The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London #4)(50)

Something was most definitely amiss.

Vane returned to the tavern, relieved to find Joseph at his table. The rumble in his stomach persuaded him to order supper. And the smell of stew wafting past his nostrils was preferable to the stench of the streets.

Vane sat down opposite Joseph. “Any news on Hungerford?”

“I’ve just come back from seeing his maid.”

“So he has servants,” Vane said, surprised. “I’ve been watching his house for the past two hours and didn’t see you there.”

“That’s because he’s given the maid notice. He sent her packing this morning.” Joseph picked up his notebook, which lay amongst a pile of tatty paper, and flicked to the required page. “Biggs followed her to the Servants’ Registry. He gave me the nod as I’m better at dealing with those of a delicate disposition.”

Vane knew enough about scoundrels to know the glint in Joseph’s blue eyes meant he’d received more than information from the maid.

“And what did you discover?”

“That she’s the only person who works for him. That his wife fell ill within the first two weeks of marrying him. So the maid said.”

“Did she say why he’s given her notice?”

“She said he’s leaving. Seems the house is rented.” He scanned his notes. “Her story rings true when you consider he’s planned to take the coach to Bath tomorrow.”

“Bath?” None of it made any sense. Why court Estelle if he was planning to leave London? “Did the maid say why he needs to leave so soon?”

The landlord appeared at Vane’s side and plonked the bowl of stew on the table. Steam rose from the vessel like a ghostly apparition — a good sign, he decided.

“Can I get you anything else, my lord?”

Vane shook his head.

As soon as the landlord shuffled away, Vane repeated his question. “Did she say why?”

“Oh, she was more than free with her tongue when the mood took her.” The runner grinned. “She said that now his wife had died he wanted to move. By all accounts, he was married before but lived in Dartford. Seems she died, too.”

“Did you find any record of his last wife at St Clement Danes?”

“No. I tried other churches in the district but found no record of anyone by that name. I know the maid said they were married, but it wouldn’t be the first time two lovers lived as man and wife.”

Hungerford seemed too principled to live in sin.

“He could have lied to maintain appearances, I suppose.”

Joseph shrugged. “I do have a list of the places he visited this morning.”

Vane beckoned for the list with some impatience. “May I see it?”

“Happen it’s best I read it. When a man writes in a hurry, it can look like an ink stain.” Joseph checked his notes. “He went to see a fellow in Spitalfields. A French silk weaver, so my man Simmonds said.”

After the attempted robbery in the alley, it was not a coincidence. Perhaps it was not a coincidence that the intruder entered the Erstwhiles’ shop on the night they dined with Mr Hungerford.

“Did he go anywhere else?”

“He hired a yellow bounder from Mr Drummond on Compton Street. He told Drummond that he didn’t want collecting from the house but wanted to travel from the yard.”

So he’d hired a post-chaise rather than travel by mail coach.

“Told him there’d be two passengers,” Joseph continued.

“Two passengers!” Vane stopped himself from shooting out of the chair.

Surely Hungerford didn’t expect Estelle to go with him?

A knot formed in Vane’s throat, so big it almost blocked his airway. Perhaps he was wrong, and Estelle was using the man to help her run away. He wanted to trust her, but not knowing what had driven her from Prescott Hall all those years ago left him with a flicker of doubt.

Vane coughed to clear his throat. “Do you know what time he’ll be leaving?”

“Six o’clock. Hungerford wanted to leave after dark, but Drummond convinced him it was better to navigate the city streets before the fog descended. I had to slip Drummond a couple of sovereigns to get him to spill his guts.”

Vane snorted. “I’m sure you will add it to my bill.”

Joseph glanced at the door briefly. “There’s not much to tell about the lord you wanted watching. He comes to and from the museum, mostly. Often late at night, though I can’t help but think he’s hiding something.”

“Concentrate all your efforts on watching both Lord and Lady Cornell.” Vane gave the runner a brief recount of the lady’s obsession. “And post a boy outside Mr Erstwhile’s apothecary on Whitecombe Street. Leave Hungerford to me.”

“I’ll see to it right away, my lord.” Joseph eyed the bowl of stew as though he’d not eaten for a week. “Are you having that?”

Vane had lost his appetite. He pushed the bowl across the table. “You’re welcome to it though I might stay for a while and order a drink.” It was too early to go home and sit alone.

Joseph was already tucking into the meal. “Happen you could help me with a few questions, then.”

“Certainly.”

“I’m investigating the theft of items from a gentleman’s club — watches, snuff boxes and the like. But I can’t go into the club to question the members.”