Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

P atience was frustrated by being put off without any acknowledgment of what was between them. There was most definitely a mutual attraction, but part of her also understood that Ashley was preoccupied with his duties. She knew she had helped some with the investigation, but she wanted to do more. She knew the likelihood of them allowing her to go to the docks was next to nil. If she were to make any more contributions, it had to be soon.

Peter had come to fetch Xander early, which had awakened her, so she rang for a cup of coffee and luxuriated in bed. As she sipped her cup of coffee, she tried to put all of the pieces she knew into a logical order.

If Rupert had been the middleman, then it had to be someone within his circle. One did not run crime rings with a mere acquaintance. Even for a criminal, there had to be some level of trust involved.

She sipped some coffee and let the taste and warmth roll over her, and wondered if that was necessarily true. What if the person had some sort of hold over him? Blackmail of sorts. Was that too far-fetched? It must happen in real life, though she'd only read of such things in stories. But it was very easy to imagine a situation where one could lord something over another to get what they wanted.

Ashley had described Carew playing cards with Layton, Beckett, and Singleton, who happened to be Cholmely's brother. He mentioned it seemed as though the three were well-acquainted through gaming at least. When they enquired about Rupert, he had not detected any indications they knew of his death. Now that they knew Sir Horace had discovered his son's involvement and had shot Rupert to cover his family's shame, it was possible the others might not have known. Which begged the question, was Rupert delivering messages or solely a lookout? It was hard to imagine the mastermind doing that work himself, and potentially being caught. If only Rupert had left some sort of diary. She scoffed as she looked at the small music box he had gifted her. Perhaps she should return that to Lady Fagge. Maybe she would do so after the funeral.

So what next? Two of the men were watching the gang to see if they were contacted. Fielding had been set to watch the boat. Devil was to be allowed out to direct the operation, but what if nothing happened?

To Patience, the key here would be the contact. If it was the man himself meeting with Devil at the tavern, that was where they needed to catch him. Would that be enough proof? If it was someone very important indeed, would it be his word against Devil's? There had to be evidence of some form, but what?

The morning was growing late, and she could think of nothing else to aid in the solution. Unless Billy could think of something else to help them identify the man, or Rupert had left some sort of journal, she was out of ideas.

It appeared that she had missed breakfast, but it was no matter. The coffee would sustain her for some time. She went to look for Xander and suspected she might also find Billy.

Her supposition was correct. Xander was with both Peter and Billy in the barn, putting down fresh hay. As soon as Xander saw her, he bounded over to greet her.

"Morning, miss," Peter greeted. "I hope you don't mind I kept him with us. He seemed happy enough."

"Not at all. I came to see how Billy was settling in."

"I'm all right, miss. I like this work better than the other."

Interesting notion, and encouraging, Patience thought. "I am glad you are comfortable here."

"I even learned a couple of me letters this mornin'."

"Indeed?"

"His lordship has someone teach all of us for a bit each week," Peter informed her.

Patience smiled. Westwood was something of a reformer and thought it more helpful than hurtful to have his servants given a perfunctory education at a minimum.

"I learned 'ow to write me name."

She was not certain Billy would be there long enough to learn more, but everyone should be able to read and write their own name.

"I got to thinkin', miss. That walkin' stick I said the gent carried?"

"Yes," she said encouragingly.

"It might 'ave 'ad a letter on it. Now wot I seen them, I can't be sure."

Fair enough. "Perhaps you could describe it to my sister and she could try to draw it?" Grace was rather skilled in that way.

"I suppose we could try."

Patience left to find Grace and encountered both Westwood and Stuart talking at the entrance to the study.

"Good morning, Patience. I did not see you at breakfast. Is everything all right?" Westwood asked.

Patience was frankly surprised he'd noticed with the new baby around.

"Everything is well," she assured him. "I've just been checking on Billy and he seems to be settling in well. He learned some letters this morning and was delighted to be able to spell his name." She smiled at her brother-in-law. "Quite a lovely thing for you to do."

He waved away the praise.

"Of note, Billy did mention that the walking stick might have been a letter instead of a snake. I am going to see if he can describe it better to Grace to draw."

"Excellent idea," Stuart agreed. "I do have a favour to ask." He pulled a small key out of his pocket.

"I was wondering if you would mind calling on the Fagges to see if they recognize this key."

She angled her head to take a closer look, and he held it out to her.

"We found it hidden inside of a shoe in Rupert's rooms in London."

"It's a peculiar size," she remarked. "It is too small for a door."

