Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

It was late afternoon when they crawled out of bed, dressed, and began the half-mile walk to Emily's house on Great Eastcheap. Lovemaking had left them exhausted and sated to their bones, but Eleanor wanted the exercise.

"My head throbs a little, and exertion is good for the blood."

Theo regarded her with some amusement. "After our romp in bed, I imagine your blood was coursing faster than the Rhine." He brushed her hip with his hand, relishing her little shiver.

A pretty blush stained her cheeks. "I hadn't expected it to be so vigorous. Lady Mulberry said she often naps during her husband's conjugal visits."

Theo laughed. "Do ladies tell their modistes all their personal secrets?" He reached for her hand, wrapping it around his arm as they walked. Since leaving the shop, she seemed unsure whether to touch him.

He couldn't get enough of her .

"Yes, mostly tales of how they avoid marital relations. One lady, who shall remain nameless, drinks a tincture to bring on nausea."

He sensed her relaxing now and asked the question they had been avoiding. "Do you regret what happened between us earlier?"

Despite the crowded pavement, she brought him to a halt on Watling Street. "Don't feel guilty. I seduced you." She looked at him as if remembering the pleasure they'd shared. "You didn't hurl me over your shoulder and throw me onto the bed."

"I can play the Neanderthal if you'd prefer, though I rather like it when you ravish me." A man knew a lady desired him when she couldn't keep her hands to herself. "Next time, I shall act the scoundrel."

She bit down on her lip. "There'll be a next time?"

"We're lovers, Eleanor. I'm yours until you tire of me."

A long sigh escaped her. "I have spent my whole life planning for the future. Spent every day fulfilling my parents' dream. There's no need for us to think beyond today."

As the only brother left keeping Aaron company, he should have felt relieved. Yet he experienced an odd tug of regret.

"Now, let us concentrate on the case," she said, gripping his arm as they walked. "Mr Daventry will expect an update tomorrow."

Based on the evidence, there was only one suspect. "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say the man Emily lives with is the beast who attacked you in the yard. They wanted you out of the way so they could steal your supplies. "

Eleanor was quick to make excuses for her seamstress. "I would have noticed if bolts of material had gone missing. And I had no reason to doubt Emily's loyalty."

"When did you last take an inventory of your stock?"

She muttered to herself while trying to remember. "A while ago. I've been busy and never needed to do more than a rough count."

He paused, unsure whether to tell her what he'd found, but they had made a pact to be truthful. "Gibbs said Emily came late at night and tried to unlock the door. She ran away before he had time to question her. And according to your ledger, you should have four silver hat pins in your cabinet. I could only find three."

"What?" The word carried the weight of surprise and the pain of betrayal. "Are you sure?"

"I'm certain." He'd hurt her once before and wouldn't deliver upsetting news without justification. "If I'm right, we will have the culprit in custody before nightfall."

A flicker of dread shot through him. It wasn't that he enjoyed playing the detective, but he enjoyed spending time in her company. And something told him that solving her problems wouldn't be that simple.

Eleanor spent the rest of the journey trying to find a valid reason for Emily's duplicity. "She's kind and as gentle as a lamb. I'm sure there'll be a valid reason for her actions."

Theo smiled to himself. Eleanor Darrow had a good heart. She did not belittle others—only Mrs Dunwoody, but he was grateful for that. She liked to believe the best in people. One would think a woman who had never felt loved would be bitter.

"I hope you're right," he said, fearing how she would cope with more bad news. Emily would not have stolen the silk if he had not taken the sewing box. "You do not deserve to suffer."

"My father would disagree," was her sad response.

The narrow terrace house on Great Eastcheap did not look like a slum or a den for thieves. The windows were clean, the door newly painted. A swift rap on the polished brass knocker yielded no response. Despite further attempts to rouse the occupants, no one came to the door.

In the street, an older boy stopped chasing a stray dog and called to them. "There ain't no one home. For a penny, I can tell you where to find them. Who you looking for? Mr Rogers? Emily?"

Theo considered the boy's torn trousers. He drew a sovereign from his waistcoat pocket and twirled it around his fingers. "Are they the only people who live here?"

"No." The boy stared at the gold coin as if it were a piece of plum pie. "Mrs Rogers cooks and cleans for the vicar of St Clement's and won't be home for hours. You'll find Jack Rogers at the Red Lion down Billingsgate docks." Disdain coated his words. "He won't be home till they throw him out."

"Where might we find Emily?" Eleanor said.

The boy held out his grubby hand. "Cross my palm, and I'll tell you what I heard this morning."

"I'll chase you if you run," Theo warned before dropping the coin into the child's hand. "What did you hear this morning?"

