"Madam, I'm afraid that someone's attacked Baines. Could you please come right away?"

32

"It was his day off," Davis explained, as I followed him, along with Margaret and Ivy, up to the servants' quarters. "He was walking home, and as he approached the back of the house, someone struck him over the head. I've sent for a doctor."

I was greatly relieved to learn from the physician that my footman's injuries were not serious. Less welcome was the response of the police. The officers assigned by Inspector Manning had caught a man they'd seen running from the house and questioned him, but their conclusion was that this had been nothing more than a simple robbery. Baines's money and watch had been stolen, and the culprit had been implicated in more than one other similar crime.

"How can they possibly think this is unrelated to the attacks on me?" I asked. "It makes no sense."

"I begin to see why you feel that you cannot rely wholeheartedly on the police," Ivy said.

The next day was exceedingly hectic. Between getting Mrs. White, Edward, and Meg off to Greece and checking on Baines, I had not a moment to return to the question of how to trap Lady Elinor. Meg was thrilled to be going to Santorini, and I smiled when I thought of how, less than a year ago, she had dreaded traveling. I wished that Cécile could join them, but until she was finished with Monsieur Garnier, she would not be able to leave Paris. Still, they would be in capable hands with my maid, who would manage every detail of the trip with her usual smooth efficiency.

Once the morning mail arrived, I was able to convince Inspector Manning that Baines's attack was not an isolated incident. Someone had sent a letter with a sinister message:


Who will suffer next for your impudence? Abandon your investigation.


After speaking to the inspector, I was left to consider my options and felt immediately out of my depth. I had not the slightest idea how to trick Lady Elinor into implicating herself. It would have been so easy to turn to Colin, if he weren't in Paris, or Sebastian, if he could be reached without going through the Times. Either of them was certain to have insights into the matter beyond mine.

It was a frightening feeling, knowing that so much was at stake, that if I did not handle matters in the best possible way, more people could be hurt than those already affected by Lady Elinor's crimes. I could not allow another member of my staff to be brutalized as Baines had been. If I could resolve all this on my own, it would be a significant accomplishment, and the thought of achieving such a thing filled me with a surge of inspiration that led to a new idea. It was so obvious now that I laughed at myself for not having come to it earlier. Not wanting to waste another instant, I sent for Margaret at once.

"It's inspired!" she cried. "Does it have to happen tonight, though? Jeremy and I've arranged everything for our public falling-out to take place at the lord mayor's ball tonight. I don't see how we can possibly reschedule."

"You don't need to come with me, Margaret. The fewer people on hand the better, and you know that I must have Inspector Manning. What I need you to do is write the letter. Lady Elinor would recognize my handwriting."

"Very well," Margaret said. "But I don't like missing the adventure. You must promise me that the next time you unmask a murderer, you do it at a time when I can help in a more exciting way."

"I'll do my best," I said. "Now, here's what I want you to write." We spent the next half hour crafting our letter. In the end, I was most satisfied with it.


Dear Lady Elinor,


It has come to my attention that your daughter's future happiness depends not only upon the marriage you have arranged for her, but on the success of her fiancé's claim to the French throne. My own dear son, only six years old, is the child of David Francis. I've no doubt that you grasp the implications of this statement. I assure you that I've no interest in seeing him named king; politics is a risky business, and when I consider what happened to his ancestors, I cannot hope that he would ever sit on a throne. But if I am to hold him back, I cannot do so in good faith without asking for some sort of compensation on your part. I will gladly remain silent and hand you the keys to the kingdom, as it were, if you would be so kind as to make it worth my while. You might imagine that our circumstances are no longer quite so comfortable now his father is dead. If this is agreeable to you, I should like to see you this evening at my house. Call no earlier than nine o'clock, as the boy will be asleep by then and I can guarantee us a reasonable amount of privacy. We will be leaving for Paris in the morning, and I would very much like to have finished with this matter before then.


I am yrs., etc.,

Mrs. Elizabeth White


"I don't see how she could refrain from coming," Margaret said. "I must go if I'm to be ready for my grand performance. Oh, Emily, I do envy you all this excitement!"

"I don't know if 'excitement' is the proper word."

"If I didn't have absolute confidence in you, it wouldn't be. But I'm not worried that you'll come to harm. You're perfectly capable of outwitting Lady Elinor. She doesn't stand a chance."

As I walked her to the door, I saw that Inspector Manning was outside, speaking to the officers stationed in Berkeley Square. It was the perfect opportunity to consult with him and request his assistance. He was concerned that my plan was too dangerous, but I insisted that Lady Elinor was more likely to talk to me than to him. Furthermore, so long as he and his men were near, I would be perfectly safe. He promised to meet me at the Whites' at eight-thirty.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon buried in Homer. I'd woefully neglected my Greek in the past weeks and feared that if I did not keep up, Mr. Moore might make me return to reading Xenophon, the tedious texts he'd forced upon me in the early days of my study. I was captivated by the trials of Odysseus, suffering the wrath of Poseidon, longing for home and Penelope, although I was not entirely sympathetic to the man. There were bits of his adventures that I think he enjoyed rather too much, and I wondered if he really was the equal of his wife. She was a woman to be much admired. Clever, faithful, inventive.

