My Plain Jane (The Lady Janies #2)(71)

“Neither do I.” Wellington shook his head. “Perhaps . . .”

“Perhaps what?”

“In that letter”—Wellington motioned toward Alexander’s pocket—“Nicholas wrote about the ‘travesty’ in the Society, and that I—for I’m most certainly the ‘AW’ mentioned—must be stopped.”

Alexander sat very still. He’d been curious, of course, but unsure how to bring it up.

“I’m afraid the travesty was that I had sent Mrs. Rochester back to Thornfield to rest. She’d been working so much that the stress was beginning to get to her. I wanted her to have time to recover, then come back, but perhaps I hadn’t been clear in my intentions. The three of them—both Rochesters and your father—believed I’d fired her because she was a woman. Your father wanted to confront me, while Mr. Rochester wanted to permanently leave the Society. I cannot fathom how that disagreement led to your father’s death, though. I’m as shocked as anyone. And now our new Beacon is with him. . . .”

Alexander’s head was reeling with all the information. And really, look how forthcoming Wellington had been. Miss Bront? had worried him for nothing.

“I’ll write to Rochester,” Wellington said. “We’ll get our Beacon. Now, take a few moments to collect yourself, and then I need you on this assignment. It’s time-sensitive.”

“It can’t wait? I’d like to pursue more evidence against Rochester.” Alexander didn’t usually resist Wellington’s directives (that time he completely ignored the letter telling him to come home notwithstanding), but surely the Lord President still understood that this was a special case, one he’d been working on since he was four years old. He had leads. He had a suspect. This wasn’t the time for random ghost jobs.

Wellington crossed his arms. “This won’t take you long. And it is your duty. Your purpose.”

Alexander sighed. Wellington was right. Of course he was. It was just so hard to be taken from the revenge business when the revenge that had evaded him for so long finally felt within his grasp.

“It’s my privilege to obey your commands, sir.” Alexander stood and waited for his orders.

“I’m glad you think so.” Wellington opened a drawer in the massive desk and removed a large envelope. “As I said, this won’t take you long. All the work is already done, except of course capturing the ghost. We have an address. We have a key. We even have the talisman. We only need the seer to see the ghost and capture it.”

That did sound rather simple. Most jobs were not nearly so well prepared, and left him to do much of the investigation.

“I’ll send a note to Branwell and have him meet me at the location.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Wellington said quickly. Perhaps too quickly? “You don’t need to bother him with this. Branwell has other things on his mind right now, I’m sure.”

Guilt needled at Alexander. He should have tried harder to make his case for Branwell, but at least the boy hadn’t been dismissed.

Wellington cleared his throat.

“I’ll capture the ghost immediately, sir.”

“I expect the talisman returned by the end of the day.” Wellington slid the envelope across his desk, which Alexander took. “And, oh, by the way,” Wellington said as Alexander began retreating from the office.

“Yes?”

“We’ll get Rochester. It will just take time.”

Alexander nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“Now,” said Wellington, “fetch me that ghost.”

Here was the strange thing.

The talisman.

Oh, true to Wellington’s words, the envelope did contain everything that Alexander needed, including a list of grievances against the ghost, which ranged from loosening the cobblestones to trip people walking down the road, to making branches tap against windows they wouldn’t normally reach, and generally creating a lot of noise.

But the talisman was a strange thing, because it was a ring. And not just any ring, but a heavy gold band with the King of England’s crest engraved on top.

It was the king’s signet ring.

That truly begged the question of why.

Generally, talismans were objects that had taken a part in murder (like the teacup), or items of importance to the ghost (the pocket watch), so this was unusual to say the least.

Perhaps it was a mistake.

Or a copy.

But no, Alexander had seen signet rings before, and this one had the weight and heft of real gold, and the details on the crest were correct. Though he was no expert, Alexander was reasonably certain this ring was authentic.

Though the information in the dossier had given him no insight, perhaps the ghost would be willing to offer answers. Alexander had dealt with more than a few ghosts who wanted to go on (and on and on) about their lives. Miss Bront? would say perhaps they simply wanted someone to listen, and if he did, they might be more willing to get bopped on the head.

This ghost was recently deceased, apparently, and the family could not sell the house until the bothersome spirit was gone. Which was where the Society came in.

Knowing that, and guessing that the ghost would be furious to realize his family was more concerned about selling the house, Alexander might be able to offer himself as a friendly listener and get a few answers, satisfying his curiosity.