The Glass House (24 page)

"One way of finding out, I suppose,"
Bartholomew said.

Grenville looked at the faces of his two
eager footman, glanced back at his wine, and groaned. "Oh, no. Why
do I think I know what you're going to say?"

I suppressed a smile. "It is a possibility,"
I said. "But I hate to send Thompson questioning all the boatmen up
and down the river if it proves to be a false one."

Grenville looked pained, then he sighed. "Oh,
very well. I will ask Gautier to prepare a suit appropriate for
riding in a fisherman's boat."

*** *** ***

I doubted the wisdom of Bartholomew's plan
once we were out on the water. It was not raining, and the clouds
had cleared a bit, but the wind was sharp. It was just a mile
between Blackfriar's Bridge and London Bridge, but the current was
strong and the boat full.

The boatman we hired seemed oblivious to the
cold and the wind. He took one look at the gold guineas Grenville
offered him and shuffled us into his boat. His wife stood on the
bank, hands on hips, and watched while her husband and son pushed
us off.

The boatman bent his back to the oars, while
Grenville sat in the bows, watch in hand. The man's son, a spindly
lad of twelve years, manned the tiller. The river was dense with
traffic, boats scuttling this way and that, fishermen hauling nets
in and out, the occasional large vessel moving silently upriver,
carrying goods to the upper Thames or to the narrow barges that
would traverse the canals.

The boatman and his son skittered around and
out of the way of other craft with the ease of long experience, but
still the going was slow. Matthias had professed an aversion to
boats and had remained with Grenville's coach near London Bridge.
Halfway along our journey, I, hunkering into my coat, envied
Matthias. No doubt he'd found a warm tavern or a corner out of the
wind where he could play dice and swap gossip with the
coachman.

The smell from the river was not nice. I
could not help thinking of the wide open meadows of Spain and
Portugal, warm and sweet under the summer sun. I thought of sleepy
towns with brick plazas and people sauntering about their business
in no hurry. Those places had been bright and warm and beautiful, a
sharp contrast to the gray of London.

After a time, the arches of Blackfriar's
Bridge drew near. We passed the place where the waterman had fished
Peaches' body from the river and so on under the shadow of the
bridge. The smell grew intense. Refuse clung to the stones and
pilings under the bridge, and rats swarmed everywhere.

"Take you in here?" the boatman asked, the
first words he'd spoken since we'd entered the boat.

Grenville studied his watch. "A little
farther, to the Temple Stairs."

The boatman grunted. The boy swung the
tiller, and we moved slowly toward the Temple Stairs, which lay not
far west of the bridge.

In a few minutes, the boat bumped the
slime-coated steps, and the boatman's boy sprang off, holding the
boat in place with a line. Bartholomew stepped off first then gave
his hand to Grenville, then me. I slipped a little on the step, but
Bartholomew's rock solid arm kept me from falling.

Grenville had returned his watch to his
pocket. "Forty-five minutes," he told me.

No one had been terribly precise about the
times of Peaches' movements that day. Lady Breckenridge had her
leaving Inglethorpe's a little past four. Jean thought she saw
Peaches in The Glass House at half past. Thompson put her death at
half past, but the doctor had said anywhere between four and five.
There was enough discrepancy that she could well have reached the
Temple Gardens before she died. Or she could have died at half past
and been brought here, as Bartholomew suggested.

"It could have been done," I said. "Winding
through town in a hackney would likely have taken even longer."

"Are you wanting to go back?" the boatman
asked.

Grenville looked a question, and I shook my
head. I was quite ready to be free of the chill river. "I can walk
to my digs from here."

Grenville handed the boatman his payment. "Go
back and tell my coachman I went home with Captain Lacey. He will
give you another shilling."

The man took the guineas; they vanished
quickly into his pocket.

Before he departed, I asked him, "Did anyone
else ask to be taken upriver to the Temple Stairs last Monday?
Perhaps one or two people?"

The boatman shrugged. "Never heard of
it."

The lad looked hopefully at me. "I can ask,
sir." No doubt visions of more shiny coins danced in his head.

