Don't Look Back by Amanda Quick
“Speaking of your excellent jam,” Tobias said, “how is your supply of currants?”
It was really too much, Lavinia thought. Now he was presuming to take charge of her kitchen. The next thing she knew, he would be inspecting the linens and dictating the choice of herbs to be planted in the garden.
“There is no need to concern yourself with our supply of currants, sir,” she said forcefully. “I’m quite sure we have a sufficient quantity on hand.”
“But we wouldn’t want to take the chance of running out altogether.” Tobias smiled at Mrs. Chilton. “You’re certain you don’t need to shop for some this afternoon, Mrs. Chilton? It promises to be a fine day.”
Mrs. Chilton heaved a sigh. “I expect it wouldn’t hurt to purchase a few more.” She went through the door.
Emeline and Anthony exchanged looks. Lavinia could have sworn they were both struggling to conceal smiles.
Tobias drank some coffee and looked a good deal more pleased than he had when he had walked into the breakfast room a few minutes ago.
Lavinia wondered if the subject of currants always had such an uplifting effect on his spirits. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to keep an ample quantity on hand.
SHORTLY AFTER TWO O’CLOCK, EMELINE LOOKED around the door of the study, her bonnet dangling from her fingers. “Priscilla has just arrived in her mama’s carriage. We are off to meet up with Anthony and one of his friends to view the new exhibition of paintings at that little gallery in Bond Street.”
“Very well.” Lavinia did not look up from her notes on the Medusa bracelet affair. “Enjoy your-self.”
“We probably will not return much before six. Priscilla wants to shop for a new fan, and then Anthony and his friend are going to take us driving in the park in Lady Wortham’s carriage.”
“Mmm.”
“Mrs. Chilton just left to shop for currants.”
“Yes, I know.” Lavinia dipped her quill in the ink and started a new sentence.
“I can see you are deep into your journal. I will bid you farewell.”
“Good-bye.”
The front door closed behind Emeline a moment later. A curious silence descended on the house. Lavinia completed another sentence and paused to read what she had written.
. . . a most unsatisfactory conclusion to the affair. It is evident that Oscar Pelling murdered Celeste Hudson, but it is clear that he will never pay for his crime. The Blue Medusa has disappeared and with it any hope of collecting a fee for our services from anyone involved in this matter.
Several questions remain unanswered. I cannot bring myself to believe that my good friend Dr. Hudson is a thief, but Mr. March strongly disagrees with that conclusion.
Where did Celeste conceal the relic before she went to meet Pelling on the night of her death? I cannot forget the valet’s assurance that the only person who could have taken the bracelet undetected was Mrs. Rushton. But she had no motive.
She put down the quill and looked out into the garden. The spidery threads of melancholia were drifting around her, threatening to entangle her in one of her rare moods. She considered putting aside her journal and turning to some poetry.
No, she thought, given the unfortunate ending to the Medusa affair, it would behoove her to return to work on writing an advertisement for the papers. New business must be found as soon as possible. There was some refining yet to be done on her notice. She was rather taken with the notion of adding a line or two about references being available upon request.
Perhaps what she really needed at that moment was some fresh air to raise her spirits, she decided. She should have gone with Emeline and the others to view the paintings and shop for fans.
References.
Fans.
The familiar snap and sizzle of intuition crackled through her, leaving her very nearly breathless. Very deliberately, she reached for her pen and wrote down her conclusion to see if it still made sense when viewed as a statement of fact.
She stared at what she had written for a long time, searching for flaws. She saw none. But there was only one way to be certain.
THE BANKS MANSION LOOMED ABOVE THE small, overgrown park, as bleak and cheerless as ever. When the housekeeper opened the door, she seemed surprised to see a live person on the front step.
“Is Mrs. Rushton home?” Lavinia asked.
“Aye.”
“Please inform her that Mrs. Lake wishes to speak with her concerning her missing bracelet.”
