Chapter Ten

W akefield had a report for them the next morning on the missing solicitor. "The short version is that he died four years ago. His files were boxed up and sent to his only surviving cousin, a widow who lives in Devon, in Plymouth. It isn't necessarily bad news. If you can find the paperwork that links your father to the investments he made on your father's behalf, you will be able to claim the proceeds."

He handed over the name and last known address of the widow.

He also had news about Thatcher, the man who had fled a couple of weeks ago before he could be apprehended. He had not outpaced his crimes, however. He had been arrested in Oxford after another cheated client recognized him. Since Jowan and Bran had left statements with the magistrate here in London, they would not be needed for any court case, and they'd found their own investors to put the new mine project back on track.

"So, we've succeeded in two of the tasks for which we came to London," Jowan mused. "And I have a plan for the last."

"You've been able to speak with Miss Lind?" Wakefield asked.

"Not precisely," Jowan admitted. "She sent me a message."

Wakefield shifted, a rare sign of unease in a man who was usually highly controlled. "I have not yet finished writing up my report on Miss Lind, or Miss Roskilly, as she was when you knew her. The information is… disturbing. She may well hope for rescue from Coombe—she has made previous attempts to escape. However, it is unlikely she will want to return to Cornwall. She certainly is not the girl you remember."

Jowan fought down the urge to loudly refute Wakefield's point. The man spoke the truth as he saw it, even if the medicine he administered was bitter. "Once she is out of Coombe's hands, we can ask her what she wants."

"She may not know, or she may change her mind," Wakefield warned. "She is an opium user, Sir Jowan. Other things, too. Ether. Alcohol. An eastern drug called hashish. If you know anything about opium eaters, you will know it is a disease with them. It seizes the mind, until, deprived of the drug, the eater will do anything at all for a dose, whether it is immoral or not, illegal, dangerous, or improper. I have heard of rare cases where long-term users break free of the yearning for the drug, but through a long hard path that few can follow."

Jowan swallowed. "She was my father's responsibility," he replied. "He brought Coombe to St Tetha and brokered what I can only call a sale between Coombe and Mrs. Roskilly. I owe Miss Lind a rescue, Wakefield, and whatever help she needs to regain her health, if she chooses to take that path."

If she chose to leave Jowan again, then so be it. What he had just said to Wakefield was the truth, and his own hopes and dreams were none of Wakefield's business nor any of Tamsyn's responsibility.

"You have a plan, you say?" asked Wakefield.

"The beginnings of one," Jowan admitted. "I think our best chance to take her is when Coombe and his acolytes and pet musicians ride in Hyde Park, which they do at least once every week. Miss Lind rides near the rear of the procession, and Coombe near the front. I propose to swoop in on a fast horse, scoop Miss Lind up, and ride away."

He'd only thought as far as the escape. "We will have some kind of a shell game, swapping to another horse, or having several similar horses with riders and pillion passengers, but the real horse will be led out of sight once Miss Lind is in an anonymous carriage. After that—obviously, I will need a place to take her and a plan to prevent Coombe from finding her."

Wakefield nodded. "That could work. And Miss Lind is in favor?"

"Miss Lind suggested it," Jowan insisted, and then honesty forced him to admit, "sort of."

That needed explaining, and Wakefield was highly skeptical. "You are proposing to turn Miss Lind's life upside down based on your interpretation of a ballad," he said. "A ballad about fairies."

"She went to the trouble of sending Jowan the message," Bran pointed out. "Jowan's interpretation makes sense. And we cannot ask her, for Coombe has put guards on her to prevent Jowan from speaking to her."

"In fact, he is keeping her from all of her admirers," Wakefield disclosed. "She is escorted to her performances, kept apart in a guarded room, escorted to the stage, and then taken home immediately after she sings her last song. However, I might have a way." He walked to the door of his study and said a few words to someone in the hall, then resumed his chair.

"I have sent for my wife. If I can be certain that Miss Lind wants this abduction, then I have some ideas about how we might help. You might also ask your friend Lord Andrew Winderfield to help you source the horses. His family has the connections."

A tap on the door was followed by the entry of a pretty woman, neatly dressed as befitted the wife of a successful businessman. The three gentlemen rose, and Wakefield presented Jowan and Bran to Mrs. Wakefield.

Once she was seated, he explained Miss Lind's guards, Jowan's plan, and Wakefield's reservations.

"You are thinking of a maid, David," Mrs. Wakefield said. "It would be best if it was at a home where we have friends. Can you discover Miss Lind's program of engagements?"

"I have a footman who keeps me informed," Jowan said. He listed the commitments for the next three days.

"Lady Hamner," Mrs. Wakefield decided. "She is a family connection. That gives us two days to prepare. I will send her a note and ask for a few minutes to explain what we need."

