“How do you think they’ll ask Lord Fleming to deliver the ransom?”
His expression was grim. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from this inquiry, it’s not to expect anything.”
I had to agree, but that didn’t stop me from speculating. The first ransom had been placed on a hilltop, the second set in a boat and sent out to sea, and the third strapped to a horse and driven into the Cheviot Hills. What other method could they possibly use to collect this fourth ransom without being caught?
I sat back to gaze out the window at the passing winter fields. The sun already dipped low on the horizon. We would not arrive at Blakelaw until after dark.
“What do you think about what my uncle told us regarding Mr. Stuart’s deceased wife and child?”
When Gage did not answer, I looked over to find him staring out the window, his brow furrowed and his eyes troubled. I wondered if he was thinking about his own mother. Just a few short months ago he’d confided that she’d been murdered. It had been thirteen years ago now, but I knew those memories still upset him. Time didn’t always ease the pain. Sometimes it just made it easier to distract yourself from it.
“I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “Like Lord Rutherford said, it may have nothing at all do with the investigation. But it could be exactly the information we’ve been looking for.” He reached out to pull the curtain across the western-facing window as the carriage turned and the sun shone through, blinding him. “The trouble is we don’t know their names or where or when they died. And you told me yourself that Lady Bute said Mr. Stuart has gone by many names in his life. Which one did he use at that time?”
They were legitimate questions, and ones I couldn’t even begin to answer. I already knew that Mr. Stuart at one time or another had lived in France, Switzerland, England, Scotland, and America. How many more cities and countries had he visited? Without the right information, the search would be far too difficult and extensive.
“I could write to Lady Bute,” I suggested. “Maybe she knows something.”
“And you think she would share it with you?” he asked doubtfully.
I thought about the matron and how fond she had seemed of Mr. Stuart. “Only if she thought I was asking for friendly reasons.” I sighed. “I’m not sure how I would bring up a dead spouse in cordial correspondence without it sounding suspicious, but it’s worth a try. Otherwise, I don’t know who else to ask.”
Gage closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the squabs. I could see the dark circles of fatigue surrounding his eyes, making his healing contusion look even worse. Apparently he had slept as poorly as I had the past few nights.
“Then you have some letters to write as well as I,” he declared with a yawn.
And some letters I hoped to receive. Soon.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
We spent the next few days in a perpetual state of anxious anticipation. We hovered in the entry hall and drawing room at the time of day when the post was normally delivered, waiting for Crabtree to bring it up and set it on the silver tray resting on a table in the hall. Each day brought fresh hope of a letter from one of our correspondents. One that would tell us something new to aid in our investigation—some crucial bit of information we’d missed, some report of where Mr. Stuart was staying—but day after day we were disappointed.
Whenever the butler appeared unbidden, we leapt to attention, curious to see if a messenger had come from Marefield to bring us news of the arrival of the ransom note. But even in this, we were thwarted.
We moped about the library and the billiard room, trying desperately to distract ourselves and keep the tension that had suffused the household to a manageable level, but nothing really helped. Not even our sharing wild suppositions on the ringleader’s motive and identity.
As the days stretched on without word from Lord Fleming, I began to worry that he had changed his mind about sharing the ransom note with us. Lady Fleming’s outburst during our initial visit might have been motivated by fear for her nephew, but just because I had written to put her mind at ease in that regard didn’t mean that she and her husband would not still take it into their heads that our involvement would hamper the successful return of the late Lord Fleming’s bones. When I broached the subject with Gage, he insisted that Lord Fleming had welcomed our assistance and would honor his word. However, I was not so confident.