Heaven Made (28 page)

"Yes, go on."

"I don’t know how to say this, but I must declare it
plainly."

"Oh, please do, Ford. I wish to return to my rooms.
It’s quite disconcerting standing here in the lobby talking into a machine.
People are looking at me." She hissed this last at him, obviously
frustrated by the awkwardness of Mr. Bell’s invention.

"Luella, I don’t want to marry you." Ford couldn’t
believe that he’d managed to spit out the words. He waited for her response.

"Well, I’ve never," Luella sputtered a bit before
continuing. "I’ve never been so relieved in my life. Oh Ford, you don’t
know how I’ve dreaded coming home and facing you. I hope you won’t
misunderstand, but you are so very…dull. All your scientific studies and such
are a terrible bore. Frankly, I was quite distressed at the thought of being
married to someone who doesn’t even enjoy parties. I want to be with someone
far merrier than you. Really, Ford, you don’t even seem to enjoy going out and
socializing. And if the truth be told, I’ve had several offers since I’ve been
here. Thank goodness I didn’t let on that I was engaged."

Ford was stunned, but he managed to find his voice after a
brief pause. "Good, good, then it’s settled. We are both of us free to
pursue other, more gratifying associations. Well, good luck, Luella. I hope you
find much happiness."

"Of course I will, Ford. There are ever so many more
interesting gentlemen to flirt with than you." Luella hung up the receiver
without even saying goodbye. Obviously she was very pleased with how things had
turned out.

Ford wondered briefly just how many parlors from London to
Paris would be buzzing with the news of their broken engagement by dinnertime?
The telephone was anything but private. Well at least Luella had been able to
put any gossip to rest that she was heartbroken over the turn of events. He had
no doubts that she would return to London with a man much more entertaining
than he on her arm. Good for her and most especially, good for him. Feeling as
though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, Ford left
the house whistling. George stopped him at the front door to see if his
employer needed either the motorcar or the carriage.

"Not today, George," Ford said with a wink. "Today
I could walk all the way to Scotland and I don’t think my feet would even touch
the ground."

As he headed toward Tottenham Court road, the first white
flakes of the season began to fall. It is a good sign, Ford thought nearly
skipping down the sidewalk. Soon, he would be able to declare his intentions to
Sabrina so they could begin their new life together. If she didn’t tell him to
go to hell again, that is.

Arriving at Miss Blakemore’s agency, Ford was disappointed
that the place looked closed. But just as he was about to turn around he
spotted the boy, Danny, sneaking through the back of the business to the
tearoom. Dreading meeting up with the old psychic again, Ford reluctantly made
his way next door and entered the establishment.

"Danny Blakemore," Ford called out without
actually entering the shop. "I saw you coming over here. I need to talk to
you."

"Mr. Northcliffe, come in and warm yourself."

Too late to back out now that Madame Lou could see him.
Sighing in resignation, Ford entered the mysterious little shop. Its smells and
sights had the uncanny effect of making him completely uncomfortable.

"I was looking for Miss Blakemore," Ford said,
hovering near the entrance. "Do you know where she is or when she might be
returning? I need to locate Mrs. Tremaine immediately."

"Ah yes," Madame Lou said, moving to light some
candles and fragrant incense. Her actions were causing Ford to break out in a
cold sweat. "Your mother has told me what you’ve been up to and had me
send Cassie away. If you want to find Sabrina, you’ll need to sit and talk to
me first."

"Bloody hell," Ford muttered. He’d been
outmaneuvered quite neatly. He abandoned his post in the doorway and made his
way to the table where Madame Lou was sitting, shuffling those infernal cards.

"Sit, sit," she motioned to the opposite chair. "I
have much to tell you."

Ford took off his gloves, hat and coat, draping them on a
nearby table and chair. He did not want to get into this right now, but he
could see he had no choice in the matter. It would be the only way to get the
information he needed.

"Here, split the deck for me," Madame Lou
instructed, placing the stack of mysteriously painted cards in front of him. "Twice
more."

Ford did as he was told, hoping that this exercise in
futility would be over soon.

