Denis, as composed and well-groomed as ever, was sitting at his desk when we entered. The only souvenirs from the disaster with Ridgley were a fading bruise on his cheekbone and more coldness in his eyes.
“It is a tricky business,” he said after we’d seated ourselves, “prying information from a man who neither fears death nor has anyone in the world he cares about. One’s threats have little teeth if the man has no hidden terrors.”
“Are you saying he told you nothing?” I asked.
“I am saying one has to search more diligently for the threat that will pull out the necessary information. I did find that leverage, and he did finally speak.” He paused. Denis wasn’t one for dramatics, but I daresay he enjoyed making Grenville and I wait for his next words. “The person who hired Mr. Ridgley was not a man, but a woman.”
“Ah.” I said.
“A woman?” Grenville sat forward. “Good Lord, that’s monstrous. Lacey, why do you not seem more surprised?”
“Because nothing about this case surprises me anymore,” I said. “And Mr. Kean told me I should be looking for a rival, another actress, either in her company or at another theatre. Mrs. Collins is very successful after all.”
Denis waited until we’d quieted again. “The reason I bade Mr. Grenville join you is that while Mr. Ridgley would not give up a name—I suspect he never knew it and never asked it—he did describe her.” Denis fixed Grenville with a look. “She had blond hair, large blue eyes, a pointed face, and could make herself look younger than she truly was. He described the gown she wore as something he’d never seen before—a red dress fairly plain but with large panels of painted cotton about the bottom, depicting people in a desert land.”
My lips parted. I’d seen Marianne in that very frock last summer—Grenville took Marianne to the most exclusive modiste in London, and he had provided the cloth, which he’d purchased a few years ago during his last trip to the Ottoman Empire. The cloth had been hand-woven for him—there could not be two gowns the same.
Grenville was out of his chair before Denis finished speaking. Brewster took a step toward him, but Denis signaled Brewster to still.
“He lied to you,” Grenville said, his face red. “He must have.”
“I do not think so,” Denis said. “I am skilled at interrogation, Mr. Grenville. He described Miss Simmons to the letter, and I doubt he could have invented the details of her garment.”
“Let me speak to him,” Grenville said. “If he’s not lying, he’s at least mistaken.”
Denis shook his head. “I am afraid it is no longer possible to speak to him.”
Meaning Ridgley was dead. Though I could not be sorry for the world to lose such a man, Denis’s finality sent a chill through me.
“I agree with Grenville; it is absurd,” I said. “Marianne Simmons would not hire a murderer to deliver a dangerous device to Mrs. Collins. Marianne had given up the theatre; she had no reason. The theatre never meant as much to her as it does to Mrs. Collins or Mr. Kean.”
Or perhaps Marianne had simply been skilled at hiding her emotions. When Marianne and Abigail Collins had come to London to try their luck, Abigail had risen quickly while Marianne had been shoved into far lesser roles, for far less money and very little fame. Such a course of events might make any woman bitter and jealous.
Still, I could not believe it of her. I said, “Why then would Marianne come to me and beg me to help her find Mrs. Collins?”
Even as I said the words, I knew what Denis’s answer would be. “To try again? Ridgley did not supply me with her motives, gentlemen. He neither knew them nor cared. He only described his client.”
“What of the man?” I asked. “The nervous gentleman who took the device to the delivery firm?”
“Ridgley had no idea who he was either. The man picked up the device from Ridgley and paid him the second half of his fee. Ridgley never saw him or the woman again.”
“Did he tell you how much the fee was?”
“One hundred guineas,” Denis said. “Half when Ridgley was hired, half on delivery. The woman counted out the coins readily enough, he said.”
Grenville looked ill. His face had gone gray, his eyes pinched with white. He supplied Marianne with plenty of money these days, pouring cash into her hand almost as quickly as she could spend it.
“He had to have been mistaken,” Grenville said, his voice rasping. “There must be another such woman. Marianne cannot have done this.”
