'It has come to this, Bartholomew,' I said, collapsing into the chair next to the shaving bowl. 'I am obeying a summons to James Denis to avoid the company of Lady Southwick and her guests. Denis has become the lesser of two evils.'
'Yes, sir.' Bartholomew said, concentrating on the razor.
'Pack my things while I'm gone. We will remove to the public house in Parson's Point this evening. I am afraid that your soft billet here is at an end.'
'Suits me, sir. I've been bunking with three other lads, and they snore something dreadful. And the goings-on below stairs, you would not believe.' Bartholomew shook his head. 'Catch Mr. Grenville allowing his household to carry on like that.'
I'd observed before that Bartholomew had become a snob. But I could not blame him. If below stairs was anything like above stairs, I fully understood.
Denis's lackey, who waited by the carriage, said nothing as I exited the house. As he assisted me into the conveyance, I remembered where I'd seen his scarred face before. I'd stared into his eyes one night on the Thames, when he and a colleague had beaten me senseless. To warn me, Denis had said, and to teach me obedience.
From the glint in his eyes, I knew the man remembered as well. He deftly helped me into the carriage, being careful of my bad leg, saying nothing at all.
I'd ridden in this carriage before, several times now. The polished marquetry was becoming familiar.
Not until the carriage pulled away from the house, me alone inside it, did I realize that it was only eight o'clock in the morning. While I'd always been an early riser, living alongside Lady Breckenridge was teaching me the comfort of sleeping as long as I pleased.
The carriage took me to Easton's, where Denis sat in the dining room. The room's paneling had been restored to its polished quietness, and a lackey was removing a plate with crumbs on it from the table. When I sat down, he busily filled another plate for me.
Denis looked awful. I'd never seen him anything but impeccably groomed, and he was clean this morning, his suit unwrinkled, but his eyes were red-rimmed in his pale face, and dark patches of exhaustion stained his cheekbones.
I sat down at the place laid for me, to Denis's right. The footman set a steaming plate of eggs and sausage in front of me, and I tucked in, being hungry.
Denis watched me. He motioned with his fingers, and the lackeys departed, except for the man who'd helped me into the carriage.
'You've not slept,' I said. The eggs and sausages were good, seasoned with herbs and fortified with butter.
Denis did not answer the observation, but when he spoke, his voice held a sharp edge. 'I will come quickly to the point, Captain. When I tell you what you must do in order to work off a debt to me, I expect you to do it.'
'If you mean Brigadier Easton, I delivered your message, which had the effect you desired. If you mean Cooper, I have been searching. Diligently.'
He did not seem to hear me. 'Instead of leaving no stone unturned, you supped at the vicarage and returned to your Lady Southwick's priory picnic. Though I had already sent your regrets.'
I laid down my fork and wiped my mouth on a linen napkin. 'I searched, I assure you.' I explained how I'd hunted in a pattern of ever-widening circles from the place I'd last seen Cooper, describing the farms, villages, and marshes in which I'd looked for him. 'He is nowhere in the area, I am certain of it. He must have returned to London or journeyed elsewhere.'
'He is not in London,' Denis said. 'You may be sure that I have inquired. He would not journey anywhere without sending me word.'
'I was not indulging myself picnicking or catching up with the vicar's housekeeper-I was pursuing another matter. I not only have searched for Cooper but have turned many possibilities over in my mind. If the death of Ferguson and the disappearance of Cooper are connected, then there are three possible solutions: Cooper was killed by the man who killed Ferguson, Cooper has gone after the killer, or Cooper killed Ferguson himself.' I held up my hand as Denis started to speak. 'I know you said Cooper would not have killed him. But perhaps he did it to protect you-heard Ferguson threaten you in some way. Perhaps Ferguson wanted the paintings for himself, and this made Cooper angry. Or perhaps the killing was accidental. The two men had a fight, which got away from them.'
Denis broke in, voice crisp and cold. 'What other matter?'
'Pardon?'
'Do not pretend to be ingenuous. What is this other matter that has taken your attention from what I told you to do?'
I did not want to tell him. Helena's elopement was a private problem of the Quinns-never mind that every inhabitant of every village in the area knew about it. I did not want Denis bothering them. Terrance would not be careful with Denis, not understanding his danger. Grenville had been correct to remind me what Denis was- a thief, a smuggler, an extortionist, a sometime murderer, and deep in corruption of all sorts.
Denis stared me down. His eyes this morning were hard and harsh, and I saw in them the youth who'd decided that throwing in his lot with a brutal pugilist would be better than going it alone.
I decided to skirt around the story. 'A young woman disappeared about ten years ago. I have been looking into it.'
'A young woman,' Denis repeated. 'Of course. I notice your interest is caught by anything involving a woman. After ten years, why is it important that you find her today?'
'There might be more to it than people guess.' I told him briefly, naming no names, that I worried that no one had actually spoken to or heard from Helena. I also mentioned the strange return of the church silver, which Denis likely had already been informed about by the man who'd found it.
Denis watched me with a heavy stare. 'A girl who eloped. The church silver. Yes, I can see where these things have commanded your attention.'
'They might sound trivial to you-'
'Whereas one of my men being murdered and the other disappearing must be trivial to you,' Denis said, words clipped. 'You will drop this other matter. You will be given a room in this house, and you will stay here until we discover what has become of Cooper and what happened to Ferguson. You may bring your manservant if you like, as I know you use him to do things you can't. Your lady, however, will be barred the door. She distracts you.'
My temper rose. 'I have told you that I will help. But I will not stay here. I will take rooms in the village, which will put me near to the place Cooper was last seen.'
'No.' The word was loud in the quiet room, the closest I'd ever heard Denis come to shouting. 'You will stay here, where I can know when you retire to bed and when you rise from it, where you go and with whom, and how long you stay there. You will remain here until we know what happened to both Cooper and Ferguson, for good or for ill.'
'I am willing to help you, damn you, but I must do things in my own fashion. I am not one of the pugilists you employ.'
'No, I do not employ you,' Denis said, his voice returning to more even tones. 'I own you. I know where your wife lives in France, and your daughter. I know where lives the mother of your manservant and his brother. I know where your landlady and her sister share a house in London. I know the comings and goings of your Colonel Brandon and his wife. I know everything about your viscountess and her son, all their comings and goings. Shall I continue?'
Chapter Eleven
I was out of my seat and lunging over the table at him before the hard hands of the lackey shoved me back down in the chair. I understood now why Denis had asked in particular for a man who'd once beaten me into unconsciousness to bring me in here today.
