Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

DANIEL AND HIS GANG

T he note from Mr. Trolley came while he was getting dressed the next morning. Lewis smiled as he accepted the note from Lindsay. His letter opener was in Daniel's room. He didn't bother to retrieve it but slid his finger under the thick seal.

He scanned it quickly, then as anger surged through him, he scrunched the paper in his hand and then threw it across the room.

"Bloody Hell!" he ground out from between clenched teeth.

Mr. Suthers did not take his load to Cambridge yesterday. He was nowhere to be found.

"Did you say something, Mr. Martin?" Lindsay asked.

Lewis shook his head to clear it. "My apologies, Lindsay. The man who injured Lady Guinevere has eluded capture," he said grimly.

"Oh, no, Mr. Martin! What will you do now?"

"Find him!" he vowed. Then he remembered his promise to Daniel. "— after I have breakfast with Daniel."

Lewis rattled down the stairs to the house's small dining room on the ground floor. Daniel was before him, digging into a hearty plate of eggs and ham.

"Now that you are up, dressed, and moving around, how are the ribs?" Lewis asked, as he sat down and shook out his napkin.

"Wrapped too tight," Daniel complained. "I can't breathe."

"Next time you see the doctor, ask him if they can be loosened."

"But I can't breathe now!" he complained.

"They won't hurt if you sit or lie quietly. You need more breath to move."

"I had to move to come downstairs," he said.

"Yes," Lewis said. He took a sip of coffee. "But you're not supposed to do much more moving than that."

"What are you doing today?" Daniel asked.

"I'm going to Malmsby House to discuss with the duke everything I learned yesterday."

"And court Lady Guinevere a bit," Daniel said slyly.

"Daniel. I can't court Lady Guinevere, so stop the teasing," Lewis said severely.

"Why not? You're a man and she's a woman."

"It isn't that simple in our society," Lewis said.

"Well, it should be," Daniel declared.

"Besides, she doesn't like men shorter than she."

Daniel made a rude noise. "That's just her way to keep the rakes and rogues away. It's easy to say."

"What makes you think you are an expert on women?"

"Livin' and watchin'," he said sagely.

"Well, get your ideas of Lady Guinevere and myself out of your head. It is not going to happen. Right now I have a responsibility to her protection, and that I will take seriously. Nothing else."

" Hmph . Well, I'm done. Can I go to the library and spend time there today?"

"Yes. That is a perfect place for you to relax."

"'Bye," Daniel said crisply, then stood straight and walked slowly out of the room.

Wednesday morning, snow flurries swirled through the misty, pale-gray air, melting when they touched the ground. Lewis pulled his gloves on when he stepped out of his house. He wondered how hard it would be to find a hack this morning. It seemed like the least change in the weather and all hacks disappeared. He walked down the street to the next block. Luckily, a hack was discharging a passenger two houses down. Lewis hailed the jarvey.

"Where to?" the man asked over his shoulder as Lewis opened the carriage door.

"Malmsby House," Lewis said shortly, his mind full of thoughts of Freddie Suthers and where he might be. But the closer the carriage came to Malmsby House, the more Lewis's thoughts shifted to Lady Guinevere.

Yesterday he'd allowed his emotions to surface. That was not typical for him. He could not afford to lay himself bare in that way, not when he knew he was not a viable suitor for Lady Guinevere— despite Daniel's assertions to the contrary.

He'd been caught by a pretty face with a sense of humor. A rare combination, and he had allowed the novelty to overtake him.

He breathed in deeply, his exhale a white cloud.

He could admire her— and should! Everyone who met her should admire her, admire her for her intelligence, her talent, her daring, and her giving heart. But admiration drew the line.

He needed to do a better job of keeping an emotional distance from her. If he did not, he could embarrass her and that could drive a wedge into their friendship, splitting it apart. Yesterday, news of the attack on her caught him off-guard. He needed to be sure he wouldn't react in that way again.

By the time the carriage stopped in front of Malmsby House, Lewis thought he had himself well in hand and his thoughts had returned to the mysteries before him. Stephen opened the grand front door. "They're in the gold parlor, Mr. Martin," the footman said as he took his winter outerwear.

"They?"

"The family, and Lord Soothcoor. Follow me, please."

Stephen led Lewis up the stairs to the first-floor parlor. Lady Guinevere must be feeling better, Lewis thought. He was relieved to hear she was not confined to her bed.

The footman opened the white double doors and stentoriously announced: "Mr. Martin."

Lewis's lips quirked sideways at Stephen's loud, formal announcement. But it did cause everyone to look toward the door.

"Mr. Martin! Good, you are here," declared the duke.

Lewis bowed. "Your Grace." He turned to the dowager duchess and bowed to her and then Lord Soothcoor.