Clutching the sovereign as one did their purse in Covent Garden, the boy said, "He took Emily with him, told her she can't come home until she's earned two shillings. Said she's a burden, and he'll put her out on the street if she ain't found a job by Monday. "

Theo glanced at Eleanor. Her lips were pressed into a solemn line, and her eyes carried a haunted look as if disturbed by ghosts from the past.

She gulped before speaking. "I understand the pressure to please one's kin. Is he hurting Emily? Is he forcing her to do criminal things against her will?"

The boy shrugged. "He don't care what she does as long as she pays her way. He treats her no better than his mangy dog. Says they're both pains in the rear."

Lining the boy's palm with another coin, Theo sought to clarify an important point. "Are they related? We were told Emily's parents were dead."

Beaming like he'd been touched by Midas, the lad said, "The other Mr Rogers drowned and left the house to his brother. Jack Rogers moved here a year ago with his wife."

"What about Emily's mother?" Eleanor's tone carried a desperation Theo didn't quite understand.

Glancing over his shoulder, the lad lowered his voice. "Mrs Crane said Ivy went off with the captain of a merchant ship when Emily was eight. She came back but died of a fever five years ago."

Eleanor paled. "Ivy?" The tremble in her voice mirrored the panic evident beneath her pretty visage. "Ivy was Emily's mother's name?"

The answer was a curt nod. "Mrs Crane said the name suited her, said she clung to any man with two legs and would choke the life out of him if she could."

Confused about the relevance and why Eleanor inhaled sharply, Theo suggested they visit the Red Lion to confirm the facts. "We must speak to Emily and her uncle."

"Happen you've got a death wish, mister." The boy sized Theo's muscular frame. "Rogers has the devil in him when he's had a skinful of rum."

"I can rouse the devil without downing liquor." Knowing the boy would welcome another coin, Theo made a request. "Should you see anything untoward at the Rogers' house, send word to Miss Darrow's shop in New Bridge Street. Should the news prove accurate, I'll reward you for your time and trouble."

Hope shone in the lad's eyes like a lone star in the darkness. "You've a kind heart, mister. Happen the Lord will send a chariot to take you to the pearly gates."

"Not everyone would agree," Theo said. Some lords called him the devil's spawn. Some said his heart was as black as coal dust. He handed the boy his calling card. "In case anyone should question how you came by the sovereigns."

They left Eastcheap and headed towards Billingsgate.

Eleanor hugged Theo's arm and walked as if swamped by the weight of a burden. Each trudge seemed an effort. What had brought about this melancholic mood? Her spirits flagged at the mention of the name Ivy.

"Perhaps you should tell me what's wrong before we find Emily." He felt her body shiver against his. "Is it that Emily lied about her parents?"

Eleanor took a deep breath, but her voice quivered when she said, "It's probably nothing more than a coincidence. My mother was called Ivy. It's funny how something as simple as a name can stir painful memories."

Not just a name. The catch of sunlight in golden hair often brought his mother's image crashing into his mind. The smell of violets tugged at his heart. He could not eat a macaroon without seeing her popping one into her mouth. The memories were few but frequent. A bittersweet pill that was hard to swallow.

Eleanor was not so fortunate.

"Doubtless you feel responsible for Emily. You may see something of yourself in her. Her skill as a seamstress. Her troubled family life."

"Emily has suffered far more than I have. She lost her mother twice. I wish she had spoken to me about it. I understand how grief can rule one's life."

They walked in silence, past the Monument and the church of St Magnus, towards the Red Lion tavern. The hanging sign creaked back and forth in the wind like an omen warning them away. One did not enter a public house full of drunkards and hurl accusations.

"We'll sit and order drinks. Hopefully, Emily will serve us." Theo stopped outside the oak door and faced her. It was barely five o'clock, yet the noise of rowdy conversation and boisterous song spilled onto the street. "Promise me something."

She blinked in surprise. "Anything."

The answer sent his mind spinning in a different direction, but their lives depended upon focusing on the task. "Should there be an altercation, you must consider your own safety, not mine."

A frown marred her brow. "I would rather meet my maker than see you hurt because of me. Should we encounter trouble, we will deal with it together."

Most men would stamp their feet in protest, their tempers frayed, eyes wide with alarm. Yet he understood the need to fight for one's survival. He didn't think she was foolish, just wonderful and brave.

"Promise me something else," he said, stroking her arm .

"Yes?"

"If you hit anyone, tuck your thumb over your middle finger when making a fist." He demonstrated. "I don't want you to break your hand."

Her mouth curled into a smile, her eyes sparkling with an irresistible blend of mischief and determination. "If only I had an iron skillet. There's no danger of breaking one of those."

In awe of her resilience, he cupped her cheek. "Once we've gained a confession and this is over, I shall take you to the Olympic to watch Madame Vestris' parody of Macbeth. Instead of witches, Macbeth stumbles upon gossiping matrons."

