“Then go to Plymouth,” Theodore said desperately. “Go to the house of Commissioner Rhodes and speak directly to him.”
“And tell him what? To come here and arrest Oscar Brodie?”
“If you must. Do it officially, do it by the book. Use your influence, Lord Buckshaw.”
Percy flared his nostrils and wrenched the door open. “Very well!” he said, and stormed out.
“Should I go after him?” Captain Everard said, standing up. “This could upset everything.”
“No, there is very little that can be made worse,” Theodore said. “I wanted, above all, to prevent him from alerting Oscar Brodie to our suspicions about him but this can only buy us a little time.”
“He might already know,” Doctor Netherfield said, gesticulating to the corners of the room. “You said he was a lurker and a lingerer with the unhealthy habit of listening at doors.”
“In which case, all of this might force his hand.” Theodore sighed heavily. “Well, Percy is gone now, at least for a little while, and that gives us one chance.”
“To do what?”
“We must press The Countess to tell us all that she knows. And yes, I hate to do this. It feels unseemly and wrong.”
“It is in the name of justice,” Captain Everard said, jutting his chin and folding his arms. “It is the right thing to do. I agree with you. Let’s seize the moment.”
“THERE IS A VISITOR here for you, Lady Calaway,” said the meek and rather-too-young maid, poking her head into the room at Commissioner Rhodes’ house which now doubled as Felicia’s temporary prison. The maid didn’t dare raise her head and she remained staring at the carpet as she spoke. “I have shown her into the parlour, if you would like to see her. I am sorry, but I didn’t know what to say, whether you were at home or here or quite what the situation was.”
“Indeed. Don’t worry. You have done nothing wrong. What is the guest’s name?” Adelia said, rising stiffly to her feet.
“Mrs Carstairs, my lady.”
“Ah. Very good. Thank you. I shall be down directly.”
The maid shuffled out backwards.
“Go on,” said the matron. She was not the same woman who had assisted with the arrest of Felicia back at the castle. This woman was twice as old, with a lined face and twinkling eyes. She had been firm but gentle with Felicia, helping her to be calmer and even drink a little light beef stock. Felicia had finally allowed herself to be put to bed, and appeared now to be slumbering. “I shall send for you the moment you might be needed.”
“Thank you.” Adelia felt that she could trust the matron, and she headed downstairs to find Mrs Carstairs waiting for her in a rather severe and plain parlour. Commissioner Rhodes, a lifelong bachelor, had paid little heed to the changing tastes and fashions of interior decoration. He clearly spent most of his time at work or dining at his club, or visiting friends whose houses could offer more home comforts than his own provided.
Mrs Carstairs herself was paying no heed to the air of faded austere monastery that she was surrounded by. She rushed forward and grabbed Adelia’s hands in her own gloved fingers, and poured out a stream of sympathetic phrases which could have sounded fake and forced, but were utterly genuine. She concluded with, “Is it all true?”
“It is. Felicia is upstairs, asleep, and awaiting...” Adelia’s voice broke. She cleared her throat and finished croakily. “Awaiting trial, I believe.”
“No. It cannot be. It must not be! I shall rally my troops. We shall raise funds. Have dinners. A whist drive, perhaps? I shall speak certain words in the ears of men with power. This cannot happen to her. I thought that she was doing better lately?”
“Yes, we had seen an improvement ever since Doctor Netherfield came. She moved into my rooms and we have had – oh, Mrs Carstairs!” Adelia fought for breath as realisation dawned.
“What is it?”
“She is not better since the doctor came.”
“But you just said...”
“No!” said Adelia in a whirl. “She was better when she moved out of her old room!” It all came back to her in a flood and it was so obvious, so painfully obvious, that she felt sick. “I have to return to Tavy Castle at once.”
“But my dear, whatever can you mean?”
“Lord Buckshaw is in more danger than anyone has realised!”
ADELIA DIDN’T PAUSE to grab her things. She had brought a carpet bag of essentials with her and she left it behind. She didn’t even run back upstairs to disturb Felicia. She abandoned all propriety – Mrs Carstairs was a decent woman and she’d understand, once Adelia explained it all to her in the coming days. Instead she simply ran out into the street, dressed in her indoor clothing, hatless and gloveless and with no coat or jacket or shawl. A fair few cab drivers wouldn’t stop at all for her, but she managed to flag one down at last and insist that he take her to Tavy Castle with all speed. He asked for some payment up front and she could have cried. It was all in her bag, back at Commissioner Rhodes’ house. But she swallowed her tears, drew herself up straight, and in her best cut-glass accent, borrowed heavily from spending time with Theodore’s mother, said, “Don’t you know who I am?” And, as he clearly didn’t, she went on to say, “I am Lady Calaway and