"Ah, your mother is here. Not that she’s left me alone
very often in the last month." Madame Lou sounded irritated as she spoke
in that low voice that didn’t sound at all natural. "At least she is
happier today than usual. Ah, she knows that you called off the engagement with
Miss Ellison."

"But how?" Ford was confused now. He had barely disconnected
the call an hour ago. "You must have a line here and you overheard my
conversation." He knew he sounded smug, but he couldn’t allow this
charlatan to get away with her tricks. "Now I know how you steal people’s
money and if you don’t tell me where Miss Blakemore is, I’ll expose your scam."

"You are free to look for a telephone, Mr. Northcliffe."
Madame Lou seemed unfazed by Ford’s accusations. "Unfortunately, there are
no lines within a mile of here, otherwise you would be quite correct. My business
would certainly be much easier if I could simply eavesdrop on private
conversations. But instead, I have to rely on the very biased information that
the spirits pass on to me. And believe me they are not always as truthful as
one might imagine."

Ford was skeptical but he did know for a fact that most
areas did not yet have telephone lines. Only the wealthy could afford such a
luxury. Still, that didn’t mean the old woman couldn’t have been listening from
somewhere else and then hurried back to the shop afterwards. Unlikely, but not
impossible. He grew more uncomfortable as he considered the improbability of
his theory. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Madame Lou. He would
let her talk and then they’d see who was lying.

"Ah yes, the little girl."

Ford sat forward slightly. Did the old crone mean Piper?

"She took something of yours and hid it. Just before
she got sick."

He sat back again. Piper hadn’t taken anything of his. Or
had she?

"A train? No, not a train. Hmmm, I can see a train, but
that isn’t what she is showing me."

"I didn’t have any toy trains," Ford said with
triumph. The psychic would need to find a new profession when he was done with
her. "Mother hated them and refused to allow me to have one."

"Ah, I see it now. Yes, it’s definitely a train."

"I just told you that I didn’t have any trains."
Ford stood and began gathering his things.

"A book of trains."

Ford sat back down. "What did you say?"

"It’s behind a picture on the lower landing."

If he could see her mouth, Ford was certain that Madame Lou
must be grinning. He knew the exact book she was speaking of and the exact
painting that it was most likely behind. The only one that Piper could have
possibly reached at that young age. The book had been an amazing collection of
train photographs from around the world. He’d had it for over ten years and
Piper had known how much he loved it.

Ford felt himself travel back in time to when he was a young
man just home from Eaton. Piper was furious with him because he would be gone
again very soon. She had pouted for days and he could remember clearly that
right before he was to leave again, she had seemed inordinately pleased with
herself. He’d searched for his favorite book everywhere, but eventually had to
give up because he would have missed the train heading back to school. Ford
remembered that Piper was crushed, probably believing that he wouldn’t go if he
couldn’t find the book. It was only a few weeks later he received a telegraph.
Piper was very ill and mother was away on a shopping trip leaving Ford to rush
home and desperately try to nurse the little girl back to health. He hadn’t
even thought of the train book since that day.

The fear and grief of the past washed over Ford in waves.
The book was a link to his sister that he didn’t understand, but he could feel
it as keenly as if Piper were telling him where it was instead of some strange
old woman. Madame Lou allowed him to have his moment of memories while she laid
out some cards on the table.

"What?" She acted as if she were talking to
someone else. "No, that can’t be. Right now? Goodness, what should he do?
All right, all right…I’ll see what I can do."

"What, is it Piper? Or Mother? What are they saying?"
Ford didn’t want to believe in ghosts, but he couldn’t seem to come up with any
other explanation at the moment.

"It’s Alice’s father now. Edward Tremaine. He says that
his daughter and Sabrina are in danger. Oh dear, you must do something to save
them now!"

 Madame Lou suddenly began snuffing out the candles and
putting the cards away. "Come on, there’s no time to lose. You have to
find Mrs. Tremaine. They are at their old residence. It’s Edward’s brother."
Madame Lou stood in a flurry of scarves swooshing and bangles jingling. "Hurry,
Mr. Northcliffe, they haven’t much time."

