Tony asked, “What is it?”
I kissed his cheek. “Things will turn out well. You’ll see.”
Of course, all the other reasons I couldn’t leave still remained. But it felt manageable: remove one card — mine — and the game was won. And yet I felt a great fondness for Tony, as if he were already free of me and happy.
Perhaps I was mad, but it was a beautiful madness, where everything seemed so clear.
Tony gazed into my eyes: his heart lay bare. “You’re a better woman than I ever imagined. I promise never to hide anything from you again.”
Then madness passed; grief and anger returned. I rose, turned away. “Let’s go inside.” So I went through the gardens and to the veranda, Tony trailing behind.
Tony said, “Where would you like to take tea?”
“Is it that late? Here will do.” I hadn’t faced Tony, nor did I wish to. “I’ll return shortly.”
I went towards my rooms. I needed to think.
How was I to find money for four zeppelin tickets? Surely Joe wouldn’t leave his sister to face the Spadros Family alone. Tony would stop at nothing to learn where we went.
When I entered my room, Amelia said, “What’s wrong?”
I fell into her arms and wept; even now I couldn’t say why.
Amelia just let me cry. Once the storm passed, she took hold of my upper arms. “Now tell me what happened.”
Amelia helped raise Tony. I remembered her tears at his broken rib, how she wept the night I almost killed him with opium. I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “You don’t want to know.” Amelia loved Tony more than her own son: to learn what he had done, what the Diamonds had done to him .... “There are things I can’t tell you, Amelia.”
She smiled. “I know, mum. But if ever I might ease your troubles, I’ll do it gladly. You’ve been kinder to me than any mistress should be, and for that I’m grateful.”
I stared at her, dismayed. “One day we must talk.” Then I sighed. “But today, my husband wishes tea on the veranda.”
Amelia nodded. “Come wash your face; your makeup needs fixing. Once you’re ready, I’ll take care of everything.”
Cold water and deep breaths eased my face and mind. As Amelia redid my makeup, I forced myself to list the things which needed doing. I had almost enough money for one zeppelin ticket. Perhaps I might find a case, or borrow the money for more.
Might the bank be willing to extend me a loan, with my apartments as collateral? They were in my name, after all.
But the bank would want to know why I needed a loan, and surely would notify Tony — or worse, Roy — to ask permission.
Or perhaps I could see a broker to ask about the value of the apartments. But how to do so without involving Tony? He’d wish to know why I would sell the apartments so soon, especially since they were the only thing I had left of Dame Anastasia.
But I still had her makeup book. If I were to disguise myself well enough to fool Tony’s men, I might fool a property broker.
“There!” Amelia spoke proudly. “Stand tall and smile, and no one will ever know you shed a tear.”
* * *
During tea, I considered the matter. A female broker would be scrutinized more closely than if I approached the bank myself. Someone would contact Tony or Roy to confirm my identity.
I decided honesty might be the best policy here. Or at least forthrightness. “I wish to renovate my apartments.”
Tony sat reading some mail. “Oh?”
“I’ll need to take a loan on the bank.”
Tony smiled. “No need — I’ll give you the money.”
If I were to steal from the Spadros Family, they would never stop hunting me. “Are you certain? I could take the loan, and establish credit. I’ve read that —”
Tony burst out laughing. “A married woman? Taking loans, establishing credit? You sound like some widow merchant.” He smiled fondly at me. “There’s no need for such things. Write a list of what’s needed, and the amount, and I’ll give it to you. Or contract it out and have the bills sent to me.” He went back to reading. “Whatever you wish.”
“Very well.”
This was a mistake. If I made a list, Tony — or his accountant — would want to verify how the money was spent. Not only a mistake, a dead end.
Perhaps inspiration might come to me later. In the meantime, there was something else I needed to bring up. “I know you said you didn’t want me working on cases anymore, but ... I must learn who killed my friend Marja. She was as a mother to me.”
