Read Fortune Favors the Wicked Online
Authors: Theresa Romain
Fortune Favors the Wicked (22 page)
* * *
Charlotte didn't have to go far to find Stephen Lilac. The Bow Street Runner, hat at a jaunty angle, was just crossing from the road onto the vicarage land.
“Mr. Lilac! I was coming in search of you,” she called.
The expression on his bearded face sharpened. When he drew within a few feet of Charlotte, he said, “The same to you, Miss Perry. I was about to pay a call on you at the vicarage.”
“Me?” She pressed a hand against her side; she had a stitch from all the running and whapping of intruders. “Iâwhy?”
“Ah, well.” He looked at her, not unkindly. “Bit of a to-do in the village today, wasn't there, and you at the heart of it. Mrs. Potter was determined I come learn your remaining horrid secrets.”
“Oh. That. There aren't any more, at least not the horrid sort.” How long ago that all seemed. “Mr. Lilacâdo you have a gun?”
He looked wary. “Is there some need for it?”
“Someone came into the vicarage stable. He attacked Frost with Frost's own knife, which meansâ”
“He attacked Frost the first time, too.” Lilac caught on at once. “Which meansâ”
“He might be the same man who attacked Nance. Which meansâ”
“Means he'd be worth meeting, doesn't it?” Lilac smiled thinly. “As a matter of fact, I do have a pistol. And a pair of shackles.”
Charlotte blinked. “Are you in the habit of carrying shackles?”
“All part of the work of an Officer of the Police, Miss Perry. Wouldn't want to need them and not have them.”
When they returned to the stable, Benedict was still sitting on the unknown manâwho was now awake, alert, and extremely disgruntled. Lilac threw the stable doors open wide, and Charlotte got her first good look at the attacker's face.
“Why, I know this man.” She shook her head. “That is, I've seen him before.”
“And when was that?” Lilac crouched, replacing the worn-out leather bindings on the man's wrists with a pair of iron shackles he pulled from a coat pocket.
She thought about it. What was her association with that face? A short beard . . . straw-colored hair . . . For some reason, she imagined the expression sloppy and lolling. Hmm.
Benedict stood, and together he and Lilac hauled the scowling man to his feet. The sharp, stale odor of beer struck Charlotte, and the memory clicked into place. “The afternoon on the day Nance died. He was in the Pig and Blanket. He . . . bothered me.”
“I never seen yer before, bitch,” the man spat.
The local accent clinched it. She hadn't Benedict's memory for voices, but she recalled that one. “Bitch
courtesan,
” she said crisply. “I was wearing a veil at the time. I told you I didn't want your company, and when you didn't believe me, I had to convince you with a knife.”
courtesan,
” she said crisply. “I was wearing a veil at the time. I told you I didn't want your company, and when you didn't believe me, I had to convince you with a knife.”
“Awful fondness you people have for knives,” Lilac said. “It's really not right.”
“It's not,” Charlotte agreed. “But I remember that he called Nance over as though he knew her.”
“Nance.” The ruddy face sagged. “She was a righ' nice girl.”
“Who killed her?” asked Lilac.
The man shut his eyes. “She wasn't supposed to die. I just wanted to shut her up . . . give her a warning. We needed people to come, but she was going to say something too much.”
“Needed people to comeâfor what?” Benedict said sharply.
The man tried to fold his arms, defiant, but the shackles stopped his movement. “I'm going to swing no matter what, so why should I say more?”
As a vicar's daughter, Charlotte supposed she ought to appeal to his immortal soul. But instead, she worked at that kernel of feeling he'd shown. “For Nance. Because she
was
a nice girl, and you can help see justice done for her.”
was
a nice girl, and you can help see justice done for her.”
For a long moment, he staredâfirst at Charlotte, then, bowing his head, at the iron bands about his wrists. “I was drunk,” he whispered. “I didn't mean to kill her.”
“Did she know it was you?” Charlotte asked softly.
He shook his head, eyes reddened. “I wore a cloak. Just meant to put a scare into her. She saw my dagger but that's all.”
“Cat eye,” murmured Benedict. “I thought it was a rich man's toy.”