"We were just discussing the different stories heard from Miss and Mrs. Southerland."

"You have discovered discrepancies? I have more to tell you," Lewis said, as he walked further into the room. Lady Guinevere was reclining on a blue-and-gold sofa with a gold shawl draped over her. "Lady Guinevere, may I say you are looking better today," Lewis said formally, bowing in her direction.

"Thank you, Mr. Martin. I feel better," she said with a radiant smile.

Lewis nodded curtly, his expression a studied neutrality, and deliberately took a seat far from her. He turned his attention to Lord Soothcoor. "My lord, the account of how Miss Southerland came to be the matron of Mrs. Southerland's House for Unfortunate Women that you related to me on Monday evening does not match the account she related to Lady Guinevere and me."

"So Lady Guinevere told to us."

"And the story of Mrs. Southerland's daughter, Alice, does not match the story Mrs. Southerland related to me, last summer when I went to the charity house to meet her," stated the dowager duchess.

"In what way," Lewis asked.

"She said Alice was her niece, not her daughter. Said she is the base-born child of Miss Southerland."

Gwinnie held her hands to her head. "Even if I didn't have a headache still, this would be enough to give me a headache. Why all the conflicting stories?" she asked.

Lewis laughed harshly. "There is more to add to the pile of lies and mystery. I went to the Old Bailey yesterday to look up the records from those robberies and when Miss Alice Southerland was charged. The record shows others providing testimony at that time were Miss Southerland, Derek Southerland, and Freddie Suthers— Lady Guinevere's attacker. The charges against Miss Alice Southerland were dismissed. She was neither transported nor sent to prison."

"What?" said Lady Guinevere.

"Why all the lies?" the Duchess asked.

Lewis shook his head. "I also looked up the death record for Derek Southerland. He didn't die in a stable accident. He was murdered. With a pitchfork to his neck, by the angle, probably by someone shorter than him."

"Do we know how tall he was?"

"No. But you haven't heard the worst yet," Lewis said. He took in a deep breath and let it out forcefully. "I'm sorry, but Trolley didn't capture Suthers. He is somewhere at large, most likely in London." He hung his head, looking at the floor, then raised it.

The duke leaned back in his armchair, crossing one leg over the other. "Somehow, I am not surprised," he said, his dark brows pulling together.

"Trolley said in his note to me that several agents are out looking for him. They had a printing plate made from Robbie Gilgorn's drawing and are passing out flyers."

"And when does that ever work?" the duke asked.

Lewis shrugged. "You are correct, Your Grace. It is a dubious road to take; however, at the moment it is the only one we have."

"What do we do about Miss Southerland?" Gwinnie asked. "I don't feel comfortable leaving her in charge of the charity."

Soothcoor turned toward her. "Why? Granted we have determined she is a liar, but it appears Mrs. Southerland may have been one as well and she ran the charity."

"When we were there, the women looked frightened and Mrs. Alberts and Miss Wooler said she was a bit of a martinet, tending to want to run the house like Magdalen Hospital, very rigid."

"Couldn't that be from lack of knowledge?"

"Yes, but if she was as close to Mrs. Southerland as she led you to believe, wouldn't she have known how the house was conducted?"

Soothcoor nodded. "You are right. I fear I am still looking for easy answers."

"I think Sarah Knolls should visit her today," Gwinnie suggested.

"No," said the duke. "You are still recovering from a head injury."

Gwinnie glared at her father. "I have a headache no worse than any other headache. You are overreacting to the bruise on my face."

"No, I am a father looking to protect his daughter from any more harm!" refuted the duke.

Gwinnie looked like she wanted to rebut his caring. However, she was lucky to have a father who cared when so many women did not.

"Mr. Martin! Mr. Martin!" they heard a man yelling from downstairs.

"Sir, please!" Stephen responded.

"I've got to speak with Mr. Martin!"

"That's my man's voice," Lewis said. He rose from his chair and quickly went to the door and opened it. He looked down the stairs.

He saw Mr. Lindsay shake off Stephen's hold. But Mr. Cott was coming to aid Stephen, his typically pleasant expression one of a man set to pummel someone out of existence.

"Mr. Lindsay, stop!" called out Lewis. "Stay where you are a moment— Mr. Cott, Stephen, it is all right. Mr. Lindsay works for me," he said in a calming voice.

Mr. Cott trembled as he physically shook off the intruder alert.

"Mr. Lindsay, what's the emergency?" Lewis asked.

Mr. Lindsay ran up the stairs to Lewis. "It's young Daniel, sir. He's cut off the rib wrapping, dressed, and nipped out of the house. I tried to stop him, but he was too fast. He said to tell you he'd send word when his gang found Mr. Suthers."

