Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway

24

The next morning, Charlie, Pippa, and the Angels (minus Fiona, who had once again been detained by her family) convened at the Nest. They were accompanied by Mrs. Peabody and Hawker. As Fair Molly led the contingent into the great hall, Mrs. Peabody surveyed the dirty windows, stained furnishings, and cluttered tables.

“Does the Prince of Larks not employ a housekeeper?” she said in an undertone to Pippa.

“Apparently no one wants the job,” Pippa whispered back.

“I wonder why.” Mrs. Peabody looked at a pair of mudlarks engaged in a gleeful food fight, a shudder going through her slender frame. “Goodness, what is that child doing?”

Ahead of them, a ginger-haired boy was hanging upside down from the chandelier, his knees hooked around the heavy metal ring. Pippa recognized Teddy, the boy who’d fallen the last time.

“Look at me!” Teddy sang. “I’m an acrobat!”

“Have a care—” Pippa began.

But Teddy had already swung too far, his knees losing their grip, his small body plunging toward the ground. Pippa rushed forward, but Hawker got there first, plucking Teddy out of the air with a giant fist.

“Watch yourself, lad.” The burly man set the boy safely on the ground.

Teddy tilted his chin up…and up, taking in Hawker with big eyes. “Are you a pirate?”

“I’m a butler.”

“Can I ’ave your eye patch?”

“What do you want it for?”

Teddy angled his head. “I want to look as rough-an’-ready as you.”

Hawker grunted. “It’d take a lot more than an eye patch.”

“I ’ave a chipped tooth. See?” The boy pulled back his lips, showing the missing corner on one of his front teeth.

“Congratulations.”

“My name’s Teddy.”

Apparently unfazed by the non sequiturs, the butler said, “Hawker.”

Digging in his pocket, Teddy pulled out a lint-covered sweet that looked suspiciously used. “Do you want a treat?”

“You keep it. And the next time you’re on that light, hang by your hands, not your knees,” Hawker advised. “Less likely to bash in your noggin that way.”

As Fair Molly ushered their group on, leaving Teddy staring after Hawker as if the latter walked on water, Mrs. Peabody said severely, “You should not encourage such behavior, Hawker.”

The butler shrugged. “I ain’t encouraging it. But no point in trying to stop the tides, either.”

“It is dangerous,” the housekeeper insisted.

“Aye, and so is life. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t live, does it?”

Mrs. Peabody pinned her lips together and walked ahead, her skirts swishing with annoyance.

“You oughtn’t bait her so,” Pippa chided.

Hawker gave her an innocent look—as innocent a look as a one-eyed giant with a shaved head could muster. “Ain’t my fault she has her drawers in a constant twist.”

When they arrived at the parlor, Cull was there waiting, once again masked. His gaze sought Pippa out first, and her heart stuttered at the raw longing in his eyes. Memories of last night flooded her: they’d devoured one another and still wanted more. For a few precious hours, they’d found a private Eden. The smile that flickered on Cull’s mouth felt like a promise that they would return.

Then his eyes shuttered, and he was once again the Prince of Larks.

“Welcome.” He addressed the group. “Please make yourselves comfortable.”

The group found their seats around the battered coffee table. Flanking Cull were Long Mikey, Fair Molly, and two other mudlarks Pippa didn’t recognize: a boy built like a candlestick with a large head of spiky raven hair, and a man in his twenties who rivaled Hawker in size. A younger pair of larks served tea in chipped cups and offered the guests a plate of ginger biscuits.

Smiling her thanks, Livy took one of the biscuits. She bit in…and her eyes bulged in their sockets. Remembering what Cull had said about his cook, Pippa hurriedly passed her friend a handkerchief. Livy snatched it and brought it to her mouth, discreetly ridding herself of the evidence.

“We are convening today to discuss the latest developments,” Cull said.

“You mean Viscount Hastings’s murder.” Charlie’s walking dress of pewter wool matched her steely expression. “Tell us what you know.”

“It would be best for you to hear it from the source,” Cull said.

Long Mikey stepped forward. “It ’appened like this. I was tailing ’Astings last night with Matches and me brother, Long Joe.” He gestured to the spiky-haired boy and large adult lark, respectively; the latter gave a gap-toothed smile.

“I could tell something was off with the toff from the start,” Mikey went on.

“What was off about him?” Livy wanted to know.

“’E were as nervy as a virgin on ’er wedding night. Thought it were ’is appetite for the cards and poppy’s tears that put ’im on edge and that ’e’d be ’eaded back to Limehouse. Instead, ’e took ’imself off to some shady play’ouse not far from Drury Lane called the New Cytherea. Matches, Long Joe, and I couldn’t find ’im once we got inside—too many rooms where the actresses ply their trade.” Mikey’s emphasis on the word, and the way he curled his fingers like quotation marks when he said it, gave a good indication of how the New Cytherea’s players made their livings. “Then I ’eard a shot go off, toffs screaming across the street. So I run o’er, and there in the alleyway was our man ’Astings. Dead as a doornail, bullet through the chest.”