"No," I said quickly. The last thing I wanted
was someone silencing an innocent boy for asking the wrong
questions. "But, if you happen to hear of anything, send word. Ask
for Captain Lacey in the rooms above the bakeshop in Grimpen Lane,
off Covent Garden."

"Right you are, sir," the boy said.

The boatman looked less interested, but he
nodded a farewell and picked up his oars again.

Grenville, Bartholomew, and I trudged up the
steps to the Temple Garden. If any of the pupils and barristers
walking purposefully about were surprised to see us emerge from the
river, they made no sign. The clouds had parted today, rendering
the garden a refreshing bright green, with the bare trees making
delicate patterns against the sky.

The only pupil who noticed us was the tall,
gangly Mr. Gower, whose face brightened as he waved to us.

"Well met, Captain." He grinned, more
cheerful than on any occasion I'd seen him previously. "So, you got
old Chapman arrested for murder. Never thought he had it in
him."

"What happens to you?" I asked. "You are out
a mentor."

"Had a stroke of luck there. A gentleman of
the Inner Temple, a silk no less, announced he would take a pupil,
just today. I ran to him at once, and he said he'd take me on. Not
because he thinks I'll make a great barrister, but because I'm tall
and will look impressive in court." He grinned, freckles dancing.
"Sir William Pankhurst's a fine orator and takes only the most
interesting cases. Perhaps he'll even prosecute Chapman. Wouldn't
that be a lark? With me assisting?"

I found his callousness a bit distasteful,
but he was young, and he'd had no love for Chapman.

"Congratulations are in order then," I said.
I turned to Grenville and introduced him. Gower's eyes widened.

"You are Mr. Grenville?" He stuck out his
hand. "I am honored, sir, truly honored. You won't forget the name
of Gower, will you? In case you need assistance prosecuting in a
court of law some day."

Grenville bowed and said he wouldn't
forget.

"Perhaps you could adjourn to that tavern you
mentioned before?" I asked. "For a celebratory ale?"

Gower shook his head. "I cannot, Captain. Sir
William has me on a close tether. No more nipping out to the tavern
or onto the green for a cheroot." He grinned. "Everything has its
price."

I chuckled with him then a thought struck me.
"You didn't happen to nip out to smoke a cheroot on Monday evening
last, did you? When you were supposed to be dining in the
hall?"

He stopped, then blushed. "Perhaps. I have
been known to do so from time to time."

"While you were enjoying your smoke, did you
notice anyone coming up the Temple Stairs, as we did just now? A
man, perhaps?"

His eyes narrowed. "Can't be sure, you know.
I think it was raining that night, pretty fierce. I remember giving
up on the cheroot before long--too damp to enjoy properly. I went
inside fairly quick, to get warm. I can't remember seeing anyone
out of place, no." He grinned. "Am I being helpful? If you arrest
someone, would you put it in the papers that I assisted you?"

"Your name will be prominent, Mr. Gower, if
you wish it," I said.

"Excellent. Well, I'm chuffed to have met
you, Mr. Grenville."

Grenville said something polite, and we took
our leave.

"I suppose I was that young and cocky once,"
Grenville said as we strolled up Middle Temple Lane and back to
Fleet Street. "But I must say that the suit he wears is first
rate."

I came out of deep thought about the Temple
Gardens on a dark, rainy night. "How did you notice his suit? His
gown covered it."

"I noted his collar and his sleeves. His coat
was made by a fine tailor in Bond Street. No doubt provided by a
proud and ambitious papa."

I could only muse that Grenville was fixed on
dress. I had never noticed Gower's coat.

As we trudged slowly back to Covent Garden,
we discussed what we'd learned from the boat ride. I told Grenville
I'd inform Thompson of our discoveries; he, of the Thames River
patrol could easily order his watermen to run up and down the river
questioning boatmen and fishermen.

"It would be pleasing if we could find
someone who truly saw something," Grenville said crossly. "Mr.
Gower sees nothing through the rain. Young Jean hears Kensington
and Peaches argue, but does not see anyone with Peaches when she
leaves The Glass House. None of the hackney drivers Thompson
questioned remember seeing Peaches at all. Lady Breckenridge does
not observe Peaches speak to anyone but Inglethorpe last Monday at
Inglethorpe's gathering. And Inglethorpe, of course, cannot tell us
anything, because Chapman skewered him. It's dashed annoying."