Gwinnie and the duke appeared at the open parlor door. "What happened?" boomed the duke's voice.

Lewis turned to look up at them. "Daniel has removed his rib bandages and has taken it upon himself to find Mr. Suthers. I must go," he said harshly.

Gwinnie ran down the steps. "If he does find Mr. Suthers, what shall we do if he comes here looking for you?"

"Lock him up, tie him up, or give him enough laudanum to put a horse to sleep, just see he doesn't leave!" he said grimly. He started to go down the stairs with Mr. Lindsay.

"Do you know where he would go?" the duke asked.

"Stephen, my coat, please— I believe so," he said, turning back to the duke. "He's gone to rally the mudlarks."

"But they wouldn't be down by the Thames in this weather, would they?" Gwinnie asked.

"No, but they've made friends with some of the longshoremen, and at this time of year can gather in one of the warehouses, generally one of the Partridge's warehouses. Excuse me, I must go," Lewis said. He thanked Stephen for his coat and hat. He went out the door while still putting his coat on.

Daniel and his mudlark gang had been useful eyes and ears in the city. They helped Lewis on numerous occasions track down stolen goods, and even find Lord Soothcoor's nephew after he'd been kidnapped and sold to a chimney sweep.

Daniel, as the leader of the gang, was uncannily smart. His intelligence and leadership skills were two reasons why Lewis decided to foster Daniel. Daniel's mother had been grateful, for that meant she had one less mouth to feed. She was a proud woman and would not let Lewis pay her what Daniel brought in from his street activities; however, Lewis found ways to gift her the items she needed without coins changing hands.

But his young foster— for all his intelligence— was also impetuous. Lewis felt he should have anticipated this behavior from Daniel and done something more to warn him against removing his chest wrappings and warn Mr. Lindsay and Mrs. Fullerton against Daniel's impetuousness. But it might not have mattered. Once Daniel learned Lady Guinevere had been injured by this man, he would move heaven and hell to see him arrested. He adored Lady Guinevere.

As he rode in the hackney carriage toward the docks, Lewis admitted he did, too. He had to sit across the parlor from her and work to keep his expression neutral. When Mr. Suthers was captured, he would have to tell the duke he could no longer look out for Lady Guinevere. Hopefully, he would keep Mr. Cott employed and that man could take the chore. Lewis didn't feel he could do so any longer without revealing his feelings for Guinevere, to the embarrassment of himself and the lady.

He had the jarvey set him down at the East India docks. He thought the gang might be at the Partridge Warehouses, purchased last year from Waddley Spice and Tea Company. The former owners of the warehouses had negotiated an agreement with the Partridge family; they would provide a safe corner of their dock warehouses to the mudlarks for their help in finding Lord Soothcoor's nephew.

He opened the side door to the warehouse and climbed the stairs to the storage floor. Five boys jumped up when they heard him, their expressions anxious. When they saw who was there, they relaxed again. Lewis did not see Daniel among them.

"Have any of you seen Dan Wright, today?" he asked, using the name he used among his friends.

"No, sar," one boy said.

"Hain't he away at that fancy skool?" another said.

"Not at the moment." Lewis admitted. He took off his hat and ran a gloved hand through his hair. He thought for sure this would be where Daniel would come.

"Listen, if you see him, tell him to come to Malmsby House. It is urgent that he do so," Lucas said. "Do you know of any other place he might go? He's looking for a man who hurt Lady Guinevere. I thought he might come for your assistance."

"He hain't been 'ere an' hain't arsked fer 'elp. But I'd 'elp."

The other boys nodded and murmured agreement.

"Thank you," Lewis said. He put his hat back on his head. Where could Daniel be? Lewis decided to head for the rookeries, as that was the type of place Mr. Suthers would likely hide out. Easy to get lost and forgotten there. Lewis had some resources in the area as well that might help him for a few coins.

A little over an hour later, Lewis circled back to the warehouses to see if Daniel had showed up. He'd had no luck in the rookeries with any of his informants. This time there was only one boy upstairs in the warehouse, the youngest of the gang, a dark-haired child with soulful eyes. And he was waiting for him.

"Mr. Martin!" he cried out, surging to his feet. "Dan said as 'ow you'd return. Said I was ta say—" His expression grew serious. He held up his hand and pushed up one finger. "Soothcoor 'ouse." Second finger. "'Round back." Third finger up. "Servant's door," he finished, then grinned, flashing missing teeth, obviously proud to remember what he was to say.

"Soothcoor Mansion!"

"Aye sar. That's wot he say."

"Thank you, lad. Here—" he pulled a coin out of his pocket and handed it to the boy, then ran down the stairs.