The man recovered a bit of spirit. “Was before I stole it off him.”
“You said Nance was saying too much.” Charlotte considered. “About the gold coin she'd received?”
“I give it to her,” said the man. “She was supposed to show it around, like, so people would get excited and come here to hunt for the coins.”
“But why?”
“Hidin' new faces among other new faces. Who'ud notice four strange men in the village if a hundred came to town?”
“Clever enough.” Lilac had been listening, head tilted, to the impulsive questions of Charlotte and Benedict. Now he went into action, all peppery professional. “Name?”
“Smith. John Smith.”
Another Smith. Charlotte rolled her eyes.
“So there were four of you involved in the death of Nance Goff?” Lilac asked.
“No. That were just me. Four of us in the theft from the Royal Mint.”
Lilac had pulled forth a pocket-book and stub of pencil from his seemingly infinite pockets. “Four. Alllll right. You and your companions stole fifty thousand pounds worth of gold sovereigns, shooting four guards in the process.”
“I didn't use no gun! I don't use no gun.”
Lilac lifted the pencil, fixing the man with a stern gaze. “Hardly makes you innocent, does it?”
The man looked again at his shackles. “Guess not.”
“Why steal the gold sovereigns before their release?”
“I di'n't know what they were. Thought anything from the Mint'ud be worth somethin' big. Didn't know until we left and opened the chests what we'd got, and then we knew we couldn't spend it until the new coins come out. So we had to hide it until it were safe.”
“So you brought the stolen money here.” Lilac was writing again.
The man shrugged. “I grew up not far away. Lots of places to hide things in the Peak. Nice an' far from London, too.”
“And now it's here. In the stable.”
Brow knit with distress, the man twisted around before Benedict took hold of his shoulder. “It ought to be. We moved it a few times, like. I don't know. Didn't trust each other.”
“Fancy that,” murmured Charlotte.
“Had it in the icehouse on the rich nob's land for a while, but the weather get warm and the groundskeeper come around too much checking for strangers. Had to move it.”
Charlotte rememberedâa trio, crossing the Selwyn lands, laughing. One of them had reminded her of Randolph, making her quail. “Is one of the other thieves a big blond fellow who moves like a snake?”
“I don't know about the second part. But Smith's blond.”
“Another Smith?” Lilac looked up sharply. “What's his full name? And that of your other partners?”
“Smith.” A slow smile showed brown teeth. “And Smith, and Smith. John Smith is all we ever called each other. If they has other names, I don't know 'em.”
“And you? Is it your real name?”
Another shrug. “It'll do for me, too.”
Lilac looked amused. “We'll see about that, Mr. Smith. But on with your tale. After the icehouse, then you moved the coins to this stable?”
“Yes, but then the blind man come to visit and we know he was lookin' for the coins.”
“It's
Frost,
” said Benedict. “And there was not much danger of me spotting the gold.”
Frost,
” said Benedict. “And there was not much danger of me spotting the gold.”
“No, but yer can't blame us for worryin' with yer so close to it. I said I'd try to find out what he wanted and put a scare into him.”
“You do like to do that scaring sort of thing,” Benedict said.
“A scare worked well enough. No need to kill yer, blind man.”
“Frost,” said Benedict in a freezing tone. “And I fought you twice. Won, too.”
Charlotte hated that he'd had to hear those belittling words. Hated that anyone could see him as other than, well,
Benedict.
Benedict.
“Still,” the thief said mulishly. “Yer left the gold alone.”
“Only because I never thought of searching for six trunks of gold in a building.”
“Probably not six now,” admitted the so-called John Smith. So many Smiths, none of them real. “The others each took a trunk, but the coins is heavy. Before we could move 'em all, there were this dog outside the stable that bark every time we come by.”
“Captain,” Charlotte realized. “She stayed outside all the time.”
Lilac had a few more questions, but Charlotte drifted away, touching fallen stacks of random items. Captain and her friendly soul; Captain and her barks of greeting. If there was gold still hidden in this stable, it was because of Captain.
“What a good old soul she was,” Charlotte murmured.
So Randolph had come to Strawfield because of Charlotte. Charlotte had come to Strawfield because of the gold coin. And the gold coin had come to Strawfield because Smithâone of fourâhad lived near here at some point in his life.
