Chapter 8

C hapter 8

Lady Harwood was a frustratingly attentive hostess during our tea, and I found only a few moments to speak with Elizabeth when a friend of her mother’s fortuitously came to visit.

“Any news?” she whispered urgently, eyeing her mother across the room.

I winced. “I am sorry. I did not mean to raise your hopes by coming.”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

“That is not to say I won’t have news soon,” I tried to reassure her. “I’ve already whittled down my list of pawnshops, and I have several contacts on the lookout for our thief or any of your stolen items.”

“I see.” She tugged at a curl. “I know I must be patient, but I am finding it rather difficult.”

Once again, the urge to ask what was in that missing letter rose inside me. But I tamped it down. If she wished to tell me, she would.

“It could be very good news that we haven’t found anything,” I said, setting my teacup down. “Likely, the thief abandoned the letter the night of the theft.”

She shook her head. “I know I am being stubborn. I know it. But, Verity”—she fixed me with her gaze, weary and worn—“I have not slept in two days. I cannot seem to breathe normally, knowing that letter is somewhere out in the world. Please, do not give up.”

I softened. “I shall persist; you know I shall.”

Elizabeth exhaled. “Thank you.”

I returned home as the sun began dropping behind the rooftops, setting the windows aglow with golden light. I let myself inside, quieting when I spotted Grandmama asleep in an armchair near the fire, her cap askew as she gently snored. I smiled, straightening the blanket that slipped down her lap and setting her mending aside.

“ Naps are for babies and the dead ,” she’d snapped on more than one occasion. That was, of course, a slight against Mama, who often napped on the days she had late performances. But Mama only laughed and called Grandmama a cantankerous old woman, and they would continue squabbling as I gave exaggerated sighs of long-suffering.

I left my grandmother and went upstairs. It had been an exhausting day, and all I wanted to do was fall atop my bed.

But as I passed Mama’s door, she called out. “Verity?”

I stepped inside. Mama sat at her dressing table, in the midst of dabbing rouge on her lips. She had another performance tonight, no doubt.

She looked at me in the mirror with a smile, then replaced the lid of her rouge and turned to face me. “There you are, dear,” she said. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to. Busy day?”

“Oh, just errands here and there.” I plopped down on her chaise lounge.

“Errands?” Her brows dropped. “Nothing more?”

“No?” I said, more a question than a statement.

“Then, why did Mrs. Perkins see you outside the Bow Street office yesterday morning?”

Blast our nosy neighbor and her loose tongue. I’d planned to tell Mama sooner or later. I had just hoped it would be much, much later.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she pointed the jar of rouge at me. “Only the truth, Verity.”

It was a well-used refrain in our household. Often, it was teasing, considering my name, but now there was no trace of amusement in Mama’s voice.

I sighed. “I was going to tell you.”

“Tell me what, precisely?”

I toyed with the tassel of a cushion. “There may have been an incident as I was leaving the theatre with the Harwoods the other night.”

“What sort of an incident?” Her voice was suspicious.

I winced as my gaze met hers. “Just the smallest of robberies.”

“Verity Travers!” She flew to her feet, her mouth wide. “You were robbed , and you didn’t think to mention it?”

“I wasn’t hurt,” I protested, though I immediately decided not to tell her that Sir Reginald had been. “The lout only took my pearl earrings. I did not want to worry you.”

“Worry me?” Her hand fluttered to her forehead. “Heavens, darling, I worry no matter what.” She gave a long exhale and peeked at me between her fingers. “That’s why you were at Bow Street. You’re after the thief.”

“No,” I said quickly, then paused. “Well, yes and no.”

Mama sank back into her chair, though her posture was still impeccable. “You told me you had given this up.”

“I did,” I assured her. “I have. I went to Bow Street to report the crime. I was perfectly happy to leave it to the officers.”

“Until?”

“Until circumstances changed.” I chewed on my lip. If I told her about Elizabeth and her secret, Mama might report it to Lady Harwood. I could not break my friend’s trust. “I need to find this thief, Mama. I cannot tell you why exactly. But please trust that I am doing it for good reasons.”