"If you could see to that, I would be forever grateful. It's possible it is nothing more than to a box at the bank, but I hate not to try to discover its purpose. We must prepare to get Devil to the tavern and position ourselves before contact is made." He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze, then kissed the back of it while looking into her eyes with some kind of unspoken message. She could not precisely say what that message was, but the look warmed her to her toes.

Of course, the men would leave to scout the tavern, and she was left behind again.

She found her sisters in Faith's sitting room admiring the two babies.

"There you are, Patience! I have hardly seen you these past few days," Faith remarked.

"I have been trying not to bother you," she muttered as she accepted baby Benjamin from his loving mother.

"And you have also been assisting Ashley, I hear."

She could feel her cheeks warm, curse them. "A little. There is not much I can do, unfortunately. He has asked me to call upon Sir Horace and Lady Fagge to see if they know what a key might belong to. Can I ask one of you to accompany me?"

All of the sisters exchanged looks. Hope was the only one with little awareness of what a visit to that household might mean. "I suppose I could go. Faith certainly should rest."

"You are the best of sisters, Hope. I would have pulled Grace along, but I need her to do me a favour."

Grace looked up from where she was playing peekaboo with Sylvester. "What can I do?"

"I need your drawing skills. I want someone to describe an image to you and see if you can draw it."

"That sounds intriguing," Joy said.

"I have never attempted such a thing," Grace said with obvious hesitation.

"It is worth a try. If you do not succeed, then we are no worse off."

"I suppose." It was clear she did not agree. "Who is it?"

That was a whole other explanation Patience had to describe.

"Now I am doubly intrigued," Joy said, rising to her feet from the floor, where she'd also been entertaining Sylvester. "I will accompany you, Grace. I want to see this gang member."

"His father is the gang member we've been holding prisoner. Billy is actually quite sweet," she told them as they left to fetch Grace's drawing pad.

"I suppose we might as well get the call over with," Patience said with a long-suffering sigh.

Hope left instructions for returning Sylvester to the nursemaid for his nap, then agreed to meet Patience downstairs in a quarter of an hour.

Patience returned to her own room to make sure she was presentable for a call, then saw the small music box Rupert had given her. She might as well return it to perhaps reduce the amount of calls she'd have to make there.

The carriage was called, and when they were on their way, Patience pulled out the box.

"What is that?" Hope asked.

"A music box that Rupert gave me. I was going to return it."

"May I see it?"

Patience handed it to Hope, who began to examine it. "The craftsmanship on this is exquisite." She turned the lever to start the music, but it fell out.

"That is odd. I thought those were part of the mechanism and could not be removed. I do hope I didn't break it."

Patience knew nothing of music boxes whatsoever.

Hope attempted to replace the lever. "It is like trying to fit a key into a difficult lock."

"What did you say?" Patience asked as an idea took hold. "May I try?" She pulled out the key and compared it to the lever. They looked identical. She slid it inside the hole and turned. A click popped a small drawer underneath open.

They both gasped with excitement. A slender book was inside, but she couldn't make heads or tails of the writing.

"Is it some sort of code?" Hope asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Perhaps." Patience rapped on the ceiling of the carriage. "Turn us back around, John. We need to return home."

"As you wish, miss."

Why would Rupert have given this to her if it was what she hoped it was? She wouldn't curse her good luck. She only hoped they weren't too late to catch Major Stuart.

All of the men set out for the gamekeeper's cottage, horses in tow. They were to finish formulating their plan and then head to their respective positions either inside or surrounding the tavern. Devil would first send word with his contact that he wanted to speak with the gent, then seek out his gang so they were aware of his escape.

"When will I be free?" Devil asked.

"Soon enough," Baines remarked. "I want to make sure you don't get any wild ideas."

"Why would I do that? Ye've got my Billy and I gave ye my word."

None of them questioned when a man gave his word. There was apparently still some honour amongst thieves.

"Can you ride?" Renforth asked.

"I can stay on, but that's about it."

"That's is good enough. I've one for you that will follow where the others lead."

He rolled out a small hand-drawn map. "Now, here's a basic layout of The Golden Goose and surrounding streets. Where do you usually meet our friend?"

Devil took a moment to study the map, then pointed to an area between a warehouse and the docks. "Here. It's well-hidden after dark."

"Cunningham, Montford, and Rotham, I would like you to watch the front. Here, here, and here." Ashley knew they'd been placed there as the least risky positions, but at this point, they needed all eyes and ears. He pointed to the three sides of the tavern.

"Baines and Cholmely will watch inside, and Fielding and Manners will guard the yacht."

