Even now she puzzled over the possible reasons why Guillaume had cared for her so immediately, so strongly. By all standards, his affection had been genuine. But she had never seen him care for anyone else, not even to show momentary compassion or kindness. Perhaps his feelings for her did indeed stem from the fact that she was the only family he had. Perhaps it was because they had been partners in so many underhanded schemes. Perhaps it was because until she became older, she had to depend completely on him, for food and water, for her very survival.Maman had died without dignity. And a few years later, Guillaume had turned into a stranger, without warning. Both of them had left her, and as she reflected on that, Mira discovered something about herself: she was terrified of being left again.
He had received the message from Carr that morning:
Alec, Finally a name to start with. Tom Memmery, a little fence that Holt was seen with several times at the Rummer. Presently believed to be attending boarding school… Despite the serious nature of the information, Alec smiled at that, knowing that "boarding school" was cant for "prison." But which one? the note continued. And if we can find him, how do we make the canary cackle? C.F.
Of all the connections that Alec had assiduously acquired and maintained, he did not know anyone who was serving on prison commissions or in the mag-istrature. Lawyers he knew aplenty, for in the past the Falkners had found ample use for them… but no lawyer would be able to help him obtain the particular information he needed now. Rand Berkeley, however, might very well be able to provide assistance. Alec dimly recalled having heard once of a magistrate who went by the name of Berkeley. After engaging in a relaxed and friendly conversation with Rand, Alec finally broached the question.
"Yes," Rand said in response to the carefully worded query, his hazel eyes alight with curiosity, his mouth broadening in a comfortable smile. "My great-uncle Horace is a magistrate, as well as being involved in all manner of reformation societies. He would most likely have access to the right records… and would be willing to do a little work for us, with the proper inducement. Berkeleys are always open to the right kinds of persuasion, you know."
Alec laughed. "Memmery," he said, handing Rand a slip of paper with the name written on it. "A fence,and one that I would like to talk to. One that I might possibly decide to… bargain with. Would your uncle turn a blind eye to that?"
"I know he would. He has before. I'll warn you, though, he'll probably expect a favor in return."
"I would hardly expect otherwise."
Rand smiled again, glancing at the closed door before speaking a bit more softly. "I can't imagine that Mireille has taken the news of your imminent departure well."
"She hasn't," Alec replied flatly, "even though I wouldn't be of much practical use here anyway—the women take over the planning of the wedding, discussing ribbons and matrimonial fripperies to their hearts' content, whereas there's not too damned much a man has to do except appear at the altar."
Rand laughed heartily. "I agree. However, I can tell you from my own experience that women like the prospective bridegroom to maintain at least a semblance of interest in whether the trimmings are pink or yellow. God help me, I don't know why. Perhaps I can offer you a scrap of advice… ?"
"Only if I'm not obligated to heed it."
"In the weeks just before we were married, my wife was very… emotional. Tears, outbursts, that sort of thing. She felt certain pressures very keenly and needed a great deal of support. I am told that every bride does. Perhaps you should…"
"Should what?"
As pale gray eyes met hazel, Rand checked himself and backed away from the subject. Alec Falkner, Rand decided thoughtfully, was not the kind of man to whom he would offer advice unless it had been asked for. "You're an obstinate young strapper, Falkner," Rand murmured, tapping his fingertips together. It was clear that Alec would be resentful of any interference in his relationship with Mira, no matter how well-meant. If a solid friendship was to develop between the Berkeleysand Falkners, as Rand hoped, better now to kt silent and let Alec work out his problems alone. "Pa haps you should be leaving for London now. You've got distasteful work ahead of you; God knows I don't envy you."
If a place called hell existed, then Newgate was if> earthly counterpart. It stank of human misery am! wretchedness. Crowded in its maze of wards and pa-sages were the immoral dregs of society… filthy criminals who had been born in streets and gutters and would die in a place far more obscene. Perhaps amon*. them there were some men who still possessed a few remnants of humanity, but it was doubtful. After a month or two in Newgate, or "the stone jug," as they called it, the most honorable man would have come out either a rabid maniac or a cold-blooded killer. All the prisoners were thrown together: the first offenders with seasoned murderers; those who awaited trial with those who had already been sentenced, the strong with the weak, the old with the young. They were ail crammed into buildings that were dark and crawling with insects and squeaking rodents. Even Alec could not help coughing slightly as he and Carr were led into Newgate, for the stench of human excrement and urine had sunk into the pores of brick and stone so deeply that no amount of washing could ever remove it.