A study in scandal (11 page)

“That’s it!” Meg jumped to her feet.

Willow shook her head in confusion. “What’s it?”

“Repeat what you just said.”

“What? About fingerprinting not garnering too much interest?”

“No, before that.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” Amelia said quietly.

Meg pointed at her. “Exactly!”

“Exactly what?” Willow said. “I believe I’m still confused.”

Meg walked over to Willow. “You are correct in your estimation that women will more than likely not come for something such as fingerprinting.” She turned to face the rest of them. “But would they come”—she paused and gave them a smile—“for Sherlock Holmes?”

“Meg, we don’t have Sherlock Holmes,” Charlotte pointed out.

She held up a finger. “Ah, but we do. In a sense. Amelia has told us all about the similarities between Inspector Brindley and Holmes—it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for our attendants to imagine him the real thing.”

“A masquerade,” Willow said.

Meg nodded. “Exactly. It will be perfect. And it will be the talk of the town. We’ll have to turn people away at the door.”

It was a good idea, a brilliant idea, but it would not work. It was a shame too, because it sounded fun. “No, we won’t,” Amelia said.

“Don’t be so negative. This will work. We can make it work,” Meg said.

“No, you don’t understand, Meg, we can’t make it work,” Amelia said.

“Why is that?” Charlotte asked.

“Because it is dishonest,” Amelia said.

“It is not so much dishonest as it is persuasion,” Charlotte offered.

“That’s a rather fine distinction,” Willow said.

“We’re offering a bit of an adventure to some of our friends,” Meg said. “That’s not dishonesty. It’s fiction, which is distinctly different. It’s the creation of a world.”

“A false world,” Amelia said.

“But it is no different than Doyle’s stories,” Charlotte said.

“Yes, it is,” Amelia countered.

Meg returned to her chair. “How so?”

“We’d be deceiving everyone at the expense of Inspector Brindley, that’s how,” Amelia explained.

“He does not have to know,” Charlotte said.

“Then we are deceiving him?” Amelia shook her head. “No, we cannot do it this way. We’ll have to decide on something else. If I’ve learned
anything about him, it is that he has no tolerance for dishonesty. I cannot knowingly betray him, even for the sake of his research. It’s simply not right.”

Meg fell back into the settee cushions and released a loud and dramatic sigh. “You spoil all my fun, Amelia,” she said. “But very well.”

“Thank you.” Amelia smiled. “Now, I’m certain we can come up with another idea. Perhaps not one quite as clever, but one that will not make me feel a complete liar.”

“We should do as Meg first suggested and send a letter—or rather an invitation. Use clever wording, and we’ll have everyone eager to attend,” Willow said.

“Absolutely,” Charlotte piped in. “My suggestion—be evasive and secretive with your wording. Give them a tiny bit and pique their curiosity. That will get them here.”

“It is settled, then. We shall pick an appropriate time and date, and I will work on the invitations,” Meg said.

Charlotte nodded in agreement. “Meg, Willow, and I will take care of everything. You’re awfully busy with the investigation,” she told Amelia.

“Are you quite certain? I don’t want to be a burden.”

“No, it’s not burden,” Meg said. “It will be fun. And it will give me something to do rather than wander around Father’s factory and get myself into trouble.”

“He felt so clever and so sure of himself that he imagined no one could touch him.”

The Adventure of the Retired Colourman

A
melia knocked, but didn’t have to wait as long as she had on her previous visits to Colin’s office. He swung open the door and gave her a controlled smile.

“Hello,” he said.

“Good afternoon. Were you expecting someone? Or were you on your way out?”

“Neither.” He stepped to the side to admit her entrance.

She didn’t even have to talk her way in this time. “I see. I came because I found these journals.” She
tapped the bag resting at her hip. “I thought we could peruse them and see if we can find anything of interest. I couldn’t think of any additional names from the previous list, but to be honest, I can’t precisely remember everyone I included. I hoped we could review it together and I could mark the other collectors. Perhaps that will help nudge my memory if I missed any collectors.”

He nodded.

She followed him up the stairs, then watched as he went to his desk and immediately retrieved the list. It would have taken her a few looks to locate something. Admittedly, she was not as tidy as he was. Her room wasn’t exactly a mess, but she didn’t always place things in precisely the same spot as she had the previous time. She suspected that wasn’t the case with Colin.

“Here we go,” he said. He handed her the list along with a pencil. “Why don’t you put a mark next to the collectors’ names and we can discuss them?”

“Very well.”

“Might I take a look at those journals you found?” he asked.

“Of course. I’m such a ninny sometimes.” She leaned forward and handed him the journals.

