The Sudbury School Murders (Capt Lacey 4) by Ashley Gardner

Author:Ashley Gardner [Gardner, Ashley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ashley Gardner
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Twelve

I left for London the next morning with Bartholomew. After a long discussion with Grenville that escalated into near argument he agreed to stay and keep an eye on things in Sudbury. I knew he was worried about me visiting James Denis alone. James Denis and I always stood on precarious ground, and Grenville feared that I’d overstep my bounds and Denis would retaliate. I promised I’d be cautious, and Grenville at last conceded.

I had reported to him about what I had learned from Sebastian and his family. His reaction was similar to mine—surprise and annoyance. He agreed to watch over Belinda Rutledge and also to continue investigating in my absence.

I sent a message to Marianne explaining that I was traveling to London and that Grenville was remaining. I half-hoped she would seek out Grenville while I was gone and confess her troubles to him. Neither of us could predict what Grenville would do, but in all fairness, I ought to give him a chance. So should Marianne.

I had planned to go post, but Grenville insisted I take his traveling coach, and I did not argue with him too heatedly. So, at five o’clock in the morning, Bartholomew and I departed Sudbury and rode in luxury to London.

Grenville, as always, had stocked the coach well. A compartment held port and crystal glasses, and Bartholomew had procured a bit of roast from the Sudbury School kitchens in case we grew hungry on the road.

He also reported to me what the constable had discovered, that the knife that I had found in the brush had come from the kitchens of the school. The cook, a very fat woman of about fifty years, was most distraught. Knives, she’d snapped to Bartholomew, were very dear, and why did the Romany have to steal one from her kitchen?

The information was useful. Sebastian had never been allowed on the grounds outside the stables, and no one, Bartholomew said, had ever seen him near the kitchens. A point in Sebastian’s favor if I could get Rutledge and the magistrate to believe it.

Bartholomew and I ate and talked, drank and rested through the long ride. By the time we reached London later that afternoon, the roast was a bone and the port gone.

Grenville had insisted I spend my visit to London in his house in Grosvenor Street. Bartholomew charged inside when we reached it early that afternoon, shouting orders to get rooms ready for me. To my discomfiture, the maids and footmen scurried about the place as though the Prince Regent had come to call.

Bartholomew took me to the huge guest room that I had used once before, unpacked my clothes, shined my boots, and told me that Anton, the chef, was creating a midday meal especially for me. I resigned myself to sleeping in a soft bed and eating fine food, though I felt a bit of a fool eating by myself in the palatial dining room while a maid and two footman hovered near to serve me.

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