A Silence in Belgrave Square

1

Late on a rainy night in May 1884, Daniel McAdam paid me a visit.

The kitchen was dark and thankfully quiet, the only sound the quiet pattering of light rain on the high window and a sputtering of candle wax. I'd turned out all the gas sconces, as the mistress of the house was inclined to be fussy about the expense, and had lit a single candle. Under this warm glow, I sharpened my knives and made my notes on the meals of the day.

Mrs. Bywater, the aforementioned mistress, had been rather tiresome about a fish dish she'd claimed tasted off, though the family and guests had eagerly downed it. I'd used fresh coriander leaves, which apparently some people believe have the taste of soap. Mrs. Bywater appeared to be one.

She'd lectured me for some time about ingredients and had insisted I take her over the larder and show her how I stored my herbs and vegetables.

I'd been weary after this session and grateful for my assistant, Tess, who carried on with the work while Mrs. Bywater distracted me. I liked to keep to an exact routine in order to finish all our tasks on time, and Mrs. Bywater's interference put me behind.

I was also grateful that Daniel, the ostensible man of all work and, I suppose, my beau, had chosen tonight to visit. I hoped I could vent my frustration to him, but one look at his face when he sat down in the circle of my candlelight stilled my words of vexation.

"What is it?" I asked.

Daniel tried to beam his disarming smile. He'd pulled off his cap when he'd stepped inside, revealing tousled dark hair in need of a trim. His blue eyes warmed me even through my sudden concern.

"Are my thoughts so plain?" Daniel made the question sound like a jest.

"Only when you are truly worried about something. Tell me what it is at once."

I thunked a plate in front of him of leftover stew filled with chunks of beef and roasted vegetables, with a soft bun for sopping up the juices. The fish dish was entirely gone, in spite of Mrs. Bywater's objections to the taste, as the others in the household had made short work of it. That was fine, because Daniel preferred fish when it was covered with batter and wrapped in newspaper, served alongside a load of crispy chips.

Daniel, being Daniel, did not answer me until he'd taken a mouthful of the savory stew, followed by a bite of bread.

"Oh, Kat." He heaved a long sigh. "That is heaven."

"Never mind the flattery." I poured tea for both of us, adding sugar and a bit of cream to the cups. "What has upset you?"

Instead of explaining, the wretched man gazed around the kitchen, taking in the dresser with its crockery and the large black stove crouching like a beast against the wall. I'd grown fond of that stove, though it was temperamental and needed coaxing some days. Copper pots hung above it, gleaming in the faint light. Behind me stood another dresser filled with various cooking implements, including empty produce crates I'd have the strong footmen tote back to the merchants I'd obtain orders from.

My scrubbed but scarred kitchen table, where Tess and I chopped vegetables, kneaded bread, and rolled out pastry dough, had become another friend, a place to relax and enjoy a meal in the evening. Every night I reposed here to contemplate the day gone by and plan for the one to come.

Tomorrow was Thursday, my favorite day of the week. I had the entire day out, from morning until evening, to enjoy with my beloved daughter, Grace. I'd hoped to enjoy it with Daniel as well.

He shattered that hope by stating, "I will miss this."

My heart sank. "Do not say you are being sent to the ends of the earth again to do things for your unreasonably demanding boss. Where is it this time? Scotland? Ireland? Somewhere on the Continent where people are rising against their rulers instead of staying home and minding their own business?"

"Some rulers are fairly terrible people and should be risen against," Daniel said in a reasonable tone. "You'd be the first to lead the charge, I think, striding out with your rolling pin aloft."

I was not in the mood for his humor. "Do not be ridiculous, and tell me where you are going."

"Belgrave Square."

I stared at him. I'd expected him to name a far-flung outpost of the empire, not a nearby district of London.

"This is not such a great distance." I made myself lift my teacup without it trembling. "From Mount Street it is perhaps a quarter of an hour walk, if you do not stop to chat with friends or look into shop windows in Piccadilly."

