The section of the city assigned to me was one I knew well. I'd lived in St. Martin's Lane, near Covent Garden, my entire life, and it was there that my search began. After the coachman deposited me outside the shop that had been mine, then Eddie's, and was almost mine again, I traversed the neighboring streets on foot. Being familiar with the shops and workshops, I was able to target specific streets and not venture down others. Even so, it took me all afternoon to cover my zone, since it contained the main shopping precincts south of Oxford Street.
I returned to Park Street without a shred of information, however. All I had to show for my efforts were sore feet and sweat-soaked underthings. Not a single shopkeeper had heard of Abigail Pilcher or her son. I tried not to let it worry me as I freshened up in my room, but it was impossible not to think gloomy thoughts about the Pilchers' fates.
By the time I ventured downstairs again, the others were back, waiting for me in the library. And they were smiling.
"You found him?" I asked Matt.
"Duke did."
"Found him and Abigail, actually," Duke said, pouring the tea. "She's a dressmaker, working at Peter Robinson’s, in the workroom."
"Peter Robinson the draper on Oxford Street?" I said, accepting a cup from him. "His shop grew quite large once he began stocking more than fabric. Did you speak to her?"
"The seamstresses had just clocked off when I got there. The supervisor wouldn't give me her details but said to come back first thing in the morning. He praised her a lot. Said she was a good worker and helped the other girls, most of 'em much younger. The finishing work is given out to piece workers who work from home, but the main manufacturing is done in the workroom above the shop."
Cyclops accepted the teacup from Duke and slapped him on the shoulder. "Well done, old friend."
"What about her son?" I asked. "You said you found them both."
"Antony Pilcher works for Peter Robinson’s too," Duke told me. "But he ain't in London much on account of his work takes him overseas a lot. He's a buyer for the company. Travels to China, apparently."
"China has the best silks," Matt said.
"Antony?" I arched a brow. "That sounds a lot like Antonio to me."
"It does indeed," Matt said. "It does indeed."
* * *
We ate a late, informal dinner in the dining room after Matt rested. The servants served then left us alone to talk, but instead of waiting until we'd vacated the dining room to collect the plates, Bristow entered just as we were getting up from the table. He placed a hand on my elbow and bent his head to mine.
"I need to show you something, Miss Steele," he whispered. "Come to my office when you can get away."
With such an intriguing carrot dangled before me, I decided to "get away" as quickly as possible and made my excuses. I made sure no one followed me as I snuck down the service stairs. I passed the kitchen, where the maids and cook were too busy to notice me, and went immediately to Bristow's small office. The door stood open and he ushered me inside. He shut the door.
"Sorry for the subterfuge, but I didn't want Mr. Glass blaming me for telling you." The butler was usually a stickler for the proper order of things, so it must be important for him to keep a secret from Matt.
"Telling me what, Bristow?"
"It's more like showing, not telling." He handed me a newspaper. It didn't sport a single crease so he must have been ironing it when he spotted the thing he needed to tell me about. "Look in the classifieds."
The paper was neither The City Review nor The Weekly Gazette, but The Times. I skipped to the classifieds section and scanned the pages. I knew which item Bristow referred to immediately upon seeing the large bold face type of the first line: ATTN SHERIFF PAYNE.
I read the brief advertisement then folded up the newspaper. I forced a kind smile for Bristow's sake, despite the blood boiling in my veins. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Bristow. You did the right thing. Don't worry about Mr. Glass. He'll probably realize you showed me this, but he won't admonish you for it."
"Why wouldn't he, if you don't mind me asking, Miss?"
"Because he's going to be too busy dodging my temper."
I marched out of his office and up the stairs. I found Matt with his aunt, Willie, Cyclops and Duke in the drawing room. Conversation halted upon my entry.
"India?" Matt asked. "What's the matter? Your face is flushed and your lips are pursing so hard they've almost disappeared." His gaze fell to the newspaper under my arm. "Bloody Bristow."
I smacked the newspaper into his chest. "Don't blame him. He's worried about you, and knew you'd done a foolish thing as soon as he saw it. Bringing it to my attention was the only thing in his power that he could do."
"India?" Miss Glass said crisply. "What's come over you to speak to Matthew like that?"
I snatched the newspaper off Matt and passed it to Miss Glass. Duke, Cyclops and Willie crowded behind her and read over her shoulder. I did not take my glare off Matt. He glared right back.
"I had to do it," he said. "It was the only way."
"It was not!" I snapped. "You are not responsible for Patience's mistake."
"And what of my mistake? I shouldn't have let Payne manipulate my family like he has. I should have dealt with him earlier. I should have posted that advertisement sooner, before he got the upper hand."
"Matt!" Willie exploded. She took the paper off Duke and waved it in front of Matt's face. "This is the stupidest thing you've ever done. You invited Payne to meet you and talk! He ain't going to talk. He's going to kill you."
"If he wanted to kill me, he could have done so already."
"He tried!" My shout reverberated around the room and I lowered my voice. "Bryce died in that accident after Payne fired at us. If it hadn't been for your watch, you would be dead too. When Payne realized the watch was keeping you alive, he tried to steal it. I agree with Willie. He's not going to simply talk with you. He'll try to kill you."
"Try being the most important word in that sentence. He won't succeed."
"You god dammed arrogant saphead!" Duke spat. "You ain't immortal. Sorry, Miss Glass, but sometimes a man's got to use strong language to get his point across."
Miss Glass didn't seem to hear him. She'd gone quite still and peered off into the distance. Perhaps she'd slipped into her own world to get away from the heated conversation in this one.
Matt appealed to Cyclops for support, but Cyclops crossed his arms over his massive chest and scowled. Matt stood with a sigh and headed for the sideboard and its decanter.
I beat him to it. "Don't turn to drink now. You need your wits about you."
"Just one, India." When I didn't move, he put up his hands and sat again. "Go on, then. Get it off your chest. You'll feel better."
"Don't patronize us. We're worried about you enough as it is, without adding this to the mix." I indicated the newspaper. "You've given Payne permission to get close to you, and if he gets close to you, he will strike."
"Not directly. He's too much of a coward."
"He's desperate now," Cyclops said. "He hasn't been able to kill you or discredit you. Desperate men are more dangerous. You know that."
Matt's eyes briefly fluttered closed before he reopened them. "I had to do something. Patience's life will be ruined because of me. Payne will follow through on his threat to tell Cox, and if he's the sort of man they say he is, he'll end the betrothal."
"Worry about it if and when it happens," Willie wailed.