“Oh, now that’s better,” Cissa said. “Less moping and lovelorn, and more lordish,” she said, studying him.
“I don’t suppose you’d all leave and let me speak with Mr. Tweed alone?”
“Absolutely not. If it involves my friend, then I want to hear what he has to say,” Violet said.
Tavi and Cissa nodded.
“Fine, but you will keep your large mouths shut and let me do the talking.”
“Of course,” Cissa said far too quickly for him to believe she would.
He entered to find Mr. Tweed standing beside the window, looking at the small garden below. He turned, his eyes going wide as he took in Ambrose’s sisters.
“Good day, Mr. Tweed. These are my sisters.” After the introductions were made, he asked the man what information he had for him.
His sisters sat on the sofa like hens settling in to roost. Twitching skirts, and fiddling with gloves.
To his credit, Mr. Tweed rallied after the initial surprise and said, “In the course of my investigations, I have uncovered something I wished to speak to you about, my lord.”
“Of course, please speak freely in front of my sisters, as I cannot get them to leave.”
Mr. Tweed’s mouth twitched. “I have two sisters, my lord.”
“My condolences,” Ambrose said, which had Cissa hissing at him.
“Four years ago, a young lady by the name of Miss Patricia Sawyer went missing on her way to her aunt’s place here in London. Her father, who is in the legal profession, looked for her for months, but she was never found.Absolutely no trace of her. Then Gwen Small went missing. She was the daughter of a housekeeper for a wealthy London family. There have been several more instances, including the one you spoke of, Miss Fern Little.”
“Why do you believe these missing women are tied to what we discussed, Mr. Tweed?” Ambrose shot his sisters a look. Should they be listening to this? There could be frightening details that would give them nightmares. “If you wish to leave?—”
Tavi cut him off. “Absolutely not.”
“Continue, Mr. Tweed. If my sisters have nightmares from this conversation, that is on them.”
“Each of the girls simply vanished, never to be seen again, my lord, which happens in a city as vast as London. But then I found the information that Gwen Small’s body was found by a farmer out walking with his dog an hour’s drive from London,” Mr. Tweed said.
“Good Lord, really?” Cissa said.
Mr. Tweed nodded. “But I fear this next part is not fit for your ears, ladies.”
No one moved.
“Carry on, Mr. Tweed,” Ambrose directed him.
“Her body had marks on it, my lord.”
“What kind of marks?” Violet asked.
“Symbols.” Mr. Tweed drew a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. He then held it out, and Ambrose intercepted it before Cissa could grab it.
“The book in that room has the same symbol, Ambrose,” Violet said, crowding him on the right. “And there is also one on the wall beside the stairs.”
“I really need to be allowed to see that room,” Cissa said.
“And the woman had these markings on her body?” Ambrose looked at Mr. Tweed.
“She did, and her death would not have been easy.Torture, my lord. It was obvious according to the farmer, whom I visited yesterday. She had raw marks on her wrists and ankles, and she wore no clothes.”
“Poor woman,” Tavi whispered.
