Page 90 of Murder in Blackfriars

Lewis drove us quickly onward. Naismith’s house and the police around it were lost to sight, our escape punctuated by Mr. Fielding’s heartfelt laughter.

* * *

On Monday afternoon, I met Daniel at Victoria Station, and we boarded a train for Richmond.

We said little as we went. I had left pies and tarts with Hannah at the market to peddle for me, as I now had clientele I didnot want to disappoint. The drawback of running one’s own business, I supposed, as well as its benefit.

Daniel had informed me last night when he stopped by for tea and a chat that Inspector McGregor and Acting Inspector Scott had arrested all those in Naismith’s household, interrogating them about all of Naismith’s activities and their part in them.

The man who’d actually killed Banks was being bound over for trial, and now lodged in Newgate. He insisted he’d only been following Naismith’s orders, as though that absolved him of the crime.

Naismith himself had slipped the net. He’d not been in the house anywhere when McGregor, Scott, and their men had burst in.

I was not terribly surprised. A man like Naismith would have worked out an escape route for himself long ago.

Daniel was of the opinion that Naismith would lie low for a while before resurfacing. He would have to abandon the lovely house and find another in yet another genteel but unassuming neighborhood.

Today, Daniel and I sat side by side in a second-class carriage, I in my best frock and Daniel in a wool suit tailored for him. No homespun or patched coats to meet people who might be his family.

He was nervous, fidgeting as he stared out the window, reaching for my hand and then releasing it, as though he couldn’t make up his mind whether he wanted comfort.

Daniel’s uneasiness increased as the train pulled into Richmond. We descended, and I consulted the address. Cynthia had found a map of the area for me, and I’d circled the court we were looking for.

Richmond was a quiet town, with rows of bow-windowed houses on narrow lanes. I’d worked in a large home here for a time, and had enjoyed walks in parks along the river and in the nearby Kew Gardens.

King’s Crescent was a little cul-de-sac off a lane called King’s Road. We stopped before the house we sought, a small redbrick home with white trim, separate from the others around it. A gate led to a little courtyard in front, and a garden.

A dark-haired woman straightened up from where she pulled spent summer plants from a flower bed, her dull green frock covered by a pinafore, now smudged with dirt. She pushed back her gardening hat when she saw us at the gate, and her mouth fell open.

Before we could speak, she put her soil-stained, gloved hand to her bosom and dragged in a breath.

“Uncle Robert,” she stated in shock.

“No.” Daniel opened the gate and entered the garden, halting just inside. “I’m his son. At least, I believe I am.”

The woman heaved another breath, her face draining of color. I quickly slipped around Daniel and caught her, easing her toward the iron bench that reposed under a tree.

“Perhaps you ought to sit down, my dear.”

The woman plumped onto the bench and stared at me as I sank down beside her.

“How?” she wheezed. “How is it…?”

“We believe he was spirited away not long after his father and mother died,” I explained, holding the woman’s hand in a soothing grasp. “Why did you think he was your uncle?”

“Because he is the exact image of him,” the woman said, her eyes wide. “And greatly resembles my father. Are you—?” She gulped, gazing up at Daniel, who hadn’t moved. “Are you Robbie?”

“It is a strong possibility,” I answered for him. “Though he calls himself Daniel now. Is your father here?”

“No, he passed away, two years ago. My mother ten years ago.”

“You inherited the house,” I stated.

“Yes, my father left it to me. And my husband.” She started to her feet. “Let me fetch him.”

“Of course.” I released the woman, who ran for her front door, banging it open. “Gerald,” she shouted. “Come outside. Come and see who it is.”

I moved back to Daniel, standing close beside him. In a few moments, the woman reappeared, still amazed but less rigid.