A Crimson Warning

35

I was the last one to arrive back in Park Lane, and I had to change my dress before I could join Colin, Jeremy, and Ivy, all of whom, Davis informed me, had arrived more than an hour ago. Meg helped me dry off and pull on a Liberty gown. I drained three cups of tea in rapid succession and, beginning at last to feel warm again, I descended to the library.

“Ivy’s told us about the triumphant morning the two of you had,” Colin said.

I pulled my favorite chair close to the fire, which hadn’t been lit in weeks because of the heat. How quickly rain can change things. “She was brilliant.”

“You were,” Ivy said. “You thought of everything to say.”

“But there would have been no veracity to anything I’d said if you hadn’t supported me,” I said. “She wouldn’t have even admitted me to her house.”

“Did you collect the evidence from the Glovers’?” Colin asked.

“We did, and don’t think for a minute I’m showing it to you,” I said. “It’s obscene.”

“Do you really believe I—” He stopped, rubbed his chin. “No, there’s nothing I can say here, is there?”

“We both know—” Jeremy stopped. “We both know nothing about, well, nothing.”

Colin scowled at him.

“Right,” Jeremy said. “And even if we did know anything about those sorts of … evidence, did you call it? Even if we knew, we wouldn’t be interested in seeing it.”

“Don’t consider a career on the stage, Jeremy,” I said. “Have we heard anything more from Winifred?”

“Not that we know of,” Colin said.

“How about Mr. Foster?” Ivy asked.

“I’ve planted the necessary seeds,” I said. “I also saw Mr. Barnes and the grisly souvenir you left on his doorstep. What was it?”

“I did some research on Obeah,” Colin said. “And with Cook’s help, Jeremy and I acquired the heads of three white roosters. Leaving them at someone’s door is, apparently, a foolproof way of heaping evil upon him. We’ll see how much of a believer Mr. Barnes is.”

“They definitely had an effect on him,” I said. “But an even more striking one on Mr. Foster.” I told them of my rainy adventures.

“I can’t believe you climbed on the armrest,” Ivy said. “And claimed an interest in heraldic symbols.”

“Are you certain there was nothing more to be found?” Colin asked.

“I can’t be absolutely certain,” I said. “I felt around as best I could, but I couldn’t see what I was doing. And he may have things hidden in more than one place.”

“I’ll send some men to look into it tomorrow,” Colin said.

“Did you see Mr. Barnes at all today?” I asked him.

“No,” he said. “I had my poor roosters’ heads ready to go and in a small bag underneath my coat. Bainbridge and I called at Upper Cheyne Row only after confirming he was in his office at Westminster. The butler told me his master wasn’t at home, I thanked him, and dropped the birds on my way down the steps.”

“It was quite gruesome, Colin,” I said. “Horrible, really.”

“As it needed to be,” he said.

“I’m not sure I’ll allow myself to be embroiled in another of your plans,” Jeremy said. “I could do without the gore.”

Davis poked his head in the door. “An urgent message from Scotland Yard, sir.” He handed Colin a note that my husband opened and read in the space of a breath.

“Mrs. Harris has attacked her husband,” Colin said. “She’s been subdued and is in her house under police observation.”

Ivy went white. “Do you think she’s the murderer?”

“It certainly doesn’t look good for her.”

“Is Mr. Harris all right?” I asked.

“Apparently, she knocked him over the head with a fire poker,” he said. “He’s at home with a doctor.”

“This is horrible,” Ivy said. “And I feel like it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault in the least,” I said. “She should have restrained herself, and her husband should have had the sense to keep away from Lady Glover.”

“We knew she might be violent,” Ivy said.

“I think he’ll recover fully,” Colin said. “They haven’t even had to take him to the hospital.”

“It sounds like the old boy deserved a good whack,” Jeremy said. “He should never have left such incriminating things sitting around the house.”

“Quite,” Colin said, then frowned and looked at his watch. “I want to get over there right away and don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Let’s hope that by the time I return, this is all settled.”

“What about Lady Glover?” Ivy asked after Colin had gone. “What if Winifred’s hurt her, too?”

“I don’t think she would have,” I said. “Not after what we told her today.”

