THIRTY-EIGHT
ONCE MONTGOMERY AND I finished packing everything we needed for the serums, I locked the attic and left a note to my landlady that I wouldn’t return, then let my fingers run one last time over the rough wood door. Downstairs, we gathered Balthazar and hailed a cabriolet to take us to Grosvenor Square, one of the wealthier neighborhoods north of the Strand. I had the driver let us off by an ancient church’s ivy-covered archway, where we could hide unnoticed.
I leaned close to Montgomery. “Lucy takes lessons three mornings a week at the Académie de Musique across the street. She finishes at half past ten and takes a carriage home from Lincoln Park. She’ll have to pass this way. I was thinking Balthazar could help. . . .”
Montgomery’s eyes went wide. “You mean to abduct her?”
“He’s very gentle. I know from experience.” I straightened and spoke louder. “Balthazar, we’re picking up a friend of mine. You remember Lucy Radcliffe, don’t you? I want to surprise her, so I’m going to need you to bring her here without making a sound. Can you do that and be very gentle?”
His head nodded enthusiastically.
We waited a few moments longer until a young woman in a hunting-green cloak with long dark curls emerged from the academy, violin case in hand.
“There she is,” I said to Balthazar.
“Yes, miss.” He faded into the shadows with surprising stealth. For a few moments Montgomery and I waited, watching from the ancient archway. Lucy sauntered along the sidewalk toward Lincoln Park, hardly suspecting a man was lying in wait for her behind the bushes.
I heard a muffled cry, followed by a rustling of branches. Montgomery and I darted to the far side of the churchyard just as they emerged from the snowy boughs. Balthazar’s fist pressed hard around her mouth, which she tore at with her fingernails. Her eyes were wide until she caught sight of me.
I waved Balthazar away. “That’s good work. You can let her go now.”
He stepped back and she gulped air, making angry little hisses. “Juliet, are you behind this abduction? My god—bravo, I suppose. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Her face fell. “I’ve been worried about you since the professor’s death. Such a tragedy . . .”
The mention of his death brought up a lump in my throat. “Thank you, truly. I’m sorry for abducting you like this, but I didn’t dare come to your house, and I needed to make certain no one was following you.” I bit my lip, dreading to tell her the rest. “I went to give my statement to Inspector Newcastle. I found a letter from the King’s Club in his office.”
Her lips parted. “The King’s Club? In John’s office?”
“I take it you didn’t know he was a member.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “Of course I didn’t!”
“It gets worse. I found the professor’s spectacles in his desk, too.” I took a deep breath. “Edward didn’t kill the professor—Newcastle did, and framed Edward for it.”
Her face went even whiter. She slumped against the wall in shock. “Good lord, are you certain?”
“He admitted as much to me.”
“I always thought him strange—but a murderer? I suppose if my own father could be wrapped up in this, anyone could be.” Her jaw tightened, not pitying herself for a moment. “Did you abduct me to warn me of this?”
“Only in part. We have Father’s journal, which might help develop us a cure for Edward, but it’s written in code. The codex is hidden in the letters he sent your father. We need you to steal the letters.”
I glanced at Balthazar, who was sitting calmly on the crooked back steps of the church, nudging a sluggish moth with his big forefinger toward a sugar cube he’d taken from his vest pocket.
“Papa’s out of town for the rest of the week,” she said. “And Mother hasn’t gotten out of bed since the attack at the masquerade. Have your man flag us down a carriage, and I’ll have the letters for you in a half hour.”
LUCY WAS TRUE TO her word. We hadn’t waited in the cabriolet more than twenty minutes before she reappeared at her front door, walking briskly with a leather satchel tucked under one arm. As soon as she was safely in the carriage and Montgomery signaled to the driver to go, she let out a deep sigh and tossed the satchel to me.
“I daresay I’m not cut out for all this,” she said. “It’s one thing to sneak about when it’s for a gentlemen’s kiss, but letters from a madman, and my father caught up in all of it . . . and that bloody brain is still in the hatbox!”
She rested a hand on her forehead as though she might be faint.
“You’ve done incredibly well,” I said.
“You have no idea what it’s been like living in that house, knowing what Papa is doing. Thank god he’s gone for the week. I wouldn’t be able to face him without my stomach turning. Whatever you all are planning, I hope it resolves this. I suppose it will be prison for him, or banishment just like your father. Mother will be crushed.”
Balthazar leaned over and patted her hand reassuringly. The color rose to her cheeks at this kind gesture. She adjusted the cuffs of her dress and was silent for the rest of the trip.
We arrived at the professor’s around noon, and I knew something was wrong the moment we crossed the threshold. Elizabeth sat at the dining room table, polishing an ancient musket that must have been from the sixteenth century. A bottle of gin sat beside her along with a half-empty glass.
I paused in the doorway. “Why do you have that musket, Elizabeth?” I asked.