'Miss Jane had a kind heart. She was afraid the woman was sick or in trouble, and so she went. The beggar woman took us into a tiny court a little way down the street, and then I remember nothing. Perhaps someone hit me, I do not know. I awoke in an attic and I was very frightened, but Miss Jane was there, and she comforted me.'
'Was this attic in Mr. Horne's house?'
'No. I do not know where we were. We were bound hand and foot in the middle of the floor and could not get loose. When it was very dark, people came and gave us something to drink. I knew it was opium, but they made us drink it. When I awoke again, I was in another attic, but in a bed, and Miss Jane was there, with him.'
'With Mr. Horne?'
She nodded, her eyes filling. 'He told Miss Jane he'd hurt me if she did not do what he said. I begged her to not listen, to run away, but she went with him. She always did what he said.'
'She did not try to run away, or find a constable, or go home?'
Aimee shook her head against the pillows. 'He did not have to hold her with a lock or a door. She was so ashamed of what she'd become, even though it was not her fault. I told her to go, and it made no difference about me, but she would not. And then he sent her away. All alone, with nothing. He broke her spirit, then he tossed her out like rubbish.'
For the first time since I'd entered the room, Aimee looked directly at me. Her wide brown eyes held deep and unwavering pain and unmasked fury.
'Did he send her somewhere?'
'I do not know. One morning, she was gone, and he would not tell me where, though I asked and asked. I know he must have thrown her out.'
'Was she going to have a child?'
'I do not know. She would not tell me. But I think so. He thought so.'
I hesitated a long time, trying to put my questions in a way that would not hurt her. 'You were in the wardrobe in his study the day he died,' I said. 'He put you there.'
'Yes.'
'When?'
Her fair brows drew together. 'What do you mean?'
'Did he put you in that morning, or later, after his visitor had departed?'
Aimee's body drooped. 'I do not know. I have been trying to remember. But I hurt so much, and I was so tired.'
'Do you remember the visitor?'
'I remember Mr. Bremer coming to the study and telling him someone had come to call. Mr. Horne was angry at him. But then he told Mr. Bremer to let the guest upstairs. I do not know who it was; Mr. Bremer spoke so softly. After Mr. Bremer left, Mr. Horne carried me to the wardrobe. I cried and begged him to let me go back to the attics so I could rest, but he pushed me in and locked the door.'
'Could you hear through the door what the two gentlemen spoke about?'
'I cannot remember if I heard them or not. The doors were thick, and I was sleepy.'
I decided to try another tack. 'After the other gentleman left, did Mr. Horne open the wardrobe again?'
She went silent a moment, her eyes reflecting pain. 'I do not believe he did, sir. I was well and truly asleep after that, and I remember nothing.'
I sat back. If Horne had not opened the wardrobe again, that might mean he'd been dead when his visitor, Denis, had left him. But Horne may have simply decided to leave Aimee there, and someone else could have come to the study and killed him while she slept.
'The butler, Bremer, has been arrested for Mr. Horne's murder,' I said.
Aimee's eyes widened. 'Mr. Bremer, sir? He did not. He could not have.'
'It is possible that he did. After Mr. Denis-Horne's visitor, that is-departed, Bremer could have come in and stabbed Mr. Horne, not realizing you were in the wardrobe.'
'Oh, no, sir, not Mr. Bremer.'
'Why not? You said you heard nothing.'
She shook her head, alert now. Josette looked up from her stitching.
'Mr. Bremer is a foolish and weak old man,' Aimee said. 'He was terrified of him. He never could have done such a thing.'
'You do not think that even an elderly man, cowed and frightened, could have killed him in a fit of terror?'
Her lips whitened. 'I do not know.'
'What about the other staff? Could any of them have killed him?'
'I never saw the others. Except Grace.'
'What about Grace?'
Aimee's brow puckered. 'I think-I don't remember. I never saw her that day, I do not think.' Her eyes lost their glitter, and she touched her hand to her throat. 'I am sorry, sir. I'm very tired.'
Josette put aside her stitching and rose. 'Aimee should rest now, sir.'
Disappointment touched me, but I got to my feet. I'd hoped Aimee would tell me everything I needed to know, but I could not expect a tormented and ill woman to have all my answers for me.
I wanted to give Aimee words of comfort, to help her with pretty phrases, but I had nothing to give. She had been broken, body and soul, and it would take a long time for her to heal. Perhaps she never would, completely.
Josette accompanied me to the front room, her gait rigid with disapproval.
'Forgive me,' I said. 'I did not mean to upset her.'
Josette looked up at me in sympathy. She truly did have beautiful eyes. 'It is not your fault, sir. You had to know.'
'I will look for Jane. I will find her.'
'Yes, sir. I know you will. Thank you for being good to Aimee.'
I took Josette's hand in farewell. Something sparked in her eyes, something behind the gratitude, and the anger, and the sorrow, something I did not understand. She looked back at me, bemused, and I released her hand and took my leave.
That evening, I began looking in the brothels for Jane Thornton. I began with those known near Hanover Square and fanned out my search from there.
The witty called such houses nunneries or schools of Venus, and coined the madams who ran them, abbesses. But they were nothing more than bawdy houses in which a gentleman could purchase the company of a lady for an hour or a night. Many houses nearer Mayfair housed fine ladies, who might have begun their lives as gentlemen's daughters. The fashionable thronged to these high-flyers for clever conversation as well as for baser pleasures.
The farther east I traveled, the coarser the houses became and the less clean the girls. In each I asked about a young woman called Jane or Lily.
What I got for my trouble were threats, being shoved from doorsteps, and nearly being pummeled by the bullies who guarded the doors. After the abbesses discovered I had no money, they considered me a nuisance and wanted to be rid of me. I had to show the length of steel in my swordstick a time or two before their bullies would let me go. They must have sent word 'round to each other, because some were ready for me before I even arrived.
I visited the nunneries near my rooms later, after dark, just to be thorough. None were any more pleased to see me than those in Mayfair had been.
As I tramped down Long Acre, Black Nancy sidled up to me and slipped her hand through the crook of my arm.
'If you want a game girl so bad, Captain, yer can just come to me.'
I glanced sharply down at her, not really in the mood for her banter. 'I am looking for a girl who shouldn't be in the nunneries. Not one who should.'
'You're that baffling, Captain. What are you on about?'