Tony glanced at the servants. “Might we discuss this some other time?”
I had forgotten they stood there. “You’re right, of course.”
* * *
After tea, Tony and I met with three Spadros Family lawyers. Tony’s father Roy wanted to meet with us as well — or so Tony said — but Tony refused to have him here.
The men sat in armchairs in Tony’s study; we sat on the sofa. Tony posted Sawbuck to keep anyone from listening.
A Mr. Primero Trevisane spoke, the other two taking notes. “I’ve managed to place you and your wife at the end of the proceedings, which went well with the inquest’s wishes.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed. “If I recall, this means they wish to build their case on testimony we might give, to prove us false.”
“Yes,” Mr. Trevisane said. “Yet we can hear and counter their evidence.” He opened a thick folder. “Servants were questioned first: those in attendance at the explosion and of all four Families.”
“Four?” I said.
“Since the allegation of collusion has taken place,” Mr. Trevisane said, “the inquest has been made aware that this could be a Hart plot to defame the three Families so accused.”
I laughed. “An idea likely from the Clubbs.” Everyone stared at me. “It’s no secret they bear animosity towards each other.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Trevisane said. “In any case, the questions seem irrelevant. What fuel runs the heating in Spadros Manor? When is Mrs. Spadros ‘at home’? Have there been any incidents?”
“Such as?” Tony said.
“The dismissal of three kitchen maids from the Pot. It angered many that instead of hiring their own, Spadros Manor would bring this sort,” he glanced at me, “to serve in such capacity.”
Tony said, “A mistake which has since been corrected.”
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“But your butler revealed the theft of letters from your wife.” He turned to me. “Perhaps you can enlighten us on this matter.”
“I never thought to examine them. If I may, I’ll fetch them.”
“Of course, Mrs. Spadros. It would be helpful.”
I poured a drink and began searching. I found the letters stacked at one end of the window-seat in my study. “They’re all personal correspondence. Must you read them?”
Mr. Trevisane pursed his lips, frowning. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Spadros, but they might contain something important.” He conferred with the others in whispers. “If you would care to read them? Perhaps some detail might help.”
I opened one. “A notice of an appointment with my dressmaker.” I set it aside. “A personal note inquiring after my health.” That was from Jonathan. And then I scanned the next envelope. “I don’t recall getting this.”
Tony leaned forward. “What is it?”
“A letter from Jo — Miss Josephine Kerr.” I’d never seen Josie’s handwriting before then; all her cards and envelopes so far had been embossed. But it seemed familiar. I tore the envelope open and glanced at the top: dated from before the Grand Ball.
They intercepted my mail!
But how? All mail was supposed to go through Pearson. “Does Pearson keep a record of the mail?”
Tony rang for Pearson.
Why would they take a letter sent from Josie?
Pearson entered. “Yes, sir?”
Tony said, “Mrs. Spadros has a few questions for you.”
Pearson closed the door, taking several steps into the room. For the first time, he seemed uneasy. “How can I help, mum?”
“Do you keep a record of mail?”
He glanced between Tony and I. “What sort of record?”
“When a letter leaves. Where it’s sent. When one arrives.”
“Yes, mum.” He surveyed the room. “Do you need it?”
“Yes,” Tony said. His face never changed, but he was angry.
I turned to Mr. Trevisane. “I fear these women were stealing my mail for longer than we thought. They may have been gathering information about who I have contact with.”
Tony nodded. “Might they have also taken mail you posted?”
“How would they do that?”
Mr. Trevisane said, “One might only bribe a messenger boy to have access to all sorts of information. We never use them except for the most routine correspondence.”
“Hey, you need be giving us more money.” Poignee stood in front of me in my study, hands on her hips. Ottilie and Treysa stood beside her. “You wouldn’t want us telling Mr. Spadros about your romp with Joseph Kerr, now, would you?”
They blackmailed me to bribe messengers for my letters?
