opinion in the ranks was that you were one of the bravest officers in the King's army. The bravest and the best. But sometimes, we thought you went too far. You were so crazy-brave, you expected all the rest of us to be, too. Like charging a hill loaded with artillery. We thought we should truss you up and toss you in the baggage carts. Meaning no disrespect, sir.'
I looked him in the eye. 'We won that hill, Sergeant. Which allowed our infantry to move through.'
'It didn't make you any less insane. This is another case you ought to be trussed up, sir. Don't have nothing to do with Mr. Denis. You'll regret it something powerful. Let Bremer be the culprit. Easiest on everyone.'
Except Bremer, I thought. I changed the subject. 'What do you know about the murder of a young woman in Hampstead?'
Pomeroy's eyes gleamed. 'Someone else has been murdered?'
'The body was found about a week or so ago, in the woods. A young woman. She'd been there a while.'
'Hmm, I think I remember hearing about it. A maid or some such?'
'A kitchen maid for Lord Sommerville. Her name is Matilda. I'd like to know her surname, and also the name of her brother who traveled to Hampstead to identify her body.'
'What do you want to know for?'
'I'm interested. Also, any information on a woman called Charlotte Morrison, who disappeared about the same time the girl was killed.'
'Oh-ho. You think the two are connected.'
'They might be. I have no idea. Have you had any leads regarding Jane Thornton?'
'Not heard a word, but I've got an ear out. I saw your notices. I wouldn't mind ten guineas meself. You giving out rewards for information on the other two?'
'Not as yet. When you hear anything at all, send word to me.' I started to walk away.
'I ain't your sergeant anymore, Captain. I don't take orders from you, you know.'
I swung around. 'But I'm mad, remember? You never know what I might take into my head to do.'
I left him then, muttering not quite under his breath about right-bastard officers who liked to make a hell of everyone's lives.
I went back to the Thorntons' house in the Strand. The one person who had been present for Horne's murder was Aimee. I'd wanted to leave her alone, to let her turn her back on Horne and his house, but Bremer's fate might depend on her answers to my questions.
Alice greeted me and informed me that Mr. Thornton was still alive. He had come 'round the day before, but now lay asleep again, dosed with laudanum. I was encouraged, but did not give in to hope. He still could so easily slip away.
I asked to see Aimee. Alice looked surprised, then told me that she'd gone to stay with her aunt, a woman called Josette Martin. She gave me the direction, and I headed east in a hackney through the Strand and Fleet Street and into the City, to a small boardinghouse near St. Paul's Churchyard.
'Captain.' Josette Martin met me in the middle of a neat, though shabby drawing room and shook my hand. Threads of gray laced her brown hair, which was braided and looped in neat coils. Her face was square and her nose snub, but her eyes were large and wide, framed with long black lashes.
'Mrs. Martin.'
'You are the gentleman who brought Aimee home?' She spoke flawless English, but with a fluid French accent.
I acknowledged that I was.
She motioned to me to sit in an armchair then perched on a sofa a little way from me. 'It was very good of you to help her. How did you come to find her? She remembers very little.'
Even as she expressed gratitude, her look was wary. She must have wondered what I'd been doing in the house where her niece had been held captive.
'Will she live with you now?' I asked.
She nodded, candlelight catching in the gloss of her hair. 'I raised Aimee after her parents died in France. I trained her to be a lady's maid, as I was. But I believe we will not stay in England. We will return to France when she is well.'
'How is she?'
'You are kind to ask. Aimee will recover, in body at least. He was very cruel to her. The man is dead?'
'Most definitely dead.'
Josette's eyes hardened. 'Good. Then God has taken his vengeance. Do you think that wicked of me?'
'To be happy that the monster who hurt your niece is dead? I feel the same.'
That seemed to satisfy her. 'I thought at first you'd come from the magistrate. To question her.'
I kept my voice gentle, though impatience pricked me. 'I do want to ask her a few questions if she is well enough to speak to me. I am trying to find what became of her mistress.'
'Miss Thornton? I am worried for her as well. The Thorntons are poor. Aimee did the duties of upstairs maid and looked after both Miss Thornton and her mother, but they were all kind to her. It was a good place.'
'May I speak to her?'
'I am not certain. She was in low spirits this morning, but she may agree to see you. She is grateful for what you did.'
Josette rose. I got up politely and crossed to the door to hold it open for her. She flashed me a small smile as she went by, with even, white teeth.
I waited for nearly a quarter of an hour for her return. I tried to keep my patience, but I was annoyed with myself that I had not questioned Aimee from the start. I might have prevented Bremer's arrest-not only did I not believe the butler had killed his master, I also wanted to get Bremer into my clutches to find out what had happened to Jane. Pity had moved me to leave Aimee alone, but I might have cost Jane her safety.
Josette at last returned to tell me that Aimee would see me, but she was very tired. I promised I would ask Aimee only a few questions, and Josette led me down a hall to a small bedroom in the rear of the house.
The room was dark, the curtains closed. Aimee lay on a chaise, wrapped in a shawl, her feet covered with a rug. She looked at me with enormous dark eyes in a pinched face.
Josette went to the window and rearranged the curtains to let in more light. Then she drew a stool next to the fire, fished mending out of a basket next to it, and began stitching. I pulled a straight-backed chair from the wall and seated myself next to the bed and Aimee.
During the war, I'd seen women, and also men, who had been brutalized by soldiers, wear the same look of blank fear that Aimee wore now. Their trust had been broken, their peace destroyed.
I kept my voice quiet. 'Aimee, do you remember me?'
Aimee nodded, her yellow hair limply brushing the pillows. 'From the house.'
'How are you?' I asked.
Aimee turned her head and looked at the window, where weak sunlight tried to filter through clouds. 'Alice and the mistress were kind to me. And Mrs. Brandon.'
She spoke woodenly, and I noted she did not answer my question.
'I've come to talk to you because I want to find Jane Thornton. Anything you can tell me, anything about how you came to Mr. Horne's house and how she left it, will help.'
Aimee had closed her eyes during my speech. Now she opened them and plucked at the fringe of the shawl. 'I do not remember very much.'
'Anything you can,' I said. 'I want to find Jane and bring her home.'
Her gaze flicked to me briefly then away. 'Alice told me how kind you've been. But I don't know how much I can help. They gave me opium to make me sleep and would not let me stay with Miss Jane. I want the opium all the time now, and it hurts when I cannot have it. Isn't that funny?'
I didn't find it in the least amusing. 'Do you know how you came to be in Mr. Horne's house at all?'
'Not very well.' Her voice died to a whisper. 'I remember my young lady and I had gone to the Strand to wait for the carriage. It was so crowded that day, I did not know how it was going to find us. A woman, she came to us and asked Miss Jane to help her. She was dressed in rags and crying and begged for Miss Jane to come with her.'
'And Miss Thornton went?'
