Page 78

Lark used the basement entrance to the Henrietta Street house, carrying the Emporium printer’s copy of the guide under one arm. In the kitchen he caught the eye of Mrs. Brandle and with her help summoned Jenny. Under the stairs outside the stillroom, they had quick conversation.

“Mr. Larkin, sir, why are ye ’ere? Miss Bradish’s gone away to ’er parents’ ’ome in Weymouth.”

“Was she sacked?” A hot surge of anger welled up in him, tightening his mouth.

“She resigned. She was most particular about it. She told me I shouldn’t worry.”

“When?” He didn’t believe that Viv had simply resigned.

“That day the ruffian came to the ’ouse. It was such a to do with Mrs. Stryde saying ’orrible things, and Mr. Haxton waving a poker about.”

Lark almost laughed. Maybe Viv had simply chosen to leave a house gone mad. “Do you want her back?”

Jenny gave a fervent nod. “It’s right dismal ’ere now, it is. Nurse Coates ’as more bones than a snake, and not a single kind one.”

Lark smiled. “Then you need some help. You need Viv back.”

“Can you get her back?” Jenny’s eyes grew wide in her smooth, round face.

That was more than he could promise. “Can you get me a chance to speak with her ladyship alone?”

“Oooh, that’s a scary thing. She’ll be right furious.” Jenny clutched two great bunches of her apron in her hands, squeezing pleats into the crisp linen.

“She won’t know you were a part of it. It’s for Viv.”

Lark waited while Jenny crumpled her apron and chewed her lower lip.

“I’ll do it. Ye just wait ’ere a bit until I see she’s in ’er sitting room. She likes to be alone there in the morning.”

“Thank you, Jenny.”

Minutes later Jenny returned with a conspiratorial smile. She handed Lark a silver hand bell. “’er ladyship’s. She’s alone and can’t reach the bell pull by the wall.”

Jenny led Lark up the servants’ stairs and into the great room along the front of the house. From there, through open double doors, he could approach her ladyship unannounced.

He entered the darkened drawing room. Lady Melforth sat staring at nothing, her imperious face pale and blank. Even the red hair had a dull, sullen look, like a dying fire in the grate. When she saw him, she started, and reached for her little bell, the one Jenny had taken. He held it up. “Calm yourself, Lady Melforth. You are in no danger from me.”

“You, how dare you come here! You should be taken up. Thief!” She shot a wild glance at the distant bell pull by the door.

“That makes two of us then, ma’am.” He crossed the room slowly, his tread lost in the rich carpet underfoot. The silk pillows piled around her ladyship made a faint brightness in the dim room. He stopped as he had done weeks earlier where her ladyship must look up at him, and laid his copy of the proofs on an apricot-colored silk cushion at her side. She seized it at once with a shaky hand.

“What is this?”

“A new proof copy of your book based on Viv’s corrections, an honest copy that reflects the work you did together.”

With an unruly jerk of her hand, Lady Melforth flipped open the book, her hawkish gray stare fixed on the title page.

Lark watched as the truth of what she was seeing registered on her face. “You haven’t permitted Dodsley to publish yet. Your conscience troubling you?”

“You are impertinent.” She did not meet his gaze.

“I’ve spoken with Dodsley and advised him not to publish the original proofs unless he wants to face legal action.” Lark pulled up a chair and sat facing her.

“What are you talking about?”

“That copy in your hands, printed up by a friend of mine, is based on Viv’s corrections. I retain the original printer’s proofs, the ones delivered here, with Viv’s handwritten notes.”

The sharp gray gaze swung to him. “You dare to threaten me. You! What are you? A common pickpocket…a nobody with no connections. Your ties to the duke a mere fiction…”