The housekeeper did not look overly optimistic about the prospects of an interview, but she went off to inform her mistress that she had a caller.
Mrs. Rushton received her in the gloomy drawing room. She frowned in disappointment when she saw that Lavinia was alone.
“I had rather hoped that Mr. March would accompany you,” she said. “Or that nice young man Mr. Sinclair.”
“They are both occupied with pressing matters of business this afternoon,” Lavinia said, taking the seat across from Mrs. Rushton. “I have come to give you a full report.”
Mrs. Rushton brightened somewhat at that news. “You recovered my relic?”
“Not yet.”
“Now, see here, I made it quite clear that I am not about to pay you unless you find it.”
“I think I may know where it is.” Lavinia touched the silver pendant that she wore at her throat. “Or perhaps I should say that I think you know where it is.”
“Me? That’s ridiculous. If I knew the whereabouts of the bracelet, I would never have agreed to pay you to retrieve it.”
“I believe that you were put into a trance by a mesmerist and instructed to take the bracelet to a secret location. There is every reason to hope that the relic is still there and that it may be recovered. But I will need your cooperation.”
“Good Lord.” Mrs. Rushton’s eyes widened in horrified amazement. She put her hand to her bosom. “Are you saying that I may have been unwittingly entranced?”
“Yes.” Lavinia unfastened the silver chain around her neck. She held it in front of her so that the pendant caught the light. “Mrs. Rushton, please trust me. I want your permission to induce another mesmeric trance. While you are in it, I will ask you some questions concerning what happened the day the bracelet disappeared.”
Mrs. Rushton looked bemused at the sight of the dangling pendant. “It is not easy to put me into a mesmeric trance, you know. I am a woman of extremely strong will.”
“I understand.”
Mrs. Rushton did not look away from the gently swinging necklace. “See here, are you an expert at this sort of thing?”
“Yes, Mrs. Rushton. I am really rather good at this sort of thing.”
SHE LEFT THE UGLY MANSION TEN MINUTES later, intent only on her next destination. Luck was with her. There was a hackney standing quietly in the square almost directly in front of her.
She raised a hand and waved madly to get the coachman’s attention. He made no move to get down from his box to assist her up into the carriage. She was in too much of a hurry to be offended.
She opened her mouth to give the man the address at the same time she opened the door of the vehicle.
It was then that she realized the hackney was already occupied.
Maggie was inside. Her hands were bound with rope. Her eyes were huge and stark with fear above the gag that had been tied around her mouth.
She was not alone in the vehicle. Oscar Pelling sat beside her. He held a knife to her throat.
“Get in,” he said to Lavinia, “or I will kill her right here. Right now. In front of you.”
Twenty-nine
“I WATCHED YOUR HOUSE FOR HOURS, MRS. Lake, waiting to see if you would make any move that would indicate that you might have been successful in your quest to find the bracelet. You were my last, best hope, and I thank you for confirming my faith in your deceitful and cunning ways.”
“I do not know what you are talking about,” Lavinia whispered.
“Really, you are so very typical of your
Lavinia climbed slowly into the closed cab of the hackney and sat down on the seat across from Pelling and Maggie. Pelling gave her an approving smile. She caught a glimpse of the monster lurking just beneath the surface of his eyes and shivered.
“What made you conclude that I know the location of the Blue Medusa?” she asked warily.
“There is no other reason why you would pay another visit to the Banks mansion today, is there?” He smiled with satisfaction. “Obviously you came here to conduct business with Mrs. Rushton, and the only business that involves the two of you is the Blue Medusa. I trust that you have not yet concluded your bargain and turned over the bracelet. Because if that is the case, I no longer need you, do I?”
“You must let Maggie go,” she said quietly.
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll do that.” Pelling prodded Maggie’s throat with the tip of the knife. A drop of blood appeared. “She is a cheap whore who must be punished for betraying me. Is that not right, my sweet?”
