“What about Weatherby? He leased his house so these atrocities could be carried out. He should go to jail for what he did.”
“He did profit. Greatly, I might add. Considerable sums were deposited in his bank account. He claims he knew nothing about the purpose for which it was used.”
“Preposterous! He had to have known.”
“I agree. But it would have to be proven in a court of law. Something that would not be easy to do. So a compromise wasreached. He will not be charged with any crimes as long as he redirects the lease payments to the trust for the benefit of the young women.”
“That’s not enough!”
“I agree.” He paused for a moment. “He is suffering a greater damage. His reputation is in tatters. He will not be welcomed by polite society after this. There’s even talk about stripping him of his title and his estate.”
“His family will suffer if that happens.” They were innocent. They should not suffer for Weatherby’s sins.
“Which is the reason that may not come to pass. I suspect a compromise will be reached on that as well.”
I supposed that was the best we could hope for. “Will you have anything to do with the trust?”
“No. The trust will be established, and a trust committee will be appointed by the Chancery Court to oversee the matter. It will not be swift. Nor will it be easy. But in time, the women should receive some measure of compensation for the abuse forced upon them.”
He drew a breath, then continued more quietly.
“I have also verified the identities of the two women found in the Thames. You know of the first—Anna Price. The one we saw at the mortuary was Betsy Collins. She was one of St. Agnes’s.”
I closed my eyes as the image of her tortured body flashed in my mind.
Steele reached out and pressed my hand. “I’m so sorry, Rosalynd.”
“I’m not the one who was murdered.”
“She wasn’t, at least not in the strictest sense of the word.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“She took her own life. Her body was placed in the river after her death. One of the women we saved attested to that fact.”
A long silence followed.
“Any funds allotted to her,” Steele said at last, “will likely be directed to St. Agnes as she had no family.”
I nodded slowly. “I think she would have liked that very much.” To calm myself down, I poured more tea for both of us. “How is Lady Honora faring? I haven’t heard.”
“No one knows she was one of the young ladies. With any luck, no one will ever find out. Her parents have taken her home to their country estate, claiming she’d fallen ill.
“And Jenkins?” The man who’d assaulted me. “Have you gotten him to talk?”
He took a sip of the Oolong before he answered. “It will be rather hard to do. He’s dead.”
My teacup landed back on the saucer. “How can that be? You arranged for someone to deal with his injury.”
“He was placed in hospital. But before a police interview could be arranged, his throat was slit.”
“Who? How?”
“I suspect the masked man who prevented you from leaving issued the order.”
“It was my fault. If I hadn’t?—”
“You are not responsible for his death, Rosalynd.” He took a deep breath. “The man you talked to was more than likely the mastermind behind the Floralia. Jenkins knew who he was, or at least could point the authorities in his direction. He was a dead man regardless. And most certainly he doesn’t deserve your pity.”
