The September Society

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

W hat do you think the Yard can do, Jenkins?” said Lenox. It was half an hour later, and the two men were standing on the street. The crowds had begun to dissolve, the stream of startled neighbors at the door had slowed, and in Lady Jane’s house the servants were all having a glass of brandy under Kirk’s supervision. Jane herself was still in the drawing room, with the recently arrived Toto and the Duchess of Marchmain at her side.

Briefly Jenkins consulted his notepad. “Not much, I fear. We only have one description of the man, and that’s a vague one-we just managed to figure out his height and weight, but they’re average.”

“Nothing, then.”

“Well, whoever murdered George Payson has made the mistake of involving the London police force. We’ll give you and Inspector”-again Jenkins’s eyes scanned his notes-“Inspector Goodson all the help you need on this end. You’ve described the September Society to me, and we’ll put a constable near Lysander’s house, watch his comings and goings for a few days. And we’ll shake out our usual East End gangs, see if they know anything. Which is always possible.”

Lenox shook his head. “It’s a pity there’s no more to be done.”

Jenkins nodded. “Yes. Still, everything turned out as well as it could have.”

“That’s true.”

“We’ll leave a rotation of constables in front of these two houses as well, for a few days anyway.”

“Well, thanks-you’ve made this a lot smoother than it might have been.”

“Cheers, Lenox. And I say, please do keep me up to date on the case. I shall want to find out who did this very much.”

They parted with a handshake, Jenkins to speak to his men and Lenox to return inside. The inspector was doing as well as he could under the circumstances, but it was infuriating that someone had threatened Lady Jane’s house with a gun-in fact shot her servant!-with relative impunity.

Inside there was some normalcy to the voices of Lenox’s friends. As he paused in the hallway he overheard Toto talking about her baby again, Thomas chiming in with an occasional low word of wit, and Jane laughing at all the two of them said. Good of them to try to cheer her up; and even better of her to try to reassure them that she was already cheered. Was he blinded by love, or was it only to himself that she had shown her true fear, her true emotions? He hoped-feeling ridiculous even as he did, for he wasn’t generally given to over-the-top Arthurian chivalry-that he was worthy of her confidence. He hoped his love was enough.

“Everything all right in here?” he said, speaking to Jane alone as Toto, the duchess, and Thomas were once again buried in the controversy over the name Malory.

“Yes,” she said, laughing and slightly rolling her eyes toward the couple. “Things have gone back to normal rather quickly, as you can see.”

“I’ve spoken to Jenkins.”

“Have you?” she said lightly. “What has he said?”

She was wearing a pale green dress, simple and straight, and her pretty face betrayed no anxiety; and when he looked at her lovely curling hair and long, proud neck, his heart nearly burst.

“Only that they would try to track the man down, and that they’ll have a rotation of police constables set in front of our houses. But I think you’d probably better visit your brother, don’t you?”

The Earl of Houghton, whose house was only a mile or two from Edmund Lenox’s, was a well-intentioned, studious, and thoughtful man, but without Jane’s lightness; a man who took his responsibilities and position too seriously to be like her.

“I don’t think I shall, no. It happens that I can’t leave London at this particular moment, and then, why give them the pleasure? Surely if there are constables here the person won’t dare return.”

“Probably not. It was probably only a message to me-and for that I apologize again.”

“It’s not your fault that there are madmen in the world. It’s not your fault that somebody killed that poor boy in Oxford.”

“But it is my fault for holding you so dear.”

In the moment of silence that followed this comment, Lenox’s and Lady Jane’s eyes never left each other. The other three broke off their conversation and looked at the pair of them. At last Toto said, “Is everything all right with the policeman, Charles?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, tearing his eyes away from Lady Jane’s to look at her. “They’ll put somebody by the house for a few days. And I’ve said to Jane she should visit her brother for a little while.”

“Oh, don’t leave London, Jane, you can’t!”

“She’ll have to if it makes her feel safer, darling,” said McConnell to his wife. Then he turned to the rest of them. “In fact, if you prefer you can stay with us for a few nights. Just until things are as calm as usual.”

“Now that, as my father would say, is a ripping idea.” Toto beamed. “Please do, won’t you, Jane? We’ll make you ever so comfortable. And nobody will be there but you and me, because Thomas looks at squids in his microscope all day! And we’ll have lovely things to eat and read novels and see our friends if we feel like it.”

McConnell half laughed, half grimaced at the depiction of his daily life, but otherwise seemed enthusiastic, and Toto looked utterly delighted.

“Shall I, Charles?” said Lady Jane, delaying her friend’s happiness momentarily.

“It’s an excellent idea, I should say. It would make me easier in my mind.”

She turned to Thomas. “Then I will, thanks. Only for a night or two.”

“Or a week,” said Toto doggedly. “Consider staying for a week, at least.”

“Perhaps three nights. I can’t stay more than that or people will think I’m afraid of going home.”

“Well-three nights to be going on with,” said Toto and hugged Jane.

“McConnell,” said Lenox, “shall we leave them for a few minutes?”

The two men stepped outside. All but Jenkins and the two constables who were on the first watch had left, and Jenkins was getting ready to go.

“Keep in close touch, would you Lenox?” he said.

“I shall-I’ll write to you once a day with whatever progress we have if I can’t come see you.”

“Excellent.”

Turning to his friend, Lenox said, “You will keep an eye on Jane, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Exactly. I actually wanted a word on another subject as well. Are you still friends with Harry Arlington, at the War Office?”

“Yes-you know that.”

“I was going to ask you a favor. I need to see the file of a soldier who died twenty years ago. In the 12th Suffolk 2nd.”

“Is this about the case?”

“Precisely.”

“Tangentially, I assume?”

“From the age? No, in fact it’s at the heart of the matter.”

“I’ll write to Harry straight away when I get home. What’s the soldier’s name?”

“James Payson.”

McConnell looked appropriately taken aback. “The lad’s father? How does he figure into it?”

“He would have been one of the tiny number of men eligible for the September Society, had he lived.”

“I’ll write him tonight,” said McConnell. “If you go by tomorrow morning, he’ll certainly have gotten my note.”

“Thanks, Thomas.”

“Not at all.”