The Vanishing Thief(28)
I settled back in my chair, ready to hear the rest. “You’re certain this concerned a copy of the Gutenberg Bible?”
“Yes. I do know that much. Later, I learned Lupton’s shop was ransacked when he was killed. A tall, well-built man in a top hat was seen strolling away just before the body was found, but he wasn’t carrying anything. Could the murderer be your abductor? I don’t know.”
“Had you considered talking to Lupton about the Bible?”
“When you came running in here that day, I decided to question your father and Lupton as soon as we freed your parents. Instead, I found myself in agony with mangled legs. I was bedridden for months. Everyone who came to see me hovered, waiting for me to die.” He smiled. “Except you, Georgia. Your determination to right wrongs, and forcing me to help you, saved my life and gave me a purpose for living.”
I couldn’t bear to have him thank me. I’d failed him as badly as I had my parents. “When did you find out the details about Lupton’s murder?”
He brushed my words away with one hand. “No, Georgia, I need to say this. You saved my life twice, once at the house where your parents perished, and once when you came to me to help you prove you didn’t kill Lord Westover.”
“Scotland Yard should have searched harder for his murderer.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my tone. I’d been eighteen, newly orphaned, and frightened of the police detective who’d questioned me.
“If they had, I never would have met Adam Fogarty and Lady Westover and we never would have formed the Archivist Society.”
I had to smile at the recollection. “I nagged you night and day, brought you every scrap of information I learned, until you finally gave up. You brought Lady Westover, police sergeant Fogarty, and me together in this room. That was the day you began to build the Archivist Society. Now,” I said, giving him an obviously false stern look, “when did you learn the details of Lupton’s murder?”
“Much after the fact, a witness to the discovery of Lupton’s body came to see me about an antiquarian volume. Given such an opportunity, I learned all he could tell me about the murder. He knew nothing about any bookseller possessing a Gutenberg Bible.”
This was a new lead, at least to me. “I think we need to investigate Lupton’s murder using the assumption he was killed by the same man who killed my parents.”
“Georgia, we have to consider the possibility that the murderer learned about Lupton from your father.”
My father would have only revealed that type of information to his abductor if he or my mother were tortured. I must have sounded grim when I replied, “We’ll find out when I catch him.”
But where was he now?
Chapter Six
AS it turned out, Emma was gone most of the next day on our investigation while I managed the shop and wondered what I would discover at dinner that night. She returned in time to help Phyllida dress me for the party with the warning that I’d better not stay out late because she had more archival research to do the next morning. Phyllida hushed her while reminding me what each of the fourteen pieces of silverware I’d face at dinner was used for.
I took a cab to Lady Westover’s and entered through the mews at the back so as not to be noticed arriving. Fortunately, it wasn’t raining and by carefully stepping and holding my skirt embarrassingly high, I entered without trailing dirt and wet footsteps. I didn’t have time to brush mud off my skirt, and it probably wouldn’t have helped. The fabric would be ruined if the hem got wet or dirty.
Glancing out from the back hall, I saw no one by the front entrance or the stairs. Hurrying up the steps, I caught my breath outside the door to her formal parlor. Then I nodded to the butler and he opened the door. He announced me and I found I faced a silent room full of stares.
My evening gown had too little fabric in the tiny sleeves and too much in the front of my skirt. It was five years out of fashion, and the guests were probably considering how far from London and society I lived. I was well disguised to play Lady Westover’s unfortunate relative. Lifting my head, I stepped forward, looking as pleased to meet them as I felt.
Lady Westover introduced me to Lord Naylard and his sister, Lucinda, before she was called away by the butler. After my curtsy, Naylard said, “It must be jolly to have family visit.” He had the coloring and eagerness of a golden retriever puppy.
“Even more so for me, since this is a special treat. Do you have a large family here in London?” I said.
“No. Miss Lucinda and I are on our own. We’re not a hardy family. But we have each other.” He gave his sister a look of pure devotion.