Page 4 of The Secret Word
Chris saw, too. The Brown brothers had seen an opportunity to put their sister into the house of one of the richest merchants in London.
“And was there a burglar?” Billy asked.
“No, because the butler found the unlatched window. I dare say one of the footmen failed to check earlier in the evening. So, nothing was lost, and it was most unfair that Amanda was dismissed for it. Without the wages she was owed, too. I paid her out of my pin money, of course.”
“You came to visit her,” Billy said, returning to the point.
“She asked me to do so. She said she was with child. Someone in our household, she said, though she didn’t name him. She was unwell and she did not wish to die without seeing to the babe’s future. Her brother would not let her leave the house, she said. I thought… that is, I guessed, at a reason she did not want to put the father’s name in writing.”
“You thought the baby might be your father’s,” Billy commented, in the same bland tone.
Miss Wright blushed. It had occurred to her. Her overheard knowledge about what happened between men and women suggested it had something to do with the origin of babies. Logic proposed that babies no more appeared in cabbage patches than did kittens, but how they got inside maids, and whether Father was one to dally with maids, she did not know.
In any case, what she thought or did not think was beside the point. “So, you see, I had to come, and I could not bring a footman or the new maid Father foisted upon me, for they all report to my father. I do hope Amanda is unharmed. Do you think—Mr. Satterthwaite suggested that she might have been threatened and made to write the letter?”
“I think I can set your mind at rest on that account, Miss Wright. I am acquainted with Miss Brown. I saw her yesterday afternoon out shopping, and she appeared perfectly well.”
“Oh.” Miss Wright nibbled her upper lip, and then added, “Then I wonder why she wrote… Oh.” She almost whispered her next comment. “Shewasin league with the kidnappers. Are you certain, Mr. O’Hara?”
“Perhaps you will understand if I tell you that the men who were chasing you today are the Brown gang. Miss Brown is the sister of the three brothers who run Meadow Court and a few other streets and alleys close by. I strongly suspect, in fact, that Miss Brown was in your house to do exactly the act of which she was accused.”
“Oh,” said Miss Wright again. Her posture had slumped, and she appeared to be trying to draw her head down into her neck, perhaps to hide her flaming cheeks. She sighed, deeply. “That is probably why I cannot find my pearl earrings, then.”
One of O’Hara’s eyebrows shot up, signaling his surprise at the lady’s relatively calm reaction. “I imagine so,” he replied.
“Sir, might I borrow a carriage to convey Miss Wright home?” Chris asked, thinking to strike while O’Hara was kindly disposed toward the lady.
That brought the full force of O’Hara’s attention to focus on Chris for a few terrifying seconds, then the man laughed. “And why not? Be certain to inform Mr. Wright that I send my compliments. No. Wait. I shall write a note, and you shall deliver it, Christopher.”
“I suppose you want something from him,” Miss Wright commented, her tone bitter. “In which case, there is no point in asking you not to tell him how foolish I have been. And now he will lecture and complain, and hedge me about with restrictions until I go mad.”
Billy laughed again. “Then I must be careful how I word my note so these dire circumstances do not befall you, Miss Wright,” he said. “Excuse me for a moment, please.”
He took some notepaper from a drawer and selected a pen. Miss Wright gave Chris an anguished look and then gazed fiercely at the clasped hands on her lap. Chris did his best to look relaxed, but probably did not fool Billy in the slightest.
Without looking up from the paper, Billy asked, “Where were you meant to be this afternoon, Miss Wright?”
“At Miss Clemens’ Circulating Library,” Miss Wright replied. “I walked there with my maid.”
Billy nodded, and continued writing.
Chris was impressed with Miss Wright. No doubt her naive faith in the goodness of others would be amended in time, but her courage and her wit would see her through.
He had seen cartoons of her and read snippets in the gossip rags, and those had led him to expect a fashion doll with a fervent admiration of status and rank, and no personality. The truth was far different.
Poor Miss Wright. Whatever her personality or her wishes, the whole world knew her father was determined to buy a blue-blooded groom for her. No doubt one who was so buried in debt that he’d be willing to put a peg on his nose to help him ignore the stench of coal dust.
Miss Wright deserved better. She was so much more than just a coal man’s heiress. But the husband her father wanted for her was unlikely to ever notice.
*
The butler ledClem and Mr. Satterthwaite back into the servants’ stairs and through one of the doors in the little hall she had seen when she first came into the building. The short utilitarian passage opened to another that matched the one upstairs for wealth and elegance.
“I apologize for not taking you through the public ways, Miss,” said the butler. “Mr. O’Hara thought it best.”
Mr. Satterthwaite explained. “Some of the patrons are about, and we would not want them to recognize you.”
“Goodness, no,” said Clem, fervently. She didn’t know which would be worse—being recognized by someone who told Father she had been here, or by someone who gossiped about her presence in Society. She might not much enjoy the Society events to which Father had managed to get her invited, but they at least offered her an opportunity to meet gentlemen.