Mama sat in silence, eyes locked on me as she evaluated my words. “It is not a matter of trust, Verity. It is a matter of safety.”

“I know.” My voice croaked a little. “But I am taking precautions. What happened in January won’t happen again.”

She said nothing, chewing her lip.

“And by no means do I intend to continue down that path again,” I said, my voice finding a bit more confidence. “I swear. After this case ...”

How did I think to finish that sentence? After this case, I would go back to pretending my future hadn’t disappeared in the space of one night? Go back to trying and failing to find something that ignited my soul as much as my investigative work did?

Mama still looked dubious. I played the only card I had left. “I saw Drake and Rawlings at Bow Street. They said they would help me with the case should I need it.”

It wasn’t a lie, not really. I knew they would help me if I asked.

A ghost of a smile touched Mama’s lips. “I do miss those two. We should invite them to dinner soon.” She tugged on one of her ebony curls hanging over her shoulder, then exhaled long and slow. “Oh, very well. I doubt there is anything I could say to stop you. But please be careful.”

Her words brought back a memory of Mr. Denning the day before, his face close to mine. Do be careful, Miss Travers. I would hate for you to get in over your head.

I shook myself. His words had filled me with annoyance, but this was my mother. She was begging me to take care because of love, not because of any personal motivation.

“Of course,” I said. “I promise.”

She eyed me a moment longer, a look of doubt about my assurance, then nodded and turned back to her mirror. “I am sorry to miss dinner again tonight,” she said, picking up her small vial of perfume.

“I am quite old enough that you needn’t worry about that,” I said. “Although it would be nice to have another at the table besides Grandmama. She will undoubtedly question me again on the magpie situation outside my bedroom window.”

Mama’s motions stilled. “It has been rather lonely for you without Jack, I imagine.”

It was a topic we hadn’t broached before. Neither of us had realized how much his leaving would affect our day-to-day lives. When he’d joined Bow Street, we’d grown used to having him near. And now that he was gone again, everything was ... incomplete. A missing piece of a puzzle.

“I am sorry for it,” she said, not moving. “I know I am absent far too often.”

I knew she meant her words. She was not a distant or unkind mother. And yet ... and yet she could take on fewer performances, spend more time with Grandmama and me. But she did not. And she’d been like that as long as I could remember.

“Never mind that.” I stood and moved to the door. “What would I do with you constantly underfoot?”

“Ha!” she scoffed. “So says the child who followed me about day and night, begging for stories and treats and toys.”

Because I had wanted her attention. Because I wanted her to see me.

“I shall try to be less of a handful in the future,” I managed to say lightly.

She laughed. “Yes, well, you’ll marry soon enough, and then your husband can keep you out of trouble.”

Mama knew very well I had no intention to marry, and yet she kept up this facade as though she might wear me down and convince me. But I knew better. After all, she had been the one to teach me to protect my heart.

I slipped from her room and closed the door behind me. Sometimes, the most personal lessons were the hardest.

I woke bright and early, wishing to make progress on the case before the Harwoods’ party tonight. I visited more pawnshops and tracked down several of my contacts. It was an exhausting business ... and fruitless. The pawnbrokers were useless as ever, my contacts even more so, and I had yet to hear from Wily.

But I had high hopes for Mrs. Webb, who ran a public house in Seven Dials with her husband. I’d met the older woman two years ago when she’d been taken in by a swindler who had promised grand returns on investments in his “health tonic.” As one might gather, the crook left Town before his investors grew wise of his false promises, but Mrs. Webb hired Jack to find him. I’d helped with the case and, upon meeting Mrs. Webb, had struck up an immediate friendship with the sharp-tongued matron. A friendship that had proven handy many a time, as she kept her eyes and ears open to anyone who entered her establishment. Since Jack and I had recovered her ten-pound investment from the swindler, she was more than happy to help with my investigations here and there.

I found her in the kitchen of The Stag and the Crown, stirring some foul-looking stew over the fire. When I showed her the sketch of the thief, her hawk-like eyes darted over each stroke of my pencil.

