suffer a fate worse than that of Mr. Dillman.
A friend.
I read the missive twice, then inspected the envelope, but found no features on either that might identify the sender. “Have you any idea to what this letter refers?” I asked.
“None at all,” Cordelia said.
Davis entered with port and two glasses. “Is my husband home?” I asked.
“He is, madam. Working chess problems in his study.”
“Bring him to us, Davis. And his whisky as well.”
6
“Do your parents know you’ve come to us?” I asked. Cordelia, still too upset to speak coherently, shook her head. I rose and went to my desk, pulled out a sheet of paper, and started to write a note to the girl’s parents. “You can’t hide this from them,” I said, scribbling words across the page before shoving it in an envelope and ringing for Davis to have it delivered. Cordelia sunk lower in her chair and sobbed.
“What’s all this?” Colin asked, entering the room. I handed him the letter. He read it and then, his face grave, he sat next to Cordelia.
“You’re quite certain you’ve no idea what these people want, Miss Dalton?” he asked.
“None at all,” she said, her voice thin and choking.
“Emily, take her upstairs and get her cleaned up. Have you summoned her parents?”
“I’ve asked her father to come,” I said.
“Well done,” Colin said.
“Am I in danger, Mr. Hargreaves?” Cordelia asked.
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “But I’ll do everything I can to make sure no harm comes your way.”
* * *
Mr. Dalton listened, his countenance growing darker as Colin briefed him on Cordelia’s situation. He balked at my husband’s suggestion that they go abroad until the situation was sorted, confident there was nowhere in the world safer than England. Because his daughter was in mourning, he said, it would be easy enough to keep her under close watch at home. I understood the desire to stay on familiar ground, and hoped it was the best choice.
Cordelia insisted again she had received nothing from Mr. Dillman that could be significant to the case, but I persuaded her to let me accompany her home and to examine everything he’d given her. In the meantime, Colin would arrange for the Daltons’ house to be kept under watch by Scotland Yard. Mr. Dalton, ready to be as careful as necessary, stationed a footman outside Cordelia’s bedroom as she and I made our way to the polished wooden case where she stored her most-treasured possessions.
“I swear, Lady Emily, he always looked after me with the most tender care. He never gave me anything these people would want,” she said, her voice choked with tears. “He wouldn’t have done that to me. Not if he thought it could have endangered me.”
I squeezed her hand. “Of course not. But he may not have realized there would be this sort of danger.”
Cordelia clutched the case to her chest and sat on the edge of her bed, tears streaming down her face. “I miss him so very much.”
I longed to be able to erase her pain.
She set down the box, ran her hand over its smooth top, the surface of which was inlaid with an elaborate pattern of mother-of-pearl, and then unlocked it with a slim key. It opened with a click and she pushed up the lid. Inside were several small boxes and a bundle of letters. The boxes contained items she’d collected while on walks with her fiancé: brittle pressed flowers, a dried leaf that hadn’t lost its bright autumnal red, and a soft, white feather. She didn’t meet my eyes when she reached for the letters.
“Do you need to read them?” Her cheeks flushed red.
“I don’t want to,” I said, frowning. “It doesn’t feel right. But it would be worse if we missed something.”
With a sigh, she passed them to me.
“I promise you I shall keep these absolutely private,” I said.
“Unless you discover something that matters.”
“If we discover something of significance, I shall copy out only the pertinent information. It
A friend.
I read the missive twice, then inspected the envelope, but found no features on either that might identify the sender. “Have you any idea to what this letter refers?” I asked.
“None at all,” Cordelia said.
Davis entered with port and two glasses. “Is my husband home?” I asked.
“He is, madam. Working chess problems in his study.”
“Bring him to us, Davis. And his whisky as well.”
6
“Do your parents know you’ve come to us?” I asked. Cordelia, still too upset to speak coherently, shook her head. I rose and went to my desk, pulled out a sheet of paper, and started to write a note to the girl’s parents. “You can’t hide this from them,” I said, scribbling words across the page before shoving it in an envelope and ringing for Davis to have it delivered. Cordelia sunk lower in her chair and sobbed.
“What’s all this?” Colin asked, entering the room. I handed him the letter. He read it and then, his face grave, he sat next to Cordelia.
“You’re quite certain you’ve no idea what these people want, Miss Dalton?” he asked.
“None at all,” she said, her voice thin and choking.
“Emily, take her upstairs and get her cleaned up. Have you summoned her parents?”
“I’ve asked her father to come,” I said.
“Well done,” Colin said.
“Am I in danger, Mr. Hargreaves?” Cordelia asked.
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “But I’ll do everything I can to make sure no harm comes your way.”
* * *
Mr. Dalton listened, his countenance growing darker as Colin briefed him on Cordelia’s situation. He balked at my husband’s suggestion that they go abroad until the situation was sorted, confident there was nowhere in the world safer than England. Because his daughter was in mourning, he said, it would be easy enough to keep her under close watch at home. I understood the desire to stay on familiar ground, and hoped it was the best choice.
Cordelia insisted again she had received nothing from Mr. Dillman that could be significant to the case, but I persuaded her to let me accompany her home and to examine everything he’d given her. In the meantime, Colin would arrange for the Daltons’ house to be kept under watch by Scotland Yard. Mr. Dalton, ready to be as careful as necessary, stationed a footman outside Cordelia’s bedroom as she and I made our way to the polished wooden case where she stored her most-treasured possessions.
“I swear, Lady Emily, he always looked after me with the most tender care. He never gave me anything these people would want,” she said, her voice choked with tears. “He wouldn’t have done that to me. Not if he thought it could have endangered me.”
I squeezed her hand. “Of course not. But he may not have realized there would be this sort of danger.”
Cordelia clutched the case to her chest and sat on the edge of her bed, tears streaming down her face. “I miss him so very much.”
I longed to be able to erase her pain.
She set down the box, ran her hand over its smooth top, the surface of which was inlaid with an elaborate pattern of mother-of-pearl, and then unlocked it with a slim key. It opened with a click and she pushed up the lid. Inside were several small boxes and a bundle of letters. The boxes contained items she’d collected while on walks with her fiancé: brittle pressed flowers, a dried leaf that hadn’t lost its bright autumnal red, and a soft, white feather. She didn’t meet my eyes when she reached for the letters.
“Do you need to read them?” Her cheeks flushed red.
“I don’t want to,” I said, frowning. “It doesn’t feel right. But it would be worse if we missed something.”
With a sigh, she passed them to me.
“I promise you I shall keep these absolutely private,” I said.
“Unless you discover something that matters.”
“If we discover something of significance, I shall copy out only the pertinent information. It
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