Tony said, “The will?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” Mr. Trevisane said, opening another file from his case. He handed over a stack of papers. “Your signature on the last page, sir, then we can witness it.”
He was going through with this?
Tony scanned the papers then signed. “Arrange a bank account for my wife. Place the income from her apartments there.”
The lawyers gaped at Tony. “Why sir,” Mr. Trevisane said, “a woman? Holding a bank account? Why, it’s preposterous! We’ll have to consult your father —”
Tony’s expression didn’t change. He reached into his left jacket pocket, removed his revolver from its holster, then placed it on his leg, the barrel pointing towards the man. “I didn’t hear you correctly. Are you my attorney or are you my father’s?”
Mr. Trevisane glanced at the revolver. “Y—yours, sir.”
“Then pray carry out my wishes. Without involving my father.” He pointed the gun back and forth at the three men, not raising it from his leg. “Or I will know who to call to account. Make sure the bank understands this as well, because I’ll hold you responsible should he hear of it.”
The three turned pale, then nodded. Tony replaced his revolver in its holster.
I glanced at the fireplace, where Tony shot Duck after the man betrayed him. I could never forget the pool of blood there.
I’d been to the bank on Tony’s behalf many times, and of course I had Anastasia’s lockbox. But I’d never had a bank account before, and I didn’t know whether to be excited or afraid.
Pearson returned with two of his sons, each carrying a large stack of ledgers. “This is for the year so far, mum.”
And it wasn’t yet May! “Bring the six months prior.” I turned to the men. “That was when the women were most saucy to me,” I gave Tony a quick glance, “which is why they were dismissed.”
These men had no business hearing the real reason.
Pearson glanced between us then said, “Yes, mum.” The three left, returning — in two trips — with six equally large stacks.
Pearson wouldn’t recognize some of my mail, but Tony would wonder why I wrote to (for example) Thrace Pike. I needed to see what was in the ledgers before Tony did. “This’ll be like finding a needle in a haystack. I keep record of correspondence; I’d be happy to search for missing mail.” I didn’t keep any record, but it was the best way to control these records I could think of.
“That would be helpful,” Mr. Trevisane said. “In the meantime, let’s turn to the matter of your appearances at the inquest. The Four Families will appear in the audience three days from now, when the public is invited to speak.”
I almost laughed at what was unspoken: to give the impression of caring about their opinions.
“Deep mourning would be best for the duration of the inquest. You’re only allowed to enter and exit during a lull in the proceedings, or in case of emergency. You do not rise except when a judge enters, on exiting, or if need be to allow another to pass.”
“Judges?” Tony said. “I thought this was merely an inquest.”
“Well, yes,” Mr. Trevisane said. “But since I don’t know the future, I thought it wise to educate your wife on these matters.”
Tony seemed put out. “Very well.”
I said, “What’s a judge? How will I know one?”
“The man in charge of the proceedings,” Mr. Trevisane said.
Tony put his hand on mine. “Just do as we do.”
Mr. Trevisane continued. “When appearing as a witness, answer the question asked, nothing more. Make them draw the information from you. Unfortunately, we’re not permitted to cross-examine, but they’ll ask if there’s any information they’ve neglected. This is where we must determine your exact words.”
* * *
After a half-hour of this, they left.
Pearson brought a note for Tony, who read it, then kissed my forehead. “I’m off to Market Center. I’ll visit the Chief of Police about your friend. Master Kerr said there was little interest in her case.” He grinned. “Perhaps I can persuade him to take interest.”
“Oh,” I said, impressed.
I went to my study, setting the stolen letters aside. On the desk sat three more: from Joseph Kerr, Jon, and Gardena.
Seeing Jon and Gardena’s names sent me into a rage. What did I have to say to them? How could they explain themselves? They’d not only lied to me, they’d betrayed Tony! I crumpled the unopened letters, throwing them into the freshly-lit fire.
At that moment, I wished to see neither one of them again.