"Does one go by the name Mrs Dunwoody?"

"I hope not. The matron enjoys predicting my downfall, and the witches' prophecies tend to come true."

They laughed again.

Now she was more at ease Theo cricked his neck, straightened his spine and led Eleanor into the Red Lion tavern.

Three unkempt sailors occupied the first table, clouding the air with pipe smoke. Their tanned, leathery skin suggested they'd returned from the West Indies, not a port in Hamburg or Rotterdam. The men watched Eleanor as if starved of female company.

More men stood around the oak counter, a distinct odour of fish wafting from the vicinity. An older fellow used his tankard to keep a map open on the table next to the hearth.

Theo met the landlord's gaze and gestured to an empty table by the bow window. They'd barely sat down when a petite woman with auburn hair hurried towards them, wiping her hands on her pinny .

"What can I get for you good folks?" Emily said, not bothering to look at them properly until Eleanor whispered her name.

"Emily." Eleanor glanced covertly around the taproom. "Is your uncle here? We were told we could find you both at the Red Lion."

"Miss Darrow," Emily said just as quietly. She stiffened as if to move might alert Satan's minion. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. We're leading an investigation into a theft at my shop." Speaking from her head, not her heart, Eleanor mentioned the Home Secretary. "I'm sorry, but we've come to arrest you for stealing a bolt of silk and a silver hat pin. You need to come to Bow Street and answer our questions."

"Bow Street?" Emily's chin hit the floor. The flare of guilt in her eyes confirmed her motives were immoral. "Please, Miss Darrow. Whatever I've done, it ain't my fault." Tears filled the young woman's eyes. "I had no choice."

Eleanor's shoulders sagged with the weight of betrayal. "I trusted you. I tried to convince Mr Chance that he was mistaken. You've made me look a fool. You lied, lied about your parents. We know about Ivy."

Emily's knees buckled, and she grabbed the chair rail for support. "Who told you about Ivy? No one knows but Uncle Jack. Did he visit you? Did he break his promise? Did he tell you the secret?"

Eleanor looked baffled. "What secret?"

Theo intervened. "We seem to be at cross purposes. Why would Miss Darrow be interested in a secret about your mother? "

The woman stared at him like she had nothing in her head but straw. Her mouth gaped, her breath falling in ragged pants. "You said you knew about Ivy."

"We know she was not the perfect mother," Eleanor explained.

"Emily!" the landlord called from behind the oak counter. "What do these fine people want to drink?"

They ordered ale.

Emily hurried away and returned with two mugs. Her hands shook as she placed them on the crude table. "We can't talk here. Don't arrest me, miss. I'll pay for the silk I took. A shilling a week once I find work as a seamstress. Now you've changed the locks, he'll look for other ways to line his purse."

"You're referring to your uncle?" Theo's blood simmered. He despised men who used children and women to do wicked deeds.

"Don't look, but he's sitting at the table behind me. The man with the red waistcoat who thinks he's a gent. Down your drinks and leave. He likes to start trouble when he's pickled."

Theo did look.

Rogers had sunken eyes and a perpetual sneer that showed his crooked teeth. His bloated belly was incongruous with his thin frame. He had a cruel glint in his eyes, typical of most bullies.

"Perhaps I might persuade him to find employment," Theo said through gritted teeth. "A legitimate way to fill his coffers."

Emily clutched her chest. "No, sir. Best you leave now. I'll come to the shop tomorrow while I'm out looking for work. I'll find the funds to pay for what he took. I swear. "

Eleanor did not try to placate her and seemed determined to get answers. "Were you hiding at the shop the other day? Did you push me down the stairs, fearing I'd discover what you'd stolen?"

"Push you down the stairs? Good heavens, no." Emily's brow furrowed. "I could never hurt you, Miss Darrow. You're the only person who's ever believed in me."

"Yet you stole from me the minute I turned my back."

"It weren't my fault. He made me do it. I told him there'd been thieves in the shop and it was in a dreadful state. He said no one would know if we helped ourself to a few things."

Theo made to stand, but Eleanor touched his arm to stall him. "Wait. We'll tackle Mr Rogers in a moment." Her gaze sharpened on Emily. "You came to steal the silk at dawn. Hours after the incident. How did you know what had happened at the shop?"

Theo watched Emily intently, looking for signs of discomfort or anything that suggested she was about to lie. She seemed calm and rational.

"Uncle Jack sent me to beg for more work," Emily uttered. "He said I wasn't to come home until you'd agreed. I saw the mess when I arrived, and ran home and told him."

Theo wondered why she'd not called a constable, but after taking a deep breath, Emily answered the question.

