Page 69 of A Countess of Convenience

This was the best thing to come out of that wretched night. Freedom from Simon and to be loved by John. “Thank you.” She wanted to do so much more for him than a simple thank you. This man who had saved her in more ways than one. But she must maintain decorum in front of Sir Reginald. “But he distinctly told me he went to…that place with Lord Fenton. Fenton knew Simon and knew what Simon had been doing about town. Is there any reason to believe Simon might not have told him later about the governesses, or about one, at least?”

“Gentlemen don’t brag about such things.” John’s rage with Simon almost seeped from his pores. “But by my estimation, Simon Harper was no gentleman in any sense of the word. I’d wager he flaunted his abuses to his cronies whenever he could.”

“And therefore Fenton’s father naturally came to hear of it.” Nodding, Sir Reginald rose to pace the room. “I would say Lady Haxby’s supposition is sound.” He swung around and headed back to the window. “I would like to propose something you may consider foolish.” He looked from Judith to John. “Let us go back to Downing’s townhouse. I know you said they have gone, and no one seemed home, but they may have left instructions with the servants to ignore anyone calling at the house until they are well away. By now, they may come to the door. If not, we can canvass the neighbors to see if anyone talked to them, saw them leave, or if the neighbor servants have heard anything about their departure.” He gave Judith a brief smile. “You would be surprised, Lady Haxby, at the information I can glean from people who don’t know they have information to give me.”

“You are more than kind, Sir Reginald.” Trying to reassure her when all hope had gone made him a truly gallant soul. “I pray you are proved correct.”

The carriage ride took only minutes, and Judith and John followed Sir Reginald up the steps to the black door once more. Sir Reginald rapped loudly with his fist then called, “Hello, the house! Is anyone home?”

The same silence as before met them.

“All right,” the magistrate whispered, “back down the steps. We wait five minutes then follow me down the servants’ stairs. We’re going to perpetrate a ruse and pray it works.” Opening his pocket watch, Sir Reginald counted the minutes—had he not shown Judith the timepiece she would have sworn the time moved slower than usual.

When time was finally up, he signaled them to get behind him, and they slipped stealthily down the stairs. They reached the bottom step, and he put up his hand to stop them and told them to wait on the steps. Then, to Judith’s amazement, Sir Reginald began to tromp heavily on the steps, making as much noise as he could. At last, he continued walking noisily to the servants’ plain door and banged heavily on the wooden panel.

As no answer seemed forthcoming, Sir Reginald banged his fist even louder on the door. “Hello, thar! Delivery from Billin’sgate!” He pounded again. “Hello, the house! I got ya fresh fish ’ere, bought ’n paid for.” He turned slightly away from the door. “Come on, Jim. We can sell ’em down the street an’ pocket the profit. My Nancy’d favor a good tot o’ gin t’night.”

The door bolt shot back, and a woman who might’ve been the cook rushed out. “Wait, wait. Don’t go sellin’ the master’s fish to no one else.” She stopped dead when her gaze registered Sir Reginald. “You ain’t Charlie from Billin’sgate.”

“No, Madam, I am not. Who I am is Sir Reginald Matthews, a magistrate of the Bow Street Court, and I would like your cooperation with some questions to which I believe you have the answers.” He started through the open door. “May we come in?”

He gestured to them to follow. Judith sent one pleading look at John and, not waiting for an answer, went after Sir Reginald. Even though she couldn’t see him, the sound of John stalking behind her was comforting. The cook brought up the rear and shut the door.

The kitchen they entered was clean as a pin, though rather bare looking. That didn’t surprise Judith. They’d always been on skimpy rations unless Lord and Lady Downing were entertaining. And that only happened once in a blue moon. Sir Reginald led them to a table in the servant’s hall and gestured for the cook to sit.

“Now, Mrs.…?

“Bowen, m’lord.”

“Sir Reginald, please, Mrs. Bowen. Now, have your master and mistress quitted the house today?” He peered so sternly at her she began to squirm on her seat.

“No, sir. I ain’t seen ’em today.” The woman tore at her apron, glancing side to side.

“I wouldn’t expect you saw them any day, ma’am.” Sir Reginald hardened his tone. “Do you know if they have left the house? Did a footman or housemaid tell you this so you would not fix more food this evening than is necessary for just the servants? That is what I am asking you, Mrs. Bowen.”

The woman was made of sterner stuff than Judith would’ve given her credit for. She hunkered down into her chair and held her tongue.

“You do know what a magistrate of the court is, don’t you, Mrs. Bowen?” Sir Reginald had begun to walk up and down in front of the cook, his measured footfalls adding a macabre cadence to his interrogation. “I am an officer of the court, which means I am charged with looking into wrongdoing, any wrongdoing I see. Not just thieves, or murderers, or pickpockets. Oh, no, I am charged with rooting out evil of all sorts. There is an evil temptation in some of us to look the other way when wicked things are being done. Be very sure you do not fall prey to that type of misdeed, Mrs. Bowen. The sin of omission is grave indeed.”

“Wha’s that?” The magistrate must be affecting the woman for she’d gone white and clutched the sides of her chair seat.

“That is when you have information that I have asked for, yet you do not tell it to me. That is omission.” Sir Reginald stopped in front of the cook. “I will ask you one more time, Mrs. Bowen. Have Lord and Lady Downing quit the house today?”

“No, sir. They’ve na’ been outside the house a’tall this sennight past.” Not daring to look at the magistrate, Mrs. Bowen stared straight ahead, likely praying for the interview to end.

Sir Reginald nodded to Judith.

“So you are telling me that they are, this minute, upstairs in the house? The knocker is off the door and no one answers when you knock, yet your master and mistress are here?”

“Yes, sir. That be the God’s honest truth.”

“I thank you for your honesty, Mrs. Bowen.” He bowed his head to her. “Please remain here. This lord and lady and I have urgent business with Lord and Lady Downing. Where do they take their tea?”

“The small drawing room, sir, on the first floor, in the back of the house.”

Sir Reginald led them down a corridor to a steep staircase leading from the kitchen to the ground floor butler’s pantry. Quietly, they crept up the main staircase leading to the first floor. They continued down the long, dim corridor. One door only had a low glimmer of light coming from underneath.

“I believe this is their hiding place.” Sir Reginald grabbed a candle out of the wall sconce to help light the way. “I ask that you remain calm. Nothing will be accomplished if it dissolves into a shouting match.” The magistrate looked at John, who had the grace to nod.