And they'd hidden the coins in the stable because it was so full of rubbish that no one used it. Except someone had, a few times. To pray over a half-drowned man; to look for a trunk.
She hadn't found a single useful thing. Certainly not treasure.
“What now, Lilac?” Benedict was asking. “Do we need to find the remaining coins to prove the truth of his story?”
“The Royal Mint would appreciate that, yes,” the Runner said drily. “Smith, any hints?”
“I'll help yer look if you undo these shackles.”
Three disbelieving glares speared him.
“Hold fast to him, Frost, if you will,” said Lilac. “Miss Perry, if you'll help me scout around?”
Charlotte agreed; she could tell the Runner which items she had shifted in her search for a trunk.
“Shall I encourage Smith to tell us where they put the chests?” Benedict called. “I do have my knife back.”
“You people and your knives,” sighed the Runner. “Come, Miss Perry, let's check this way. They'll be little chests, so we must be careful not to overlook them.”
“They'll be little,” she repeated. She hadn't thought about how the coins would be storedâbut of course they were heavy and couldn't all be tipped into, say, one large box. “Little chests,” she said again. “Oh!”
There was a box, metal and worn, beneath a basket made of an elephant's leg. She had hated to touch the basket earlier, and why should she? She needed a traveling trunk, not an elephant's trunk or any other part of its unfortunate body.
And she had not been looking for a small metal box. Or . . .
ugh,
the elephant leg was unpleasantly yielding about its armature . . . or . . . yes, there were two more little chests, shoved behind.
ugh,
the elephant leg was unpleasantly yielding about its armature . . . or . . . yes, there were two more little chests, shoved behind.
“Mr. Lilac,” she called in a voice that was not quite steady. “I think I have found them.”
The Runner was at her side in an instant, knocking the elephant leg aside with an elbow and hauling forth the small boxes one at a time. Each was smaller than a hatbox, but the wiry man half slid, half carried them, teeth gritted with effort. “Good sign,” he managed, “how heavy they are. Each trunk from the Mint weighed one hundred fifty pounds, full.”
“Full,” she whispered. “Imagine that.” She traced the top of one box, brushing dust and grit from its lid. The crowned royal arms were stamped on the top.
“Mr. Frost,” she called. “Do come help Mr. Lilac move these boxes, will you? I will guard our guest.”
“Take my pistol.” Lilac handed it over. The weight was unfamiliar in Charlotte's hand, but she understood readily enough how to use it.
Much shuffling of items brought the three little stout metal boxes within the entrance of the stable, mere feet from the shackled, glowering Smith.
“Let's have a look, then,” Lilac said. “Is there a crowbar about?”
“Anything useful?” Charlotte said. Together with Benedict, she chorused, “No.”
“But I've my knife again.” He unsheathed it from his boot. “You're welcome to it, Lilac. Only, you must give it back.”
“I'll do that.” A few pries at the seal of the first chest, and the Runner had it open.
And inside: gold, bright and shining and warm, coin after coin after coin. The king's face, stolid as though his image had never caused anyone to hurt or die.
“That's it.” Charlotte's throat was dry. “That's it, Benedict. These are the coins. You mustâyou ought to touch them.”
She held the pistol on Smith while Lilac pried at the other two chests. Benedict crouched before the first, trailing gentle fingers across the gold surface. Bump-bump-bumping over the tiny surfaces of each coin. He picked up a few, rubbing a thumb across the face. Learning the shape of the coin, the feel of it.
“It'll all have to be resealed and counted at the Mint,” said Lilac. “But from a guess, this is fully half the moneyâminus a sovereign or two handed to unfortunate serving girls.”
Smith ground his teeth.
“So.” Again, the Runner took up his pocket-book and pencil. “Once that's all settled, someone will receive half the royal reward. Who was it who found the twenty-five-thousand pounds worth of gold sovereigns?”
Benedict let the coins slip through his fingers back into the chest before standing. “Not I. I'm blind. I can't tell one trunk from another.”
“Benedict!” She knew, she ought to be calling him Frost. But who cared now? What did it matter?
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