The Hanged Man (11 page)

Brook turned their hansom east to avoid the brigade, then south. Church bells tolled the half hour, making it five thirty by her reckoning, which Lennon confirmed with a look at his pocket watch.

“What a night,” he said. “Be glad when it's over.”

The statement could be taken as a declaration for himself or as advice to her.

They passed St. Paul's Knightsbridge. Her heart quickened with dread.

Just yards to go … a last turn and they were before 16 Wilton Crescent, the first of a curving line of fearfully respectable white facades, each nearly identical to its neighbor: same doors, same transom grilles, sturdy iron fences lining the walks along the lower ground-floor entries.

Lennon gave it a lengthy stare. “You come by your toff ways straight, then, don't you?”

“I'd rather go to a workhouse.”

“No, you wouldn't.” Before she could get out he put a hand on her wrist. “Listen up, little tweak, there's more afoot than they're sayin'.”

“The Service?”

“Don't pull a face, you ought to be feeling it, if that's your trade. Me, I can smell it. There's politicking going on. Always a rotten stink.”

“You can't mean that.”

“Bet your life on it, missy. Your
life
. Instead of taking you into the fold where you're surrounded by other spook hunters and big lads like Brook, they've cut you loose where you can be got at.”

“Mrs. Woodwake would never do that. Besides, men will be posted to watch this house.”

“Not nearly enough if those chappies what done for Lord Dickie come around, never mind that murdering ghost and his bottle of ether. Makes me think of those stories about hunters in India tethering a goat to tempt in a tiger. Maybe they get the tiger, but he gets the goat first.”

Having been on a tiger hunt, Alex had seen that for herself. “You think the two cases are connected.”

“I couldn't say. Maybe those hooded blokes were following young Dickie all along and took their opening. But the ghost that broke into Harley Street also tried for you. Why do you think that is? Who would want to hang angel wings on both you and your pap?”

She shook her head.

“You come up anything on it, see me first. Don't trust for a moment that your precious Service won't toss you to the tigers if it suits 'em.”

He believed what he was saying, but the
Service
? It was scrupulously honest, if necessarily secretive. Lord Richard was—had been—above reproach and insisted all those under him be likewise honest and honorable. They never employed frauds, the testing system was too rigorous. She'd vetted people herself, and would face a Reader tomorrow. That would clear things, perhaps allow her to keep a close watch on the progression of both cases.

Lennon continued, “They do some good, I'll grant that, and you're one of the good ones, but beware of rot under the shiny paint. For all their power, they got a bloody nose tonight. Instead of raising the alarm to hunt down a pack of hooded killers, that woman does the direct opposite. If someone had done for the head of Scotland Yard every copper in London would be turned out. There'd be no stoppin' us till we had the shooters in darbies or dead. Woodwake's running scared about something and it's got to be bigger than her chief getting served up to hell tonight. I tried to get her to drop a clue, but she wasn't having any. Her wanting
that
kept a state secret? Barmy.”

“She gave good reason for it.”

“Bah. I know her type. Thinks too much, just like you. Only your thinking has you meeting yourself coming around corners. She's got a wider view and keeps it to herself. There's a use for that sort, but they're dangerous.”

He let go her wrist and got out with her. From his perch on the hansom where he could see trouble coming, Brook covered them as they went up to the door. Alex tried her old key and it worked. She thought she would never have need to use it and wasn't sure why she'd kept it on the ring after all this time. A sense of antic humor, perhaps, allowing her the freedom to present her relatives with a disagreeable surprise should she ever drop in for a visit. She had often thought of coming by, but had never acted on it.

The disagreeable surprise was all on her tonight, but she'd be safe here. Knightsbridge was a well-kept, quiet place, plenty of police about. Pendlebury House teemed with people: relations and who knows how many servants to see to their upkeep.

Lennon put her carpetbag inside the door. “Remember my words, tweak. You keep that pie hole of yours shut, your ears open, and your head down. Now go get some sleep. And … and I'm sorry about your pap.” This last was muttered quickly and then he stumped off.

Well. What a startling man.

