Stephanie Laurens - A Lady of His Own

A frisson of expectation, of shining hope, surged through her; she glanced his way, let her gaze slide over him, then looked ahead. Perhaps, at last, their time had come…but first they had to catch the murderer.

They left their horses at the Pelican, took the downhill lanes to the quay, then wended up the familiar alleys to Mother Gibbs’s door.

Even though it was midmorning, Charles had to knock three times before a towheaded lad opened it. Recognizing the youngest Gibbs, Charles asked for his mother, only to be informed in an uncertain tone, “Ma’s in the kitchen givin’ the others merry ’ell.”

Charles blinked; sounds of a shrill altercation drifted up from the depths of the house. “Dennis and your brothers?”

The boy had recognized him; he nodded.

“We’ll go in.” Charles grasped Penny’s hand and towed her past the lad, who blinked in surprise.

“Close the door,” Charles reminded him.

Shaking free of his stunned stupor, the boy jumped to obey.

The kitchen lay at the end of the corridor that ran the length of the house. Penny ignored the closed doors they passed; the nearer they got, the louder and shriller the argument became. Charles ducked his head and they stepped down into the kitchen.

Mother Gibbs stood before the stove, in full flight, punctuating her statements with a heavy ladle that she banged on a chopping board on the table before her. Ranged on the other side of the table were her three eldest sons, all hulking, brawny sailors who towered over her, yet all three appeared to be trying to make themselves small, an impossible feat.

Glimpsing movement behind the wall of her sons, Mother Gibbs shifted, saw Charles, and broke off in midharangue.

The three brothers followed her gaze to Charles and Penny; Penny could almost hear their sighs of relief fall into the sudden silence.

Charles took in the situation in one glance; he held up a placating hand. “My apologies for interrupting, but I need to speak with you all, and time is short.” When no one responded, just stared at him, he shifted his gaze from Mother Gibbs’s florid countenance to Dennis’s studiously blank face. Charles paused, tasting the silence. “Has anything happened?”

“ I’ll tell you what’s happened!” Mother Gibbs thumped the ladle down. “These numbskulls sent my sister’s boy off to keep watch somewhere and he’s not been home and his mother’s been here whining all morning.”

She brandished the ladle at Dennis. “You know what I’ve told you ’bout getting your cousins involved—they’re younger’n you lot. And now here we’ve had spies this and spies that for the last week ’til Sid’s up and told Bertha he was out to keep watch last night, and he’s not been back since.”

Leveling the ladle at Dennis, she narrowed her eyes. “So you just get on out there to wherever you’ve sent him and tell him to get along home sharpish, or I’ll have Bertha here whining over our teatime, and that I won’t have, do y’hear?”

“Yes, Ma.” The words were uttered in unison by all three brothers.

Dennis slid a harrassed look at Charles, then looked, somewhat sheepishly, at his mother. “Did Aunt Bertha say where he’d gone?”

“’ Course not!” Lowering the ladle, Mother Gibbs opened her mouth—then registered the import of the question. She stared at her eldest son. “You know, don’t you? You sent ’im—”

She broke off because Dennis was shaking his head, as were his brothers beside him.

“We didn’t send him—or anyone—anywhere. Didn’t need to.” Dennis glanced at Charles. “His lordship here asked could we learn anything about those three gents he had his eye on—easy enough to get the stable lads as run with us to keep their eyes open and report anything odd they see.”

Dennis looked at his mother. “We didn’t send Sid anywhere—honest, Ma.”

“But…” Mother Gibbs blinked, then looked at Charles. “Sid went out yesterday evening while it was still light. Told Bertha he was going to keep watch on some spy. She thought…” Mother Gibbs stepped to the side and sat heavily on a stool as the color drained from her face. “Oh, dear.”

Charles agreed with her. He caught Dennis’s eye. “Any idea who Sid took it into his head to watch?”

Grim, Dennis shook his head. “He didn’t speak to me.” He glanced at his brothers; both shook their heads.

Dennis sighed. “Sid’s been itching to go out with us for months, but”—with his head, he indicated his mother—“we’ve always put him off. Might be he heard what’s been going on and thought to try his hand.”

Charles held Dennis’s gaze for a moment. “We need to search.”

“Aye.” Dennis looked at his brothers. “So I’m thinking.”

There was a quality in their voices that both Penny and Mother Gibbs recognized; they exchanged glances, then Penny eased past Charles and went to crouch beside Mother Gibbs as the four men discussed organizing a search.

Mother Gibbs’s hands clasped and unclasped in her lap; she looked more stunned than if one of her boys had struck her. Penny laid a hand over the old woman’s fingers. “We can’t do anything but wait—they’ll find him.”

Mother Gibbs blinked. “Bertha’s Sam was lost at sea—that’s why she’s been so set against Sid going with the others. If something’s happened to him because he wasn’t running in Dennis’s harness like all the others do…” She exhaled gustily; her gaze grew distant. “She’ll be beside herself, our Bertha.”

Penny wished she could offer some heartening platitudes, but when it came to this man—the murderer who’d walked among them for the past weeks—she couldn’t believe enough to even hope.

She looked up to hear Charles commit the stable hands from both the Hall and the Abbey to the search, then he glanced at her.

“We need to get back.”

She nodded and rose, her hand still resting over Mother Gibbs’s. As before, the three Gibbs brothers had behaved throughout as if she wasn’t there. She looked down at the old woman, met her old eyes, squeezed her hand, then went to join Charles.

He ushered her out of the house. They strode back to the Pelican Inn in record time. Charles paused only to speak with the grooms, spreading the word, then they were galloping back to the Hall even faster than they’d left it.

The news sobered everyone. Only Nicholas was game to suggest, “It could just be a coincidence.”

The others all looked at him; although no one argued, none of them agreed. Penny knew what she hoped, but the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach doused her usual confidence.

As Charles had called off the patrols, the Hall’s grooms and stable lads joined in the search, spreading out to scout through the Hall’s acres. Immediately after luncheon, one of the Abbey’s grooms arrived bearing a missive from Dalziel. Charles took it and sent the groom back with orders for the Abbey staff to search the riverbanks from river mouth to the castle ruins.

He watched the groom ride off, then, hefting Dalziel’s packet, walked inside.

Penny was waiting in the front hall; he waved her to the library and followed. The other three were there. All watched as he walked to the desk, picked up the letter knife, and slit the packet open.

Without bothering to sit, he spread out the sheets and read. Reaching the end of the second sheet, he glanced at their expectant faces. “Carmichael has no links with anyone suspicious, and he lost a brother and two cousins in the wars. Three friends have confirmed he’s been dallying with a view to getting leg-shackled to Imogen Cranfield for more than six months. Altogether, I think that puts him lowest on our list of three.”