The Debutante's Code, page 6
The Bow Street officer.
Mr. Daniel Swann.
Now there was an occupation that would provide fascinating conversation over dinner, she judged. What did a police constable do? How did one conduct an investigation? She had observed him questioning the help, not being cowed by any of the peers, not buckling in the face of Mr. Montgomery’s strident accusations and insults.
Perhaps, when her parents returned, she should ask them to invite him to one of their dinner parties. Wouldn’t that cause tongues to wag?
Agatha and Juliette braved the breakfast room. Mr. Montgomery sat at the head of the table, hidden by a newspaper. At their entrance, the paper folded down on one corner.
“Don’t get up, Father.” Agatha hurried around the table and touched his shoulder. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“You’ve taken your time, lolling about upstairs.” His chiding was affectionate. “I’ve been up since dawn. Already composed several letters and discharged them about the city.” He patted his daughter’s hand. “I am unimpressed by actions taken last night to retrieve my property, and I’ve said so to the appropriate authorities. Good morning, Lady Juliette.”
“Good morning.” A footman held a chair for her, and the moment she was seated, a footman set a filled plate at her place. “I didn’t get to tell you last night how sorry I was that your painting was stolen. I cannot believe someone would have the temerity to use the party as a distraction to break in and rob you.”
Agatha motioned no with her hand, grimacing, but it was too late.
“I can believe it. London crime is getting worse and worse, and what are we doing about it? Nothing. A handful of officers to police the largest metropolis in the world? It’s preposterous. I know many who bleat that having a paid police force will infringe upon their liberties, but those same individuals are the first to cry foul when they are the victims. It’s becoming more apparent all the time that what we’re doing is not enough. Unless Parliament is made to see, we will descend into chaos. More and more of the upper classes will have to hire their own protection. Especially if last night’s performance is what we can expect from Bow Street. Sending a youth barely dry behind the ears, and what does he do? Muddle around questioning the guests and looking into places he has no business, and what did it get him? A return of my property? No.” His face reddened, and his voice rose as he ranted. The paper crinkled in his fisted hands. “I sent round to Bow Street with my feelings made plain. I want action, not incompetence.” The cutlery jumped as he pounded the table.
Agatha leaned back, putting her hand over her eyes. Juliette regretted opening this particular door, but now that she had, she must walk through it.
“Surely you didn’t expect Mr. Swann to pluck your missing painting out of thin air? He is but one man, and I’m certain he’s doing his best.” Juliette surprised herself by rising to the defense of someone she’d barely met. But justice was important to her, and it seemed grossly unfair to accuse a man of incompetence when he’d had so little time to investigate. “If you give him time, I’m sure he will find the culprit and return your property.”
Mr. Montgomery slowly relaxed into his chair, his hands opening, a patient smile smoothing his face. “My dear, it is kind of you to defend him, but you are very young and impressionable. Let the men deal with this issue. Would you like me to read what the papers had to say about your debut? That would be much in keeping with what is appropriate for young ladies.”
Juliette feared he was about to reach out and pat her hand. Everything in her bristled at his patronizing tone, but she must remember that he was her host, her elder, and her best friend’s father.
“No, thank you. I am assuredly capable of reading the articles myself. I will go over them this afternoon, I’m sure. Perhaps when Agatha comes by to receive callers with the dowager and me.”
“Oh yes, I suppose you’ll want to whisper and giggle over all the gossip.” He snapped open his paper again, disappearing behind the print. “I’ll be at the mill offices for the rest of the day, but home again for dinner, all right, Agatha?”
“Yes, Father.”
Agatha saw Juliette off with promises to see her in a few hours, and Juliette settled back into the carriage for the short ride from Eaton Square to her parents’ townhome on Berkley Square. Tiredness pulled at her limbs, and she stifled a yawn. She had found it difficult to sleep last night, wishing she had opted not to stay overnight at the Montgomerys’.
Because no one was in the carriage, she indulged in speaking her mind aloud. “Today you were supposed to start a new chapter. With the bustle of presentation and the debut behind you, you were supposed to be able to focus on really getting to know your parents and becoming a credit to them.”
