Mungo kept his eyes on her for the next fifteen minutes as she rattled on about decorum and rules. His mind, however, was somewhere else.
Eliza had likely been in this room. She’d been subjected to this woman lecturing her about her behavior and then interviewed before being interviewed again later by Ivy and Bram.
“Oh dear!” Ellen said, suddenly grabbing her stomach.
“What has happened, dear?” Gray said in a hard tone.
“I, ah—I’m in need of a privy at once,” Ellen said in a tight voice.
Mungo doubted that was true and wondered what her game was.
Mrs. Holton leapt to her feet. “If you’ll come this way at once.”
“I-I need your help, Mr. Rutherford,” she said to Gray.
Odder and odder. She wanted Gray out of the room. Ellen let out a loud wail of pain, and Gray held up his wife as they rushed out. He threw Mungo a warning look as they left.
Mungo got to his feet and hurried to the desk. He dropped to his haunches and then began opening and closing drawers, looking for what, he had no idea. But clearly Ellen wanted him to do something, hence the distraction she’d provided. He found nothing but quills ink, and paper.
There had to be more.
Dropping lower, he crouched and swept his gaze beneath the desk, driven by nothing more than a certainty that if something had been hidden, it would not be where any one thought to look.
His fingers brushed a raised strip of wood. He stilled.
Carefully, he pressed it. The panel slid aside with a faint whisper, revealing a narrow cavity—just large enough for a hand. His pulse quickened as he reached inside, feeling nothing at first… then the unmistakable edge of leather.
He pushed the panel wider and drew out a book. Then another.
Two ledgers were hidden inside.
After closing the panel, he made his way back to his chair while stuffing the ledgers into the back of his trousers. He then sat and crossed his legs, heart thudding hard inside his chest.
When they returned, Ellen looking the picture of health, he was swinging his leg and looking bored.
“I think we should leave,” Gray said. “I will send my man to make an appointment to view the maid, Mrs. Holton. My wife does not look well, and as she is in a delicate condition?—”
“Say no more,” Mrs. Holton said quickly.
“My wife’s cousin will make a decision on your agency also,” Gray added as he shepherded Ellen out the door.
Mungo followed with a nod to Mrs. Holton. They made their way back to the carriage, and only when they were inside and it had started moving did Gray say with remarkable calm, “What the hell was that about?”
“Did you see the painting on the wall of the stiff-necked old man in the gilt frame?”
Mungo and Gray nodded. It was behind the desk on the rear wall.
“I saw that in a vision two days ago but dismissed it, as I thought there was no hope I’d see it again. Sometimes that happens.” Ellen shrugged.
“And so?”
“And so, Gray—honestly, you are the detective. Surely you can understand why I did what I did?”
“You think you saw that painting and that means Mrs. Holton is in some way involved in my niece and Polly’s disappearance,” Mungo said as Gray opened his mouth. “Therefore, you wanted me to search her desk for anything that may incriminate her and lead us to Fenella.”
“There, you see?” Ellen jabbed her husband in the chest with a finger. “Mungo completely understood why I did what I did. Perhaps he should have been a detective.”
“Absolutely not,” Mungo said, sitting forward in his seat. He then removed the ledgers from the back of his trousers.