But I saw the worry in his eyes. The description could fit more women than Marianne, true, and another actress could have played the part to throw suspicion on her. If not for the detail of the gown, a unique dress that had been created for her and had debuted to much praise, I would not hesitate. Marianne was quite pleased with that dress, I happened to know, and would not have taken it to a secondhand shop; she was proud she’d sold none of the clothes Grenville had given her yet. But then, a cloth manufacturer might have decided to make a fabric similar to that which the mistress of so popular a man wore; and another modiste could have copied the dress, eager to imitate to please her clients.
“There must be another explanation,” I said.
“Where is Miss Simmons now?” Denis asked.
“In Bath,” Grenville answered. “Oh, dear God, she persuaded me to leave her there.” He sat down, his hands going to his face.
“Then we will return to Bath and find her,” I said. “We will let her defend herself before we condemn her.”
Grenville lifted his head. He drew out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth. “You are right, of course, Lacey. By all means, let us speak to her.”
He surged to his feet again. Then the very fashionable, always correctly courteous Grenville staggered past Brewster and out of the room without a farewell.
I rose. “What of Ridgley?” I asked Denis, who hadn’t moved. “I take it he is dead?”
“He is no longer a threat,” Denis answered. “You would not like anything more I could tell you.”
“He was a cold bastard.”
Denis inclined his head. “He was.” He unlaced his fingers. “I rarely come across a man that evil, but Ridgley certainly was. Most people have some capacity for caring, no matter how otherwise terrible that person might be. Even me.” He gave me a small smile. “But Ridgley had nothing. He was an empty shell. I regret that what he told me is something you do not wish to hear, but I cannot help that. I can only report what I discovered.”
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you for your help.”
He lifted a brow. “That thanks clogged your throat, but I will accept it. Remember—Ridgley spoke no names, only descriptions.”
With that, Denis closed his mouth, waiting for me to go. I gave him a nod and departed the room. I thought about his parting words as I tramped heavily down the stairs, to find that Grenville had gone out into the rain alone without bothering to wait for me or a conveyance.
Chapter Twenty-One
I caught up to Grenville, who was striding hatless through the cold rain—at least he’d let a lackey bundle him into his greatcoat. Denis’s carriage crept along behind me, and I stepped in front of Grenville, herding him back toward it.
“You are the most famous man in Mayfair,” I said. “If anyone sees you charging about like a madman, it will be all over London by this evening. Get in.”
Grenville gazed back at me, unseeing, for a moment. Then he nodded and allowed Denis’s footman to help him into the coach. I climbed in behind him, the warm interior a relief.
“There will be another explanation,” I said as I took the seat opposite him.
Grenville scrubbed his hand through his hair, further mussing what the rain had wet. “Yes, yes, I know that, but it came as a bit of a shock.”
“I assure you, Grenville, if I’d thought Marianne capable of seeking out someone like Ridgley, I would have warned you off her long ago.”
“You did try to warn me off. Remember? You told me to take up with her at my peril.”
r /> “Peril to your heart, I meant. Not to your person, or anyone’s person. But let us think. An actress can make herself resemble whom she pleases, including another actress. Marianne was in the Drury Lane company a long time, and with the strolling players with Mrs. Collins before that. There are plenty of women who would know Marianne well enough to be able to mimic her.”
Grenville’s face had regained some color, but he still breathed hard. The light from the lanterns inside the coach glittered on the rain droplets in his hair. “Yes, I see all that. I beg your pardon; I did not mean to embarrass you. But what about the clothes Ridgley mentioned? That gown was unique.”
“Actresses know about costumes. This woman might have found a fabric that looked similar, or faked it somehow. Ridgley had never met Marianne—the woman would only have to resemble her for a short time. Say this lady wore the distinctive gown, dressed her hair in Marianne’s style, and possibly made sure others saw her going to her meeting with Ridgley. Easy enough to throw away or burn the dress when she finished, redo her hair or get rid of the wig, and no one would be the wiser.”