“Any witnesses?” Charlie asked.

Long Mikey shook his head. “None that stepped forward. It ’appened in the alley, like I said, so good chance no one saw anything. I managed to go through ’Astings’s pockets—’ad to be quick, mind you, last thing I needed was to be caught by some peeler—and found this.”

He placed the objects on the coffee table. Pippa had already seen the items that her friends were now examining: a miniature portrait of Julianna Hastings and a wrinkled program for a play called The Grove of Love.

“Look at the date.” Glory tapped her finger on the program. “The play took place at the New Cytherea a year ago. Why would Hastings be carrying an old playbill? And a memento of his wife whom he despised?”

“And who would have cause to kill him?” Livy said in a ruminative manner. “Could it be related to his gambling debts, do you think?”

“I have a list of Hastings’s debtors. They’re brutes, more apt to maim than kill,” Cull replied. “Moneylenders don’t profit from dead patrons, and Hastings was making his payments.”

“Then who murdered Hastings and why? And is it related to Lady Hastings’s death?” Pippa chewed on her lip. “I feel like we’re missing something.”

“Perhaps the dossiers will help.”

Cull nodded to Fair Molly, who brought over a portfolio to Charlie. The latter took out a stack of documents, and Pippa glimpsed addresses, numbers, and neatly organized lists.

“Allow me to summarize.” Cull clasped his hands behind his back.

Pippa didn’t know what it said about her that she found his pedantic tone stimulating. She felt a quiver in her private parts as her prince did what he did best.

“Starting with Howard Morton. Age thirty, only child of Deirdre and Laurence Morton, the latter being Jonas Turner’s cousin twice removed and a childhood friend. As a child, Howard Morton spent summers at the Turners’ country estate, and since he and Julianna were of a similar age, they were close. Rumor had it that Jonas Turner hoped his daughter and Morton might make a match of it. But Julianna met Hastings and fell for him instead.”

“Do you know if Morton had feelings for Julianna?” Pippa asked.

“On this point, I am uncertain. What I do know is that Morton attended her wedding and apparently got very drunk. And he has never married, nor courted anyone since.” Cull paused. “At present, Morton resides near Amwell, Hertfordshire. He makes his living as a schoolmaster and lives a quiet life. This will likely change now that he stands to inherit half of Jonas Turner’s fortune.”

Pippa tilted her head. “Revenge for being thrown over and greed could be powerful motives for murder. If Morton blamed Hastings for stealing away Julianna, he might have reason to kill husband and wife.”

“Agreed,” Cull said. “Morton is an important suspect…but so is Louis Wood. As it turns out, there is more to the butler than meets the eye.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she muttered. “To think, I believed he was helpful at the funeral.”

“I wouldn’t take it personally, sunshine.” Cull’s lips twitched. “It took some digging to unearth Wood’s past. He has changed his name, and for good reason: as a young man, he spent several years in Newgate for assault.”

“He is a former convict?” Charlie said sharply.

Cull inclined his head. “Wood has seemingly walked the straight and narrow since his employment with the Turners. He has no family of his own. His reputation is that of a loyal retainer dedicated to his work.”

“Even so, a butler doesn’t usually inherit half his master’s fortune,” Livy pointed out. “Perhaps Wood was playing some sort of long game.”

“That is possible,” Cull allowed. “And, if so, the end is in sight for him. I’ve learned that Turner’s solicitor has set an appointment to disburse the funds to Morton and Wood in three weeks.”

“The clock is ticking.” Charlie drummed her fingers against the documents. “Once the money is distributed, there will be nothing to keep Morton or Wood in London. With vast financial resources, they can go anywhere, do anything. They will be beyond our reach.”

“Then we better not waste any time.” Glory canted her head. “What is our plan?”

“To begin, we need to check out Morton,” Charlie said. “That would mean a team going to Hertfordshire.”

“I’ll go,” Pippa said.

Being a widow, she had more freedom and fewer commitments than her fellow Angels.

“I’ll escort you,” Cull offered. “I have some pressing business but can leave the day after next, if that suits?”

Aware of the interested gazes in the room, Pippa gave a polite—and what she hoped was professional—nod. On the inside, she was bursting with excitement. She couldn’t wait to spend time with Cull, even if they were investigating a murder. In truth, having a shared purpose made her feel even closer to him.

“In the meantime, the Angels will continue looking for Vincent Ellis. And I think a visit to the New Cytherea is in order,” Charlie said. “We need to find out what Hastings was doing there on the night he was killed.”