“All over.” Miss Smythe groaned, shook her head as if arguing internally, then reached into her pockets. When Alistair saw her removing the sovereigns she’d sequestered within, he jumped backward as if they’d been electrified.
“Keep the coins. I willnotbe accepting your resignation. If you’ve no wish to join me for a few hours in my quest to help Lillian—”
“I have every wish to help Lillian!” she burst out. “I just... ”
He leaned forward. “Just what?”
“We’ll discuss it later. I need to think.” She lowered her eyes and glanced away. “If you please.”
Alistair didn’t please at all, but he held his tongue.
Her eyes as dark and as fathomless as the night sky, she pressed the fistful of coins to her chest and turned to go.
Hemighthave stopped her. He considered it. Wished to, in fact.
But before he could decide if reaching out for her would be unwise and going after her the most foolish act of all, she was around the corner and gone.
His shoulders thumped hollowly against the door to the catacombs. He was still a fool. With a sigh, he reached into his waistcoat for the letter. Perhaps it wasn’t a refusal after all. Perhaps another one of England’s brightest minds would be joining the conclave at Waldegrave Abbey. Lord knew, he could use some good news.
He popped the wax seal with his thumb and unfolded the parchment. A square, unsigned message stood out in stark black letters.
“We know what you’re planning, and we know what godlessness you hide. Stop, or we will send your evil back to hell. You have been warned.”
The edge of the paper crumpled in Alistair’s suddenly sweaty hand.
He had suspected—nay, he hadknown—that the few madmen amongst the local villagers became more suspicious with each passing year, but this,thiswas a problem. This was a direct threat. It had reached him here, in his home. Where he was supposed to be safe. Where hisdaughterwas supposed to be safe.
Who had sent it? What was it they thought they knew? And what lengths would they go to stop him?
He turned and rested his clammy forehead against the bleak chill of the catacomb door. God help him. All he wanted was to be a good father. To cure Lillian. To give her the world. Fourteen short days until strangers arrived at the abbey. Would he finally be helping his daughter, or was he putting her at even greater risk?
Chapter 16
Violet quietly let herself into her bedchamber. For better or for worse, Mr. Waldegrave had just handed her precisely what she needed to finally act.
Enough funds to start over elsewhere.
She seated herself at the escritoire. Carefully, she pulled open the top drawer. Beneath the feather, the inkwell, and the dozen sheets of parchment, layers of shiny coins lined the bottom of the drawer.
Thirty pounds, ten shillings, four pence were hardly Croesian riches, but the sum was more than she would have earned in an entire year at the Livingstone School for Girls. Violet hadn’t the least idea how much a good barrister might require to take on her case, but surely this was enough to secure one’s attention.
She placed the blank white sheets to one side of the desk and unfolded a single page of now-worn parchment. Earlier that week, Mrs. Tumsen had compiled a list of London barristers at Violet’s request, no questions asked. Now that the names were in her hand and a growing pile of coin secreted in her escritoire, it was past time to solicit some answers.
First, she must introduce herself and her case as generically as possible. She hoped lawyers would not gossip about their clients’ business, but she was not yet anyone’s client. She required a London barrister partly for the legitimacy it would bring to her case, and partly in the hopes that news from the north had not yet arrived to prejudice their minds against her. All the same, she could hardly pen a dozen written confessions and send them about Town along with her signature and current address. Miss Smythe she would continue to be, until it was time to sign a contract.
Second, she needed to know how much it would cost to secure legal services throughout the handling of her case. Third, how confident the barrister was in his ability to secure an acquittal. Fourth, when they could meet. Fifth, when they could begin. And sixth, how soon could she hope to put all of this behind her? Was there a chance she could stay here at the abbey once her name was cleared?
After finishing the last of the letters, she gathered them in a neat pile and rang the bell pull. Within minutes, Mrs. Tumsen was at the door and tucking the folded missives into a pocket for safekeeping.
“Don’t ye worry, gel. I have an afternoon free in two days. I’ll post ’em then, if that’ll do.”
“Of course.” Violet dropped a few extra coins into the older woman’s palm for her trouble. “Another visit to your sister?”
Mrs. Tumsen grinned slyly. “Can’t go too long without seein’ Ginny.”
Tsking, Violet waggled a finger in mock reproof. “Visiting Ginny” meant Mrs. Tumsen planned to spend the day warming a stool at the hotel tavern down in Shrewsbury proper.
“Sure I can’t bring back a nip or two for ye?”