“Do you know that you smell of strawberries?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I believe it is your hair. It smells of strawberries.”

“Ah, it’s the rinse I use. It is made of fruit extracts.” She put her hand to her hair. “Is it offensive?”

“On the contrary. I find it smells rather nice. It suits you.”

“Thank you.”

He looked away then, and flipped open the first journal.

She watched him a moment more before turning to the list and scanning for familiar names.

It was nice, she realized. The two of them sitting together, silently working on their own things. And for a moment it felt as if that were the way the world was supposed to be. She and Colin together, living their lives, side by side. She ventured a glance in his direction and found him studying the journal intently.

“Colin?” she said.

“Hmmm?”

“I’ve been thinking about your research.”

He glanced up above the journal. “My research?” He set the journal aside. “Indeed. And what are your thoughts?”

“You’ve been so busy with my case, you have not had time to work on it. Correct?”

He nodded. “That is true.”

She made some nonsensical marks on the border of the paper. Why was she so nervous presenting this idea to him? The worst he could do was politely decline.

“And you have had a problem finding participants to take their fingerprints.”

“Indeed.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Amelia, where are you going with this?”

“Well, I only thought—that is the girls and I were discussing this very thing…” She straightened in her chair, trying to sit taller. “We thought it might be fun to have a party for you.”

“A party?” He frowned. “I can’t say that I’m much for parties.” He shook his head. “I don’t fancy crowds.”

She had known he would say that. “Well, it would be a different sort of party.”

“In what way?”

“We thought we could invite some of our friends, and you could fingerprint them. After the party you’d have a rather large collection of women’s fingerprints to use for your research.”

“And you thought of this?”

“The girls and I.” She couldn’t decipher from his reaction if he thought this was a good idea or not.

“And you believe people will come simply so that I may take their fingerprints?”

“We discussed that as well. We have two plans to make this a success. Secrecy and exclusivity. The wording on the invitations will be evasive. Ladies do love a good mystery, but they especially love to be included in something that is perceived as exclusive. So we’re not inviting everyone.”

“You’re deliberately going to exclude some of your friends?”

“Acquaintances is more the thing. And yes. It seems rude, I realize, but in actuality it’s not. It is done all the time. Especially for events that are to be all the rage.”

“And you suspect this will create a rage?”

“Absolutely. You’re going to be a huge success.”

“I’m not an entertainer, Amelia. I only want a large enough sample to work from for my research.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I understand that. You will not have to do anything save arrive and do your work. You will obviously need to bring your own supplies, as I’m not certain I have the sort of ink you would need.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem. I don’t know, though. I’m not exactly the friendly sort.”

“All the better. The women will adore you because you’re mysterious and aloof.”

He frowned. “Women are peculiar. Present company excluded, you understand.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you. Well, we’ve scheduled the party for Thursday afternoon. You come, and we’ll take care of the rest.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Amelia,” he said.

“Of course it is. You needn’t worry about a thing. You’ll be fine. I promise. This is for your research. Don’t you need additional samples?”

“Yes, of course I do. I shall be there,” he said.

“Let us plan our visits to the other collectors,” Amelia suggested.

“Very well. Shall we start with the woman? Lady Hasbeck, is that her name?”

“Yes.”

“She should be our first visit, since we know she is another collector of Egyptian antiquities.”

“Excellent,” Amelia said. “And what of Mr. Quincy?”

“I’ll get to him in a moment. After Lady Hasbeck, we shall visit your father’s club,” Colin said. “While not all the collectors are interested in the same artifacts, chances are they have contacts all over town and one might provide some helpful information.”

“Oh, very good. And then?”

“And then,” he said, “we pay Mr. Quincy, our phantom buyer, a visit.”

“We are not to send him a post first?” Amelia inquired.

“No. It is not necessary. If he is not home, we can send him a post.”

Amelia nodded. “It sounds like a good plan indeed.”

They were partners. Amelia smiled. She tried to bury it, but the hope that their partnership would outlive this case kept creeping into her heart. She knew it wouldn’t happen. Colin did not want a Watson. He was accepting her help in this case because she was paying him. When this case ended, so too would her career as an investigator.

She’d have to rely on her writing to get her through. At least this work had given her the opportunity to experience some things to write about. She’d done enough to realize that Willow was probably right—you didn’t have to experience something to write about it. You need only experience life and the rest you could create.

“Shall I bring a carriage around for you tomorrow?” Colin asked.

“Yes, that would be nice.” He seemed to be in good spirits. Perhaps now was a good time to approach him about the two of them having an affair. She eyed him carefully, then opened her mouth to speak.

“Do you suppose Lady Hasbeck will have any information for us?” he asked before she could say a word.

