The sound of a door closing alerted Cecily. “Samuel, just listen to everything I say, and don’t interrupt or contradict.” She had no time to say more, as the door opened and Caroline entered, carrying the gown over her arm.
“Here it is, Mrs. Baxter.” She held up the shimmering gown. “I hope it is satisfactory.”
“I’m quite sure it will be.” Cecily bent down to pat the black dog on the head. “This is a fine animal.”
Caroline handed the gown to Samuel, who now sat poker-faced and silent. “Yes, he is. I found him wandering around the streets in Wellercombe. Poor thing was nothing but skin and bones when I found him.”
“Well, he certainly looks healthy enough now.” Cecily stood, and Samuel jumped to his feet. “We must be off. We have a very important appointment this afternoon.”
Caroline looked as if she was unsure how to answer that.
Ignoring her, Cecily continued, “I noticed the other day that wheel on the wall in your dressing room. I assume you are interested in the occult?”
Caroline shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “I have a passing interest, that’s all.”
“Ah, I see.” Cecily moved closer to the door. “Then you must have heard of my friend Mrs. Madeline Prestwick?”
The seamstress seemed unsettled by the question. “I have heard talk of her, yes.”
“Most people consider her a witch, you know.”
Samuel had his back to Caroline, which was fortunate, since an agonized look crossed his face.
Cecily ignored him and smiled at Caroline, who looked just as aghast. “I’m sure-” she began, but Cecily interrupted her.
“She does have remarkable powers. In fact, she has promised to use them to help me find the Christmas Angel.”
Caroline’s face turned ashen. She seemed unable to turn her gaze from Cecily’s face, but felt behind her for the arm of a chair before falling down on it.
Cecily avoided looking at Samuel, who was now staring in dismay at the hapless seamstress. “Madeline is going up to Putney Downs today to the woods nearby the spot where Thomas Willow was killed. There she will conduct a private seance, some sort of ritual that will give her the name of the Christmas Angel. Once she has it, she will bring it to me at the Pennyfoot where P.C. Northcott will be waiting for the news.”
Caroline opened and closed her mouth, as if seeking words that wouldn’t come.
Samuel cleared his throat, and Cecily gave him a sharp nudge. “Come, Samuel. We must get back to the club with as much speed as possible, so that we can be there when Madeline returns with the name of our infamous killer.”
She headed for the door, saying, “Thank you for finishing my gown today. I shall enjoy wearing it at the Welcome Ball.”
Caroline seemed in a daze as she followed them out to the hallway. She barely managed to acknowledge Cecily’s farewell before shutting the front door in her face.
“How terribly rude,” Cecily murmured, as she walked down the path to the gate.
Samuel leapt ahead of her to open it. When he spoke his voice was full of despair. “She just doesn’t look like a dangerous killer.”
“Most people don’t.” Cecily paused at the carriage, waiting for him to open the door. “I’m sorry, Samuel. I know you like her but-”
Samuel shook his head. “You know, lots of people buy those stamps. I saw them in the toy store the other day. A whole pile of them. Anyone could buy them.”
“It isn’t just the stamps, Samuel. On our first visit I smelled something awful burning in the sewing room, like human hair. Also, Lady Marion told me that Miss Blanchard was at the Bellevue estate delivering her gown the morning Henry Farnsworth died.” She swept an arm toward the house. “It’s because of those animals, Samuel. She rescues them, and punishes those who ill-treat them.”
Samuel jutted out his jaw. “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe she’s capable of killing all those men.”
Cecily climbed aboard the carriage and settled her skirt around her ankles. “Given enough reason and the right circumstances, everyone is capable of killing. We all have our dark side. Thankfully the vast majority of us know how to control it. Anyway, it’s out of our hands now. The plan has been set in motion and we shall soon see if I am right.”
Samuel looked far from happy as he closed the door. Cecily leaned back and braced herself for the jerk of the carriage as he urged the chestnut forward.
They had barely reached the edge of the lane before a horse and cloaked rider passed them at lightning speed. Cecily watched them disappear around the bend ahead and slowly let out her breath.
Now that everything was set, she could think of all sorts of reasons why it could go wrong. The bait could be ignored, or dealt with in a way she hadn’t thought about, or, in the worst-case scenario, Madeline could be killed before help could get to her.
Cecily deliberately shut off her thoughts along that line. She had learned from experience never to try to second-guess an adversary. She knew what she had to do now, and the rest was up to providence.
Thanks to Gertie’s help with the dishes, Pansy arrived at the final dress rehearsal with plenty of time to spare. She was thankful she had no lines to speak, since she was certain she would forget every word in her excitement.
Standing in the wings, she watched Doris perform, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that she would never be as good as her. She would just have to do the best she could and hope she didn’t mess things up too much.
Now that she could fly, she could really get into the part of Tinker Bell. She remembered something Mrs. Fortescue had told her.
Pansy closed her eyes. She was Tinker Bell-Peter Pan’s protector and friend. A beloved fairy, capable of magic. Soon the ballroom would be full of toffs, all watching her fly. All watching her big dying scene.
She heard her cue and floated forward, ready to take on the world. This was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. She wanted to be an actress, performing in front of huge appreciative audiences. She wanted to hear applause and know it was for her. She wanted to travel to exciting places, and she wanted to be really famous, with people clamoring for her autograph.
“Tinker Bell!”
The thunderous roar snatched Pansy out of her daydream. A smattering of giggles dragged her focus back to the stage. Peter Pan stood in front of her, hands on hips, glaring at her with a ferocious scowl.
Mrs. Fortescue hovered in front of the stage, staring up at her. “We are all waiting for you, Tinker Bell, to fly onto the ship. I suggest you attach your wings, however, before you fall flat on your face.”
Several of the children started giggling again, and were immediately hushed by a fierce stare and a sharp flap of Phoebe’s hand.
Pansy’s face grew warm as she realized she’d forgotten to have her wires attached before she came out onstage. The footman who was supposed to help her with it stood in the wings, waving the contraption at her.
“Sorry, Mrs. Fortescue.” She skipped back to the wings and waited for the footman to attach the wires. From now on, she promised herself, she’d concentrate on the performance. The daydreams would have to wait for another time.
CHAPTER 19
Cecily waited until the carriage was clear of the town before tapping on the window that separated her from Samuel.
He reached back and slid the windowpane across, calling out, “Yes, m’m?”
“Make sure you take the next turn out to the Downs, Samuel.”
There was a long pause, then her stable manager’s voice, heavy with apprehension, answered her. “Are you quite sure you want to do this, m’m?”
“Yes, Samuel, I am quite sure, and hurry. As fast as you can.”