She locked the door and went into the ground-floor drawing room to look out the front windows. Lennon piled into the hansom and they clattered away east along the curve of the crescent. Despite the gaslights, the cold darkness swiftly stole them from sight.

Tethered goat. More like thrown to the wolves.

Her family wasn't that bad, not really. They had sheltered, clothed, and fed her. The adults had been … polite. She was fond of Uncle Leo. He wasn't at all like his brother in temperament, cold and aloof rather than smiling and affectionate, but there were enough physical similarities to remind her of Gerard, and that had been comforting. He had no time to spare for her or any of his family, but when she first arrived he'd not minded her sitting in his study so long as she was quiet.

When bad weather kept her indoors, she'd take a volume from Leo's collection of books and read for hours by the window, emerging only for meals.

His children were barred from the room, making it an even more attractive refuge. Andrina's reading tastes were for lighter material and her brother Teddy proved too active to be trusted. He was always getting into things he shouldn't, such as his father's Napoleon brandy—wasted as a casual libation for a thirteen-year-old.

Aunt Honoria was far too respectable and commanding to be likeable, but initially saw to it her children behaved civilly toward Alex. They were angels in her presence, which amounted to a few minutes a day. She was fearfully busy with social obligations and granting her time to charitable events. At those, she limited herself to a smile and voicing a sincere “Well done” to the workers who had actual contact with the beneficiaries of those many charities. She didn't like looking at the poor, who were, after all, such an ill-favored, cheerless lot.

But she respected the rules of society and, as she'd done every year since Alex moved out and (horrors) gone into trade, Honoria sent an embossed invitation to Christmas dinner to her niece. Each year, Alex sent her regrets, claiming that her duties prevented it. Sometimes that was even true.

I can bear them for a few hours
. She'd hide out in Leo's study; they'd not think twice about it once the grudging greetings were past.

Alex hoped to avoid Andrina. With any good luck her insufferable cousin would be off playing lady-in-waiting to Princess Charlotte. What the royal family saw in Andrina was a mystery, but she could be pleasant and clever when she chose. Showing one face and hiding the other worked on the rest of the world, but never on Alex, another thing besides the perfume switch that Andrina could not forgive.

After lighting the gas, Alex rang the bell, confident that servants would be astir. Honoria ran a tight ship. If staff couldn't be bothered to be awake and working by five in the morning, they were welcome to find a position elsewhere. Many did.

Sure enough, one of the maids arrived, carrying a tray. She nearly dropped it when she saw Alex.

“Begging pardon, I thought you were her ladyship.”

“New here, are you? It's all right, I'm her ladyship's niece, Alex Pendlebury.”

The girl nodded, so she must have heard the name mentioned, and glanced at the tray.

“Better take that back. When Aunt Honoria rings again you don't want to be late with her morning tea.”

“Yes, ma—your ladyship. Shall I announce you?”

Oh, dear, the girl was too new to know the protocols. “Leave that to Mabrey. He's still here? Ask if he might spare me a few minutes.”

Off the girl went. Alex took the respite to remove her gloves and hat and undo the buttons of her ulster, but not shed it. The drawing room fire was laid but not lighted, and the room chilly.

Instead of Mabrey the butler, Andrina swept in. She was already corseted for the day and in a sumptuous dressing gown, with layers of silk and ribbons and pleats in the French style. Her hair hadn't been seen to yet, and a long dark braid hung down her left shoulder. She was an uncommonly beautiful girl and knew it.

She stopped and glared, her lips going thin with distaste. “What are you doing here? And at such an hour?” she demanded. No greeting, despite the fact they'd not seen each other in several years. She got straight to the point with people she didn't like.

I should have gone to a hotel.

Alex was prepared, inspired by Lennon's opinion of German Christmas customs. “There was a fire in the building next to my house. It was too smoky to stay.”

“There
are
hotels,” she pointed out.

If not for her “gift,” and the intervention of a loving father, Alex might have turned out just like Andrina. Or not. There was no denying they often thought along similar lines. She smiled. “And miss Christmas dinner with my family? Aunt Honoria has ever welcomed me to the table.”

