Page 68 of Murder in Blackfriars

I doubted Daniel would let only two men haul him into a carriage and then sit quietly in it while that carriage took him to Naismith’s lair. No, Daniel had gone willingly; I was certain of it.

These thoughts did not entirely calm my fears. Daniel might have gone into the house without coercion, but if he refused to do whatever Mr. Naismith asked, he might be held there until he agreed, or as Albie predicted, not let out at all.

Surely Mr. Naismith would not outright murder Daniel in the midst of a quiet, leafy neighborhood of North London. Would he?

“Albie,” I said swiftly. “Can you take a message to Shadwell? To Mr. Fielding? The vicar of All Saints there?”

“I know who he is,” Albie said with the impatience of youth. “What’cha want me to tell him?”

“What you’ve told me. But not to do a thing until we know what’s what. We must not endanger Daniel more than he already is.”

By Albie’s expression, he did not understand why I wasn’t summoning half of London to go extract Daniel by force, but there were reasons I did not.

First, I needed to give Daniel a chance to work whatever scheme he’d begun, and second, if I and a legion of street toughs descended on the house of Mr. Naismith, the first in that battle to die would surely be Daniel.

Also I was a bit worried about what Daniel might dotoMr. Naismith. It would never do for me to burst in with a rescue party to find him standing over Mr. Naismith’s dead body, knife in hand.

No, I had to go at this carefully.

“Please also send word to Mr. Grimes, if you can run him to ground,” I continued. “But neither he nor Mr. Fielding must act until I’ve a chance to assess the situation.”

Albie still clearly thought I was foolish, but he only nodded again. “Another sixpence?”

“Of course. If your mates can keep an eye on the house, that would be handy. Though they mustn’t endanger themselves, either from Mr. Naismith or the police.”

Albie shrugged. “They know how to look after themselves.”

I did not doubt that. “Thank you, Albie. Stand there, and I’ll bring you a scone.”

“Won’t refuse, missus.”

I scuttled into the kitchen and returned with two scones wrapped in a worn napkin, and then pressed pennies into hishand. “After you send your messages, you go home, keep warm, and sleep. You deserve the rest.”

Albie scoffed at my maternal instructions. “I sleep plenty. Can’t earn a coin when I’m lying abed, can I?”

I did not argue, though I wanted to remind him he was just a child.

I’d never asked about his parents, assuming they were either negligent or too busy working themselves to bother about him. In Albie’s world, he was plenty old enough to work to keep himself fed.

“Off you go, then,” I said.

Albie clutched the scones as though they were treasure and raced back up the stairs.

I shivered as I closed and bolted the door, and not only from cold.

* * *

I reasoned that I could do no good to Daniel if I paced the floor all night, wondering if he was alive, or lying, injured, in Mr. Naismith’s cellar. Daniel might have even concluded his business and hurried off home, soon to be tucked up in his bed in Southampton Street.

If the latter, I would hope that he’d send word, or visit himself, but he did neither. I made myself go to bed, performing my usual rituals for undressing, washing my face, and crawling under the covers.

The night was long, and I wept a little, but I did at last sleep.

In the morning, I was nervous and out of sorts, waiting for word from all those I’d sent messages to through Albie.

I did hope that Albie and his friends kept themselves from harm, though I reasoned that the lads who roamed the streets had learned how to do just that.

Tess helped with breakfast, an eagerness in her this morning. She would walk out with Caleb today and then go to Joanna’s to prepare for my market stall goods.