Maggie closed her eyes and whimpered behind the gag.
Lavinia touched the silver pendant, in what she hoped looked like a nervous gesture. “You must let her go. You no longer need her, and killing her would be too risky.”
Pelling looked at her with blood-freezing eyes. “Do not presume to tell me what to do. I knew that you were trouble on the first occasion when we met. Probably should have got rid of you then.”
“That would have been foolish. After all, you had just lost your wife under tragic and mysterious circumstances. The murder of the mesmerist who had been treating her would have been a bit much for the local authorities, don’t you think? They might have started asking embarrassing and exceedingly awkward questions.”
“Bah. The authorities did not worry me in the least. The reason I did not punish you then was because you were not worth the time and trouble. You had, in point of fact, done me a favor. You contrived to rid me of an increasingly troublesome wife, and I was left with her inheritance. Under the circumstances, it would have been churlish to kill you.”
“Churlish.” Lavinia swallowed. “Yes. Quite. But now there is the problem of Maggie.”
“Maggie is no problem, as you can see.” Pelling tapped the knife against the woman’s shoulder. “I shall slit her throat when it suits me. Until then, she will remain quiet and obedient. Isn’t that right, Maggie?”
Tears leaked from Maggie’s eyes.
“I’m afraid it will not be as simple as that,” Lavinia said. “You see, as long as Maggie is sitting there with a knife at her throat, I will not tell you the location of the Medusa bracelet. And the bracelet is what you are after, is it not?”
“You will tell me,” Pelling said. “Or you will first watch Maggie die very slowly. If you manage to resist the urge to tell me where the bracelet is during that process, I’m sure you will talk when it is your turn.”
“The risk of killing both of us is too great.” Lavinia toyed with the silver pendant, twisting it so that it caught the light that seeped in around the edges of the window curtain. “Much too great. Better to let Maggie go. She cannot hurt you. You are too strong and too powerful to worry about a prostitute who drinks too much gin. No one pays any attention to women like Maggie.”
“Stop it.” Pelling took the point of the knife away from Maggie’s throat and jabbed it at Lavinia. “Stop it right now.”
She flinched and flattened her back against the cushions. But there was little room to maneuver in the close confines of the carriage. Pelling could easily gut her like a fish before she could reach the door if he took a notion to do so.
Maggie opened her eyes and looked at her with an expression of resignation and dread.
“I know what you are trying to do,” Pelling said to Lavinia. “You are trying to put me in a mesmeric trance. But it will not work. My mind is too strong.”
“Yes, you are strong,” she whispered. “Much too strong.”
Pelling was amused. “It’s true. Celeste and Hudson both tried their skills on me. Both failed. If they could not entrance me, you have no chance of doing so, do you?”
“No.” Lavinia watched him steadily and fiddled with the silver at her throat. “My skills are poor, indeed, compared to theirs. And you are too strong. So very, very strong. But the night is coming on. Soon it will be dark. It will be difficult to keep track of two prisoners in the dark. Better to let Maggie go. She can do you no harm.”
Pelling said nothing.
“You are too strong. You do not need her. She is a nuisance. Better to toss her out onto the street. She can do you no harm. You are too strong.”
He was not in a deep trance, Lavinia realized. But there was an odd calm about him now, as if he had come to some conclusion and had formed a plan. She could only pray that he had not decided to slit Maggie’s throat immediately and be done with the matter. The expression in Maggie’s eyes told her that she feared that was precisely what was about to happen.
Without any warning, Pelling reached up and rapped on the roof of the vehicle with the hilt of the knife.
The hackney clattered to a halt.
Pelling opened the door.
Lavinia looked out and saw a portion of a fog-bound street. For an instant she feared the worst, that Pelling had chosen an isolated location where he could dump a dead body without fear of being seen.
But the rumble of cart wheels nearby reassured her. A moment later, a farmer’s wagon rattled past and came to a halt in front of a door.