Grenville drew another breath. “Yes, that makes sense.” He went silent a moment, staring at the rain streaking the windows. “Who would do such a monstrous thing, Lacey?”
“Any number of people, unfortunately. I’d rather ask Marianne herself, though, who she believes capable of pretending to be her.”
I was not certain Donata would be pleased that I wanted to hie quickly back to Bath, but I did—at once. I could reach there far faster than I could send a letter and Marianne could return. If Spendlove or Pomeroy got wind of what Ridgley had told Denis, Marianne was in danger of being arrested. I needed to hear her story and keep her safe.
“We should leave for Bath at once,” I said.
“Indeed.” Grenville turned his head and looked out the window. He looked pale and not happy, as though his motion sickness had come upon him again.
I gave him a warning look. “Do nothing impetuous concerning Marianne until you have spoken to me first. We need to go carefully, and not alert Spendlove.”
He gave me a shaky nod, then a short laugh. “Do you know, Lacey, finally you are learning what it is like for me to deal with you.”
“Amusing,” I said. I knocked on the coach’s roof. Though we’d passed Donata’s door three houses ago, I had the coachman stop to let me down where we were. “I will prepare for the journey. You have Gautier give you a hot bath and plenty of brandy.”
“Do I look that awful?”
He didn’t. Even with the rain and his agitation, Grenville managed to appear flawless. “No, but if you have a bath and brandy, you might go to sleep and return to your rational self when you awake.”
Denis’s footman pulled open the door and eyed me impatiently. I took up my walking stick and climbed down, giving Grenville a brief good-bye.
“You make the devil of a nursemaid, Lacey,” Grenville growled.
I gave him a salute, thanked the footman, and walked through the rain back to Donata’s home.
*** *** ***
Bartholomew wanted to relieve me of my rain-spotted clothes, Barnstable to plop my wet body into the bath, but I did not have the patience. I did, however, stop for my daughter, who emerged from a chamber above as I ran up the stairs.
“Mrs. Lacey is attempting to drown me in garments,” Gabriella said as she met me on the landing. “It is unbelievable how many gowns I must wear in the space of one day.”
I stopped, the mad whirl of the morning slowing to a breath of sweetness. “Mrs. Lacey is an expert on these things,” I said.
“She is indeed. I am not ungrateful; I’m merely uncertain I will be able to concentrate on conversation and manners when I’m worried about rushing off to change clothing for the next event. And if I spend all my time at my toilette, I’ll never have a moment for anything else.”
I gave her a fond smile, my heart warming away from the horror of Ridgley, the shock of his confession, the fear for Marianne. “I quite agree with your dilemma. I too am now required to throw off and put on a new suit as soon as an hour changes.”
Gabriella reached out and patted my arm. “Then we will grow used to it together.”
A wonderful sentiment. Gabriella was relaxing around me. I suddenly wished all my troubles at the bottom of the Thames, with nothing to do but bask in the presence of her. I had so much wasted time to erase.
“Father, I could wish to see Miss Simmons again.” Gabriella cut through my thoughts. “I rather like her. Could we not invite her to dine with us when she returns? Surely it would not be so terrible a thing to have an actress sit at our table. Mrs. Lacey invites actors and actresses to dine, and Lady Aline Carrington invites them to her soirees. She says other ladies of the ton do as well.”
“Very famous actresses,” I said. “And yes, those ladies are quite proudly displayed, sometimes asked to perform. Mrs. Lacey is correct that there would be talk if Marianne came to dinner with us while you are here, but I can convince Lady Aline to invite her to a supper and have us come as well. Lady Aline gets away with much.”
Gabriella listened, intelligence in her brown eyes. “I find it all so very silly.”
“As do I.” I dared rest my hand over hers. “It is a moot question at the moment, in any case, as Marianne is still in Bath.”
“No, she is not,” my daughter astounded me by saying. “No one knows where she it. Mr. Pomeroy came while you were out. Mr. Spendlove arrived with him, but Mrs. Lacey would not allow him the house.” Gabriella’s smile told me Donata had been at her acerbic best. “They were looking for Miss Simmons. Mr. Pomeroy said that the patrollers in Bath sent word that Miss Simmons had disappeared, and they have no idea where she’s gone.”
