“Or the items left are ones no one wanted after everyone stripped the house over the years.” Finished with her ministrations, Dr. Walker packed up her bag and took a sip from her mug. “Vacant houses are opportunities for those who have little.”
El bounced the little boy, studying his new teeth while he giggled, until Dr. Walker rose and took him. Outside, Mr. Russell finally rode up with Andrew in the curricle. They knew so many people already! Although bailiffs and physicians most likely weren’t the sort one wished to encounter first.
Grumbling, Grey headed for the door. El called after him, “Your purse, sir. Physicians should be paid and we have no jam or cabbages to offer.”
Dr. Walker chuckled. “It would be nice to have an actual paying patient so I might eventually buy equipment. The jams and cabbage go to the manor, where we eat most of our meals.”
Grey simply tossed El his coin purse and continued on his way.
She handed over a sovereign and waved away any protest. “He can afford it, and if we are to stay for any length of time, it may be necessary to have as much equipment and supplies on hand as possible. Greybourne is not. . .” El wrinkled up her nose, looking for a polite description. “He is not a quiet, unassuming professor.” Calling him a bull in a china shop might be a little extreme. He simply had too much vitality to sit still.
The physician settled down to sip her tea, allowing the child to crawl the floor so El could sample hers as well. “The coin will most likely be spent on bandages for the brawling drunks in the gallery. I know Miss Talbot means well, but even the actors are better behaved than those addle-coves.”
El was unfamiliar with the vernacular but grasped the intent. “Actors? The village becomes more interesting by the minute. Do you have a theater?”
“I believe their shows are a little too naughty for general assemblies. Most of the time, they are on the road. The same cannot be said of the painters. Thea hopes to attract people from London who might buy the comte’s work.”
“That would be Mr. Lavigne, the one Thea calls Arnaud? He’s a French count?” At the physician’s nod, El refrained from raising her eyebrows in surprise and asked, “I suppose, if she creates a gallery, the artists will write everyone they know that their work is being shown, in hopes patrons will find them? Unlikely, I should think, this far off the highway.”
El tried to think of anything but the men down by the river, hunting killer pirates.
“Various members of the late earl’s family visit the manor, as well as live there. Their aristocratic acquaintances are widespread, so it’s not an impossible hope. And the bootmaker and clockmaker needed places for their booths. . .” The physician shrugged and took a dust ball from her son before he ate it. “These things take time. We’ll see how long the proceeds from a single diamond will pay the rent.”
“Diamond? She’s paying the bank in jewels?”
Dr. Walker smiled. “You need to visit the Priory and hear the tale told properly. But Major Ferguson discovered a hoard of jewels in the manor’s clock. Captain Huntley arbitrarily decided they should be divided among the earl’s relations who live here and who work to maintain the estate. The late earl’s trust pays the Priory’s expenses, but most of the heirs have little of their own—except Thea. She is an heiress with a large allowance. So, she used her diamonds to rent the gallery.”
“Hidden diamonds!” El sighed and sat back to finish her sugarless tea. “I should really love to stay here. It’s like living in a fairy tale.” Unfortunately, it meant wearing dresses and being disrespected for her gender after years of being considered a man’s equal. She knew how to be invisible as a man. As a woman. . . she didn’t know how to go about.
“A fairy tale with villains.” Dr. Walker jarred El from her reverie as the men tromped back into the yard.
Instead of coming inside, they started searching the foundation, presumably for the cellar door. El’s imagination took a steep dive. “What if there are skeletons down there?”
“It won’t be the first time,” Dr. Walker said serenely, setting aside her mug and reaching for Moses.
Fourteen
Grey
“I think you should be relieved to find no skeletons in the cellar,” Grey’s annoying assistant said with amusement that evening. She looked entirely too composed in her drab gown and plain fichu, her bobbed brown curls gleaming in the pub’s lamplight. He wasted half a second imagining Leonard in silk and jewels and shut down that thought instantly. His head ached sufficiently as it was.
After the afternoon’s excitement, they had returned to the inn to assess the situation. Grey hadn’t accomplished a minute’s work the whole blamed day. Instead, he’d chased thieves, dangled babies—babies!—and scoured spider-infested cellars.
He was a scholar and traveler, not an adventurer—or nursemaid.
Miss Leonard had cuddled up to the infant as if she were an experienced nanny. . . or mother. He supposed mothers cuddled infants. He didn’t remember. But his assistant had seemed as efficient at childcare as she was at research. Was there nothing she could not do?
He’d rather she not turn a thieves’ den into a home. “Skeletons are generally not of recent origin and are nothing to fear,” he retorted in response to her meager jest. “Presumably a stolen cargo of steam engine parts is very recent and far more dangerous. Comfrey was most likely murdered for his discovery. We should go on to Bath before they come after us.”
He was only thinking of his young assistants. For himself, he’d remain out of sheer perversity, to frustrate the criminals and stop their marauding.
“River pirates did not break into your trunks,” Rafe Russell reminded them from behind the bar, where he polished mugs. “For all we know, Comfrey was paid to store the merchandise. You may just have had the misfortune of running into the thief attempting to remove the last of his stolen goods. I haven’t had reports of river pirates since I took office last year, and by now, everyone has to know that you’re moving in. They shouldn’t return.”
“We are not moving in,” Grey insisted. “I cannot have my staff risk assault or worse. And I cannot waste more time hunting for said thieves.”
“But said staff wish to stay here and not Bath,” Miss Leonard protested. “Really, I cannot see thieves murdering an entire household over a box of parts—especially after Mr. Russell made such a scene carting them through the village and inviting everyone to look at them. If thieves are still about, they know their hiding place and ill-gotten gains are lost.”
Before Grey could reply, his insane cousin Thea entered, trailing an entourage of village folk whose names he hadn’t committed to memory—because he was not staying.