"Stuart and I will watch Devil." That man made an ungentlemanly sound.

"And me?" Westwood asked.

"I'd like you to keep watch at the clearing and send us a signal if you see anything from your vantage point."

"Any particular signal?" he asked.

"Any signal at all will mean you saw something and put us on alert. Fielding and Manners will know to watch for it."

Westwood nodded his understanding. "Carew is also available if needed."

It seemed like as good a plan as they could make without having proof beyond the sound of a voice, a fancy scent, and possibly a snake-shaped walking stick.

"And you remember your part, Devil? Renforth asked.

"I am to tell the gang there's been word of another shipment. I 'eard tell when I was being dragged to Newgate. I'll send word to our man to see if 'e's 'eard of it or if 'e wants in on it."

Renforth nodded. "There is the possibility he may have already heard or that he will not show, fearing a trap. I've alerted the customs authority to seize them once everything is aboard the ship. Everyone's weapons checked and ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"We will leave our horses at the pier, ride across, then disperse from there on foot."

They made their way outside to where the horses were saddled and waiting for them. A sombre mein shown on all of their faces, the seriousness of their task not lost on them. Sometimes people were hurt in these operations, and sometimes one of them didn't come back.

Ashley and Westwood helped Devil into the saddle, then ensured he knew the basic commands.

"Luna here will follow anywhere Triton goes. She won't give you any problems."

It did not take them very long to reach their destination. They dismounted and left their horses at The Anchor, then took a ferryman took them across to The Golden Goose just south of the East India docks.

Devil went inside the tavern, and Ashley and Renforth followed inside to witness the reunion with his gang to make certain the man upheld his word.

Once they positioned themselves with a good vantage point inside the pub, Devil went to speak with the publican, then picked a table apart from them. He gave a little signal that he successfully sent the message, then kept to himself and waited.

It was over an hour before the others entered. To say there was a bit of a dust-up was putting it mildly.

"What the devil?" the man who had been injured by Fielding's shot exclaimed as the barmaid put down pints for them all.

"Am I seein' a ghost?" the one Ashley assumed to be Shorty asked.

Smith reached over and pinched Devil and got punched in the arm for his pains.

"Just makin' sure you're real," he defended as he rubbed his sore arm.

"It's me. Now quit your caterwaulin' and sit down."

"'Ow did you get away? I don't believe fer a minute they let ye out with their good wishes."

"Where is Billy?" Devil demanded, avoiding the question. Ashley had to admit he was playing his part convincingly.

None of them looked like they wanted to explain that they had lost his son. If Ashley had not seen the softer side of Devil, he would not have believed it existed.

"We don't rightly know. 'E didn't ride out with us when we came after you that day. We 'aven't seen 'im since."

"'Ave you checked back at Wapping?" Devil growled.

"Nay. If 'e went there, they will look after 'im. We've been waiting for this last job. There ain't much 'ere for us."

"Aye. The sooner the better and I can get to Billy." He leaned in to speak quietly. "I over'eard it's to be delivered tonight. We got to work quick. I just need to be certain the details ain't changed. I sent word."

"Might as well eat while we wait," Shorty suggested.

"I could do with a nice pie an' a pint," Devil agreed and signalled the barmaid.

"I bet ye ain't been fed right in prison."

"Ye could say that."

The barmaid came over and took their orders.

"Got your arm, did they, Floyd?"

"Shorty 'ad to dig the bullet out. Still can't use me arm. Been 'avin' to move cargo with one."

"At least you still 'ave it."

"Aye. Got a bit of infection now."

"It were nice of you to try to rescue me."

The barmaid delivered more pints of ale for each of them, which they quickly drained and called for another.

"We were tipped off by Daniels there." Ashley took that to be the publican.

"Ye were?"

Smith nodded. "Didn't ask 'ow 'e knew."

Ashley and Renforth exchanged glances. Their pies were delivered with more ale. At the rate they were going, Ashley hoped their man didn't delay long in arriving.

"Guess ye didn't need our 'elp any'ow," Floyd grumbled.

Devil grunted.

"Ye think 'e'll show?"

"Not worth doing the job if 'e don't."

That sobered them up a bit.

"Everything's arranged?"

"Aye. Carts are ready."

They continued to listen as the gang shared what they had been doing while Devil had been gone. After another hour had passed, Renforth slipped out to get in place. Ashley would follow in a few minutes. He drained his own ale and left some coins on the table. As he was slipping out, he saw the publican walk over and incline his head to Devil. It seemed their man had arrived at last.