The hours passed quickly, and I was surprised to see that it was nearly seven o'clock. I would have to hurry to prepare myself to meet Inspector Manning, and was halfway up the stairs to change my dress when Davis handed me a note from Lady Elinor:


My dear Emily,


Ivy Brandon called on me late this afternoon and fell ill after taking tea with me. I've tried to reach her husband and her mother but can locate neither of them. Isabelle and I are to dine with the Prince and Princess of Wales this evening, and I hate to leave Ivy alone with only servants. Would you be so good as to come sit with her until Robert can be summoned?


I am yrs., etc.

E.R.


A horrible, sickening feeling crashed into my stomach. Surely Lady Elinor would not be so foolish as to harm Ivy, not in her own house? Her guilt would be immediately apparent. I felt compelled to investigate but did not have time to go to Meadowdown before I needed to be at the Whites'. Perhaps this was nothing more than a ruse to distract me from my purpose. If I hurried, I would have just enough time to go by Belgrave Square and leave an urgent message for Robert.

I was shocked to see my friend's husband, looking utterly disheveled, open the door himself. "Is she with you?" he asked, looking around me.

"Ivy? No, I've just received — "

"We're having Lord Fortescue and the prime minister to dine tonight. They'll be at the house by eight. She would have needed to start dressing by now, but she's never returned from making calls this afternoon."

"Read this," I said, thrusting the letter at him.

"She's ill? What can Lady Elinor mean, she couldn't locate me? I've been home all afternoon."

"She never tried," I said, and told him as quickly as possible all that I knew of Lady Elinor's crimes.

"I'll go to Meadowdown at once."

"It's unlikely that she would have done anything to hurt Ivy, but be careful, Robert."

"I'll pretend that nothing's amiss. You found me, and I've come to collect my wife."

"I pray that you find Ivy well. It's unlikely that you'll find Lady Elinor home."

"So help me, I will tear that woman limb from limb if she has so much as looked at my wife in a menacing way."

Robert transformed from an average-looking man into a paragon of the most handsome sort of divine wrath. I hoped that when he found her, Ivy would be in a condition to appreciate the change. I wished him luck and set off on my own errand, my heart heavy with worry for my friend. It took considerable effort to force my attention to my role in this intrigue, but I looked at my watch and knew that I could not afford the luxury of spending even another moment lamenting what might have happened to Ivy.


After sending my letter to Lady Elinor, I had asked Inspector Manning to visit Mrs. White's housekeeper. Knowing that the woman was not a particular admirer of mine, I thought the scheme I was proposing would go over better with her if it came from a policeman. When I arrived at the house, she greeted me with her usual scowl, but this time there was a hint of concern in her eyes.

"They're perfectly safe," I said to her. "They boarded the train this morning and are well on their way to Greece by now."

"I hope you're right," she said. "I don't much like you. You're the sort who brings trouble into a house."

I could hardly argue with her. On this point she was right. I'd certainly brought Ivy trouble, and Isabelle, not to mention David Francis. He had suffered the worst of all of them. It was hardly an encouraging line of thought on which to embark before trying to capture a murderer, but I found myself quite unable to stop thinking about the misery I had brought to those around me.

The housekeeper gave me the reply Lady Elinor had sent to my letter. It stated quite plainly that she had no idea what Mrs. White was talking about and that there clearly had been some sort of confusion. She apologized and said that she was unable to meet that evening, but that if Mrs. White still wanted to speak with her, she was welcome to call at Meadowdown anytime following her return from Paris.

"I didn't expect she would agree to the meeting," I said to Inspector Manning as we went over the details of our plan. "But I hope that this has instilled in her a sense of urgency, that she will decide the boy must be silenced immediately. I do believe she is scared."

As the hour grew late, we set our trap in Edward's room, and I was filled with anxiety. I took my position, hiding behind the armoire, wondering if I should have gone with Robert, chastising myself for not even considering it until now. She was my friend, and I'd left her to...to what? The darkness was claustrophobic and I began to feel chilled, unable to steady myself. Robert was perfectly capable of looking after his wife. It was right that he be the one to go to her.

I wondered what time it was and hoped that Inspector Manning, who was watching the house from the outside, was still awake. My own eyelids had grown heavier than I would have thought possible. I wished I could have stretched my legs.

After what seemed like an eternity, the floorboards creaked and the door to the nursery opened. The effect of the sound on me was more intense than that of smelling salts. I strained to listen, and heard someone walking with steps lighter than a child's, crossing the room to the small bed. I could see the intruder's form in silhouette against the moonlight that struggled through the curtains on the window. With a swift movement, she tipped a bottle against a piece of cloth she held in her hand, then pressed it over what she thought was the child's mouth. I had piled pillows under the blankets to make it look as if someone were sleeping, and her hand recoiled as she realized the boy was not there. She spun around as she heard me step out from where I'd hidden behind the armoire.

"Emily?" She stepped away from the bed. "What is this?"

"What are you doing?" I asked. There was an awful look in her eyes: scared, dazed, almost as if she were in a trance, but at the same time fiery with a deep anger.