“I don’t need you any longer,” Pelling said to Maggie. He raised the knife.
Maggie cringed and whimpered behind the gag.
Lavinia’s breath stopped in her throat. Her hands felt as though they had been plunged into ice. But she managed to keep her voice low and steady.
“Too strong,” she said in soft, low, soothing tones. “You are too strong. There is no need to kill her. Too strong. No need to take the risk. Better not to risk killing her. You are too strong. No need to take the risk.”
Pelling moved the knife again and sliced through the gag. With the practiced ease of a man who has cleaned his own fish and game, he slashed the knife downward a second time, cutting through the ropes that bound Maggie’s hands.
“Get out, whore. You cannot cause me any trouble. I am too strong.” He pushed Maggie out the door as though she were a bundle of laundry.
Maggie stumbled and crumpled to the paving stones.
Pelling slammed the door and signaled the coachman. The hackney rumbled forward.
“Tell me about Celeste,” Lavinia said quickly. “Tell me what went wrong.”
Pelling held the knife in his hand, the tip of the blade pointed at her midsection. “She tried to manipulate me. Tried to cheat me.”
“You hired her to steal the Medusa bracelet?”
“I had no choice.” Fury leaped in Pelling’s eyes. “I wanted to hire Hudson for the task, not a woman. Word had reached me that, for a price, he would arrange to procure certain valuable items for discreet clients. Gems and jewels and the like.”
He was wrong about Howard, she thought. Surely Celeste had been the thief. But this was not the time to correct his false impression.
“You needed someone to steal the Medusa bracelet?” she asked carefully.
“Yes. I was willing to pay Hudson well for his work. He listened to my proposal and seemed quite interested at first. He told me that he would research the project and give me his decision. But when I returned to conclude the bargain, he informed me that he lacked the nerve to carry out the theft. It was too difficult and dangerous, he said.”
“But Celeste had a different opinion, did she not?”
Pelling snorted softly. “She came to see me a few days later. Alone. She told me
She caught her breath. Perhaps Tobias had been right when he claimed that Howard had convinced himself that the legend was true. Howard was, after all, very intent on his research. It was just barely possible that in his zeal to pursue his investigations into mesmerism, he might have been tempted to help himself to the Blue Medusa.
“The fool thought that the cameo had powers that he could control.” Pelling moved the knife in a gesture of disgust. “Powers of animal magnetism that would augment his own mesmeric talents.”
“Celeste offered to take on the commission, didn’t she? She made a bargain to steal the bracelet for you.”
“For a price. She was preparing to leave Hudson. She wanted to secure her finances first.”
“I see.”
“I agreed to her terms because I had no choice. She and Hudson removed to London. I followed because I thought it prudent to keep an eye on my investment. One cannot trust a woman.”
MAGGIE SCRAMBLED UP OFF THE ROUGH STONES, heedless of her bruised knees and the cuts on her palms. She picked up her skirts and ran blindly, her only goal to put as much distance as possible between herself and the rapidly departing hackney.
She would tell Mr. March, she decided. She would find a way to send word to him. It would likely do no good, because it was clear that Pelling intended to slit Mrs. Lake’s throat. Any fool could see that he was a cold-blooded murderer.
But March could kill, too, if necessary, she thought. She knew that in her bones. She had seen it in his eyes that night after the fight in the downstairs hall. He was no monster like Pelling, but he would be ruthless when it came to protecting Mrs. Lake. She was certain of that.
The problem was that by the time she managed to find him and tell him what had happened, Mrs. Lake would probably be dead.
It was hopeless. But she had to try. It was all she could do for the lady who had just saved her life.
Intent on her mission, she never saw the man who had alighted from the farmer’s cart until she collided with him. He caught her by the shoulders and held her still in front of him. Dazed by the impact, she blinked and then found herself gazing into ice-cold, implacable eyes.