Page 55 of Murder in Blackfriars

I took out the money I needed to pay Tess and purchase more supplies and happily let her tend to the rest. I’d have to find another method once Joanna left London, but for now, I was grateful for her help.

I hugged Grace tightly and departed, wiping my eyes as I made for Cheapside. I did not realize until I walked through a narrow passage behind St. Paul’s that someone was following me.

I halted where a lane intersected Paternoster Row to lead back to Ludgate, and waited for him to present himself. I wasn’t very alarmed, because while my pursuer was furtive, I’d recognized the large figure of Mr. Grimes.

“No need to be surreptitious, Mr. Grimes,” I told him. “You can simply walk with me.”

Mr. Grimes shook his head as he drew me aside into aneven smaller lane. “No, I can’t. Not today. I wanted to see if anyone else was lurking. Best you get a cabbie home.”

My alarm rose. “Is there danger in this part of London, do you think?” I asked in a low voice. “Mr. Banks was killed in Blackfriars, and Mr. Fielding was attacked in the East End, in Mr. Naismith’s territory. I assumed it was his ruffians who assailed Mr. Fielding.”

Mr. Grimes’s usual friendliness had evaporated, and he set his mouth in grim lines. “I wager whoever killed Banks thinks I saw him. I went to ground, but Errol found me, as he knows how to. Except for helping him guard that Patterson bloke, I’ve been lying low.”

“Then for heaven’s sake, make yourself scarce,” I said. “Let the police find the killer, and then you’ll be safe.”

Amusement broke through Mr. Grimes’s worry. “You believe the peelers can solve it, don’t you? Instead of nicking anyone who happens to be in sight, like they did with our Danny. I’m poking around to find the murderer, whoever it is, and so is Errol. I’ll fetch you an ’ansom. The cabbies all know Danny. They’ll take care of you.”

I caught his coat sleeve before he could rush out to flag down a cab. “Mr. Fielding is trying to find the murderer? Is Mr. McAdam?”

Mr. Grimes hesitated. “Danny’d have my hide if I tell you, but you should know. He has in mind one of the blokes that Mr. Patterson mentioned for being involved in the deed, and maybe for sending the toughs after Errol in the park. That’s dangerous business you should stay away from.”

“So should Daniel and Mr. Fielding,” I argued. “And you. But I suppose I can no more stop you than I can the sun from setting every night. Please, tell me you’ll look after them. And yourself.”

“Danny’s always been good to me, so you know I will. Errol—well, we all came from the same place, so I’ll help him too.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t like the uneasy feeling that came over me. “Will you tell Daniel that I would like to speak to him, when he can manage it?”

“That I will.” Mr. Grimes beamed once more. “I’m happy that you and he will seek the parson. Danny needs you, Mrs. H., and that’s the truth.”

“You are kind to say so.” I didn’t mind Mr. Grimes knowing about Daniel’s and my arrangement. I doubted he’d blast the news far and wide.

“You stay there.” Mr. Grimes gestured me to remain in the lane. “I’ll find the ’ansom. Come when you hear me whistle.”

He jogged off before I could object, but he was likely right. I wasn’t foolish enough to insist I walk alone if someone as fearless as Mr. Grimes thought there was danger.

I didn’t have long to wait before I heard a three-pronged whistle drifting down the lane. Daniel must have heard a similar signal when he’d turned and rushed toward Pudding Dock the day of Mr. Banks’s death. I wondered if the killer had heard it as well, and perhaps recognized it, another reason they were after Mr. Grimes.

I emerged into Ludgate Hill to find Mr. Grimes beside a hansom, driven by a driver I recognized—Lewis, one of Daniel’s cronies. Mr. Grimes said nothing as he assisted me in, then said a hurried farewell and faded into the shadows.

Lewis, perched behind me, started the horse, who trotted smartly along to Fleet Street and westward.

I reached South Audley Street without mishap and realized, when I descended, that Mr. Grimes had paid the fare. Lewis never said so, but he turned and drove away before I could reach into my pocket for a coin.

As I walked around the corner to the house in Mount Street, I noted that an opulent if understated carriage stood before a home farther down the street, as though its inhabitants intended to go out for the evening. I didn’t recognize the carriage as a usual one for that house, but perhaps they had visitors.

The chaos I found when I entered the kitchen was refreshingly normal. Mr. Davis fussed at the footmen, admonishing them to be perfectly attired before they went up to serve at table. Elsie clattered pots as she washed up, and Mrs. Redfern was loudly scolding a downstairs maid who’d been caught kissing one of the footmen in the laundry.

“Maggie’ll be out on her ear soon,” Tess predicted as I tossed vegetables in a sauté on the stove.

I’d add wine and plenty of herbs to make the chopped carrots, onions, and cauliflower as tasty as the meat dish. Vegetables were so often served boiled and limp or half-raw and unseasoned that it was no wonder few wished to eat them.

“I’ll speak to Mrs. Redfern,” I told Tess. “No reason Maggie should take all the blame. It takes two to kiss, and who knows if Thomas’s attentions were wanted?”

“It’s the way of the world, innit?” Tess said in resignation. “Ladies are always at fault, if gents want to pursue them.”

“You are very cynical, but sadly correct. I will make certain Maggie is all right, though I will be stern with young Thomas. Hand me the wine now, Tess.”

Domestic troubles paired with the need to finish the supper for both upstairs and down took my attention from murder and villains. That is, until I trudged outside with my basket of scraps long after the meals were over.