Perhaps now was not the best time. She might need to wait a bit, see if she could catch him when he wasn’t so intent on the case.

“Well, she’s a well-connected woman, so perhaps. She’s quite influential in town, you know. Her late husband left her a fortune, which she spends on her antiquities.”

“Ah. Rich, influential women, my favorite kind,” he said with a smile.

She giggled. “You actually made a joke!” Amelia said.

He looked over at her and raised one eyebrow. “I do have a sense of humor,” he said dryly.

“I know. And I’m glad to see you still know how to use it.”

“Will you leave these journals with me? I don’t expect to find anything, but I want to look through them carefully.”

“Yes, of course.” She stood to leave. “Colin, I want you to know that whatever happens, this has been the best time of my life. I know working with me wasn’t your preference, but you’ve been so kind and patient with me, and I wanted to say thank you.”

A light blush crept up his cheeks. He turned his face. “You’re welcome. Your skill with people has been helpful.”

That stopped her. She wanted to ask for more clarification about what he meant precisely, but figured it was best left alone. No doubt it had been difficult for him to admit. But it meant so much to her that he believe she was skilled in some area.

She met his gaze. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

“I suppose I should be going,” she said. “I will be ready for our visits tomorrow.”

Amelia climbed into the hackney. Some seductress she was. She wanted desperately for them to have an affair, yet she couldn’t bring herself to suggest it to him. Undoubtedly she was worried he would reject her. Not only say no to the affair, but cut ties with her altogether. Perhaps even remove himself from the case. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

She would ask him. Eventually. But she needed to wait until it was the perfect time.

“A woman’s heart and mind are insoluble puzzles to the male.”

The Adventure of the Illustrious Client

C
olin stood in Amelia’s parlor waiting for her. He’d been there awhile, but he hadn’t yet glanced at his watch. He’d grown accustomed to the fact that Amelia was always late—it had become an almost endearing quality about her. Promptness was a virtue as far as he was concerned, but so was consistency, and she was very consistent.

Consistently late. Consistently charming. Consistently tempting.

She blew into the room wearing a sharp pink
confection that molded to her luscious body. The cut of the dress made her waist look as if his hands could encircle her. The modest square neckline only hinted at her cleavage and the flair in the skirt pronounced the sway in her hips as she walked.

But the most tantalizing bit of the entire ensemble were the satin pink gloves. Only one button, he noticed immediately, as they only went up to her wrist. One button, that was all it would take. His hands clenched at his sides.

“Good afternoon, Colin. Isn’t it simply beautiful outside?”

Consistently cheery.

And he wanted to respond that he hadn’t noticed because he wasn’t accustomed to noting lovely days. But he, in fact, had noticed. Lately, they’d experienced several days of gray, wet weather but today the sky was blue, full of white puffy clouds, and the birds were actually chirping. It made even him want to whistle. He never whistled.

“It is lovely,” he replied, but kept any enthusiasm out of his voice. What was happening to him? Being near Amelia made him positively good-humored. The men at the Yard would scarcely recognize him. Speaking of which, he really ought to stop by sometime. Say hello. Especially to James.

“Shall we?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

Had she always been this pretty? Her skin seemed to glow today and her smile with those blasted even teeth made him want to grin like an idiot.

“Yes, let us go.” He needed to get focused. Today was an important day for Amelia, so keeping his mind on the investigation and earning his payment was what he ought to do, rather than thinking about Amelia and how pretty she looked today.

They made their way to the carriage, and he tried to keep his eyes averted from her. He was fortunate, though, as their drive to Lady Hasbeck’s town house was quite short. The less time he spent alone with her today, the better, as he was certain he would not be able to resist her much longer.

Lady Hasbeck’s butler showed them into her drawing room. It was a gaudily ornamented room stuffed with knickknacks, baubles, and other whatnots. Perhaps Penny had been in this very room, as this was surely what the maid had meant by people buying things simply to have in their possession of a lot of things.

To Colin, the room was stuffy and garish.

“My dear Miss Watersfield,” Lady Hasbeck
said as she billowed into the room, arms open wide. “It has truly been ages. What a delightful pleasure. And who might your friend be?” she asked with a wink.

Lady Hasbeck was a plump woman with as much jewelry dripping off her as there were ornaments in the room. A taste for the excess, apparently. But she seemed pleasant enough. Perhaps she merely enjoyed too much of a good thing.

“This is Inspector Brindley, Lady Hasbeck,” Amelia said. “My father hired him, and we’ve come to seek your assistance.”

“A pleasure,” the lady said, then held her hand out for Colin to kiss.

