Page 26 of Ghost in the Garden
Janey’s eyes widened when he ushered her in before him. She opened all the curtains and lit one of the lamps in his main office, while he divested himself of his hat and overcoat. “You seeing herself today?” she demanded as he walked into his office.
“Yes.”
“Can you give her a message from me?”
“Certainly.”
“Tell her Boggie fancies himself in the higher leagues. Absorbing businesses, legit and other, as he goes. He’s got the backing of someone big, and his threats have been working.”
Solomon gazed at her, knowing it would be too much of a coincidence. “Who is the backer?”
“Whisper is, it’s Caleb Lambert.”
“Janey, do youknowLambert?”
“Course I don’t know him,” she said derisively. “Heard of him, though. He owned the brothel I’d have gone to if herself hadn’t found me. He don’t own it now. Sold it.”
“How do you know?”
She shrugged. “Friends.”
“Did you tell Mrs. Silver any of this?”
Janey stared at him. “No, she never asked. Why would she care about a bastard like Lambert?”
Because she’s living in his house.“How do you know he’s a bastard?”
“Friends,” Janey said again. “Think he was turning respectable like, which is why he sold the brothel.”
“Whom did he sell it to?”
Janey thought. “Don’t know,” she said. “I can find out, though. If you tell her about Boggie.”
“I will, of course. One more thing. Do you know about the tenement building collapse that killed people in St. Giles?”
“I heard. Everybody heard.”
“Ever hear a whisper that Lambert was involved?”
“No, but I can find out about that too.”
“Discreetly, Janey. Lambert’s dangerous.”
Janey grinned. “So am I. Want some tea, guv?”
*
Despite her lockeddoor, Constance did not sleep well. Which was why she was already awake when she heard the house stirring, and was able to rise, dress, and go down to the kitchen for a cup of tea before returning to Angela’s room to clean out, rebuild, and light the fire. It was Denise who carried the coal for her, not the footmen, none of whom seemed to rise early.
Ida, who was making fresh bread, gave her a slice of yesterday’s toasted, with a good slathering of butter and jam. “Mrs. L likes tea and toast in her room at eight.”
“Thanks.”
There was a pall of fog beyond the window when Constance opened Angela’s curtains.Ghost weather, she thought with a twinge of excitement.
“Can I ask you something?” Angela asked from the bed, where she was sitting propped up by lacy pillows, a shawl around her shoulders, a tray of tea and buttered toast across her legs.
“Of course.” Constance turned to face her.
