“Yes, madam.” Charwood bowed himself out, his posture eloquent with his disapproval.
Cecilia set aside her embroidery and leaned down to tuck her sewing basket under the rosewood table beside the gold-and-brown striped sofa where she sat. “I hope he has good news,” she murmured to her husband.
“As do I.”
“Mr. Martin and Mr. Wrightson, to see you,” Charwood announced.
A red-headed boy in a plaid cap grinned cheekily up at Charwood. Lewis tapped him on the shoulder. “Take your hat off,” Lewis admonished. The boy snatched the hat off and held it before him.
Lewis looked over at the Branstokes. “My apologies for the late hour. We won’t take up much of your time.”
“Come in, please, and sit down. Can we get you anything to eat or drink?” Cecilia asked.
The boy, a gleam in his eyes, swaggered forward. Lewis grabbed his shoulder to pull him back. The boy grimaced up at Lewis. The Bow Street agent didn’t look at him. “No, thank you, my lady. I came to return the pictures to Miss Rangaswamy. The fliers will be available in the morning. Daniel, here, will bring them to you while we distribute others in the city. I wanted him to meet you, so he doesn’t get turned away at the door,” he said, looking meaningfully over his shoulder at Charwood.
Charwood glowered back at him.
“Daniel will serve as my messenger should I need to get news to you and for you to communicate with me. I have told him you have an excellent cook, by way of inducement,” he said drily.
James laughed.
“And he shall receive the best of our cook’s fare,” Cecilia promised, smiling.
“Thank you.” He inclined his head. “Now for my news. It is not the best; however, it is news. We believe the boy has been sold to a chimney sweep.”
“A chimney sweep!” the Branstokes exclaimed.
“I would not have considered that,” James admitted.
Lewis nodded. “Based on Miss Rangaswamy’s description, he would be the perfect size for a sweep’s apprentice.”
“What makes you believe he is now in the hands of a chimney sweep?” James asked.
“It’s wot mi gang say,” spoke up the boy. He threw his shoulders back, standing tall. “Lil’ Eddie hurd it fum Stewie over by Seven Dials. He tol’ Ferdie who tol’ me.”
James looked at Lewis. “You believe this?”
“Yes, I do. Unfortunately, all we have for a description is the approximate height and build of the sweep and the person who sold the child. It was dark, and they both wore dark clothes.”
“Is there anything we can do to help? It is vexatious to feel useless,” Cecilia said.
Lewis shrugged. “Continue talking to Miss Rangaswamy and see if she remembers anything more that happened around her.”
Cecilia nodded thoughtfully. “Yes,” she said slowly, a faraway look in her eyes. She looked again at Lewis. “And I can share the flyers with my acquaintances who are still in town and suggest they get their chimneys swept. It is that time of year.”
Lewis laughed. “It is, but most of society has nothing to do with the sweeps. It is their servants who do.”
Cecilia frowned thoughtfully. “Charwood, when was the last time we had these chimneys swept, and who arranged it?”
“Last spring, madam. Mrs. Dunstan arranges all household matters like cleaning the chimneys,” he stiffly admitted.
“Lewis, I shall speak to Mrs. Dunstan, and we will pass the word among her network of housekeepers.” Cecilia stood up and paced.
James leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Martin, you have roused my tigress.”
Cecilia cast a glance at her husband but continued. “And despite chimney cleaning being the responsibility of the staff, I know it will delight some of my lady friends to be involved. We shall have the cleanest chimneys in England, and we shall find Christopher! It only wants getting the word out, and I believe I know how to do that.”
9
