Anne Perry - Belgrave Square

“The main thing will be to see if we can place him in Cyrus Street,” Drummond pointed out. “Or if he can prove he was somewhere else. When do you expect this Valerius?”

“Some time this evening.”

“No more accurate than that?”

“No-he said it would not take him long, but I did not press him to a particular hour.”

Drummond rose to his feet slowly, as though his body were stiff.

“Then I’ll go and see Byam, at least tell the poor devil he is no longer suspected. He will be very shocked if it is Anstiss. They have been friends most of their lives.”

“He won’t be so very shocked when he realizes Anstiss has read Laura’s letters,” Pitt said dryly.

Drummond made no comment, but picked up his hat from the stand at the door, and his cane from the rack below.

Drummond walked well over a mile before he hailed a hansom and directed it towards Belgrave Square. It was a cool evening with a breeze off the river and the mist was rising. By dusk it could well be foggy. He needed time to think, although all the time in the world would not alter the facts. He would be able to give Eleanor the one thing she really wished: her husband’s innocence, even his release from the second blackmail. Drummond would always know what the letter contained, the evidence that Byam’s involvement with Laura Anstiss was not as innocent as he had claimed, but he would not tell her that.

He passed a group of ladies and tilted his hat politely as they inclined their heads.

What Byam chose to tell Eleanor was his affair, and if she guessed he had lied it was still between them. She might well put it from her mind and forgive him. It had been twenty years ago, and before he knew her.

Then Drummond would never see her again, unless their paths crossed socially, and he was torn as to whether he even wanted that or not. It was a decision he would not make now.

An acquaintance passed in an open carriage and he acknowledged him absently. Why was it when you most wished to be alone that you passed so many people you knew?

He hailed a hansom and climbed in.

Belgrave Square came all too quickly. He alighted and paid. There was nothing more to decide, nothing more to think about. He went up the steps and pulled the bell.

The butler let him in and mistook his grave face for a portent of bad news.

“Shall I call Lord Byam, sir?” he said grimly.

Drummond forced a pleasanter look.

“If you please. I have word he will wish to hear.”

“Indeed, sir.” The man’s eyebrows rose. “I am very relieved.” And after conducting Drummond to the library, he disappeared about his errand.

The fire was lit this evening, in spite of its being summer and still many hours of daylight left. The mist was heavier now and there was a dampness to the air outside. The fire’s glow was welcome. Automatically Drummond went over to it.

Byam came almost immediately. Drummond was half glad Eleanor had not come with him. It would be easier, and perhaps more appropriate, if he were able to tell Byam without her there.

“What have you heard?” Byam did not even pretend to courtesies. His face was pale with spots of color high in his cheeks and his eyes looked feverish. He had closed the door behind him, cutting off the servants, Eleanor and the rest of the house. “Do you know who killed Weems?”

“Yes, I believe I do,” Drummond replied. He was taken by surprise that Byam should have asked so bluntly. He had expected to govern the conversation himself, to approach the subject and choose his words.

Byam tried to be casual, but his body under its elegant clothes was rigid and he drew his breath as though his lungs were compressed and his throat tight.

“Is it-is it anyone I have-have heard of?” He cleared his throat. “I mean was it someone else he was blackmailing? Or one of his ordinary debtors?” He made half a move as if to go to one of the silver-topped decanters on the side table, then stopped.

“It appears to be someone he was blackmailing,” Drummond answered. “But you will appreciate, we have not arrested him yet, so I prefer not to say more. I came to tell you as soon as I could that you need no longer worry about your own safety or reputation.”

“Good. I-I am obliged to you.” Byam swallowed. “You have behaved with great consideration, Drummond. I am sensible of your generosity.”

Drummond was embarrassed, painfully aware of his emotions as well as his acts, things of which he profoundly hoped Byam had no notion.

“I assume you will arrest him?” Byam went on, more to fill the silence than from any apparent interest.

“Tomorrow,” Drummond replied. “We still require some documentary evidence.”

Byam moved jerkily and made as if to speak, then remained silent. He seemed very little relieved, considering the weight of the news Drummond had just brought, almost as if it were peripheral to his real anguish.

“We know you are not guilty,” Drummond said again, just in case somehow he had not grasped that his ordeal was over.

Byam forced a smile. It was ghastly.

“Yes-yes, I am very grateful.”

“And the blackmail will end,” Drummond added, trying to bring the man some ease.

“Of course. Weems…”

“No-I mean the second blackmail-to change your mind on the lending policy in the African empire states and drive them to venture capital. It was the same man, and his arrest will end it all.”

Byam stood motionless.

“I-I thought it was one of Weems’s associates,” he said very quietly. “Whoever he left his papers with, to safeguard himself.”

“No-it was his murderer,” Drummond corrected. “When he killed Weems he took the letter, and blackmailed you with it. Only this time not for a few guineas, but for political corruption and the infinitely greater prizes that would bring.” He realized as he said it that freedom from suspicion, even from that pressure, was only part of Byam’s need. He would never undo the decisions he had made in office, or the guilt for having set his personal reputation ahead of his political honor.

“I’m sorry,” Drummond said quietly. It was not an apology.

Byam was ashen, as if every vestige of blood had drained from his face.

“And Weems was blackmailing the murderer also, you say?”

“Yes.”

“For money?”

“Presumably. But it didn’t work. The man killed him.”

Byam swayed on his feet. He forced the words between dry lips.”

“And-took the-letter?”

“Yes.” Drummond was afraid Byam was going to faint, he looked so ill.

“How-how did you discover…?” Byam stammered.

“It was the letter, actually,” Drummond replied. “Pitt found half of it. Can I get you something? Brandy?”

“No-no! Please leave me. I am…” He coughed and gasped for breath. “I-I am obliged.” Drummond stood helpless for a moment longer, then went to the door and found the butler standing outside in the hall.

“I think Lord Byam is not well,” he said hastily. “Perhaps you had better go and see if you can be of assistance.”

“Yes sir.” And without waiting to hand him his hat and stick, simply indicating the footman, the butler did as he was told. Drummond took the things from the footman’s hand and went outside into the foggy, clammy evening, already growing dim.

Pitt met Drummond at eight o’clock the following morning. The mist had not yet cleared and the streets were damp, their footsteps echoing when they alighted from the hansom and walked across the pavement and up the steps to Lord Anstiss’s house. Drummond rang the bell.

It was several chilly minutes before a footman answered, looking surprised and more than a little confused to see two people he did not know on the step at this hour.