I wasn’t willing to concede to his conclusion, not so quickly, but it was Gage who spoke up.
“Perhaps, but what time does the tide . . .”
“Mr. Gage,” Mr. Paxton interrupted, an edge of warning in his voice. “Official visit or no’, I’ll warn ye to stay oot o’ my investigation. Cramond is my patch, and I’ll handle it as I see fit.”
Gage stared at the trumped-up policeman evenly, his demeanor carefully indifferent, but I could sense the fury bubbling below the surface and tightening his jaw.
“And what if I decided to hire him in an official capacity?” Mr. Wallace challenged. It was clear he’d had enough of the constable and his posturing. “You hav’na found her, and you’ve had over four days to do so. Maybe it’s time I gave someone else a chance. I might have better results.”
Mr. Paxton’s round eyes narrowed to slits. “That is your choice, o’ course, Mr. Wallace. But I mun say, I’d have to view such a move as very suspicious.”
Mr. Wallace stiffened.
“May be ye have somethin’ to hide.”
“Are you threatenin’ me?”
“Nay, sir. Just offerin’ ye a bit o’ friendly advice.”
I bit my tongue to withhold the insults I wanted to hurl at this man. It was men like him, manipulating it for their own means, who had made me so wary of the law. Mr. Paxton enjoyed the power his office gave him, and he would use any means necessary to keep it. The feelings of even Mr. Wallace, a gentleman of some fortune, mattered little. Mr. Paxton clearly cared nothing for the missing girl, and I questioned whether he had the imagination to solve any crime that wasn’t straightforward. I could only hope that Mr. Wallace would complain to Mr. Paxton’s superior, heedless of the man’s threats.
“Noo, I’m sure we want to allow Mr. Wallace to rest after his shock,” Mr. Paxton said, his gaze still locked with the man in question, and without an ounce of compassion tinting his expression or his voice. “I’ll send Dr. Littleton to ye.”
Mr. Wallace looked as if he might wish to argue, but kept his lips clamped in a tight line. I half wished he might, just to set a flea in the constable’s ear, but I knew we would never make headway in the matter today with Mr. Paxton looking over our shoulders. Even if we got more information out of Mr. Wallace and his servants, we would never be able to question anyone in the village.
We rose to our feet, preparing to take our leave alongside the constable, but before the man could usher us out, I crossed the room toward Mr. Wallace determined to offer my sympathies. If the man’s daughter had, indeed, been caught in the tide and swept out to sea to drown—and I couldn’t even begin to imagine the grief a loved one’s dying that way would cause a person—he deserved our kindness and consideration. But Miss Remmington beat me to it.
“Mr. Wallace,” she murmured, her voice wavering slightly, “I don’t know if your daughter mentioned me, but I considered her my friend.”
“O’ course, Miss Remmington.” He offered her a kind smile. “She mentions you often.”
Her eyes brightened, and I could tell she was choking back tears. Whether it was because she had started to speak of her friend in the past tense or because Miss Wallace had spoken of her to her father, I didn’t know, but I thought perhaps it was a little of both.
“I hope they find her.” Her voice was no louder than a whisper. Mr. Wallace nodded and squeezed the hand she had offered him.
I hesitated to say anything after such an emotional scene, but Mr. Wallace looked up at me and spoke first. “Lady Darby, you are the sister-in-law o’ Lord Cromarty, are you no’?”
“Yes,” I replied, wondering if he was acquainted with Philip.
When his eyes strayed toward where Mr. Paxton stood near the door keeping a close watch on Gage and Michael, I realized it was for an entirely different reason. Apparently the tale of my recent actions at Gairloch had preceded me; the constable just hadn’t realized it.
Mr. Wallace leaned toward me and spoke in a hushed voice. “Mr. Paxton travels to Edinburgh tomorrow morn, should you and Mr. Gage like to call on me again.” His gaze met mine significantly.
“Of course,” I told him, doing my best to appear as if I were offering him my condolences should Mr. Paxton look our way. “Shall we say nine o’clock?”
He bowed over my hand, following my lead. “Your servant, m’lady.”
I nodded and turned from him, lest we give ourselves away.
Gage did not question me as we mounted our horses and rode away from Lambden Cottage, leaving the constable behind in a cloud of much-deserved dust, but I could feel his gaze on me. As we reached the road and turned south toward the bridge, he drew his mount up next to mine.
“Nine o’clock tomorrow,” was all I needed to say, as I was certain he had observed my exchange with Mr. Wallace. I saw Gage smile out of the corner of my eye.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN