Lie by Moonlight

  “I have been watching the comings and goings at the castle from the cover of an abandoned farmer’s cottage nearby for twenty-four hours. I was waiting for a certain man to arrive. My informant told me that he was due soon. Tomorrow or the next day at the latest. Given events this evening, I think it is safe to say that it is more than likely that he will not show up, however.”

  “Who is this man?”

  “Alexander Larkin.” He watched her closely to see if the name meant anything to her.

  Her eyes widened behind the lenses of her spectacles. “I heard the name Larkin spoken occasionally at the castle, but always in hushed whispers. It was clear that I was not meant to overhear any references to him. But tonight his name came up again, in a manner of speaking.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The second villain from London, the one who confronted us in the stables, said something about me being a complete fool to think that I could get away with stealing Larkin’s property.” Her fingers tightened visibly on the glass. “He also said . . . well, never mind. It is no longer important.”

  “What did he also say?” Ambrose prodded gently.

  “He said, ‘You’re a dead woman, that’s what you are.’” She straightened her already very straight shoulders. “What do you know of this Alexander Larkin?”

  “He is one of the most notorious figures in London’s underworld, a master criminal or a sort of crime lord, if you like. He worked his way up from the toughest streets in the city. He now lives the life of a wealthy gentleman, but he lacks any genuine social connections and, of course, is not received in Society.”

  “All of the trappings of the upper classes but not a part of that world.” She turned the sherry glass between her palms as though trying to warm her fingers. “Just like any other wealthy man who made his fortune in trade, I suppose.”

  “He is certainly in trade. Larkin has financial interests in a variety of illegal enterprises including brothels and opium dens. He has been suspected in a number of murders over the years. But he has always been extremely careful to keep a discreet distance between himself and his criminal activities. The result is that the police have never been able to obtain enough evidence to arrest him.”

  Her mouth tightened. “That would appear to confirm my students’ theory about what happened to my predecessor at the castle.”

  “There was another teacher before you?”

  “Yes. A Miss Bartlett. She was there for only a few weeks. One afternoon Rimpton and his companion arrived at the castle. That night the girls were locked in their bedroom. When they were let out the next morning, Miss Bartlett was gone. So were the two men from London. The castle staff told the girls that Miss Bartlett had been dismissed from her post and that the men had escorted her, together with her trunk, to the train station very early that morning. But the girls were convinced that the men had done something terrible to Miss Bartlett.”

  “What made them suspicious?”

  “Miss Bartlett left a few things behind, including a favorite pair of gloves.”

  He raised his brows. “An astute observation.”

  “The girls are far more observant than anyone at the castle gave them credit for.” Concordia angled her chin. “Those who find themselves alone and without resources very quickly learn to pay attention to the little things going on around them—things that others might ignore.”

  “I am well aware of that, Miss Glade.”

  She gave him a long, measuring look. “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  He said nothing more, but she appeared to accept his assurance.

  “As it happens, I eventually concluded that the girls may have been right about what had happened to their first teacher,” she said after a while. “I did not immediately subscribe to that notion, you understand. I am very well aware that young ladies can be extremely imaginative, especially when they have been left to their own devices for long periods of time. For the most part my students were ignored while they were at the castle. Until I arrived, that is.”

  “I imagine that you kept them well occupied,” he said, amused.

  “I do not believe in strict regimentation, Mr. Wells, but I have found that a certain amount of order and routine provides a sense of stability that is quite comforting for many young people, especially those who have been orphaned.”

  He was impressed with her insights. “Please continue.”

  She cleared her throat. “When the girls showed me the gloves they had found in the room that Miss Bartlett had used while she was at the castle, I admit that I became quite curious. A teacher’s pay is not so generous that she can afford to be reckless with her possessions. And the gloves were, indeed, quite new and rather expensive-looking.”

  He raised his brows, acknowledging the point. “When did the girls tell you of their suspicions?”

  “Not for some time. They were very cautious around me at first.” She moved one hand in a small, dismissive gesture. “Only to be expected. They have been through so much upheaval and turmoil in their young lives. They are naturally quite careful about whom they take into their confidence.”

  “You seem to have an excellent understanding of young people, Miss Glade.”

  “To be honest, by the time they told me of Miss Bartlett’s mysterious departure, I had already begun to realize that there was something very odd, to say the least, about the entire situation.” She sighed. “Actually, I sensed from the start that matters were not as they seemed at Aldwick Castle.”

  “What alerted you?”

  “You know what they say about things that appear too good to be true.”

  He considered that for a moment. “I beg your pardon, Miss Glade, but why would a post teaching four young ladies at a remote, tumble-down castle far from the nearest town seem too good to be true? It sounds quite the opposite to me.”

  “One’s perception of a post often depends upon the condition of one’s circumstances at the time the post is offered,” she said dryly.

  “Point taken.”

  “As it happens, I had just been dismissed from a very pleasant situation at a school for girls not far from London. I was quite desperate for a new position. When the letter from Mrs. Jervis arrived with the offer of the post at the castle, I was extremely grateful and accepted immediately.”

  He frowned. “Who is Mrs. Jervis?”

  “The woman who operates the agency that found me the position at the girls’ school. She supplies teachers and governesses to schools and private households.”

  He nodded. “What information were you given concerning the position at the castle?”

  “I was told that a new charity school for orphaned young ladies had been established at Aldwick Castle. I was to be the new headmistress. It was made clear that there were only four students in residence but that more would be arriving in the future. It all seemed . . .” She gave a tiny, forlorn little shrug. “Quite wonderful. My dream come true, if you will.”

  “What is your dream, Miss Glade?”

  “To be in charge of a school of my own.” In spite of her exhaustion, she suddenly became more animated. “One where I can put into practice my personal philosophy and ideas concerning the education of girls.”

  “I see.” Curiosity tugged at him, but this was not the time to pursue questions about her dream. “Were you told the name of the benefactor of the girls’ academy at Aldwick Castle?”

  He did not realize how sharply he had spoken until he saw her stiffen warily.

  “The letter from the agency mentioned a certain Mrs. Jones,” she said. “I was informed that she was a wealthy, reclusive widow.”

  “What else were you told?”

  “Very little. Only that I would have complete discretion concerning the instruction that I was to provide. Mrs. Jones’s single requirement was that the reputation of the students be guarded with great care. After I got to Aldwick Castle, I was delighted with my four students. Phoebe, Hannah, Edwina and Theodora pro
ved to be intelligent, eager pupils. What more can a teacher ask? But, as I said, I knew that something was amiss.”

  “I think it is safe to say that there never was a Mrs. Jones. What else besides the discovery of Miss Bartlett’s gloves raised your suspicions?”

  “The housekeeper was a sullen creature who kept to herself as much as possible. I later learned that she was addicted to opium. I was forced to have several stern talks with the cook, who showed no interest in preparing healthy meals for the students. The man in charge of the stables was a lazy drunkard. The gardeners never tended the gardens and”—she paused, eyes narrowing slightly—“they carried guns.”

  “Guards, not gardeners.”

  “That was certainly how it appeared to me.” She took one more sip of the sherry and slowly lowered the glass. “But the things that concerned me the most were the gowns.”

  He looked at her. “What gowns?”

  “Ten days ago a dressmaker came all the way from London. She brought with her bolts of expensive fabrics and three seamstresses. Several lovely new gowns were made for all of the girls. I was told that Mrs. Jones wanted the students to be prepared to take their places in Society. But that made no sense.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  She did not bother to conceal her impatience with the question. “The young ladies were all born into respectable families. Indeed, Edwina and Theodora once lived a very privileged life. But all of them are now orphans. None can claim any property or inheritances or social connections. They have a few distant relations but none who cared enough to step forward to take them into their homes.”

  He contemplated that briefly. “I see what you mean. None of them can expect to move into Society.”

  “Precisely. At best they can only look forward to careers as teachers or governesses. Why provide them with gowns that are suited to the ballroom and the theater?”

  “Obviously you suspected the worst.”

  “Yes, Mr. Wells, I did.” One hand clenched in her lap. “I came to the conclusion that my students were being prepared to be sold as expensive, fashionable courtesans.”

  “It’s a possibility, I suppose,” he said, thinking it over. “As I told you, Larkin does have extensive interests in a number of brothels.”

  “You must have seen some of the scandals in the press concerning the trade in young girls who are taken out of orphanages and sent to work as prostitutes. It is quite appalling. And the police have done very little to halt the business.”

  “Yes, but your girls were not packed off to a brothel. They were sent to Aldwick Castle. A teacher was employed. You said yourself the girls’ reputations were to be carefully preserved and guarded.”

  “I do not believe that my girls were intended to become ordinary prostitutes. Consider the facts, Mr. Wells. All four of my young ladies were brought up in respectable circumstances. They are well mannered, well bred and well educated. They speak with the refined accents of their social class.”

  “In other words, they did not come from the streets.”

  “No. I am not naïve, sir. I have been out in the world for some time. I am well aware that there is a market for exclusive courtesans who can emulate ladies who move in respectable circles.”

  He managed to conceal his surprise. Her casual acknowledgment of certain realities was oddly disconcerting. Women of her class rarely discussed such matters, let alone in a matter-of-fact fashion.

  “True,” he admitted.

  “How much more valuable would those women be if they actually came from good social circles and possessed the airs and graces to prove it? To say nothing of innocence, youth and pristine reputations?”

  “I will not argue with you on that account. Nevertheless—”

  “Tonight I overheard Rimpton and his companion discussing some sort of auction that was to be held in the near future. I am certain that they meant that my students were to be sold to the highest bidders.”

  “An auction?”

  Her hand tightened in her lap. “Yes.”

  He hesitated, thinking it through, and then nodded slowly. “You may be right. It would certainly explain a great many curious aspects of this situation.”

  “What is your interest in this affair, sir? Why were you watching the castle and waiting for Larkin’s arrival?” Her expression brightened. “Are you a policeman? Scotland Yard, perhaps?”

  “No. I am engaged in a private inquiry on behalf of a client who hired me to discover the truth about her sister’s death.”

  “You’re a private inquiry agent?” She was clearly startled. But in the next instant curiosity flared in her fine eyes. “How interesting. I have never met anyone engaged in that profession.”

  “I hope you continue to find me interesting, Miss Glade, because we are going to be seeing a great deal of each other for the foreseeable future.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He left the mantel and went to stand in front of her. “After what occurred at the castle tonight, Larkin will assume that you are aware of some of his plans. He will also want what he views as his property returned. That means that he will do his best to find you and the girls.”

  She went very still. “I realize that he will not like the fact that I spirited the girls away from the castle. That is why I intend to take them into hiding for a time.”

  He reached down, closed his hands around her upper arms and lifted her gently but firmly out of the chair. “You do not comprehend the nature of the beast that you are dealing with. I doubt very much that you have the resources to hide yourself from Alexander Larkin, let alone conceal the young ladies.”

  “I was thinking that perhaps if we went to Scotland—”

  “You could take your girls to the South Seas and still not be safe, not if Larkin makes up his mind to track you down. And I believe that he will try to do just that.”

  “For a few weeks or even a month or two, perhaps,” she agreed calmly. “But I cannot imagine that he will waste a great deal of time and energy chasing four girls and their teacher. Surely a crime lord, as you call him, has more important matters to occupy his attention.”

  “Nothing is more important to Larkin than his own survival. I think it is safe to say that he will not rest until he has satisfied himself that you are no longer a threat to him.”

  “How can I possibly be any sort of threat to a man like him?” She was clearly exasperated. “I am a teacher, for heaven’s sake. I have no social connections, no power of any sort. I am in no position to do anything that could cause problems for Alexander Larkin. He must know that as well as I do.”

  “You are a loose end, Miss Glade. When Larkin weaves a pattern he does not leave any dangling threads. As soon as he discovers that you escaped with the girls, he will conclude that you know far too much about him and his scheme. Trust me, if he finds you, he will kill you.”

  She blinked two or three times and then drew a slow, deep breath.

  “I see,” she said.

  Her composure was quite stunning, he thought. Few people, male or female, could have taken the news he had just delivered with such equanimity. Concordia Glade was, indeed, a woman apart.

  He released her. “Go to bed, Miss Glade. You need sleep. We will discuss this situation again in the morning.”

  She startled him with a wry smile. “You can hardly expect me to sleep after what you just told me.”

  “Perhaps not, but you must try to rest. I intend for all of us to be away from here as early as possible in the morning.”

  The wariness returned to her eyes. “You sound as if you have some plans of your own for my students, Mr. Wells.”

  “And for you, also, Miss Glade.”

  “What are they?”

  “Tomorrow we will continue on to the nearest train station. From there, you and the girls will travel to London in a first-class carriage. Any number of people will see you board the train.”

  “But if what you say about Larkin is correct, he will soon dis
cover that we went to London. He will search for us there.”

  “He will search for four young women and their teacher.”

  She studied him with renewed interest. “What do you intend, sir?”

  “A feat of magic. Once in London you will all disappear.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked sharply.

  “I will explain in the morning.”

  She hesitated. He knew that she was torn between bidding him good night and demanding an explanation.

  “Good night, sir,” she said quietly. “I must thank you for your assistance. I am not at all certain that we could have escaped safely without you.”

  “I do not doubt for a moment that you would have managed very well on your own, Miss Glade. We have not known each other more than a few hours, but I feel confident in saying that you are, without a doubt, the most resourceful woman I have ever met.”

  She nodded, evidently unsure how to take the observation, and started up the steps. He heard a soft thunk when the hem of her skirt brushed against the first riser.

  “Miss Glade, I cannot help but notice that you seem to clank a bit when you walk,” he said. “I noticed it earlier when your skirts brushed against the door frame. I must admit, I am curious. Is this some new fashion?”

  She paused on the staircase and looked back over her shoulder. “Hardly, sir. I knew that once we were away from the castle we would require money to survive. Over the course of the past few weeks, I helped myself to some of the smaller pieces of silver and several other items that appeared to have some value. I sewed them into my skirts.”

  He inclined his head, impressed. “A clever trick, Miss Glade. One that is much favored by pickpockets and streetwalkers, I believe.”

  She bristled in outrage. “I assure you, I am no common thief, sir.”

  What had possessed him to make such a stupid remark? He should have realized that she would not take it as the compliment he had intended.

  “I never meant to imply that you were a thief, Miss Glade,” he said.

  But he knew it was too late. The damage had been done.