Disappointment was only a short step from resentment, she found. For years she had made excuses, to her classmates, to her teachers, to herself. Her parents wanted the best schooling for her, so sending her to Switzerland made sense. With the war raging, it was safer if she stayed at school and out of harm’s way, so she had stayed … for years. It was their duty to see to their estate and the people who lived on it, so it was understandable they weren’t there to greet her upon her return, that they had missed her presentation and her come-out ball. How did she honor her parents as God intended when their decisions thwarted the desires of her heart? When their actions made her feel as if she were always secondary in their thoughts?
“You do like to sail close to the wind, don’t you? It’s like you cannot help yourself, lad.” Edward Beck knocked the dottle out of his pipe into the dish on his desk. “I’m not in the office five minutes this morning before I hear the news. The guv was fair raving. Seems the gentleman whose house you barged into last night looking for his lost painting wasn’t happy with the way you treated his guests, and why wasn’t his property recovered yet? Since you’ve had all of about six hours to find it?”
“Me, on the outers with Sir Michael?” Daniel pressed his palm into his chest, sending a mock-surprised look to his mentor and friend. “However shall I bear the shock?” He tossed his cloak onto the hook behind his chair and settled his hat atop it. “I believe when it comes to our esteemed guv, I could return His Majesty’s reason to him whole and unharmed and Sir Michael would find some way to fault me.” He pulled out his desk chair and leaned on the back with both hands. “Mr. Montgomery, the victim in last night’s theft, said he’d let my superior know of his dissatisfaction, and it appears he is as good as his word. And barely after sunrise too. When did you get back, by the by?”
“About the same time the complaint came in. I nearly collided with Montgomery’s messenger in the doorway.” Ed rubbed his hands down his face, stifling a yawn. There were no set hours for an officer of the Bow Street Magistrate’s Court. You went where the cases took you, and you worked until they were done. No two days the same. It was one of the things Daniel loved most about the job.
“Mr. Swann.” Owen Wilkinson, one of the office boys, stuck his head into the room. “Sir Michael demands you in his office without delay.” His young face bore a sneer. He had taken in their boss’s disdain of Daniel and adopted it for himself, wearing it like an ermine cloak. “He’s not best pleased that you are so tardy in appearing this morning.”
“Fine.” Daniel hadn’t even sat down yet. He checked the clock—7:20. With the exception of Ed and himself, none of the other inspectors had arrived yet.
“He said not to waste his time.”
The pointed stare set Daniel’s teeth on edge. “I’m on my way. While I’m gone, make some coffee, then check the files. I want everything we have on art thefts and other stolen property in the region of Eaton Square.”
Making tea and coffee was definitely within the office boy’s list of responsibilities, but he always performed the task with ill grace, as if such menial work was beneath him. Owen scowled at Daniel.
“And, Mr. Beck”—the young man’s tone and expression changed—“he requested your presence as well, if you will.” He practically genuflected. Ed had the most seniority amongst the Bow Street officers and was held in high esteem. Even Sir Michael showed him at least a modicum of deference.
Ed winked at Daniel. He tossed his pipe onto the desk, gave his cravat a twitch, and preceded Wilkinson out of the room. Daniel followed, his heart knocking against his ribs.
“Come in,” Sir Michael barked when Ed tapped on the doorframe. “Good morning, Mr. Beck. I trust you tidied up the affair in Sussex?”
“Indeed, Sir Michael. The highwayman was apprehended with the stolen goods, and the local magistrate has heard the case and handed down his sentence. Justice is swift in that parish.” Though he wasn’t casual in Sir Michael’s office, Ed was neither cowed nor obsequious. He stood relaxed, hands clasped behind him. Years of experience and success in his position afforded him the luxury of being at his ease in the supervisor’s office.
“Excellent. That’s what we need more of around here. Efficiency and professionalism.”
Daniel hovered in the doorway until Sir Michael invited him in.
