Cut to the Quick (32 page)

“Do you know about him?”

“He’s the Maggot, sir.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That’s what we called him, me pals and me. If you was to see him, sir, you’d understand. He’s very big and white and soft, and bald as a billiard ball.”

“How do you know him?”

“Well, betwixt you and me, sir, he’s an angling cove. What would you call it? A receiver.”

“Of stolen goods?”

“Yes, sir. Though the pawnshop he runs is mostly on the square. Otherwise the cove as owns it would be down upon him and turn him out, and he needs the shop so as to seem respe’table. He’s got a fencing crib he runs on the sly, but sometimes we used to bring him moveables at the pawnshop—small things like tickers and wipes, that we’d just nicked and had to get rid of in a hurry. He fenced ’em for us, no questions asked. Never give us anything like what they was worth, but what could we do? If we was caught with the swag, we’d go straight to boarding school.”

“Did you know it was Craddock who owns that pawnshop?” “No, sir,” said Dipper, much surprised.

“He thinks Vorpe is extremely dull-witted, but honest.”

“Well, he’s wrong twice over, sir. Mr. Vorpe’s neither of those. Flash to every move, is Mr. Vorpe. And his memory’s something

wonderful—all he has to do is set his oglers once on a ticker or a glimstick, or whatever kind of moveable you like, and he can call it to mind years later, like it was yesterday.”

“Can he indeed? Dipper, I think it’s time I told you what I discovered while you were in—boarding school. But keep this strictly between the two of us.” He explained how Craddock had found Geoffrey’s letters and used them to blackmail the Fontclairs. “What puzzles me,” he finished, “is that Mr. Vorpe, who according to you has amazing powers of recollection, could remember nothing at all about the person who pawned the jewelry box.”

“He probably thought it was pinched, sir, and he didn’t want to peach on the thief. We’re his livelihood, ain’t we, sir? He’d have nothing to fence, if he was to get a name for splitting on his pals.” “Do you realize you always say ‘we’ when you talk about thieves? You still think of yourself as one of them, don’t you?”

“It dies pretty hard, sir. I mean, when you’re in the Family, it’s like you got your own world, and everybody that’s in it is your friend, and everybody else is against you. But I don’t miss it, sir, and I wouldn’t go back to it now. God strike me blind if I would!”

“I believe you.”

“Anyways, I expect Mr. Craddock could have got Mr. Vorpe to blow the gab, if he’d pressed hard enough. But Mr. Vorpe fakes people into thinking he’s soft, sir.” Dipper tapped his head significantly. “Most likely Mr. Craddock thought he really didn’t know nix-my-doll about the jewelry box.”

“Dipper,” said Julian thoughtfully, “does Vorpe know you gave over thieving?”

“I don’t see how he could, sir. ’Course, he hasn’t seen me for nigh to two years, but he probably thinks I’m in quod or marinated— sent over the water, I mean.”

“And does he know you as Thomas Stokes, or only as Dipper?” “Oh, only as Dipper, sir.”

“So that even if he reads about the murder in the newspapers, he won’t connect you with it.”

“Most likely not. You got something in mind, sir?”

“Yes,” said Julian, his eyes gleaming. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

*

In the drawing room before dinner, Miss Craddock asked Julian for news of the investigation.

“I haven't told Sir Robert yet,” he said, “but I mean to go to London tomorrow and beat some bushes there.”

“How funny. I'm going to London tomorrow, too.” She began to blush, and hurried on, “I have ever so much shopping to do for the wedding, and I need to get away from Bellegarde for a few days, after everything that's happened. I've been wanting to give Miss Pritchard a little holiday, and Lady Fontclair said I might take her with me for propriety's sake, and to keep me company. Papa's not coming—I think he wants to stay here and keep an eye on the Fontclairs, and the investigation.”

She ended with a little gasp for breath. Julian felt sure she had given him every possible reason for her trip except the true one.

“You must let me take you in our carriage,” she added. “It's a new barouche-landau, and very comfortable. If the weather is fine, we can let down the top.”

“That would be delightful. Thank you.”

He thought privately that he would have travelled much more quickly alone. With two ladies, the journey would take up most of the day, what with keeping the horses to a moderate pace, and getting out at every posting house for fortifying cups of tea. All the same, he thought he had better go with her. He suspected she was playing some kind of deep game, and might need his help.