Bran had an objection. "Miss Lind travels with her own maid."

That was true. If Mrs. Wakefield planned to use the private moments between a lady and her maid, the other maid would be a hindrance.

"So, we need to manufacture an errand for the maid. I shall think of something, Sir Jowan. Leave it to me. David, I take it you want at least an initial indication of whether Miss Lind objects to going back to Cornwall since that would certainly put a spoke in any attempt by Coombe to retrieve her."

Jowan brightened, but Wakefield grimaced. "It might not serve. Coombe's family seat is in Devon. East Devon, but ask, by all means. Meanwhile, Sir Jowan, Mr. Hughes, read the reports. I will send you the one on Miss Lind by tomorrow morning."

"And we shall speak with Drew," Bran said.

*

Another evening, another concert. They merged into one another, distinguished only by the color of the parlor Tammie was given for her dressing room, and the quality of the supper supplied to her, and sometimes to her minders.

Tonight had another feature—the accident on the way in, when a clumsy maid spilled a huge vat of punch all over poor Daisy. Full of apologies, the housekeeper sent Daisy off with three maids to have a bath and change.

Tammie assured the housekeeper that she could manage without her maid, but the housekeeper insisted, so here Tammie was, waiting for the substitute maid to bring her something to drink.

At least, if the household truly was sorry about the accident, Tammie and her entourage might receive decent refreshments.

A tap on the door proved to be the substitute maid and a footman, both with trays. And yes, the supper looked sumptuous. The maid's tray held a teapot, a cup, a glass, and a plate of mixed savories and sweet tarts and cakes. The footman carried two jugs, three glasses, and plates piled high with more savories and cake.

"Ale and cider," he said, cheerfully, as he put the tray on a table on the other side of the room, near Tammie's minders. "Let Prue know if you need anything else." He nodded to the maid and left.

The maid had put her tray on a side table next to Tammie. "Will you have your tea now, Miss Lind?" she asked in a low voice, "or would you prefer lemonade first?"

"Tea, please," Tammie told her. "Prue, is it?"

Prue nodded and bent to the teapot. "Milk, Miss? Or cream?" she asked, as her eyes slid towards Tammie's minders, who were fully focused on their tray. Without changing her tone or volume, she added, "Sir Jowan plans to abduct you when you are riding in the park with Lord Coombe and his entourage. Do you take sugar, Miss Lind?"

Tammie blinked as she attempted to keep her expression from changing. If this was a hallucination, it was the strangest she had ever had. "Did you just say…?"

"That Sir Jowan plans to abduct you? Yes. He has asked his friends for help. They wish to check that you are willing."

That was surprisingly logical for a hallucination. "Willing and eager," Tammie assured the maid.

The maid was adding cream and sugar to the tea. Tammie realized she had pointed to them without thinking about it. "May I make you up a plate, Miss?" asked the maid. "He will take you somewhere safe. London? Or Cornwall? Or somewhere else?"

Does he not want me in Cornwall? "I long for Cornwall," Tammie insisted. The maid's hands moved swiftly to put a selection of edibles on a pretty china plate with the same pattern as the cup and saucer.

Tammie took a sip of the tea as the maid said, "I shall pass those messages on, Miss Lind."

At that moment, Guy's muscle called out, "What are you about, Prue or whatever your name is? No gossiping with Miss Lind. She is preparing to sing."

"Is there anything else I can help you with, Miss Lind?" Prue said, ignoring the man as if he had said nothing.

"Thank you, no. I shall sip my tea and rest. Perhaps, if Daisy is not back in time to do my hair, I might need you. Tell Jowan's friends that I am anxious to escape, and I want to go home to Cornwall."

"I shall, Miss Lind."

The maid moved to a chair a few yards away and the muscle relaxed. But when the footmen started to play cards, Tammie beckoned the maid. "Put up the dressing screen and begin on my hair, please, Prue."

The muscle looked up and then returned to watching the card game. As soon as Prue was near enough, she told Tammie, "Wear a cape that is easily given to a decoy."

Tammie had something she needed to say, too. "Tell Jowan not to listen to me. When I beg for the drugs, he must not listen. He must refuse."

The door opened, and in came Daisy. Prue had time to say, "I will tell him," and then Daisy sent her away and took over. Tammie let her grumble about the accident and praise the treatment she received afterward. "I would have been back earlier, Miss, but her ladyship herself came to tell me how sorry she was, and she kept me talking. I hope you didn't mind, Miss. It was so nice of her, and I did not wish to offend."

This had been a very efficient operation, Tammie realized. She wondered if Guy knew that Jowan had such useful and clever friends. Well. He wouldn't learn it from her.