“I suspect she is not home after all,” Adelia said. That, or Mrs Dymchurch had some maids who were severely lacking in attention to their duties. She felt somehow deflated, as if she had been planning on storming the house. “Come on. Shall we buy some cream cakes?”
As they walked away, an open cart drew up at the front steps. It was empty at the back so it was not delivering anything. Adelia paused to watch as a man jumped down and was greeted by one of the servants, who beckoned him inside. She waited a little longer but no one came out.
They headed out of the residential area. This being London, and the result of centuries of higgledy-piggledy building with no master plan to speak of, you could move from the most exclusive rows of houses into trading areas within minutes. She passed some coins to Smith and sent her into a nearby bakery while she moved along the street a little further, browsing through the shop windows.
The merchants along this stretch of shops were middling sorts, selling linens that were good enough for most purposes, and printed cottons, feathers dyed in garish chemical colours, jewellery that wasn’t quite paste but wasn’t quite diamonds, those kinds of things. Nothing attracted Adelia’s interest very deeply.
Smith caught up with her at the end of the street and they turned into a wider thoroughfare. Here the shops were tucked down arcades which were at right angles to the main road, and these shops were finer boutiques with porters standing guard at the gates and doors.
Smith tapped Adelia’s upper arm with the back of her hand and said, “My lady, step back.” She drew away and Adelia followed suit immediately.
“What is it?”
“The object of your hunt is down that arcade.”
“Mrs Dymchurch!”
“And she is walking this way clutching a parcel, followed by a man carrying a bag.”
“Smith, your powers of observation are wasted in household service.”
“I shall submit my resignation and join the police immediately.”
“Don’t you dare do that. I shan’t give you a character. You’re stuck here with me, Smith. Ah, yes, there they go.”
Mrs Dymchurch left the arcade and turned down the street walking away from where Adelia and Smith were half-hiding behind a man wearing a sandwich board advertising shoes. It was inevitable, of course, that they should follow Mrs Dymchurch at a safe distance.
The bag that Mrs Dymchurch’s manservant carried was small and slim. She was not indulging in large purchases, then. They watched as she turned into a jewellery shop, admitted by the liveried man at the door who unlocked it to let her inside. It was not somewhere that Adelia could follow in any casual way; security was tight in such places and she’d be admitted, but noticed. They lingered outside until Mrs Dymchurch emerged and headed off again, now into less expensive streets. She visited one more jewellers’ shop and then a pawnshop, which shocked Adelia. She pressed back into a little alleyway and said to Smith, “We’ve seen enough and ought to get back.”
“What exactly have we seen, my lady?”
“I think we’ve seen a woman selling everything of value. We’ve seen a woman who is planning to flee.”
THEODORE HAD NOT ENJOYED being stuck in the house for his “own safety” and he was doubly annoyed on principle when Adelia swept back and announced she had witnessed developments in the case.
“There is no case,” he retorted, a little sniffy. “Had we not agreed on that?”
They were in their room, dressing for dinner. Theodore stood by the partly-open window, smoking, while Adelia had her hair seen to by one of Charlotte’s maids who was particularly good with up-to-date fashions. Smith was mending a tear in the bottom of the skirt that Adelia had been wearing while out around town.
“I just don’t like things being left hanging,” Adelia said. “Anyway, it has occurred to me that there is a dreadful mix-up between Lady Purfleet and Octavia Dymchurch. It has muddied things rather badly. They’re both guilty but of different things. We really ought to let Lady Purfleet know that we – well, you – are nothing to do with her, and have no interest in any of her doings. We cannot be hiding in shadows. Let us be open with her and she will call off the chase.”
“No, no. We will go home to Thringley House and our paths will never cross again,” said Theodore.
“Yes, yes, of course. But meanwhile Charlotte and Robert remain here and I am concerned for their safety.”
Theodore was feeling increasingly grumpy about the whole thing, though he was not entirely sure why. He stubbed out his cigar. “Well, what do you suggest? We waltz up to Lady Purfleet and tell her we have no interest in her criminal dealings because we were only really looking at Mrs Dymchurch? That course of action then incriminates Mrs Dymchurch and it puts us back in Lady Purfleet’s sights. Neither are good ideas.”
“Oh, I agree, darling,” said Adelia very mildly and he knew he was about to be manipulated in some way, or told how things were going to be. He was not going to have a say in matters.
“But...?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Out with it,” he barked. “I have no patience today, I don’t know why.”
She shifted around on her chair. “I know why you are grouchy and irritable, dear heart. You are like me, underneath. We cannot let this lie. It’s only that I have stated as much, but you are still pretending you are happy to drop it. But we both know that the crime must be solved and the murderer brought to justice. We know who it is. And now we know what she’s planning to do. We will stop her, and hand her over to the police, and that way it shows Lady Purfleet that we were not