Sir Robert came in, and Julian excused himself, saying he wanted to speak to him before dinner. She watched him take Sir Robert aside; then they left the drawing room together.

*

Hugh had been watching Miss Craddock and Kestrel. He could not keep from watching them when they had their heads together like that. He was driven partly by jealousy, and partly by a wish to understand Miss Craddock, who was an ever more tantalizing mystery. That afternoon he had invited her riding, just the two of them,

but the outing left him more puzzled and unsatisfied than ever. He never seemed to get close to her* They talked a good deal, but always she kept gently, maddeningly aloof. She charmed him in a thousand little ways, but without trying—without even noticing. He yearned to read her heart and found it locked against him. And he tormented himself with wondering if Julian Kestrel had the key.

She was walking back and forth before a window now, her hands clasped under her chin. Hugh summoned his courage and went up to her. “I enjoyed our ride today.”

She turned to him, with a smile that made him feel a little breathless. But almost at once she dragged down her gaze. "So did I.”

“Am I intruding? Would you rather I kept away? I know it wasn't your choice to be engaged to me. I don't want to burden you with a bridegroom's attentions, if you'd rather be left alone. If I only knew your mind, I'd study to please you—but I don't, so I just go blundering about.”

“Oh, no! You’re very kind to me! It's like heaping coals of fire on my head, after the way my father’s behaved toward your family. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me.”

“I would never be so unjust! I know you're not responsible for what your father is doing. You would never countenance anything low or deceitful or dishonourable.”

The colour flamed up in her face.

“Why do you look away? Please don't be embarrassed! I don’t blame you, no one blames you for any of this. It's so beastly unfair that we've had to be caught up in this tangle! If we'd been allowed to get to know each other in the ordinary way—”

She looked around at him, with bright eyes and parted lips.

He caught her hand in both of his. “Miss Craddock—Maud— my mother told me you were leaving tomorrow to spend a day or two in London. Why shouldn't I come with you? We could really get to know each other, far from your father, and my family. If Miss Pritchard comes with us, and I stay at our house in town, no one could possibly think it improper.”

“Oh, but I—I wouldn't want to take you away from your

family—what with the murder and—and everything. It's such a short trip, were going to shop the whole time, I’m sure you would be bored—"

“I understand,” he said stiffly, dropping her hand. “Pardon me for putting you in such an awkward spot. Since you find my company so distasteful, I won't thrust it upon you again."

He bowed and turned away—but slowly, hoping against hope she would call him back. But her throat felt so tight she could not get out a word. Besides, what could she say? He would never believe it was for his own good that she dared not go with him to London.

*

Julian told Sir Robert he was going to London to pursue a lead from a confidential informant. “I can't tell you who he is, but if you'll let me hunt about for a few days, I think I may uncover something very important. And at least I can make my enquiries discreetly, without involving the professional police."

“Mr. Kestrel, why can't you leave this matter alone, and let justice take its course?”

“You mean, let justice stumble along when I can speed it on its way?”

“No. No.” Sir Robert went away to the window, looking out with unseeing eyes. “I'm not so deaf to all sense of duty as to stand in the way of any course of action that might help solve the murder. Yes, by all means, Mr. Kestrel, you may go.”

*

At dinner, there was desultory talk about Maud’s shopping trip. Julian mentioned he had business in London and would be travelling with her. Hugh started, and looked from Maud to Julian as if to say, “I might have known!" The others threw Julian uneasy glances, but if they guessed his journey had something to do with the investigation, they did not say so. The Fontclairs rarely spoke of the murder in his presence anymore. It was one of the ways they had quietly closed ranks against him.

Sir Robert and Lady Fontclair were called away after dinner to sit up with Philippa, who had had trouble sleeping since the murder.

For the others, the evening in the drawing room seemed never-ending. Craddock sat in a corner and wrote letters. Geoffrey fidgeted. Catherine paced. Guy tramped about the garden, smoking. Isabelle sat quietly embroidering Maud’s wedding slippers. Hugh attached himself to her and talked with forced animation about art, the estate—any topic that might make Maud feel excluded. Maud shrank into a window recess with her workbox and a large handkerchief. Julian managed to entice her out to play backgammon with him.

