I could only shake my head. Grenville could heal or die. The blade could have torn him up inside in ways we could not know. I could only hope that the cut was clean, and that his body would heal itself.
'Will you let me see him?' she asked.
I started to answer, then I spied Sutcliff coming out of Fairleigh. He saw Marianne, recognized her, and froze.
'Mr. Sutcliff,' I called.
He hesitated then at last came toward us, his expression wary.
'Hello, Mr. Sutcliff,' Marianne said, with forced cheerfulness. 'I came to tell you that your ladybird's done a bunk.'
Sutcliff's face went white. 'What?'
'I said your ladybird's done a bunk. Cleared out this morning without a word to Mrs. Albright.'
Sutcliff stared at her in pure anger. Marianne smiled. No woman could give a man a more scornful smile than could Marianne Simmons. 'Gave you a start, did it?' she asked. 'I take it this news is unexpected?'
Sutcliff's face reddened, and he raised his hand to strike her. 'Impertinent whore.'
I caught his arm. 'Keep a civil tongue,' I said, 'or I'll thrash you worse than Fletcher ever did.'
His lip curled. 'Unhand me. You do not know your place.'
Marianne gave a sharp laugh. 'He knows better than you. He is a gentleman. Your father is a trumped-up clerk.'
Sutcliff tried to hit her again. Marianne hid behind me.
'Marianne, be quiet,' I said sternly. 'Mr. Sutcliff, go away.'
I pushed him off. He glared at me, then he turned on his heel and marched back into Fairleigh.
I faced Marianne. 'I'll take you to see Grenville, but you must keep quiet. Provoking the students will not help.'
She made a face at the door Sutcliff had just slammed. 'He puts my back up. He swaggers around like he's something, while Grenville is worth fifty of him.' Her voice faltered.
'I agree. But keep your thoughts to yourself, or I will not be able to stop Rutledge having you bodily removed. Do not speak again until we reach Grenville's chamber, agreed?'
She started to answer, then closed her lips and nodded.
Good. For now.
I took her by the arm and led her into the Head Master's house. Boys stared. Tunbridge tried to stop me. I gave the mathematics tutor a look that sent him scuttling away and took Marianne up the stairs.
Bartholomew and Matthias had locked the door. When I knocked, Bartholomew opened the door a crack and peered out with one blue eye. He saw me, opened the door wider. He eyed Marianne askance, but I pulled her inside and shut the door.
Marianne approached the bed, her boots whispering on the carpet. She removed her bonnet and dropped it absently, her face white. She looked down at Grenville for a long time. His face was still starkly pale, the flesh of his bare shoulders nearly as white as the bandage that wrapped him.
Marianne took his hand. His fingers lay limply in her grasp.
'Is he going to die, Lacey?' she asked in a low voice.
'No,' I said, trying to sound certain. 'We will not let him.'
'Such a comfort you are. You are not a doctor. How the devil should you know?'
'I have seen men with wounds far worse recover and live as though nothing had happened,' I answered. I did not add that I'd seen men with smaller wounds die for no reason I could discern. Grenville could so easily sicken, take fever. He could die while we sat helplessly and watched him.
Marianne said nothing. She gently stroked the hand in hers. Grenville did not respond.
Matthias heaped more coal on the fire. Bartholomew leaned against the bedpost, at a loss for what to do.
I was tired, and my short nap had not helped. I settled back into my chair, stretched my bad leg toward the fire that Matthias had stirred to roaring. 'Marianne, tell me about Jeanne,' I said.
She did not look at me. 'She's gone. What is there to tell?'
I thought about Jeanne's charming smile and winsome conversation. She had been very practiced. 'When did she go? Did she pay up and depart or simply disappear?'
Marianne kept her gaze on Grenville's pale face. 'She went out the window. Or so it looks like. Never a word to anyone. Mrs. Albright didn't think anything of it when Jeanne didn't come down for breakfast, because she always likes to lie abed in the mornings. But later, when Mrs. Albright went up, she found the window open and Jeanne and her things gone.'
'Did Mrs. Albright send for the constable?'
Marianne shook her head. 'Mrs. Albright cursed something fearsome, but let it be. Mr. Sutcliff paid to the end of the month, so if Jeanne wants to run off, Mrs. Albright does not much care. She has her money.'
'Money,' I said, thinking hard. 'Yes, that would explain it.'
'You are babbling, Lacey. Explain what?'
I should be talking this over with Grenville. My anger stirred. I would get the man who'd done this to him, and I'd pot him.
I snatched up Fletcher's papers and spread them out. 'Three people: Middleton, who drew the false maps; Fletcher, who had the connections; and the banker, who kept the money. The contracts are here, the maps are here, but where is the money? I believe it flew out the window of a seedy boarding house this morning.'
Marianne finally looked at me. She cocked her head. 'What are you talking about?'
'A grand swindle. Fletcher came up with the scheme-he was clever enough yet innocent-looking enough to trick men into investing in a canal that would never be built. Canals make money. Boats move whether it's raining or snowing or sunny. One does not have to worry about bad roads. No matter what, the boats keep going. Investing in canals is sure money.'
'But not in canals that don't exist,' Bartholomew added.
'Yes, but unless you have access to all the proposed canal routes in England, how would you know whether one was truly planned? A canny man would check, of course, but most men want to make an easy fortune-to give the money to a trusted friend and he will take care of the complicated details. That is why so very many people are swindled, Bartholomew-they want things to be easy.'
He watched me, eyes round, as though I were dispensing great wisdom.
I stood and began to pace, trying to think. 'The average gentleman like Jonathan Lewis, who earns little from his writing, would be eager to put money into something with so sure a return. So Fletcher persuades him to invest. Fletcher is a likable man, easy to trust. Good old Fletcher, his friends say, let's throw our lot in with him.'
'To their misfortune,' Bartholomew said gravely.
'Very much so. But Fletcher couldn't do it all himself-he didn't have the time or the resources. So he recruited others. Perhaps Fletcher chose Middleton because he knew Middleton had worked for Denis. Middleton would know how to shut people up if they began to squawk, in any case. So, Middleton drew the maps, perhaps even took gentlemen out to show them where the survey stakes would be.'
All three had turned to listen to me now. I continued, 'They have a third person to collect the money, a person with connections in the City who can assure Fletcher and Middleton that their portion would be taken care of. But-in the end, the 'banker' gets greedy, perhaps frightened that Middleton will tell James Denis everything, murders Middleton and Fletcher, and flees with the money.'
They looked at me like I'd run mad. I was breathing heavily, my blood pounding with excitement. Marianne raised the first protest. 'You are never saying that Jeanne killed them. And stabbed him. You're wrong, Lacey. She'd never be able to get into the school. You saw how the porter nearly posted me off to jail when he spied me at the gate.'
I shook my head. 'She murdered no one. She never could have killed Middleton; he'd not have let her. Nor do I think she sneaked into the school in the middle of the night to kill Fletcher. No, she is working with someone, and that someone sent her away with the money.'
And I knew who.
'I must go to Sudbury,' I said crisply. 'Jeanne Lanier must be found. I wish Mrs. Albright had called in the constable, but it can't be helped.'