"It is not distance that will take me away, but time." Daniel laid down his spoon. "I will be moving in to the home of one Viscount Peyton, who leases a house on the south side of the square. I am to be his secretary-a dull-witted but efficient young man trying to earn my living."

"While you discover what he is up to?" Daniel was often sent to nose around in other people's affairs.

"Which might be nothing at all. Viscount Peyton spends his days in a wheeled chair, attended by a young man who is strong enough to carry him about when necessary. His previous secretary has vanished, and I am to replace him."

"Vanished." My heart thumped, and I set down my teacup with a decided click. "So Mr. Monaghan will send you in to see if you vanish as well?"

Daniel had the audacity to grin. "He might not have been done away with and buried in the cellar, like in a tale in a sensational magazine. He might simply have become impatient with the post and departed. The previous secretary was the son of an aristocrat and possibly didn't enjoy being ordered about like a footman."

"Whereas you take orders without qualm?"

"I do when there might be something dangerous in play." Daniel resumed his meal. "I don't know how long it will take before Monaghan is satisfied that nothing is amiss in the household of Viscount Peyton. I could be there some time."

"Daniel." I placed my hands onto the table and regarded him sternly.

"Mm?" Daniel glanced up, his jaw working as he enjoyed the stew. "This is truly wonderful, Kat."

"You never reveal this many details when you inform me you are off on a mission. You usually tell me you are departing for a few weeks, then return and explain you were in Dublin or Glasgow or some remote farm in Northumbria. You remain vague about the assignment, and I do not tax you for more information, knowing you are unable to provide it. Why are you now telling me exactly where you will be and with whom?"

Daniel made a small gesture with his spoon. "To alleviate your worries. Also to prevent you from trying to find me or calling out to me if you happen to see me peering into shop windows in Piccadilly."

"You are prevaricating," I said. "Mr. Davis's dictionary says that means being maddeningly imprecise while pretending to be straightforward." I leaned to him, the table's edge pressing into my abdomen. "This is the last assignment, isn't it? The one you will do to fulfill your commitment to Monaghan and make him release you from his power. Am I correct?"

From Daniel's silence as he drew his spoon through the stew, I knew I was.

My heart constricted. Mr. Monaghan was a coldly cruel man, who blamed Daniel for the death of a colleague-wrongly blamed him, that is. In retaliation, Monaghan sent Daniel on dangerous assignments for the police, to ferret out people who made bombs and planned assassinations and other perilous missions. Often Daniel went alone to spy on these people, with no guarantee of help if he was caught.

Monaghan had promised that one day, Daniel would work off his guilt and be free of his obligation. We both knew that the last commission would be the most dangerous of all.

"There is much more to this than you watching an elderly gentleman in a wheeled chair, isn't there?"

"Yes." The fact that Daniel didn't evade the question made me still more worried. "Someone in that household, or connected to that household, is supporting a project that might damage not only the queen's person but the cabinet, members of Parliament, and anyone else who gets in their way, including innocents on the streets. Monaghan has wind of such an undertaking being planned, and all threads in the web lead back to Peyton's home in Belgrave Square."

I knew Monaghan and his colleagues were not ones who jumped at shadows. They had rounded up very dangerous criminals in the past, usually using Daniel to do much of the hazardous work. They would not suspect Lord Peyton or someone who worked for him without careful scrutiny first.

"Suppose it was the secretary?" I suggested. "Who is now conveniently gone? He might have realized Monaghan had caught on to his evil deeds and fled to a far corner of the earth."

Daniel shrugged. "In that case, I will do tedious work as a legitimate secretary until Monaghan pulls me out again in disappointment."

I sipped tea, trying to calm myself. I did not like the idea of Daniel walking into a lion's den. Unlike his biblical namesake, I couldn't be certain the Lord would make the beasts inside tame for him.

"I do not suppose Viscount Peyton's household needs a cook," I said in a casual tone.