At last it was time to go up to bed. A footman handed candles to people as they left the drawing room. Craddock, on his way out with Maud, took Julian aside. “Just remember: If Maud marries against my wishes, I’ll cut her off with a shilling. So if you’re planning a hole-in-corner wedding in Scotland once you get her away with you, think again.”

“Please, Papa!” Maud entreated, taking him by the arm.

For her sake, Julian swallowed his irritation, bowed, and withdrew. To avoid another confrontation, he waited till the Craddocks had gone upstairs before he went up himself.

He climbed the grand staircase, the light from his candle darting along the wall. The house, though very quiet, seemed strangely alert and aware. He could almost feel it breathing, like a living thing. From the top of the stairs, the shortest way to his room was through the great chamber. He went in.

The room looked fantastic by candlelight. The gilding on the woodwork gleamed; the birds and flowers on the plaster ceiling seemed alive. Moonlight silvered the Gothic windows and threw pale shadows on the marble floor. Julian could see why Philippa thought this room should have a ghost—

And it did. A woman’s shape stood, motionless, on the other side of the room. She was small and slender, like the dead girl. Julian started violently, then got a grip on himself. “Who's there?” “Hush!” She came forward, her skirt swishing softly along the floor.

He held his candle toward her. “Lady Fontclair.”

“I have to talk to you, Mr. Kestrel. Please don’t go to London tomorrow.”

“I’m afraid I must. I’m sorry.”

“You don't understand the harm you may do. You may find something out that, standing alone, seems to prove one of us a murderer. But you don’t know us, Mr. Kestrel. How can you tell what weve done, or might do? None of us—none of my family— would kill anyone. I know them. I know them all.”

“I understand how you must feel. I had the same faith in my servant when he was accused. Of course a servant isn't the same as a blood relation—except that I haven't any family but Dipper, so it was the same in my case.”

“But he's free now. Isn't that enough? Why must you keep on with your investigations?”

“Is that why you brought about his release—so I'd have no excuse to go on trying to solve the murder?”

“I hoped that in common kindness you might leave us in peace, once he was no longer in danger. Can't you let Robert handle everything now? He's a magistrate. He knows what to do.”

“I have information that only I can make use of. That’s why I'm going to London—why I must go.”

“Is there no way I can move you?”

She came close, laying her hands on his shoulders with a light, tender, almost seductive touch. He felt a little bewitched. The moonlight, this enchanted room, her beautiful, pale face so near, the breath of perfume clinging round her—■

He took her hands from his shoulders. “I wish with all my heart I could do as you ask,” he said gently, “but it isn't possible. If you'd rather I didn't stay at Bellegarde any longer, I'll understand. Sir Robert asked me to remain in the neighbourhood, but I'm sure I can find accommodation at the Blue Lion.”

“No.” She drew back, shaking her head. “My son invited you. You're the man he chose to be groomsman at his wedding, and the man my husband trusts to pursue the investigation on his behalf. It isn't for me to deny you admittance to Bellegarde. Besides, what good would it do? If you find out something in London that might harm—anyone here—keeping you out won't prevent the damage. The wheels of what's called justice will turn all the same.”

*

Maud brought her father a cup of chamomile tea before he went to bed. “Mrs. Cox let me make it myself,” she said.

He took it, but looked at her shrewdly. “You don’t fool me, my girl.”

“Don’t I?” she said faintly.

“You’re trying to put me in a good humour so I won’t guess you're up to some mischief. But I know you are. Tell me the truth: Do you mean to run off with Kestrel?”

“N0, Papa. There’s nothing like that between Mr. Kestrel and me. I didn’t even know he was going to London when I decided to go. But since he’s leaving on the same day, it would have been churlish of me not to offer him a seat in my carriage.”

“That man means no good by you, Maud. He's after your money/
¹
“Please don’t worry. I don’t believe Mr. Kestrel wants to marry me, and even if he did, I wouldn't accept him. Truly, 1 promise."

Craddock suddenly drew her to him and kissed her on the brow. “You’re a good girl, Maud,” he muttered. Then he turned away brusquely, and so did not see the grieved, guilty look on her face.