Seeing how upset Ivy was, Jeremy excused himself briefly from the room, imploring us to alert him as soon as we learned anything new. Not a quarter of an hour after he’d gone, we heard someone banging on the front door of the house. Banging on the door and screaming.

“Lady Glover!” I’d rushed into the corridor, Ivy and Jeremy right behind me. Lady Glover was soaked. Her turquoise dress, with its golden crystal beads, which had once been elegant and stylish, was covered with dirt and missing one sleeve—the one that had been found in the park. Her hair was coming down around her shoulders, twigs and leaves sticking out from it. Mud streaked her face. Despite all this, she looked almost like a much-put-upon romantic heroine.

“Emily … I didn’t know where else—” She started to step forward, but collapsed on the floor in a delicate heap.

Davis, always the master of efficiency, had her upstairs in no time. A maid drew a bath and assisted her in getting cleaned up and into one of my cotton nightgowns. I tried to persuade Lady Glover to lie down, but she refused. Instead, she wanted a wrap to throw over her shoulders and insisted on coming down to the library.

“I’ve heard too much about your port not to have some,” she said. “You must indulge me, Lady Emily. I’ve been through so much.”

I knew enough of her to understand arguing would be fruitless, so I ceded to her demands. She draped herself across a settee, accepted a glass, and asked for a cigarette.

“I don’t have one,” I said. “Tell us what happened.”

“You haven’t summoned the police yet, have you?” she asked.

“Only my husband,” I said. “He’s in the midst of investigating another matter.”

“What?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Ivy said.

“It’s not to do with my kidnapper, vicious man, that he is?” she asked.

“No, it’s not,” I said. “But do you think you could identify him?”

“I will never forget that face,” she said. “Beady eyes and thin little mouth. But I don’t know his name, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Where was he holding you?” I asked.

“In the lodge where you saw me. I cannot tell you how it bolstered my spirits to see you coming to save me!”

“I didn’t realize you could see us,” I said. “I’m only sorry it didn’t work.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest I’d actually seen you,” she said. “But he mentioned you and the duke by name when he told me we had to move.”

“Did he hurt you?” Ivy asked.

“He was terrible,” Lady Glover said, lowering her voice. “You can’t imagine.”

“We must contact your husband at once,” Ivy said.

“No.” Lady Glover sat up. “I’m angry at him. He took so long paying the ransom.”

“So far as I know, the kidnapper hadn’t sent instructions,” I said. “Did he say anything about the money when he released you?”

“No. You misunderstand. I assumed the ransom had been paid,” she said. “I took a little nap this afternoon—being held prisoner is frightfully tedious—and when I woke up, there was no sign of either of my usual guards. On a whim, I tried the door and found it open.”

“So you just walked out, unscathed?” Ivy asked.

“Oh, no! It wasn’t so easy,” she said. “At first I thought that’s how it would be. I crept down the stairs—”

“Where were you?” I asked again.

“In another lodge in Hyde Park. A much nicer one this time. That’s due to you, Emily. If you hadn’t forced him to move me, I would have been stuck in that awful place the whole time.”

“But you did have trouble escaping?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Only one of the guards was there, and he’d gone outside. I don’t know why. So I ran out the other door and didn’t look back until I was out of the park. Actually, I didn’t look back then, either.”

“Was he following you?” Ivy asked. “Could you hear him?”

“Not that I noticed,” she said. “But one does have to make reasonable assumptions in these situations.”

“So when did the actual trouble occur?” I asked.

“I suppose it was more theoretical than actual,” Lady Glover said. “But I was terrified.”

It was clear she didn’t need a doctor; she’d risen from her faint with indecent speed. And nothing about her story rang true.

“I don’t believe you, Lady Glover,” I said.

“What can you possibly mean? How could I have been anything but terrified?” she asked.

“None of this makes sense—it hasn’t from the beginning. And look at you now: you’re not even upset.”

“I’m in shock. Once I’ve had a chance to react thoroughly I’m likely to be hysterical. How can you accuse me of—”

“Don’t,” I said, raising my hand. “I don’t believe any of this.”