Joe’s letter I opened as if sent from the Floorman himself, amazed at having a part of him with me. He wrote with large, printed letters, as a young child might.
I hope you’re well. Please visit tomorrow after luncheon. Look forward to our meeting. — Joe
I hugged Joe’s letter, imagining his beloved face pressing upon my chest. I felt such joy that I kissed the letter, leaving a lipstick mark. Then I locked it in my desk. Soon, my love, soon.
I went to the door. “Pearson, please notify the bridge guards that we’re not at home if the Diamonds should call.”
“Yes, mum. For how long?”
“Until we say otherwise. And I’ll call on the Kerrs tomorrow after luncheon.”
“I’ll have the carriage ready. Will there be anything else?”
“My cigarettes, and a bottle of bourbon.” I was celebrating.
* * *
Ledgers sat in neat rows between my desk and the fireplace.
I poured some bourbon, opened a ledger, and began reading, stacking the ledgers on the other side of my desk as I went. They detailed comings and goings, arguments in the hallway and packages delivered. Many entries were about mail, or meetings with people who came calling — about both Tony and myself!
Then there was a note:
Mr. Anthony surprised me whilst writing. We conversed.
We conversed? I daresay you did. Tony must have been furious.
I called Pearson in, a ledger open, waiting until he closed the door and stood before me. “Why do you listen outside my door?”
Pearson stared straight ahead and said nothing.
I rose, coming round my desk to walk past him. “I’ve trusted you since I was a small girl. But now I find you’ve made notes on me. Listened at my door. You’re reporting to my husband, but only after he discovered you. Who do you really report to?”
Pearson’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
“It’s insupportable. You’ve betrayed me, my husband, everyone. Yet you’re not the only one doing so. Do I have to dismiss my entire staff?” I stood in front of him. “This will stop.”
“I can’t, mum.”
“Well, it must.”
His nose reddened. “I’m sorry, mum, I can’t.”
I had never seen Pearson so distressed in my life. “Why?”
He hesitated a full minute, glancing at me from time to time, becoming more agitated as the seconds passed. Then he spoke in an anguished whisper. “Mr. Roy has my mother.”
His mother?
“When my family was made gift to Mr. Anthony, he took my mother as hostage.” He turned aside. “To spy on my own Family is insupportable, mum, but I can’t take the chance.”
I spoke without meaning to. “Why would he do this?”
“I don’t know.” He sounded adrift. “I’d never betrayed him, even in my thoughts. I’ve been in the Family since birth. Mr. Roy and I were boys together in this house.” He retrieved his handkerchief and wiped his nose. “You and Mr. Anthony are dear to me as my own children. You mustn’t think I betrayed you.”
“Oh, Pearson.” I put my arms around his, resting my head on his left shoulder. “Forgive me for not trusting you.” I let go, came round to face him. “Do you have proof she lives?”
“She sends letters. And I visit her when you and Mr. Anthony are out. I saw her last month. She appears well.” His jaw clenched. “But she belongs in the home Mr. Acevedo gave her.”
I took a deep breath, let it out: no idea came. But I had to do something. This was wrong. “If it’s in my power, I’ll win her free.”
He froze. “Mum, you must do nothing. He might kill her.”
I nodded, whispering, “Someday I’ll kill him, never fear.”
He smiled sadly, shaking his head. “Were all my sons combined half so fierce.” His shoulders drooped. “But I suppose lambs are best for the servant’s lot.”
I placed my hand on his shoulder. Jane, Mary, his sons ... they must be terrified. “None of you deserve this.”
He stared at the floor. “I’m glad you told Mr. Anthony where you’ve been going. He fears for you.”
I sighed. Tony seemed to be fearful of everything.
“I remember when he was a tiny boy. Such a happy child. He adored his brother. But I’ll never forget the way he stared at Master Roy Acevedo’s body — after it happened. He found him. Even though Mr. Anthony was but two,” Pearson shook his head, “I fear the sight changed him.”
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