"Perhaps," I said absently, musing again.

"You are having ideas, Lacey. Will you share
them?"

"Not ideas. Threads of ideas. Which might
lead nowhere."

"Well, I am completely baffled," Grenville
said. "Tell me, Lacey, what have you decided about Berkshire? I've
had another letter from Rutledge--he's the headmaster I told you
of. He was most interested in you. An Army officer of good family
and quiet habits is just what he'd like. What shall I tell
him?"

"I have been thinking that a sojourn in
Berkshire would be most pleasant, to tell the truth," I said.

"Excellent. I will warn you, however, that
Bartholomew wishes to accompany you. And I will visit often, of
course, to make certain you are not getting up to anything exciting
without me. Can you bear it?"

I gave him a faint smile and a nod. "I would
enjoy the company."

"I will write to Rutledge tonight." Grenville
pulled the collar of his greatcoat higher. "Let us move along. If
anyone sees me strolling the Strand, on foot, my reputation will be
at an end."

"Nonsense," I said, feeling slightly better
now that I'd made a decision. "It will become the thing to do."

Grenville burst out laughing, something he
did rarely. "True. That would be a most excellent joke."

Chuckling, he ambled on, and we at last
turned north to Covent Garden and Grimpen Lane.

*** *** ***

Grenville invited me to dine with him again,
but I told him I had an engagement for the evening. He left me as
his coach arrived at Grimpen Lane, and Bartholomew went out to shop
for our supper.

I had worried at first that keeping
Bartholomew would be costly, especially since Bartholomew enjoyed
stoking my fires high. But Bartholomew had proved this false. He
knew where to get the best goods the cheapest, he said, having
connections all over Covent Garden and even into the City. He did
keep me comfortable at little expense. Grenville had rather
relieved me when he indicated that Bartholomew wanted to accompany
me to Berkshire. I had grown to appreciate him.

Not many minutes after both Grenville and
Bartholomew had departed, someone tapped on my door. I opened it,
expecting Mrs. Beltan with coffee, but to my surprise, I found Mr.
Kensington on my doorstep.

I did not invite him in. Though he held his
hat in both hands, and I saw no sign of a weapon, I certainly did
not trust him. His dark hair was thinning on top, which I could
well see because I stood at least a foot taller than he.

"What the devil do you want?" I asked.

He gave me his oily smile. "To speak with
you, Captain. On a matter we will both find important."

"What matter?"

He looked past me into my rooms. "Shall we
speak privately?"

"We are private enough."

Kensington took another step forward and
lowered his voice. "I've come to learn that you are acquainted with
Mr. Denis, Captain."

"Somewhat," I said in chill tones.

"I have a connection to him as well." He
lowered his voice further still. "I worked for him once upon a
time."

I was surprised, but only because Kensington
was a bit too base for the Spartan Denis. "He has never mentioned
this," I said.

"Nor would he. We did not exactly see eye to
eye, and I left his service. But times are changing, and we must
decide who our allies are."

I had not yet made up my mind whether to
believe him. "What of it?"

"My dear, sir, we can be of help to one
another. I only ask that you put in a good word for me with Denis.
Tell him I have seen the error of my ways."

I gave him a sharp look. "First, I have no
reason to believe you. Second, I have no reason to help you."

Kensington's eyes took on a light of
desperation. "But I have helped
you
at every turn. I let you
search Peaches' rooms, I have answered your questions about her, I
can help your magistrate friend make short work of Lady Jane."

I leaned against the doorframe, arms folded.
Cold air seeped up the stairwell, but I was not ready to retreat
into the warm rooms behind me.

"Helped me?" I asked. "You have lied or
evaded me at every turn. You did not mention that Peaches owned The
Glass House. You only allowed me to search the real room she kept
when I threatened you. You have not yet told me why you and she
quarreled on her final day."

"Help me return to James Denis' good graces,
and I will tell you all."

I caught him by his coat lapels and jerked
him off his feet. "You will tell me now. Beginning with why you are
so anxious to betray Lady Jane, who has no doubt helped you make a
profit from The Glass House."