He merely bent over it. He supposed he could kiss one of her many rings, but that seemed a bit much.

“An inspector for hire?” she asked. “Whatever do you need an inspector for?”

“One of my father’s pieces was stolen,” Amelia explained.

“How dreadful. Please, let us all sit. I’ve sent for some tea and biscuits.”

By the time they all got settled on Lady Hasbeck’s many-pillowed chairs, the servants were bringing in the tea.

“I’m certain I would have heard of this by now, but I only returned to London yesterday. I’ve been
off on holiday. So tell me,” Lady Hasbeck said, “which of his pieces was stolen?”

“The Nefertiti bust.”

Lady Hasbeck gasped. “Truly shocking. Do you have any idea who might have taken it? Oh, listen to me. Of course if you knew who took it, then you wouldn’t have hired Inspector Brindley.” She gave him a once-over. “You’re a tall fellow,” she said.

He wasn’t certain if that was a compliment or not, but not wanting be rude, he said, “Thank you.”

Lady Hasbeck returned her glance to Amelia. “Nefertiti.” She shook her head. “How is your poor father faring?”

Amelia’s face fell. “Not well.” She jutted her chin out ever so slightly and, if Colin wasn’t mistaken, looked as if she were holding back tears. “He won’t come out of his room. He barely eats, barely sleeps. Merely sits there staring out his window. I get so worried,” she admitted quietly.

Lady Hasbeck patted Amelia’s hand. “Well, of course you do. Such a good daughter. I’m certain Robert will perk up eventually. Don’t you fret, dear.” Lady Hasbeck took a bite of her biscuit, then followed it up with a few sips of tea. “I apologize for my dawdling, so please tell me, how can I be of assistance?”

“First, we wanted to know if you’d heard any
thing about all of this,” Amelia said. “Judging by your reaction, I’d say today was the first?”

“Yes, I had no idea. I should pay poor Robert a visit. He must be in a dreadful state. Everyone knows how much he loves Nefertiti.”

Colin shifted in his seat. He felt large and clumsy next to the women in their pretty dresses, holding their teacups with their small hands. No doubt he could smash his cup with his bare hands if he were so inclined.

Amelia had come in and charmingly taken over the situation. She knew how to talk to Lady Hasbeck. Surely it wasn’t that difficult. Talking with her shouldn’t be any different for him than it was for Amelia.

He cleared his throat. “Have you seen the piece, Lady Hasbeck?” Colin asked.

“Yes, many times.” She took another sip of tea, draining her cup. “I love Robert’s collection.”

“And you collect the same sorts of antiquities?” Colin asked.

She nodded. “But we’re quite civil about it,” she said with a tiny laugh. “He’s such a gentleman, always allows me first bid on items we both like. He had Nefertiti, though, before I started collecting. It was his first piece, if I’m not mistaken. And I believe Amelia’s mother gave it to
him. Or is my memory failing me?” She looked at Amelia.

“That’s correct. It was a gift from my mother on their second wedding anniversary. It is the reason he became a collector,” she said wistfully.

That certainly explained Lord Watersfield’s attachment to the item. “I see,” Colin said. Lady Hasbeck seemed to be telling the truth. She showed no signs of anxiety—she looked at them when she spoke and she had not once fidgeted with anything. “Have you ever heard the name Mr. Quincy?”

“Mr. Quincy,” she repeated. Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. “I don’t believe I have. Should the name sound familiar to me?”

“We’re not exactly certain,” Amelia said. “We’ve heard he’s a new collector in town. So far he’s remained rather anonymous. No one has met him, but he’s slowly making himself known.”

“Well, as I mentioned, I’ve been in the country the last three weeks, so I haven’t been available for the latest gossip. I can certainly ask around for you if you like,” Lady Hasbeck said.

“That would be lovely,” Amelia said.

“Yes, thank you,” Colin added. “Now then, I don’t suppose we should take up any more of your time. You’ve been helpful, Lady Hasbeck. Thank you for seeing us.”

She stood and smiled warmly. “It was my pleasure.” She grasped both of Amelia’s hands. “Do give your father my regards.”

“I shall,” Amelia said.

The lady’s brow furrowed slightly. “Do you suppose he’d be up for a visitor this week?”

“For you? Yes,” Amelia said.

“Splendid. In the meantime, I will do some work at the gossip mill and see what I can find out for you,” she said.

“She was most helpful, don’t you agree?” Amelia asked once they returned to the carriage.

“I would say that Lady Hasbeck’s taste in décor borders on gaudy, but she was generous with her time and seemed willing to assist,” Colin said. “I believe she was being truthful. She’s apparently rather fond of your father as well.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“She obviously has tender feelings for him. You can see it when she speaks of him.”