“Ah, Swann, where have you been? Stop loitering in the hall. Where is your report on the Montgomery matter?”
“I have not yet written up a report, Sir Michael.” His fingers curled into his palms. “The investigation is not yet concluded.”
“Well, what information do you have? Why must I chase you to find out? A report of your progress should be sitting on my desk this minute.” He rocked back in his chair and steepled his fingers, glaring at Daniel.
“I have only this quarter hour returned to these premises. I was out all night on the matter.”
Sir Michael shot him a vinegar-laced glare. “Mr. Montgomery sent me a most strident letter this morning pointing out the deficiencies in your methods. How dare you trouble the elite with your questions? It’s clear the painting was stolen by someone hired for the social event last night. A waiter or footman or cloakroom attendant. Why then did you detain nearly a hundred party guests?” Sir Michael spoke as if to a simpleton. “And not just any guests, but the crème of society?”
“Sir, I have been taught that everyone is a suspect until they aren’t. I was merely employing what I believed to be good police techniques.” Daniel forced himself to stand still.
“And who told you such a thing? ‘Everyone is a suspect until they aren’t.’” Sir Michael scoffed.
Ed spoke up. “I believe it was you who told us that, Sir Michael, when we were looking for the miscreants who were stealing ladies’ purses in Hyde Park. Turned out to be a pair of young jackanapes from the gentry and not the guttersnipes everyone supposed, remember?”
Daniel swallowed a laugh as Sir Michael’s face reddened. He picked up a stack of papers and butted them together.
“Hmm, yes, well. What progress have you made?” He glared at Daniel.
Daniel gave a short synopsis of the information he had gathered, consulting his notebook from time to time. “At approximately ten thirty, with all the guests looking on, the crate was opened, and it was revealed that the painting was not inside. Upon examination, the crate had been opened from the bottom, and the painting removed sometime between its arrival at half five or thereabouts and the discovery of the theft at half ten.”
“And? How did you proceed?”
“I obtained a guest list, and I questioned the servants, as well as conducting a search of the house in case the painting had been secreted away for later removal when there was less scrutiny.”
“And this is another point where you have raised Mr. Montgomery’s ire. How dare you search his house and invade his private quarters? He tells me you had the audacity to search not only his bedchamber and dressing rooms, but to enter his daughter’s suite?” He gripped the edge of his desk and leaned forward. “Have you lost your reason?”
“Sir, what good is a search if it is not thorough?”
“What good did your ‘thorough’ search do? You don’t imagine that Miss Montgomery stole the painting from her father, do you?”
“No, sir, I do not. However, there were several new ladies’ maids who were unknown to the rest of the staff, having been brought into the household upon the homecoming of Miss Montgomery from abroad. I thought it prudent to search the areas to which they had access during the party.”
Sir Michael was silent for a moment, and Daniel dared risk a look over at Ed. His blue eyes twinkled, though his face remained neutral.
“What else did you discover?”
“A bit of packing material was found under a skylight on the third floor of the residence. Perhaps the painting, which was packed in shavings, was taken out that way.” Daniel consulted his notes once again. “The coach drivers parked on the street were questioned.” He was careful not to mention that he’d delegated that task to a civilian. “The only gentleman who left the party early was …” He found the name. “Sir Bertrand Thorndike. It appears Sir Bertrand was in his cups and required assistance getting into his carriage. Several of the drivers witnessed this. Nothing else remarkable occurred outside.”
Daniel waited for his supervisor to criticize, belittle, or otherwise tear down the work he’d done so far, but in the end, Sir Michael merely glared.
“So you admit defeat then? I knew the case was beyond your capabilities.”
Stung, Daniel protested. “Sir, I am not defeated. I have had the case for less than half a day. It is my intention to canvass the local receiver shops to see who might traffic in artwork, make contact with my informants to ascertain who might be capable of housebreaking in the middle of a party, and begin making my way through the party guests. I’ve requested records to be brought on thefts in the Eaton Square area and any known art thefts on file. I shall look for commonalities to see if a pattern emerges.”