*** *** ***
I had some idea. At least, I hoped I did. The trouble was, how to reach her hiding place without Spendlove or Pomeroy following?
“Cleverly,” my wife said when I told her of my plans. “Tomorrow night is my first at-home. There will be a crush. You will make certain all the men following you about see you here, then you will leave surreptitiously. Lady Aline would be happy to help, I know. From there you depart London.”
“Grenville will want to come.” If I slipped away and left him behind, he’d be furious.
“Leave Grenville to me. You will travel much more covertly without him. Barnstable will enjoy keeping up the pretense that you are still in the house after you’ve gone, and he will make certain the rest of the staff do as well.”
Donata looked quite eager, and I realized she was enjoying herself.
I touched her cheek. “You are impossibly good to me. Why could I not have married you years ago?”
“Because you were away from England, and I was married to an ogre,” she answered without sentiment. “By the bye, Mr. Pomeroy delighted in hinting you’d tried to hide the fact that you were sharing my bed at the time Mr. Perry met his death, even though it would save you from being tried for his murder. You are a fool sometimes, Gabriel.”
“I am a fool much of the time,” I said. “But I refuse to have Bow Street sniggering, and speaking about you without respect.”
Donata gave me her sharp stare. “Very noble of you. But I will allow them to snigger all they please if it keeps you from the noose.”
*** *** ***
The scheme went as Donata planned. The next evening, the house began to fill, carriages lining up outside the front door to deposit guests dressed in the latest new fashion for the Season, the ladies glittering with jewels every hue of the rainbow.
Grenville arrived, his sangfroid in place. His manners were impeccable, and he engaged his acquaintances in conversation with his usual wit. I saw the tightness about his eyes, however, and the lines around his mouth when he looked at me.
For verisimilitude, Grenville talked as freely to me as ever, letting the crowd know I was still one of his favorites. In private, this afternoon, he’d lost his temper with me.
I’
d thought it only fair to tell him of my plan to search for Marianne. As predicted, Grenville wanted to accompany me, and I had to argue a long while to convince him to remain in London. He at last conceded that staying behind and helping Donata with the pretense that I was still in Town would be better for the purpose. But he was very angry that I would not let him go to Marianne in my place. I tried to explain that the great Grenville could not move about the country with the anonymity I could, and he agreed, but he was still angry.
I made certain to circulate among the guests, which was difficult, as they occupied every inch of the stairs and the foyer, spilling well into the public rooms and even into the garden behind the house, as cold as it was. When parties began to leave, I walked several of them out, waving them off as their carriages pulled away.
At the time arranged with Lady Aline, I slipped away through the dark garden and through a small gate to the mews. Lady Aline’s coachman waited with her landau only a few feet from the gate. I climbed inside on my own and crouched on the floor.
The coachman drove around to South Audley Street, and Bartholomew assisted Lady Aline into the landau. Bartholomew tipped me a wink before he shut the door, and then Lady Aline pulled all the curtains closed.
“This is terribly exciting, Lacey, my boy,” the stout lady said as I eased myself onto the seat and brushed off my trousers. “I haven’t done anything so underhanded since I slipped away from my governess to meet the stable boy and let him kiss me silly. Oh, do not look so surprised. I was a lovely gel when I was seventeen, and I was forward. Quite, quite forward. I pursued gentlemen with ardor until I realized what silly creatures most of them were. I am unmarried by choice, Lacey. Turned down any number of proposals.”
I would have married her in a trice. “It is good of you to help.”
“Only too glad. Never forgive Donata for not allowing me to the wedding, though. Was it splendid? Was she very beautiful?”
“It was,” I said. “And she is.”
“And you are good for her. I see the change in her. She was so very angry at Breckenridge, rot his black heart. She needs someone who likes her and will let her shine. I have faith that you will do it.”