Page 12 of Dark Tidings on the Thames
“Miss? I saw ye come from the Wardrobe building. Is it true? Did someone snuff out Glynn Foulger?”
Kara paused, wary. The girl was on the cusp of womanhood, blonde and blue-eyed, and she would have been pretty, had she not been in dire need of a bath, a hairbrush, and clothes that were not too small. Kara understood Beth’s urge to help. She felt it herself, but she also had the experience to know just how dangerous street urchins could be. “It is true. Did you know the young woman?”
“Aye. I liked her well enough. The rest o’ the flower girls liked her,too.” The girl gave a very adult shrug. “Not everyone did, though.”
“That’s something you could say about nearly anyone,” Kara replied carefully.
“I s’pose,” the girl said, after a moment’s consideration.
“What’s your name?” Kara asked her.
“Lily. What’s yers?”
“Kara.” With a mental sigh, she threw caution to the wind. “Do you need a place to stay, Lily?” Perhaps Lake Nemi had an open room she could let for the girl until they got something permanent sorted out.
“Nah. I got rooms with my sister.” Glancing around, the girl leaned in. “Listen, if ye got friends in the Wardrobe, ye should warn ’em ter keep their eyes peeled.”
“Why?” Kara asked, startled.
“Word is, they mean to pin it on Yardley, aye? Well, I heard he didn’t do it.” Lily shrugged again. “So, better to be careful, eh? If a killer is to be left loose.”
Kara started to ask more, but the girl glanced around, gave her a nod, and ran off.
For a long moment, Kara stood still on the pavement. She looked back toward the charity building, weighing her options. In the end, she decided to send Landover a note telling him about the girl’s warning. She and her little family had experienced enough excitement, suffered their share of losses. The last thing she wanted was to get any of them involved in another murder investigation.
Chapter Three
Niall and Haroldreturned to Bluefield before Kara and Gyda. Not so surprising, as they arrived in Berkeley Square to find Lord Stayme was packed and ready to return with them for an extended stay. The viscount was Niall’s mentor, and also the closest thing he’d had to a father figure during his formative years.
“He started making preparations as soon as you sent word of your return.” Watts, the viscount’s butler, had boxes and a portmanteau waiting in the entry hall. “His contacts have all been notified, as well as the couriers. You should likely warn your duchess that there will be a good deal of traffic in and out of Bluefield, what with all the buzzing between the French, the Russians, and the High Porte.”
Stayme came down the stairs, shoving files into a bag. “They are all pretending the issues revolve around religious protections, but it’s not true. This escalating situation is about British commercial interests and European balances of power.” The old man shook his head. “We must prepare. There is a massive amount of work to be done. I might as well do it where I can see the lot of you in between dispatches.”
They packed the viscount and his things into the carriage, Harold chattering all the while. The boy asked Stayme’s advice on what his next automaton project should be.
“Well, what are you studying right now?” the old man asked.
“Mathematics, mostly,” Harold replied. “And while they help withthe construction of the designs, they don’t exactly serve as inspiration.”
“What’s been occupying your mind, then, boy?” Stayme actually looked up from his file to watch Harold with interest.
“You mean, besides cherry crumble and beating his young friend Tom at golf?” teased Niall.
“Yes. Besides those. Neither seen likely to make a good automaton.”
Harold cocked his head. “Actually, I could create a golfing figure. I hadn’t considered that. Wouldn’t Tom laugh if I could make it resemble him?” He frowned. “I don’t think I’ve skill enough to manage his likeness. Maybe Kara could, though. Perhaps I’ll put that idea aside for a while.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve already found an idea,” Stayme remarked. Reaching over, he tapped the boy on the head. “What is brewing in there, eh?”
“Well, I do have an idea, but I don’t want to upset Gyda with it.”
“What is it, Harold?” Niall asked.
“It’s just… there’s an owl that rests in the woods at the priory, just past the walled garden. Have you seen it?”
“I know I’ve heard it,” Niall said wryly. “It’s not shy, especially during the late hours.”
“It’s a long-eared owl,” Harold said, pointing his fingers above his head “That’s what gave me the idea, at first. I would like to make the ears swivel, like it’s following a sound.”