“A fine plan, but I believe so much work is beyond your ability to execute.” Sir Michael nodded. “Now that a more experienced inspector is available, I believe it is time to turn over the investigation. Beck, you will take charge of the case. Swann, you will assist if Mr. Beck so requests.”
Heat pooled along Daniel’s collarbones. “But, sir, this is my case.”
Ed spoke up. “Sir, the lad’s done a fine job to this point. I would have done exactly the same on this investigation. It seems a shame to take the case from him. Perhaps I can act as his assistant on this matter. He’s earned the right to lead.”
The temperature in the room seemed to fall. While it pleased Daniel that Ed was taking his part, he didn’t want his friend and mentor to risk Sir Michael’s unpredictable ire. No sense in both losing their positions.
For what seemed a decade or two, no one spoke. Daniel took his cue from Ed and stood his ground without moving.
If Sir Michael took the case from him, there would be no others. Daniel would merely be biding his time, picking up the crumbs of other investigators, as he had been doing the past two years. When his twenty-fifth birthday came in a few weeks and his patronage ended, Daniel would be tossed out of the Bow Street office to fend for himself.
Sir Michael heaved a mighty sigh, fiddling with a quill, as if reluctant to make a decision. At last he spoke, grudgingly. “For the time being, you two will work together. Swann, you will remain in charge of the investigation as long as I feel you are doing everything possible to bring it to a swift conclusion.” He pointed his long, bony index finger at Daniel. “But remember, I will remove you if I feel you are making no progress. Now get out of here, both of you. I’m a busy man.”
Daniel followed Ed down the hall, his footsteps sounding loud in his ears. At the doorway to the office, Ed jerked his head toward the street entrance. “Get your coat, lad, and let’s get to it. You heard the guv. You’re in charge.”
As they stepped out into the brisk January morning, Cadogan eased his coach to the curb. “Ah, thought I might find you here.” He touched his brim.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” Daniel’s breath hung in a frosty cloud.
“Don’t you?” Cadogan shot back. “Where to, gents?”
“Belgrave Square. We’ll start with the other debutante and her family. I don’t feel like bearding Mr. Montgomery just yet.” Daniel dug into his cloak pocket for a shilling. “Earl Thorndike’s house.”
“What do you know about the earl and his wife?” Ed asked, adjusting his hat and straightening his coat as Cadogan slapped the reins and they were away.
Daniel tried to put faces to names. “Nothing. Their daughter was one of the debutantes, but they weren’t at the party. Lady Juliette Thorndike, her name is.” Brown hair, brown eyes. Pink lips and softly rounded shoulders.
A nudge from Ed brought him back to the matter at hand. He consulted the guest list from the ball. “Isn’t that odd? Why wouldn’t they be at their daughter’s party?”
“I’ve no idea. I didn’t know they weren’t until I studied the list and found they weren’t on it.”
“Something to track down, for sure.”
“Do you think the thief is on this guest list?”
Blowing out a breath, Ed shrugged. “I hope not. Seems we have to prove things twice over when it’s someone from the aristocracy. Nobody bats an eye if we point the finger at a servant or tradesman or dockworker, but even a hint of scandal from ‘our betters’ and the hue and cry is raised.” He gave a broad grin. “I pity the poor man who has to take charge of this mess.”
“I can always tell Sir Michael that it’s too much for me and he’ll toss it right to you.” Daniel looked out of the side of his eyes at Ed.
“No, thank you. Why do you think I fought so hard for you to keep the case this morning?” Ed grinned.
Belgrave Square, which was lined with trees and expensive townhouses and shops, sat north and a bit east of Eaton Square, genteel and prosperous.
Daniel rented rooms, or rather his patron rented rooms for him, in a boardinghouse in the Charing Cross Road, a ten-minute walk to the Bow Street offices. Soon he would have to seek new lodgings, as his constable’s salary would not reach to paying his current rent. If Sir Michael had his way and pitched him out of the office, Daniel would have to find a position and a new home quickly, since he had little in the way of monetary reserves.