"But, I don’t know where that is." Ford was
beginning to panic. "Cassie would know, wouldn’t she?"

Madame Lou stopped in her tracks and appeared to be
concentrating. "No, Sabrina was living in a flat by then. You must find
them another way. Go to that fancy club that you’re a member of. One of those
gentlemen must know the Tremaines."

"Of course," Ford said, pulling on his gloves and
hat. "Are you coming?" he asked, buttoning his greatcoat.

"I would only slow you down, but I’ll have Danny find
his sister. She’ll be right behind you."

Ford didn’t question how Madame Lou could know that. After
all, the woman was a psychic, wasn’t she? How else could she know the things
she did? He was torn about the whole mystical medium tableau, but right now, he
couldn’t take the time to question her or her methods. Sabrina might very well
be in deep peril. Hadn’t he known that her brother-in-law was a dangerous man
capable of doing anything to get his hands on her inheritance? And Madame Lou
had simply confirmed what he already knew, just sooner than he’d expected.

He rushed from the shop, barely noting that Danny was
already helping Madame Lou pull the scarves from her head. Ford headed for his
club at a run, being careful not to slip on the fresh snow that was beginning
to build up on the street. By the time he reached the elegant address, he was
quite out of breath and had to stop in the entryway while a footman tried to
take his coat.

"No, I won’t be staying," Ford said, pushing the
man away. "Is Lord Suffolk here this evening?"

"In the smoking room," the footman answered. "Enjoying
the good brandy."

"Of course," Ford said, heading for the back of
the club. "As if the man has ever acquired a taste for anything but the
best."

O’Neill was laughing with a group of older gentlemen when
Ford found him.

"Are you cold? Have a glass of this new French liquor,"
Suffolk said, eyeing Ford’s greatcoat critically.

"I need information," Ford said, glancing around
at the men. "Anyone here familiar with the Tremaine family? Where their
family home is?"

"Ford, don’t be such a bore. Sit and have a drink."
O’Neill seemed embarrassed for his friend. "You really have to learn to
socialize more. I’m beginning to think Luella is more relieved than even she
let on."

The gentlemen all chuckled at Suffolk’s ribbing. Obviously
these men had access to a telephone. Probably the operator here at the club had
shared the news as it happened.

"Yes, yes, she certainly got the better end of the
bargain," Ford said, hoping they would move on to helping him find the
information he was searching for quickly. "But I need to get over to the
Tremaine house immediately. Can anyone give me a direction?"

"Tremaine, Tremaine, that does sound familiar. You
wouldn’t mean Edward Tremaine?" Lord Markham appeared to be remembering
something. "I think he died a year or two ago. A suicide, wasn’t it? They
had that huge place over in Berkeley Square, I believe. Hadn’t thrown a party
in over a year before he died, but when his wife put something together, it was
always a big success. Beatrice, my wife, really enjoyed the Tremaine events.
Even though Edward wasn’t a peer, his pretty wife had good lineage."

"Do you remember where in Berkeley Square?" Ford
was beginning to lose patience now. Didn’t these men have anything better to do
with their time then sit around drinking brandy and gossiping? "A house
number maybe?"

"Number 30 or maybe it was 32. I can’t recall. But it
was on the better side. Those Tremaines were a wealthy lot." Markham was
muttering to himself now. "Big scandal after Edward died, if I remember.
The brother took over and nobody knew what was to become of the wife and little
girl. They were destitute, according to the rumors. But I do believe the
brother had a fortune of some sort, or maybe it was the family money. It struck
me then that there was never any clarification about all that."

"Thank you," Ford said not wanting to clear up the
misinformation that Gerald had obviously spread. Everyone would know the truth
soon enough. "O’Neill, I could use your assistance."

Lord Suffolk looked surprised to be asked to help out his
friend, but he nodded and set both the cigar and liquor down. "I’ll get my
coat and we can take my barouche."

"You’re a good friend," Ford said, slapping
O’Neill on his shoulder. "We need to hurry. Someone very important to me
is in trouble."