“That’s done to a cow’s thumb, that is,” she exclaimed, her stirring paused. “A right likeness. Did you draw it yourself?”

My heart skipped a beat. “A likeness of whom?”

“Why, that’s Tobias Higgs,” she declared. “I’d know that sneaksby anywhere.”

“You’re sure?” I pressed her.

“Sure as anythin’. He used to come by on the daily.”

Tobias Higgs. My thief had a name, and I had a lead. I tried to calm the leap in my chest, the fire in my veins. Oh, but it was addicting . “What can you tell me about him?”

She shrugged, resuming her stirring. “Always up to some mischief, Higgs. Likes to break my mugs, so I kicked him out a few weeks back and haven’t seen him since.”

“Any friends? Acquaintances?”

Mrs. Webb pursed her lips. “Aye. What was his name? The slippery fellow.”

That could apply to a great many in the London area.

She snapped her fingers. “I’ve his name on the tip of my tongue. He’s a slyboots, like a fox in a henhouse. And dresses like a fop to boot.”

I froze, my hands clenched around the paper. “You can’t mean Wily Greaves?”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s the one! I used to see the two of ’em together. A rotten pair, they are.”

Wily. My lungs tightened. I stared down at the sketch, now wrinkled and worn from countless foldings. Wily had seen this same drawing. It was nearly impossible that he wouldn’t have recognized the man he apparently broke bread with on the regular. Not when Mrs. Webb had named him so easily.

She shot a glance at me. “What you want Higgs for?”

“Theft,” I said distractedly. “And assault.”

She snorted. “The sapskull.”

“I don’t disagree.” I rubbed my forehead. “You said you hadn’t seen either of them in a few weeks. I’m assuming you don’t know where they are now?”

Mrs. Webb shrugged. “When he wasn’t gettin’ himself into trouble, Higgs sometimes worked as a lumper down at the Wapping docks.”

That wasn’t particularly helpful. London’s docks were expansive. Even if Higgs was currently working on any ships, it would be close to impossible to find him.

“Anything more specific?” I asked hopefully.

She shook her head. “Sorry. The man was an oaf. I ignored him when I could.”

I could hardly blame her for that. I thanked her with a shilling and kindly refused a bowl of stew, from which I was quite certain I would never recover. My stomach was already a twist of knots as I left the public house. How could he? I’d known Wily was less than honest on the best of days, yet I never imagined he would outright lie to me. Apparently he not only knew Higgs, but it also seemed they were friends, or even accomplices.

Was Wily involved in selling the very goods Higgs had stolen from us?

Anger swept through me, and I wanted to swear. I settled for kicking a broken crate on the side of the road, and it gave a satisfying crunch. I gave it one more kick for good measure, then leaned back on the wall, the cold from the stone leeching through my body.

I’d been foolish. Already, I’d made an enormous mistake in trusting someone I shouldn’t have. I’d never imagined Wily might be working with Higgs. But then, he was good at his job. And if Higgs wanted the best return on his stolen jewelry, Wily was an obvious choice for a fence.

My heart stilled. Had Wily tipped Higgs off after I’d spoken with him yesterday? I had to assume so. Likely, they’d both left London, looking for greener and less dangerous pastures to sell their goods.

But what did that mean for me? For Elizabeth? I’d told Wily that the letter was important. Would he seek out the letter and try to discover why Elizabeth wished to keep it a secret?

I closed my eyes, leaning my head back. I took long, slow breaths, trying to calm my racing pulse. I had to decide what my next move was. But a plan evaded me. I could not settle my thoughts, let alone organize them in any useful way.

I pushed away from the wall and started for home. Mama and I were leaving for the Harwoods’ party in less than an hour, where I would have to face Elizabeth, knowing what I did about Wily and Higgs. How could I admit I’d made such a mistake?

But the prideful part of me reared its head. I did not have to tell her. I could still fix this. Perhaps I could track Wily down again. I’d done it before. But I did not think it would be so easy next time. He knew I would be after him, and he would take precautions.

I’d been working this case for all of two days, and I was already in over my head.

Mr. Denning had expected this of me. And I’d proven him right.

How perfectly wretched.