"I was too scared to fetch a watchman in case he thought I'd done it. Then Uncle Jack made me return with the cart and take the silk. When Mr Franklin saw me out his window, my uncle said it would look like I was saving your stock."

Indeed, Eleanor may have been none the wiser had the silversmith not kept a close watch on the street.

"It's time I had a word with Uncle Jack." Theo spoke loud enough for the buffoon to hear. There'd be hell to pay if Jack had attacked Eleanor in the yard.

"Please don't," Emily begged.

But Uncle Jack pushed out of the seat and strode towards them, swaying like he was on deck in a storm. "They pay the girl to serve, not to keep you entertained."

Some syllables were slurred, and his pronunciation was anything but precise. He reminded Theo of his father. A pathetic fool who thought gambling and liquor could solve life's problems.

"This is Miss Darrow," Emily blurted. "She's come to offer me more work. Says I can have two full days next week."

Jack looked at Eleanor, his beady eyes narrowing. "So you're the dressmaker Emily's so fond of. My niece thinks the sun shines out of your arse, but I reckon?—"

Theo shot to his feet. "You'll mind your tone and language, or else I'll wrap your tongue around your scrawny neck."

Jack's head pitched left, then right. "What did you say?"

"I said I'll knock your crooked teeth down your throat." Theo rounded the table, hoping the fool would throw a punch. "Then I'll have you arrested for theft. You stole silk and a silver hat pin from Miss Darrow's shop. We have a witness statement placing you at the scene."

Jack laughed, then burped, releasing a waft of rum. "I ain't stolen a thing. I went to the shop with Emily because she had to collect work to bring home. As far as I know, the silk is in her room."

Eleanor stood, keen to join the fray. "You sold the silk, or did you force Emily to do that too? I suspect her father is turning in his grave, angered by your mistreatment. I'll be keen to hear what your wife says on the matter."

That's when the drink got the better of Jack, and he raised his clenched fist. "You keep my Daisy out of this. If you?—"

Theo grabbed the drunkard's arm and twisted it behind his back. "I've warned you once. Let's take this conversation outside."

Men at the bar stared.

One stepped forward, debating whether to intervene.

A scuffle ensued as Jack tried to tug his arm free. He was in no shape to fight and fell on his backside when Theo released him.

Much to Theo's horror, Eleanor rushed over, planting her foot firmly on Jack's chest, pinning him to the ground, a ferocious look in her eyes.

"You'll confess in front of these men," she said in a thunder of anger. "You'll admit you forced Emily to act unlawfully. You're supposed to protect the women in your family, not treat them like slaves and dogs."

As Theo watched Eleanor's cheeks turn red with rage, a painful truth was revealed. Her sudden outburst was more than just anger. It was a raw wound from her past. She was not merely shouting; she was confronting her father, berating him for the hurt he had caused her.

"Is it not enough that Emily has lost her parents? Must you continue to make her life miserable just for a few coins?"

Jack didn't grab her foot and twist until she cried in pain. Perhaps he knew Theo would throttle him if he dared lay a hand on her.

Instead, Jack looked at Emily as if he meant to punish her and said, "Happen you inherited your mother's gumption, Miss Darrow. You got a hearty plate of courage while poor Emily was left with the scraps."

While Eleanor frowned, Emily cried, "Don't say another word, or I'll report you to Bow Street myself."

Jack cackled. "And you'll hang with me unless your sister here takes pity on you. I suspect she'll be mad you've kept your mother's dirty secret."

It was as if time stilled.

Sailors stopped talking.

Shady figures froze.

A silence as heavy as a storm cloud descended.

"I—I beg your pardon?" Eleanor's face turned a deathly shade of pale. "Whose sister? What secret?"

She looked so lost that Theo closed the gap between them and gently touched her back. "Emily will explain." He beckoned the seamstress to offer some insight and prayed this wasn't a cruel trick.

Emily wrung her hands and struggled to stand still. "I'm sorry. When I took the job at your shop I didn't know we were related. The more you told me about your life in Eynsford, the more things slotted into place. I wanted to tell you. But I know how bad it felt when she ran away. I couldn't put you through that, Miss Darrow."

Eleanor swayed. She pressed her fingers to her brow. "But my mother died in childbirth. I have borne the guilt all these years."

"I'm sorry," Emily repeated. "She told me about you on her deathbed. She told me your name and about your house in Eynsford. That your father Henry was a bitter man. You were a babe in arms when she left."

Theo slid his arm around Eleanor's waist, and she sagged against him. He would have taken fifty lashes to ease her suffering. He would give everything he owned to make time move forward. For her to wake up months from now, free from pain.

Silent seconds passed. Eleanor did not ask about Ivy. She didn't flinch when Jack Rogers scrambled to his feet. She turned to Theo, tears trickling down her cheeks, and whispered, "Please take me home."