The Humbug Murders (36 page)

You could not protect your lady, but there is still a chance to safeguard her honor. And do tell Mr. Scrooge to join us. He and I have unfinished business. I'm sure he will know of what I speak.

I trust you can find out the where and the when all on your own. As for the how, well . . . as your shoulder can attest, it's not just my wit that's sharp. And that is no humbug.

Though I am.

—An Admirer

“So you weren't involved in these depravities?” demanded Crabapple of Shen.

Shen shook his head. “My only involvement in this putrid web of corruption is the one the killer has clearly already guessed. I loved Nellie. As unrequited as my love was, I adored her like my own. And whatever score the killer had to settle with my pretty pearl, he has decided to extend the suffering to me as well. This letter, it was with that filth.” Shen gestured at the package of photographs. “The meaning is clear: either I go and confront Humbug, or those photos will be shared with vultures like that one.” He nodded towards Dickens.

“Rather think of myself more as a noble eagle, but fair enough,” Dickens agreed.

And now I knew why Shen had come to me. Humbug had left him no choice.

Crabapple handed the note back. “And this is like the one you received last night, Scrooge? Warning that Nellie was in danger?”

I nodded.

“So we're running out of time.”

I studied his face. The man had changed, his usual sneer and cynical squint had gone, replaced with a look of concern. Why was he now, so suddenly, willing to help us? “What game are you playing?”

“No game,” he said. “I've only ever asked you for the truth, Mr. Scrooge. Seems like I finally got it.”

“Then you believe us?” Adelaide asked.

“Insofar as select bits of this mystery, I believe that
you
believe,” he said, “and that's plenty for now. Insofar as the rest, ‘death by the dozens'? I can't ignore a threat like that, even if I don't yet know what it's all about.”

He marched over to Shen and dragged him to his feet, brushing off the Chinaman's jacket and giving him a series of quick slaps across the face.

“Focus, man!” he barked. “This ‘Lady.' You said you recognized her handwriting. Who is she? What do you know of her?”

“An importer, an exporter,” Shen mumbled. “Exotic goods and services. Powerful. And clearly . . . quite mad.”

Crabapple smacked his own forehead. “Have none of you considered that there may not even be a Mr. Smithson? That the ‘chimera' business might all come down to her and the three faces she wears? First as herself, then as ‘The Lady,' and lastly as the always unseen ‘Smithson'? And what was your connection to Rutledge, anyway?”

Shen drew some strength and was about to reply when a sudden pounding slammed against the locked front door, and a note slid under the threshold. Fear simmered up in me again: What word would be scribbled on that paper?

Adelaide ran to the door and picked up the note.

“It is a summons from Lord Dyer. He has been to see my Tom. I
have
to go,” she said, gathering up her coat.

I objected, but Adelaide pushed past me and went for the door. She only stopped when Crabapple said, “Guilfoyle's benefactor? Yeah, I would like to know more of how he figures in all of this. Go on, then. Scrooge, you go with her. None of you should be out and about on your own with this murderer still on the loose. Dickens, Mr. Shen, you two stay right where you are. We have more to discuss. A lot more.”

“You want to know why I lied to protect Lord Dyer,” Adelaide said as she gripped the doorknob. “You're about to get your answer.”

A BLACK CARRIAGE
waited for us at the entrance to the Dyer manor. The white beast harnessed to it—almost invisible against the idyllic winter backdrop—stood calm and confident, snorting steam into the frosty air. Thoughts and questions tumbled one over another in my mind as to Adelaide's connection to a man of such wealth and power.
Powerful enough to settle a man's tax bill
? Adelaide's earlier words resurfaced in my head. My stomach tightened.

“Who's this?” barked the voice of Lord Dyer as our crunching footsteps approached. “Certainly not a chaperone, for you would perish before suffering the protection of someone assigned to you, isn't that so?”

Adelaide said nothing but took my hand and stepped up into the carriage. I followed.

She settled into the leather seat opposite Lord Dyer, and they both watched me as I took my place beside her with an awkward huddle. There was tension between them, between us, and Lord Dyer's eyes narrowed as they bore into me.

“Well?” he said, not for a second easing his gaze. “Our conversation is to be private!”

“Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge,” said Adelaide, “has been much support to me during Tom's ordeal, considering there has been little support to gather from
elsewhere.
” She said the last word with palpable bitterness. “And yes, he
was
sent along by Constable Crabapple to protect me, because for lack of much action on the part of those with power, there is still a murderer on the loose, so it is the wish of the London Metropolitan Police that he remain with me. And I trust him.”

I stared at her. Her audacity towards this man was baffling, quite contrary to her normally beguiling character, but he did not evict her from his carriage as I would have thought. Instead, he sighed, his eyes looked away, and he tapped on the side of the carriage with his cane and called to the driver to take us to the lake.

We trundled into motion, the carriage wheels crunching frozen gravel, and thick snowflakes began to fall. I stared through the carriage window at the bare, white trees, their naked branches reaching towards, pointing at me like bony fingers.

“You're known to me, Mr. Scrooge,” Dyer said at last. “You contributed to that article that wretched Mr. Dickens wrote about our Tom. I wouldn't have expected Adelaide to suffer your presence at all after that, yet here you are, with her staunch defense. But understand, I do not share her affection for you.”

“Understood,” I said. I held my tongue at any more.

“How is he?” Adelaide asked suddenly.

“Thomas? There are no infections,” mumbled Lord Dyer. “He may yet live.”

Adelaide turned her gaze to the passing whiteness outside and released a sigh, breathing a frozen lace across the carriage window. Then she whispered, “Thank you, Father.”

