“You know a lot of particulars about Belvoir, Strickland.”
Strickland beamed a smile. “Well, that magistrate was the loquacious sort.”
“I don’t suppose he explained just how big a whale he hopes to catch with his bait.”
“Let me think about that.” Strickland pondered. “More a giant octopus, actually. All those arms going this way and that, if you understand me.”
Ives understood well enough. Someone thought Belvoir could lead them to a criminal involved in much more than this incident of counterfeiting. If Strickland knew so much, the Home Office was either involved, or monitoring the situation closely. And if the Home Office showed this much interest, they probably thought this octopus was dangerous, and had an arm or two tied to political radicals seen as threats to the realm.
“I trust the magistrates, or whoever is investigating, are being thorough. I have seen the man, and heis an unlikely culprit. I would not want another case like Waverley’s.”
Strickland’s face fell. His gaze shifted. “That was unfortunate.”
“It was not unfortunate. It was a tragic miscarriage of justice.”
“You really need to forget about him. Mistakes happen.”
“I sent an innocent man to the gallows. That is not something one forgets.”
“Youdid not send him. The process sent him.”
“Carelessness sent him. Settling for the easy solution did, and indifference to finding the truth did.” He heard his voice rising.Let it go?He would forever regret that day in the Old Bailey. “If I learn Belvoir is being sacrificed to the Home Office’s notions of expediency, there will be hell to pay.”
“This is not like that,” Strickland said. “There’s no politics here. As I’ve heard, it is counterfeiting, and other normal sorts of crimes.”
“If you have only heard, you do not really know. If others in this building are crossing legal lines, they would not inform you.” Ives conquered the anger that had gripped him. It had been unfair to throw that burden at Strickland, who had not even been involved in Waverly’s case. “They cannot hold Belvoir forever without trying him,” he said. “He is a citizen and does have his rights.”
“I expect you will be meeting him in the Old Bailey within the month. According to that magistrate, ofcourse. Although if you are so suspicious, maybe you should not prosecute. You can still beg off.”
He grinned when he said it, because of course Ives could not beg off. When the Crown indicated it wanted one to serve as its prosecutor, one did it.
They turned the conversation to other things, but all the while Ives calculated the ramifications of Strickland’s confidences. Padua Belvoir had better find that lawyer she sought, and quickly. And if she were not careful, she might end up needing legal counsel for herself.
***
Padua strolled between the tables, looking over the girls’ shoulders while they worked on their geometry lesson. The few who showed the worst mistakes were not the ones who lacked the ability to learn mathematics. Rather they were the ones worldly enough to know that no matter how well they mastered the subject, no one would celebrate their achievement.
Padua’s efforts to encourage learning for one’s own satisfaction made little headway with some of the girls once they became distracted by thoughts of parties and suitors.
Before the hour ended, Jennie, whose lessons on comportment and etiquette the girls never treated as useless, came to the classroom’s door.
“You have a caller,” she said, after drawing Padua aside. “I will take over here, so you can go down.”
“I am amazed that Mrs. Ludlow allowed me to be pulled away from my duty to receive this person.”
“I’m not. Go and see why.”
Stepping into the reception hall solved the mystery. Mrs. Ludlow herself already sat with the caller, in a little chamber off the hall decorated with frail gilt furniture and a nauseating combination of pink and rose fabrics. “Ah, here is Miss Belvoir now,” she chirped when Padua entered the room. Mrs. Ludlow’s high color blotched her cheeks, and she all but giggled when she gestured at Padua with a silly flourish.
Her caller was none other than Ives. Padua suspected his calling card would sit in the salver in the reception hall until it turned yellow from age.
Mrs. Ludlow appeared at cross minds regarding leaving the chamber. Padua smiled at her reassuringly. The chamber had no doors, for heaven’s sake, and its interior was in full view of the hall. Nor, at twenty-five, did she require a chaperone, especially with this man.
After Mrs. Ludlow left, Padua turned expectantly to Ives. “How did you find me?”
“You left your address with my man that first day. Remember?”
She did now. She sat on a little silk-covered bench. He took the only decent-sized chair.