“Yes, she has a wonderful goodness of heart for poor relations.”

“Is that the best you can do?”

“Have I misapprehended something? You work, therefore you must not have an income.”

“It's a match to yours, Andrina, and you know it. I work because I like to do so.”

“How could you possibly like mucking about with dead people?”

“They're better company than some I can name. Now before we draw blood I suggest you hear me out. It will be to your advantage.”

Andrina sniffed, but chose to listen.

“I'll be pleased to not disrupt Aunt Honoria's seating arrangements at table today. If someone brings a tray to Uncle's study you won't even know I'm here.”

Honoria, splendid in an obviously new morning dress, came in. “Why, Alex, what are you doing here? And at such an hour?”

“Her house burned down, Mother.”

Lady Pendlebury gasped in horror.

“It did not!”

“That's what you
said
.”

And just like that, they were back to being snarling schoolgirls again, engaged in yet another round of explosive tit for tat. Alex raised her hands and voice. “Enough!”

Andrina, standing behind her mother, beamed with delight. In the past, whoever shouted first lost the battle, collecting a reprimand from Honoria for not behaving as a lady should.

What a fool,
Alex thought, deciding the judgment applied equally to Andrina for setting the trap and to herself for walking into it. “Aunt Honoria, my cousin's grasp of the facts is imperfect. The house
next
to mine had a fire. There's smoke all through my home, so while it airs I'd hoped to find a safe harbor here.”

“Not burned down? You're sure? Well, of course you may stay as long as you like, child. It's been ages. We must catch up, but this is such a busy day. Have Mabrey sort things for you. You're a bit early for breakfast, but we'll sit down together and have a nice chat. Church is at nine sharp; we'll expect you to come with the family.”

Mentioning her meeting with Fingate at the same hour would not be the done thing. Alex would come up with some excuse. “Thank you so much. I'm sorry to intrude like this.”
Very sorry
.

“Nonsense, what are families for if not to give refuge when one is in need? Mabrey, excellent timing. Lady Alex requires a room for a few days. Have someone prepare her old one, please, and add another place for breakfast.”

Mabrey, the butler, hadn't changed much, possibly because Aunt Honoria had ordered it. He nodded a silent greeting at Alex. She smiled and returned the courtesy. Her old room? While not the comforting refuge of Uncle's study, at least she'd not have to share with her cousin.

When she'd first arrived they'd put the girls together, thinking they'd become friends. The instant they were alone for the first time, Andrina made it clear she was in charge and Alex was always to be subordinate. In two trips around the globe, Alex had never encountered such bald-faced discourtesy before and laughed, thinking it was some sort of poor joke.

Andrina responded with name-calling and throwing a shoe to assert her authority. It hit Alex lightly in the chest. She stared, realizing that this was a variant of the sort of challenge that duelists engaged in; Alex was pleased to provide satisfaction.

The next few moments were a bit of a blur, but she emerged the unquestioned victor of the skirmish.

Master Shan's instruction included physical as well as mental training. Andrina had expected girlish tears, slaps, and hair pulling, not being flipped head over heels, slammed flat to the floor, her limbs temporarily paralyzed by knuckle strikes to key nerve points. Her bloodcurdling screams brought most of the household into the room. Once order was restored, it was Mabrey who quietly suggested to her ladyship that a separation of the combatants might be the best for all.

After that humiliation, Andrina confined herself to subtle verbal blows when her mother was out of earshot, as well as keeping her distance: even now she withdrew as Alex followed Mabrey from the parlor. He dispatched a footman to bring the bag and a tweeny to lay a fire.

No impression of Alex's tenure remained, but upon moving out she'd taken everything that was hers. It was a stranger's room now, and she was comfortable with that. Certainly she was a stranger to her hosts. They didn't know her, couldn't possibly understand her. She was comfortable with that, as well. The more they knew, the more it could be turned into a weapon. Lennon's instincts were right, even if he was not conversant with how things worked under this lofty house's roof; keeping one's pie hole shut was ever a wise idea.