Father
? I stared at Adelaide, whose steady gaze signaled that this was no slip, she had meant for me to know this. Lord Dyer was a marquess, which made Adelaide . . .

“No,” she said bluntly. “I am no lady.” She took a deep breath. “But do allow me to introduce my father, Lord Dyer, Third Marquess of Dyer Haven.”

“And you?” I whispered.

She turned to me, her emerald eyes sparkling. There was some deep look of sadness, but also of pride.

“Miss Adelaide Owen,” she said. A wheel hit a stone in the path and the carriage jumped, I involuntarily reached out for balance, and she grabbed my arm to steady me. “Just that and nothing more.”

“This is not seemly,” barked Lord Dyer. “And it is none of this man's affair. Adelaide, you are not only disclosing your secrets, but mine!”

Adelaide ignored his fuming and took my hand. “When I first came to you, I considered my parentage irrelevant. I made my own way in life through hard work, just like you, Ebenezer, and do not need my place in this world to be defined by the stations of those who brought me into it.”

I shifted in my seat, feeling the warmth of her hands through my leather gloves, the pressure of her fingers against mine. Lord Dyer said nothing, but an air of sadness rose about him.

“Your parents were not married,” I surmised. Lord Dyer twitched and stared out of the window. The implications of illegitimacy rolled in like a white winter storm and crashed into my mind in great drifts.

“My mother raised me and my brother by herself, in the country. For all of Lord Dyer's financial contributions to our life, she had to work hard, endure gossip and prejudice and the toll of two children.” She withdrew her hands and again looked out of the window. “Not that life for me.”

“You were always determined to make your own way, Adelaide,” said Lord Dyer suddenly, his moustache twitching as he pressed his lips together.

“Well, what should I have done?” she said firmly. “You left us to fend for ourselves!”

“What should
I
have done?” her father said, an unexpected passion rising in his voice. “I loved her. Beyond measure, I adored her! We wanted to escape, go away, and forget the world and all its squalor. Deny such mundane things as servants and lords, maids and masters, duty and expectation. How I hated it all, all but her.” The marquess inhaled sharply and cleared his throat, I heard the telltale shake of emotion threatening to upset his lordly façade.

He composed himself. “I was born into a cruel world, Adelaide. Far crueler than the one you were raised to know.” He looked to me and said, “We should continue this privately.”

“No, Father. I promised Mr. Scrooge no more withholding, no more lies.”

“So be it, then.” The ugly look in his eyes signaled that should I breathe a word of this to anyone, particularly a newshound like Dickens, the consequences would be dire indeed.

The carriage ground to a halt under the white and weeping locks of a frozen willow, and I followed Lord Dyer and Adelaide into the snow. An ornate bench, covered in frost, overlooked the frozen lake. The two sat down, but I stood witnessing their exchange.

“It was on this very bench she told me she was expecting you. Twins! A happier moment never occurred to me since.” Lord Dyer reached into his jacket and pulled out a small brown bag. Reaching into it, he gathered a small handful of breadcrumbs and scattered them onto the hardened snow. Two identical robins fluttered down and began pecking.

“My father's advisors made it clear that day. Any public knowledge of illegitimate children would put the family in peril, jeopardize the estate, ultimately damage the credibility of king and country. And for a future marquess to
marry
a handmaid? A terrible ‘accident' would surely have befallen her if we had attempted to elope. What could I do, Adelaide, against the force of such responsibility? But I tried to do well by you, I truly did. Especially when your mother died. How many times did I try to recruit your brother to a better station? I tried to mentor him, to lead him up through business so that he might yet succeed despite his class, but he just
kept on
sabotaging himself. Alcohol. Drugs. Women. Gambling. Time after time, chance after chance. He would not be helped. Didn't I do all for him?”

Adelaide's face reddened with anger. She chanced a look my way, studying my face to ensure that I was fully understanding the scene being performed before me. I was.

Thomas Guilfoyle, “her Tom,” was her twin brother. I had mistaken her familiar love as something very different.

“Of course you did, Father,” she murmured. “You did all you could . . . for
him
! But what for me? What opportunities came my way? I would not have squandered any of it!”

Lord Dyer stared at her, hurt laced across his face. “Oh, Adelaide! Your brother should have been born the girl, and you should have been my son. I always admired your strength. Courage. Thirst for knowledge. But more than anything, so much more attention was lavished on your brother because he needed it. He was weak. But you! Strong! Self-sufficient.”

Adelaide looked down, a tear dripping into her lap.

“And now . . .” Lord Dyer lowered his voice and his head. “I fear I may have ruined it all. One final project I gave him, one last chance that would legitimately give him control of one of the companies. To secure the land for one of the fabric importers in our supply chain, you see. Said he knew of property would put us in a favorable position.”

“Then Piermont and Piermont Acquisitions is one of your companies,” I supplied.

“Many times removed, but yes,” Lord Dyer admitted.

“The owners of all the surrounding properties agreed to sell, but not Fezziwig,” I said. “Not so long as there was breath left in his body. Tell me, Lord Dyer. How go negotiations now? With his widow, Jane?”

Dyer glared at me. “You're every bit the cruel and heartless type I might have expected.”

“Then you deny that the acquisition proceeds apace?”

He hung his head, and Adelaide wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, which began to shake. The robins took flight, soaring back into the willow above us, which rained icy fractals as it was disturbed. I looked at father and daughter, joined in grief and sadness, and at once, as the mist on the frozen lake cleared with a sudden gust of wind, realization dawned.