Daniel clattered the spoon into his nearly empty bowl. "No, Kat. The cook has been with Peyton for years, and he trusts her with his digestion. You are going nowhere near that house. These sorts of people kill to protect their secrets, and they would not hesitate to murder you. They are ruthless."

"Which means they'd not hesitate to murder you," I pointed out.

"I do not have a choice. This is the work I do to keep Monaghan from trumping up charges against me and putting me in prison, or worse. Please, do not try to stop this."

"How could I stop it?" I pressed one hand to my chest. "I am a cook below stairs, not the head of the Home Office."

"Oh, there are many things you could do if you put your mind to it," Daniel said darkly. "Please do not discuss this with anyone at Scotland Yard, not Inspector McGregor, not Constable Greene when he visits Tess. Not Tess either."

Daniel's eyes held a steeliness I'd never seen in them, a grim determination that had no softness, even for me.

"I am only expressing concern for your well-being," I said, somewhat stiffly. "I know there is damn-all you can do about undertaking this task."

Daniel let out breath, trying to relax, but he couldn't quite. "I only ask that you do not try to interfere. I would like to focus my entire attention on the case at hand without having to fear for your safety at every moment. I gave you as many details as I did so you would not rush to Inspector McGregor to try to find me when I didn't come around as often."

Now he was making me cross, though I admitted that if he'd simply disappeared, I would likely have expressed my concern to those I could approach at Scotland Yard. I did realize that if Inspector McGregor, who intensely disliked Monaghan, raised a commotion about what had happened to Daniel, things might not go well for Daniel.

"Interfere," I repeated. "Is that what you suppose I have been doing all this time? I'm very sorry if my interference has helped you in various cases, or saved my friends from the gallows or from being murdered themselves."

Daniel's shoulders sagged. "Kat . . . Damnation, I knew I should not have come here. I only wanted to see you before I had to keep from you for who knows how many weeks. Or months."

My anger fell away with a crash. I rose from my chair and moved to kneel by his.

"My poor Daniel." I slid my arms around his waist and rested my head on his lap. I'd never taken such a daring pose with him before, and I was momentarily distracted by the strength of his legs beneath me. "You are so very worried about this mission, and all I've done is twit you about it. I am thinking only of myself and the hole in my life if I lost you."

Daniel laid a gentle hand on my hair. "And I, the emptiness if I lost you. I never should have lingered the day I first delivered goods to your kitchen. I should have returned to business and forgotten all about you. I knew I'd regret coming to know the pretty cook with the warm eyes, but somehow, I couldn't help myself."

He'd melt me with all his flattery. Daniel had a way with him, I'd always said.

I raised my head to see all hardness in his expression gone. His eyes held a bleak light, and behind it, fear.

"I will stay out of your way," I assured him. "Think of me here, baking all sorts of treats for your return."

The humor returned to Daniel's voice. "The cakes and things might grow moldy before I can eat them."

"That is not what I meant, and you know it, silly man. I will try various recipes and choose one for us to celebrate with when you are finished."

I started to rise. Daniel caught me, pulling me down to his lap. I hoped the rest of the staff truly were in their beds and not ready to pop in and catch me in so compromising a position.

I forgot all about them in the next moment when Daniel kissed me more fervently than he had in many a day. I clung to him without shame and kissed him back, fearing in my heart that I was seeing him for the last time.

When Daniel departed the house a quarter of an hour later, I was dangerously close to tears. I bravely held them in, smiling my good-bye to him and wishing him well.


Thursday morning dawned, but instead of waking with my usual joyous anticipation, I opened my eyes to a feeling of dread. For a moment, I couldn’t remember why, and then the details of Daniel’s nocturnal visit came flooding back to me.

"No good borrowing trouble," I told myself as I rinsed and dried my face at the washbasin and reached for my hairbrush. "Daniel knows exactly what he is about. Today, I shall visit Grace and be happy."