Page 58 of With Good Grace
‘There’s every need. You have had a terrible ordeal.’
Olivia was grateful for Molly’s dedication, had clearly misread the girl, but desperately needed a little time to herself to mull over what she had just learned. But to her surprise, Molly grabbed her wrist with a surprisingly firm grasp for a woman who had been through so much, and pulled her into Olivia’s chamber, closing the door behind them.
‘Listen carefully,’ she said, all signs of distress magically leaving her visage. ‘If you want to see your son alive again, this is what you must do.’
Chapter Fifteen
It was hard climbing a steep ladder and holding a lantern at the same time, but Jake knew he must maintain a firm grasp on it or fumble about in the dark when he reached the loft; an easy target for anyone lying in wait above his head. Clouds covered the quarter moon, the street lighting did not reach this building, and he wouldn’t be able to see a thing through the small windows in that loft without his trusty lantern.
Sighing, Jake climbed up another step, placing both feet on the rung and pausing to listen. He couldn’t sense any danger but if someone was up there, they were hardly likely to advertise the fact. He tested each rung before placing his full weight on it, wary of traps, but the ladder appeared sturdy. He climbed two thirds of the way up, his breathing slow and even, until the top of his head reached the edge of the loft. He paused, listening to deathly silence, then lifted the lantern and peered into the space that spanned the back half of the entire warehouse.
Nothing moved.
Even so, there were any number of places a person could be hiding, waiting to ambush him. They must have heard him coming, and had had plenty of time to prepare. In their position Jake would simply have thrown the ladder to the ground when Jake was halfway up it and he felt reassured that they had not done so. It was still eerily quiet and Jake was sure he would have heard breathing, or the slightest movement, if anyone was actually concealed behind the piles of empty crates and assorted debris. All he did hear was wind whistling around the eaves and the occasional voice drifting up from the river a few yards away.
He pulled himself into the loft and lifted the lantern high, finding what he expected to find on one corner. A truckle bed and evidence that someone had been sleeping in that space; quite recently too since there was no sign of rodents having moved in.
‘What do we have here?’ he asked aloud, even though it was blatantly obvious.
He pulled the bedding aside, disappointed to find nothing that implied Sir Hubert had definitely been the bed’s occupant. For all he knew, the lame night watchman might live there; expect Jake thought he would have trouble climbing a ladder with his disability. Jake scratched his head, a feeling of unease gripping him when he realised there was nothing at all of a personal nature in that space; not even any clothing. Sir Hubert had not left home with a change of clothing; Lady Grantley would have mentioned the fact if he had. Even so, no man could live for over two weeks without even a change of linen, could he? Certainly not a man of Sir Hubert’s ilk who maintained high standards despite his inability to pay for them.
A thorough search produced no papers, books, or clues of any kind as to Sir Hubert’s whereabouts. If he had been living here, it was obvious that he no longer was. This expedition had been a massive waste of time.
Jake was back outside, the door to the warehouse one again locked, when Parker came into view, walking slowly beside the night watchman. The two men shook hands and parted company at the door to the warehouse. Parker waited until his new friend had disappeared inside before joining Jake.
‘Anything?’ he asked.
‘Someone has been living in the loft of that warehouse,’ Jake replied, ‘but is no longer there. It must have been Sir Hubert because your lame friend wouldn’t be able to climb that steep ladder.’
Parker grunted as the two of them made their way back to the main thoroughfare, where they were more likely to find a cab.
‘Norris, the watchman, had never met Granville until he returned from Italy,’ he told Jake. ‘He doesn’t have a good word to say for Sir Hubert or Grenville’s business practises. Reckons they’re living on borrowed time and, in his words, are tighter than a duck’s arse.’
Jake chuckled. ‘That place is almost empty, so what you say does not surprise me. You don’t need to be a genius to see that they lack orders.’
‘Norris was employed by Sir Hubert about a year ago as night watchman. Then, get this, a little over two weeks ago, Sir Hubert told him he wanted him working the day shift, even though he’s got a twisted leg and can’t do any heavy lifting.’
‘That would be when Sir Hubert started living there, I imagine. Your friend Norris might not be able to climb ladders, but he would know if someone was up there right enough and would want to know why. Grantley, on the other hand, doesn’t want anyone to know his business. When did he ask Norris to resume the night shift?’
‘A week ago.’
‘About the time Granville returned from Italy?’
‘Precisely. If Sir Hubert was living there he wouldn’t want his partner to know it, any more than he wanted Norris to be aware of his activities.’
‘Norris has actually seen Grantley?’ Jake asked, aware it would be the first actual sighting of the rogue since his magical disappearance.
‘Yeah, that’s what he said.’
‘Well, at least now we know why we couldn’t find him. No one would look for a gentleman of Grantley’s ilk in this place,’ Jake said, nodding towards the warehouse.
‘Norris didn’t take kindly to be dragged to that tavern under false pretences,’ Parker said. ‘He takes his duties seriously. Says he needs the employment and although he don’t like his masters, he’s loyal to a fault. I tried to ask Norris a few oblique questions about where his masters lived but he knew nothing; or if he does, he ain’t saying. He’s an old soldier, but got his leg caught in a tiger trap in India helping to put down a revolt, and no one wants to employ a lame man.’
‘Except people who don’t want him asking too many questions. I mean, I’m the first to sympathise with his situation but how can a one-legged man chase intruders? Makes you wonder.’ Jake hailed a cab and it rattled to a halt. He gave the Grosvenor Square address, the two men climbed inside and the conveyance moved off with a sharp crack of the jarvey’s whip.
‘I could only get him to have one drink,’ Parker said. ‘Once he realised it was a ruse he got annoyed and said he had to get back. If he could have walked any faster he’d have caught you in there.’
‘An honest man, eh? Well, there’s a turn up, especially since Grantley has done nothing to earn his loyalty. He probably pays him a pittance and expects him to be grateful. How did you explain Grantley’s non-appearance?’