Amelia tried to recollect all the times she had spoken with Lady Hasbeck about her father. That would certainly be an interesting development. “You notice everything, don’t you, Colin?”

“It is my job.”

If he noticed that sort of behavior in a stranger,
could he see it in her? Could he tell she was fond of him by the way she looked at him? She ventured a sideways glance, but his eyes were buried in his notebook.

“What is it, Amelia?” he asked without looking up.

She nearly jumped. “Your level of observation is quite astute.”

He chuckled and looked up at her. “It could be that you are not as sly as you might think.”

The smile on his face was so sensual, she desperately wanted to move to his side of the carriage and kiss him wildly.

Oh, how she loved it when he jested with her.

The carriage rolled to a stop. Peering out the window, she saw that they were in a less-than-savory section of town. People lined the sidewalk area, many of their faces streaked with dirt and their hair poorly kempt.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Mr. Quincy’s residence. Doesn’t seem the sort of place for a man of wealth to reside.”

“Perhaps it’s due to the fact that he’s new in town and has not secured more appropriate lodging.”

“Perhaps,” Colin said, but she knew he didn’t mean it. He turned to face her. “I want you to stay close to me.”

His tone was so severe, it concerned her. “Why?”

“You’ll be safer with me than in the carriage alone.” He leaned for the door. “Stay close.”

She grabbed onto his coat once they were on the street and followed him up the steps.

A few of the people around them heckled, but for the most part they kept to themselves.

A harried-looking housekeeper opened the door.

“What do you want?” she snarled.

“We are here to see Mr. Quincy,” Colin said.

Her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled. Amelia could see a thin line of prickly-looking hairs above her upper lip. “Who?” the old woman asked.

“Mr. Quincy.”

“’Tain’t no one here by that name.” She tried to close the door, but Colin caught it.

“Madam, we have this as his address. Are you certain there isn’t a Mr. Quincy at this residence?”

“Yes, I’m certain,” she said, mocking Colin’s tone. “Now move your hand.”

She slammed the door, and Amelia heard the bolt lock into place.

Colin motioned to a boy leaning against the building. He was painfully thin and his face was smudged with dirt. Amelia would wager he was no more than eleven.

“Young man,” Colin began. He reached into this pocket and retrieved a few coins and his card. “We are looking for a gentleman by the name of Mr. Quincy. Do you know the name?”

“Nope. Never ’eard of ’im,” the boy said.

Colin gave the boy the coins and card. “If you happen to run across him, please give him my card and tell him I’d like to speak with him.”

The boy’s face split into a grin; his teeth were yellowed and crooked. “Thank you, sir!” he said brightly, then ran away.

Amelia turned from the closed door. “She was a tad cranky,” Amelia said.

“Indeed.” Colin led them back to the carriage and instructed the driver to return them to Amelia’s house.

“What do you make of that?” Amelia asked.

“Of what?”

“Of Mr. Quincy’s address?”

“Two possibilities,” Colin said. “Either Monsieur Pitre lied about Mr. Quincy’s address, or Mr. Quincy gave Pitre a false location.”

“Even if this Mr. Quincy doesn’t hold the key to our missing Nefertiti—discovering why he wishes to remain so secretive is a mystery worth solving,” she said.

Colin smiled. “Yes, but that is not what we are
after. You are paying me to find Nefertiti. Now, if you’d like to give me some additional funds, I’d gladly find Mr. Quincy for you. Or prove if he’s actually a man or simply a whispered-about rumor.”

They had no sooner settled in at her house for some tea and discussion of the upcoming fingerprinting party, when Weston appeared in the doorway. He regarded Colin with visible disdain.

“Miss Watersfield, a messenger delivered this envelope for the inspector,” he said, still standing in the doorway.

“Very good, Weston, bring it in.” Evidently Weston found the scenario unsettling for some reason. She offered him a smile. He nodded to her, then held the tray out to Colin.

“Sir,” he said.

“Thank you,” Colin said.

Weston left the room with one more disapproving shake of the head. Amelia had to chuckle.

“I don’t believe your butler much cares for me,” Colin said.

“He doesn’t much care for anyone. So who do you suppose would send you a message here?”

“I’m not certain.” Colin cracked the envelope open and unfolded the letter. “Very interesting,” he said.

“What? What is interesting?” Amelia asked.

“This message is from Mr. Quincy.”

Amelia felt her eyes widen. “Honestly? What does he say?”

Colin cleared his throat.

“And then it lists the name of the shop and address,” Colin said.

“That was kind of him,” Amelia said.

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“What is wrong with this scenario, Amelia? Think about it.”