Page 84 of Let Me Be Your Hero
Everyone started talking at once. It quickly became clear that the designer had not exited via any of the doors, nor was he still in the house. “It has to be him, then,” Archibald noted. “What did he look like?”
Giddings was wringing his hands. “He had dark hair. Medium height and build. Brown eyes, I think? Not much to distinguish him.” The butler looked miserable. “I am so terribly sorry, sir. I never should have let him in.”
Archibald waved this off. “You could hardly gainsay my mother.” He sighed. “I’ll go and ask her what she knows about this man.”
He found his mother prostrate upon a chaise-longue in the front parlor. His father was fluttering about the room, bringingher cups of tea, handkerchiefs, and biscuits that were piling up, uneaten.
“Have you found her?” his mother moaned from the couch.
“We have not.” Archibald pulled a chair up to the chaise-longue and sat, taking his mother’s hands. “Mother, I need to ask you something. The man who came today about redecorating this room—how long has he been known to you?”
His mother gasped, sitting halfway up. “Surely you don’t think he could be involved!”
“I’m afraid he is our leading suspect,” Archibald said, struggling to hold his voice neutral.
“It wouldn’t be him,” his father said.
“He seemed very nice,” his mother agreed.
“And he knew an awful lot about wallpaper!” his father noted as if this was an ironclad defense.
“When did you first meet him?” Archibald asked, attempting to steer the conversation back on track.
“Why, we’ve known him for a while,” his mother said. “He first came to the house… what was it, my dove? A week ago?”
“Something like that,” his father agreed.
“Did you seek him out?” Archibald asked. “Or did he come to you?”
“He turned up at the door,” his mother confirmed.
“It was just a bit of luck!” his father added.
Oh, God. Archibald loved his parents. But could they possibly be more thick? A random stranger shows up at the door, peddling wallpaper, and they let him right in. It was probably no coincidence that the man showed up just as they were starting to let their guard down.
“Did he leave you a card?” Archibald asked. “Or any sort of direction?”
“He did not,” his mother said.
“He said he would be back in a few days,” his father noted. “But we do know his name—Mr. Smith.”
Mr. Smith. That hardly narrowed it down, even if it was his real name, which Archibald very much doubted.
“Thorpe,” his mother said from the chaise-longue, “you don’t really think that nice Mr. Smith could have anything to do with Lady Isabella’s disappearance, do you?”
“I suppose we’ll know for certain soon enough,” he said, trying to be diplomatic.
Stepping into the corridor, Archibald saw that Lord and Lady Thetford and Lord and Lady Morsley had arrived, as well as Thomas Daubney, the Bow Street Runner. “It was the wallpaper man,” Archibald said. “I’m almost sure of it. He showed up at the door a week ago, and my parents let him in. Gave his name as Mr. Smith, didn’t present a card or anything. It was probably a ruse from the start.”
Lucy Astley seized Mr. Daubney’s sleeve. “What do we do now?”
The Runner’s face was creased in consternation. “We need to discover where they’ve taken her. I’ll start by interviewing the neighbors. Perhaps someone saw something. We should also inspect the alleyway by which he made his escape. Perhaps he left some trace behind.”
“But what if they didn’t?” Lady Lucy cried as they streamed out the front door. “What if we can’t find her?”
“Don’t worry,” Lady Diana said, patting her arm. “Aunt Griselda is coming.”
“But what is Lady Griselda going to do?” Lucy sobbed.
