Eden
CHAPTER 24
Barnstable had Grenville’s carriage, driven by his coachman, Jackson, ready for us in a flash.
I asked Jackson to take me first to St. Giles, where I would retrieve Brewster. While we crossed the city, I told Grenville what I’d been mulling over breakfast, and we speculated on my ideas.
I was very glad to sit across from Grenville once more, discussing an investigation. His quick mind complemented my plodding one, his diplomacy, my frontal attacks.
“Major Eden is ready to confess, is he?” Brewster asked when I summoned him from his house. Mrs. Brewster was there, greeting me cheerfully as usual, and pushing her Tommy out to help me once more.
“That remains to be seen.” The carriage could not come into the warrens, which suited Jackson, and so we walked through the awakening slum to meet the coach and Grenville at the church. “He is agitated enough to send for me.”
“Or he could be luring you into a trap, as Creasey did.”
“That is why I am bringing you along,” I said.
Once we were aboard, Jackson turned the coach along Holborn then south on Fetter Lane to Fleet Street and east until we were again past the Tower and into the once-elegant Wellclose Square.
The house Eden directed us to was on the east side of the square, around the corner from Warrilow’s lodgings. The home’s three stories rose to a series of dormer windows, again reminding me of Parisian residences.
The door was opened to our knock by a handsome, black-skinned woman with large dark eyes, whom I guessed to be in her thirties. She wore a trim gown of blue-and-white cotton stripe with a white lawn cap.
“Good evening, madam.” I greeted her with a bow. “I was told I’d find Major Eden here?”
“You must be Captain Lacey.” The woman exhaled in relief and opened the door wide. “Yes, please, come in.”
She spoke with the liquid accent of the West Indies, one I’d always found musical and soothing. At the moment, the woman showed much distress as she led us into a sitting room in the back of the house.
“He’s here,” she announced.
Eden rose from a chair near a cheerful fire. “Ah, thank God. We’re in a bit of a dilemma, Lacey. I see you found my note, Mr. Grenville. Excellent.”
“Grenville?” The woman looked Grenville up and down then pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, my heavens. YouareMr. Grenville. I’ve read all about you in the newspapers.”
Grenville, nonplussed, removed his hat and bowed. “At your service, madam.” Though Grenville had traveled as hard as I had from Gloucestershire, he was dressed impeccably in a well-fitted suit and a brilliant white cravat, unsoiled gloves on his hands.
“Forgive my manners,” Eden said. “I am too distracted for formal introductions.” He swept his hand around the room. “Captain Lacey, Mr. Grenville, Mr. Brewster. Mrs. Davies.”
Mrs. Davies curtsied. “Pleased you have come, gentlemen. Major Eden says he relies on you. I’ll hunt up some tea. Won’t be a tick.”
Charmingly blending her West Indies accent with London cant, she moved smoothly out of the room.
“Lovely woman,” Grenville said. “Who the devil is she?”
“Er, well …”
“I was right,” I said in triumph. “You did spirit her away across the seas.”
“Not exactly. I am ready to confess, Lacey. No, not to murder.” Eden laughed breathlessly. “But all my sins. The trouble is, I’m afraid I’m about to be arrested.”
“By Pomeroy?” I asked in alarm. “Does he want to pin Laybourne’s death on you as well?”
“Eh? No, not the Runners,” Eden said. “Customs and Excise.”
“Customs and Excise?” Grenville broke in. “Can they arrest people? For what?”
“Smuggling, of course,” Eden said.
