.”

“No, ma’am, not at all. I declined, but the bills were already up.”

Serafina was not too surprised. “I somehow felt you’d do that, but it’ll be quite a sacrifice financially, won’t it?”

“Well, if you are having my opinion, God feeds the sparrows, so He can feed one poor out-of-work actor, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s true.”

“I did have to make a few cuts. I had to leave my rooms, and I’m staying with Matthew now.”

“Matthew Grant?”

“Yes, the inspector himself. He heard about my problem and was kind enough to invite me. There is a kind fellow, he is!”

“Well, I could tell the man had a good heart.”

Dylan hesitated then said, “You know, he’s very sad that he’s not invited to attend the ball.”

Serafina looked troubled. “I didn’t know he was one for such things.”

“Well, he looked forward to dancing with your sister, but I’m sure that’s impossible. After all, he’s merely a policeman, but of course, I’m merely an actor and I’m invited.”

Serafina made her mind up instantly. “I’ll invite him. He’ll be my guest.”

“Do you think that some people might object?”

Serafina well knew that “some people” would be Lady Bertha. “It will be all right,” she said. “How shall I get in touch with him? You know his address, of course.”

“I’ll be glad to deliver the invitation in person, Lady Trent, and a happy man he’ll be.”

“Very well, you and the inspector must come to our house early. We’ll all go together in our carriage.”

“There’s kind you are now! Well, I’ll go tell the inspector the good news. Come, I’ll see you back to your carriage.”

As Dylan turned to lead them to the carriage, Serafina was thinking,
This is going to cause difficulty. Bertha will be angry. But
Grant was very kind to us during trouble, and it’s little enough to do
for him.

FOUR

B
anks of dark, glowering clouds had threatened rain all morning, billowing fuliginous shapes like enormous spectres. The family had watched the skies anxiously, dreading a deluge. By one o’clock they were all ready to leave for the ball, though the threat of rain was even more severe than before. The clouds were rolling in from the north, and finally Septimus Newton said, “There’s nothing we can do about the rain, and I’d just as soon call the whole thing off.”

“Now don’t be foolish, Septimus,” Alberta said. “We’ve got to go.”

“Do we have enough umbrellas to go around?” Bertha asked. She had practically invited herself to the ball and had spent the morning harassing all of the servants of Trentwood in her preemptory fashion.

“What good does a parasol do?” Septimus said. “Look at that thing! What possible use could it be in a downpour?”

He gestured at the parasol in his wife’s hands, a flimsy thing made to match her dress. It was small, frilled, and embroidered with joined ivory and wood sticks, designed primarily to protect a lady’s complexion. The one that Bertha carried was ogee-shaped, and neither these two, nor any of the rest, were of any use in rain.

Bertha’s face was twisted with anger as she said loudly, “I think it’s a disgrace that we’re taking that actor and the policeman to the ball.”

“I don’t think that matters, Bertha,” Alberta said, struggling to open the parasol. “The earl said to bring them, and it would be most rude not to pay heed to his words.”

Septimus had listened to Bertha all morning long, it seemed. He had taken refuge in his laboratory on the second floor, and now that it was time to leave for the ball at Lord Darby’s, he spoke in a strained manner. “Come along. The world was drowned by water once, and we may be drowned on the way, but at least let’s make a start.” He led his wife and sister-in-law out of the house, handed them up in the carriage, and then got in and sat down, calling out, “All right, Givins, let’s get this thing over with.” He settled back as if he were embarking on a journey of a thousand miles, even though Silverthorn, the ancestral home of Lord Darby, was only twelve miles away.

“Blasted nuisance,” he muttered under his breath. “Whoever thought up such things as this ought to be made to eat his own head!” With this dire statement he slumped in the corner and began, as usual, carrying on some complicated mathematical problem in his head, ignoring the jabbering of his wife and the complaints of Bertha Mulvane as the carriage moved forward under the darkening sky.

“Do you think my dress is all right, Serafina?”

Dora had joined Serafina in her room as they prepared for the ball. She turned around, and Serafina studied her dress, which was of a bright green satin hue trimmed with glittering black jet and black velvet ribbons. Three black feathers were arranged in Dora’s hair and held in place by a diamond hairpin.

“It looks very well indeed. I’m sure Inspector Grant will like it at least.”

Aldora flushed slightly. “I’m not wearing it just for him,” she said defiantly. “But one must wear something to a ball.”

Serafina laughed. “It would be quite shocking if one wore nothing to a ball.”

“Serafina, what a terrible thing to say!” She giggled. “What a funny sight that would be!”

At that instant David came running in, his mouth twisted with displeasure. “Mum, I want to go with you.”

Serafina knelt down to his level. She took his hands and held them tightly. “You’re too young for such things, David.”

“You could hide me in your carriage. No one would see me.”

Serafina laughed, reached out, and hugged him. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t answer, but remember you’re going to have great fun with Danny. When it stops raining you can ride Patches, and the two of you can go try to find another bird’s egg to add to your collection.”

David brightened up. “That will be fun.” But then he shook his head. “What about when it gets dark?”

“We already talked about that. Ellie is going to read to you after supper, and you can play games with her until bedtime. You know how much fun you have with Ellie.”

“I’d rather go with you.”

“And I’d rather stay here with you, but grown-ups have to do things they don’t want to do.”

“Look, Serafina,” Dora cried. She was standing at the large window looking down. “Matthew and Dylan are here.”

“Well, we mustn’t keep them waiting.” Serafina gathered David into a hug and kissed his cheek. “You go along now.”

“When will you be back?”

“We plan to stay over just tonight. We’ll be back sometime tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”

“Good-bye, Mum. You have a good time.” David turned and ran off in search of the groom, who was his chief playmate.

“I suppose we’d better go,” Serafina said. “Come along.”

The two left the room and went downstairs. They reached the first floor and moved into the foyer just as the door was opened by Louisa Toft, Serafina’s maid. “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Dylan,” Louisa said. The beautiful young woman of twenty-three was absolutely stricken with Dylan Tremayne. Serafina noted the adoring look in her maid’s eyes and started to rebuke her but then gave up. All women seemed to look on Dylan in that fashion. She wondered, not for the first time, how much he was able to resist the obvious advances that some of them made.