She sat, silent, for some minutes, then let out a long sigh. “Was it that obvious?”

“No,” Ivy said. “I bought it entirely and it is I who is in a state of shock. Did you really make it up?”

“I am a master of intrigue, you know,” Lady Glover said.

“I feel a complete fool,” Ivy said. “I never doubted you. You are quite an actress.” There was a twinge of admiration in her voice.

“How did you arrange it?” I asked.

“I hired actors. We staged the kidnapping—it was rather exciting, I must say—and holed up in a lodge I knew to be vacant. A few days of that, though, and I started to get bored. My husband wasn’t responding to any of the ransom instructions—”

“I don’t think he received any,” I said.

“He did. My spies saw him read them. He just didn’t want to deal with me.” Tears flashed in her eyes. Part of me felt sorry for her, but the rest knew she was probably acting. “I tried to increase the stakes by having my men drop my sleeve in the park, but that didn’t light a fire under him, either. The whole experience was thoroughly depressing. In the end, I got tired of it and decided to go home. After making a stop here, first.”

“Why would you do such a thing?” Ivy asked. “I, for one, have been worried sick about you.”

“I guess I can’t get the stage fully out of my blood,” she said.

“That’s not a valid reason,” I said.

“My husband used to dote on me,” she said. “But lately I’d come to realize he didn’t care anymore. I wanted to know if that was the truth. And I found out, didn’t I?”

“What about the letters?” I asked. “Did you invent those as well?”

“No, I swear to you I didn’t,” she said. “And I got one more before my abduction.” She pulled it out of her décolletage and handed it to me:

I am whipp’d and scourg’d with rods,

Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear

Of this vile politician

“Henry IV, Part I,” Ivy said. “It’s one of Robert’s favorites.”

“That’s it,” I said. “I’m going to fetch Colin. And we must send for your husband. Ivy will look after you.

I took the carriage to the Harrises’ house, but before I’d reached my destination, I saw Colin walking away from it. I called for the driver to stop and waved for my husband’s attention.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

I told him about Lady Glover. “She wasn’t kidnapped any more than I was,” I said. “It looked liked she’d rolled around in the mud to lend herself an air of authenticity. I’ll tell you the rest later. But when I read the last letter she said she’d received from our painter, I wanted to find you at once.”

“What is it?”

“We need to revisit those notebooks I found in Mr. Dillman’s house. As quickly as possible. The letter made reference to a vile politician, and the notebooks had all those records of bills before Parliament. I want to study them again.”

“They’re at Scotland Yard,” he said.

“You can tell me about Mrs. Harris on the way,” I said.

“That’s a mess of phenomenal proportion,” he said. “Mr. Harris will be fine, although he’ll have a headache for the foreseeable future. His wife has ledgers full of the most horrific gossip. And she’d made large red Xs by the people whose houses were painted. It’s impossible to tell whether that’s to indicate that she’d already finished with them or whether she was just keeping track of what someone else was doing.”

“Was every single victim of the paint on her list?” I asked.

“All but Mr. Dillman,” he said. “But he was the first, and it’s entirely possible she didn’t start her book until after she was finished with him. And now she’s proven herself capable of violence. There’s one other thing you might find interesting. She kept a record of her correspondence in one of her journals, and was writing to Foster on a regular basis for the past year. The frequency of her letters to him increased, however, about two weeks before Dillman’s death.”

“Do you think there’s a connection between them?” I asked.

“It’s possible,” he said. “We’ll have to question Foster before we can reach any firm conclusions. Regardless, she looks to be the guilty party.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Please, take me to Scotland Yard.”

“We’ll go, first thing in the morning,” he said. “Right now, we need to deal with Lady Glover, who may be facing some very serious charges.”

“Can we at least pick up the notebooks and bring them home?”

“You’re relentless, my dear.”

“Implacable.”

“I might as well give in?” he asked, leaning in for a kiss.

“It would be futile to do otherwise.” He kissed me again, this time more thoroughly.

And then he did as I asked, insisting that I remain in the carriage while he ran inside to fetch the notebooks. I did not object, having found the ride to Scotland Yard some of the most pleasant time I’d spent all season.