Lord Valorous(18)

She did as she was told. Turning to look briefly she saw the man who had grabbed her was now sprawled face-first on the road, with the woman standing over him shaking her fist.

Breathless, Poppy couldn't find a smile, so she simply turned and ran.



Jacob knocked on the front door of number sixteen, Primrose Road. The house was large and rambling. Paint was chipped and peeling off the exterior, and he noted a cracked glass window. Rubbish was piled on the front path and lined the fence. Not the most pleasant of places, but then he'd seen and been in worse. It was bloody freezing out today; the air was cold enough to force puffs of white from his mouth with every exhale.

"Good day, how may I help you, sir?"

The woman who answered the door was elderly, her lined face smiling at him. She wore a lace cap, woolen scarf to her chin, and thick shawl.

"Good day to you, ma'am, I am hoping to speak with Miss March."

He'd had Perkins send word to Miss March several times over the last three days that he had information he needed to discuss with her, and as yet she had not replied. Which to Jacob's mind was alarming, especially as she was the one who had contacted him, and because someone was intent on harming her.

"She's on the top floor. But I haven't seen her for three days."

"She's away?"

"Well as to that, I'm not rightly sure. Miss Pithier, who lives on the second floor, said that Miss March hadn't been in for her weekly cup of tea, but seeing as she can't get about, she never went up to check why."

"But someone else has?"

"Has what?"

"Has anyone checked on Miss March?"

"Don't rightly know that they would. Everyone keeps to themselves, except Miss March of course. She visits everyone, and as all the occupants are elderly, they rely on her."

"And yet no one is alarmed that they have not seen her for three days?"

"I'm not sure that she hasn't seen anyone, as I only just arrived home today from a visit with my sister. Edith and I had a lovely chat."

Jacob was known for his calm manner. It was his strength, according to his friends. He could be relied upon to stay controlled in any situation. Now was not the time for that to falter, no matter how much his patience was being tested.

"And yet you said that Miss Pithier had not seen her."

"Because I called up to drop off her toffee. She loves it, and I always get her some when I go to visit Edith."

God's blood.

"Excellent, it's my fondest wish that Miss Pithier enjoys her toffee, however the more pressing matter at hand here is Miss March. Now, if you will step to one side, I shall go and check she is all right."



       
         
       
        

The woman's face appeared to fold in on itself as she contemplated him, sucking on her bottom lip.

"I don't know as if you should be visiting Miss March, because if she is up there, she would be alone."

"I'm her elder brother come to London for a brief visit," Jacob lied smoothly.

The woman leaned closer.

"I suppose there's something around the eyes, but the family resemblance is not a strong one."

"Nine children, you understand. We can't all look alike." Jacob made himself smile, showing his teeth.

"Nice smile like her, though. Miss March is a lovely girl, always helpful if I need it."

"Our father instilled good values in us all, ma'am. He's a vicar, you know."

She held the door open.

"Well then, you go on up, dear. Nasty bite in the air today, and I wouldn't want you to catch a chill."

Jacob took off his hat and nodded before entering. The paper on the walls was a dull brown and peeling. The floor rugs were worn and there was a general air of tired and shabby.

Taking the stairs, Jacob climbed.

Five days ago, he had met with her at the Hen and Duck, and since then he had done some investigating. After his friends had heard about Lady Revel, they had decided to stay in London a few more days to see what they could unearth with regards to the situation. Yesterday he had spoken with one of Lady Revel's oldest friends, Lady Carver, and was informed that she'd been turned away at the door, as Jacob had been, by the pernicious Lord Revel stating his aunt was ailing. His story was not believed.

Jacob reached the fourth floor. The rafters sloped inward and led to a small door. Knocking yielded no response. He tried again, this time louder.

"Miss March, are you in there?"

He heard a thump, and then a moan.

"Miss March?"

At the sound of movement, he felt a surge of anticipation at seeing her again. He beat it down. She was a client, a colorful one, but a client nonetheless. He had no right to feel excited and was not entirely sure why he did. Perhaps his life had become mundane?