“I’m going to the British Museum,” I said to our clerk. “Lock up if I’m not back by five-thirty.”
Jenkins’s mind was still back on Sofia Ilyanova. I had broken the news of her unfortunate parenthood.
“I don’t believe it, Mr. L. A girl that pretty can’t be related to a devil like him.”
“A girl cannot help her parentage,” I replied.
“Speaking of females, I forgot to tell you that Mrs. Ashleigh is in town, and she’s none too pleased. You’re to go to Brown’s Hotel as soon as you can to see her.” Our clerk was lank limbed, lank haired, loose jawed, and unsteady on his feet. He’d had a merely passing acquaintance with his straight razor recently and his clothing looked as if he’d slept in them.
“Did she have any message for Barker when he returns?”
“No, sir. Only you.”
I called the Brown to say I was coming and caught a hansom cab to Albemarle Street. The hansom is a modern marvel, the gondola of London, gliding noiselessly upon rubber wheels. It felt an incredible luxury after walking everywhere for the last week. I stretched out on the seat, without the Guv to occupy two thirds of the vehicle, thinking it was hard to believe that I had started the day by being arrested. I read somewhere that testing and licensing of London cabmen was very stringent. They had to know every street and how to get there in the shortest possible time, as well as which roads were being repaired. I relaxed and let my current cabman whisk me to my appointment with Mrs. Ashleigh, while I took a few moments to puzzle over Sofia Ilyanova.
I wasn’t contemplating matrimony, of course, but I had to admit she had a face to look at over the breakfast table every morning. Ivory skin, moonlit hair, and golden eyes lined in black velvet. She’d be worth sweeping the front steps for, or whatever it is that husbands did for their wives these days. But I stopped myself right there, because she was the daughter of Sebastian Nightwine, the most treacherous man in London.
I alighted at Browns’ and even paying the cabman was a delight after having scrimped money for several days. In my clean suit I easily passed inspection by the desk clerk, and after notifying him to ring Mrs. Ashleigh’s room, I buried myself behind the latest edition of The Times. While Barker and I had been occupied, apparently the world continued revolving. There had been a fire in Hammersmith and a rise in the price of corn on the exchange. However, there was no notice that a desperate enquiry agent had just been loosed on unsuspecting London.
“Thomas!” Philippa Ashleigh asked at my elbow. “Have you eaten?”
“Not since last night, ma’am.”
“I think we can dispense with the formalities now. We’ve known each other over a year.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t believe the Guv would approve. You know he is old-fashioned.”
“Old-fashioned,” she repeated, placing the emphasis on the first word rather than the second. Fashioned-forged-if you prefer, in the old ways, with the old tools. I thought it captured his essence very well.
“Where is he, Thomas?”
“I don’t know. He sent me off to the Foreign Office, and then called in an anonymous tip to have me arrested.”
“You must be exhausted and starved. Let’s go in and have tea.”
She led me into the dining room and we were seated. In just a few minutes the waiter had brought us sandwiches of cold tongue, pâté, and cucumber with watercress. He returned with cheese, pickles, and deviled eggs, with a pot of tea. As soon as food was present, my stomach had a kind of spasm from going on so little for so long, and I had to stop myself from cramming all the food in front of me into my mouth at once. Mrs. Ashleigh picked at her food and drank lots of tea and did not make me feel bad for acting gluttonous. The desserts came next: puddings and sweets, and treacle tarts. At some point I stopped myself and gave a relieved sigh.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Certainly. Now, please tell me, coherently and in full sentences, what you and Cyrus have been doing since you ran out of your offices last week.”
It was a challenge, but I rose to it. After I had given her a full summary of our exploits, I couldn’t remember a word I’d actually said, but I knew I had acquitted myself well enough.
“So he is out there somewhere without a penny to his name.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“He sent a message to warn me that Sebastian Nightwine is in London, but actually, I knew that already. He came calling yesterday afternoon.”
“Nightwine came here?”
“No, he came down to Sussex. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was showing Cyrus he could get to me if he wanted to.”
“He didn’t threaten or harm you in any way?”
“We talked for about an hour, that’s all. I have always been able to see through his intrigues. The man hasn’t changed a hair.”
“You mean you know him?”
“Oh, years now. He proposed marriage to me once, but I think it was merely to get at Cyrus. You cannot fathom how deeply the two of them despise each other.”
I shook my head in disbelief. It did make sense, however; they had all known each other in China.
“May I ask how Sebastian Nightwine came to propose to you or would that be impertinent of me?”
“I suppose I should tell you about Colin, my late husband,” she began. “He was an engineer, mostly concerned with bridges and dams. It’s the kind of occupation that will make a fortune in the East. We’d been married five years when he was hired by the government to work in southern China. We bought a house in Canton in the foreign settlement on Shameen Island. It was like a little bit of England; the husbands would go off in the mornings and we wives would pay visits or plan parties or try to stay cool in the unmerciful heat. We were not encouraged to explore the city or encounter the native population, but there was one fellow whom Colin brought home now and again, a Chinese boat captain who carried freight for him on occasion.”
“Shi Shi Ji,” I said, using Barker’s Chinese name. “But I still can’t believe you couldn’t tell he was European.”
“His forehead was shaved up to the crown, a queue hung down his back, and the bottom of his mustache was long and braided. With his dark spectacles, I defy you to have recognized him as a Scotsman, either. He came once a month or so for almost a year, though we rarely spoke. I did not know how well he could speak or understand English, and we really didn’t speak until Colin died.”
“May I ask how your husband was killed?”
“A rock gave way above an area he was surveying. It was dangerous work. That was why they had called on his expertise.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
She looked momentarily brittle and tight, but it passed quickly. Underneath that gentle elegance there was a rod of iron.
“That was a long time ago. Cyrus came to the funeral and stood at the outer edge of the party, dressed in a white tunic as is the Chinese custom. Then he started to come by the estate to do little things, or to make improvements. He was monosyllabic and gruff but I came to rely on him. He took over our garden and grounds but he would never step in the house, not for nearly a year.”
“Why did you stay in China after your husband died?”
“I did not relish returning home and becoming an object of concern to my family and friends. I did not want their pity. Also, I wanted to see that Colin’s work was completed. If I could see that the improvements he had designed actually made a difference to the people there, then he had not died in vain.”
“Of course.”
“Eventually I began to attend social functions again. I was at a gymkhana with some neighbors when I was introduced to Sebastian. I knew right off he was the kind of man who would use a widow as his own personal bank account until she had not twopence to rub together. However, he was attentive. You cannot possibly understand what it is like to live in social seclusion for a year. It felt good to be noticed by a handsome man and for once to be the object of interest in my community.”