C Harris: Where Shadows Dance

“You think he hired someone?” It was obvious this possibility had never occurred to her. She was silent a moment, then shook her head. “No. I still don’t believe it. You say the American, Kincaid, was killed that same night, in the same way. Well, don’t you see? Jasper had no reason to kill Kincaid. Ezekiel Kincaid had as much interest in keeping the information quiet as Jasper—if not more.”

Sebastian said, “The only link between Alexander Ross and Ezekiel Kincaid is this house and the sensitive information both men possessed. The only one who knew they had that information was your brother. And you.”

“But other people did know! By the time I talked to him, Alexander had already told several people.”

“Who?”

She took a quick turn around the room, one hand brushing the curls off her forehead in a distracted gesture. “Sir Hyde Foley, for one. When Alexander left here that evening, he went straight to Sir Hyde’s house.”

“You seriously expect me to believe that the Undersecretary knew the Americans had declared war on us and kept it quiet for nearly two weeks ? ”

She turned to face him, her fists clenched to her sides. “I don’t understand it myself. But it’s true.”

Sebastian studied her pale, strained face. “You said Ross told several people. Who else?”

“Some Americans he knew. A man and his daughter—I don’t recall their names. The man’s son is a seaman who has been impressed by the British Navy, and Alexander had volunteered to see what he could do to help get the son released.”

“You mean, the Batemans? Why would Ross tell them?”

“Yes, that was their name: Bateman. Alexander said he wanted to warn Mr. Bateman to keep quiet about his son’s nationality, since once it became known that Britain and the United States were at war, any seaman identified as an American would probably be thrown in the brig. He thought Bateman would have a better chance of surviving the war as a British seaman than as a prisoner on some fever-infested hulk on the Thames.”

Sebastian could understand why the Batemans would decide to keep their knowledge of the outbreak of the war to themselves. But he wondered why they had in the end ignored Ross’s recommendation and asked Sebastian for help in petitioning the Admiralty. Then he realized that as the weeks passed, father and daughter had no doubt come to the conclusion that Alexander Ross’s warning of war had been nothing more than a false rumor.

By now, of course, they would know the truth—that war between the two countries had indeed broken out, and that their attempts to save their loved one from the clutches of the British Navy had perhaps succeeded only in putting his life at even greater risk. Sebastian intended to hold firm to his promise to do what he could for the man—although under the circumstances, he wondered exactly how much he could do to help.

Sebastian glanced again at the governess, Mrs. Forester, her head still bent over her embroidery as if she were indeed oblivious to the conversation in the room. He said, “Who else did Ross tell? Besides Foley and the Americans?”

“I don’t know of anyone else. But don’t you see? Word of the declaration of war never did become known. Which means that both Foley and the Batemans kept the news quiet for some reason.” She was shivering now, trembling with the need to persuade him—and herself—of her brother’s innocence.

But in truth, Sebastian was far from convinced of Jasper Cox’s guilt. Because while Jasper Cox might have had a powerful motive for silencing Alexander Ross and Ezekiel Kincaid, the fact remained that the wealthy, ruthless merchant had no conceivable reason to kill Carl Lindquist, Antoine de La Rocque, or Yasmina Ramadani. In fact, as far as Sebastian knew, Cox was completely unaware of the existence of any of the other three.

Sir Hyde Foley, on the other hand, was now clearly linked to all five victims.

“So I was right,” said Miss Jarvis from where she sat on the high seat of Sebastian’s curricle. “Both Kincaid and Alexander Ross did know of the American declaration of war.”

“You were right.” Sebastian leaned against the iron fence of Berkeley Square, his arms crossed at his chest. “They did indeed.”

They were outside Gunter’s Tea Shop, which was the only establishment for refreshment where an unmarried young lady could be seen in the company of a gentleman who was not a relative without fear of provoking a scandal. The lady stayed in the carriage, while the gentleman lounged in the street beside her. Sebastian had noticed that however scornful Miss Jarvis might be of society’s strictures, she was still careful not to fall afoul of them.

“And now you think the killer is Sir Hyde, don’t you?” she said, watching their waiter dart across the street toward the curricle. She didn’t sound as if she agreed.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Sebastian waited while the tea shop’s boy handed a cup of chocolate ice up to Miss Jarvis. “News of the American declaration of war has effectively ended all talk of committing British troops to support the Russians. That’s a powerful defeat for people like Foley who’ve been pushing for an active alliance.” He hesitated, then added, “People like Foley and your father.”

“My father did not kill Alexander Ross and Ezekiel Kincaid.”

“Probably not,” Sebastian agreed.

She let out a soft hmph . “I find it difficult to believe that even Foley would delay the dispatch of reinforcements to Canada for weeks longer than necessary, simply to buy extra time to convince the doubters in the government to back an active alliance with the Czar.”

“Yet he has, hasn’t he? Kept quiet about it, I mean.”

Miss Jarvis thrust her spoon into the ice. “Ross could have told Sabrina a lie to make her give up and stop pressing him. Perhaps he intended to tell Foley but hadn’t yet done so.”

“I suppose that’s possible,” Sebastian conceded.

“And while I can imagine Foley might well kill Yasmina if he discovered she were a spy, why on earth would he kill de La Rocque? The book collector was a vitally important link in the transfer of the French dispatches from Paris to the Foreign Office.”

Sebastian stared out over the gently rustling tops of the maples in the square. “I think de La Rocque told Ross about Foley’s indiscretions with Yasmina.”

“I thought de La Rocque suggested to you that Ross was the one ensnared by Yasmina?”

“He did. But bear with me here. We know that de La Rocque met with Ross on Wednesday, to deliver the latest dispatches. I think that’s when he told Ross about Foley and Yasmina. Ross wouldn’t simply have taken the accusation at face value, but he certainly would have investigated the possibility that de La Rocque was onto something. I suspect that by the time Ross encountered Ramadani at Vauxhall Gardens that night, he either knew it was true or had strong suspicions.”

Hero swallowed another spoonful of her ice. “Which actually gives Ramadani a motive for the murders of Ross, Jasmina, and de La Rocque, although not Lindquist and Kincaid.”

“Can we just focus on Sir Hyde and de La Rocque for a moment?” said Sebastian, pushing away from the fence. “The way I see it, de La Rocque knew Sir Hyde’s sexual indiscretions were putting his own activities at risk. That’s why, when he delivered the dispatches to Ross on Wednesday, de La Rocque demanded more compensation. It’s also why he went to see Ross again on Friday—because he was expecting more money. But for some reason, Ross refused.”

Hero said, “The only way Ross could have increased de La Rocque’s remuneration would have been to go to Foley himself—which he obviously couldn’t do in this situation—or to go over Foley’s head, to Castlereagh. So why didn’t he do that?”