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Baines reached for her hand. Before he could speak, the study door opened.
Manners appeared. “Forgive me,” he said.
Baines closed his eyes. “Arch.”
“I would not interrupt, but Fielding has discovered something.”
Judith withdrew her hand. “What?”
“A second instruction. It was concealed within the lining of one of Mallory’s coats.”
Baines turned immediately. “Has Renforth seen it?”
“Yes.” Manners’ expression had lost its amusement. “I think you had both better come.”
Renforth stood beside the table in the library, a narrow strip of paper in his hand. The message was brief.
Renforth looked at Judith. “I am afraid this concerns you.”
She held out her hand and he gave her the paper.
The lady’s correspondence with the Newcastle printer is of particular interest. Establish whether she has retained copies of the accounts supplied to him. Do not approach her directly. Report any further communication before the next collection.
Judith read it twice.
Someone knew—not merely that she had expressed sympathy for reform, or that she had spoken of the hardships endured by local families—but that she had written and supplied them with accounts of conditions in Northumberland.
She looked at Renforth. “How long has this been among Mallory’s instructions?”
“We cannot yet determine that.”
“Then whoever wrote it may have known about my correspondence for weeks.”
Baines took the paper. His expression grew cold as he read. “Whoever directs Mallory knows precisely whom to watch.”
“And perhaps considerably more,” Renforth replied. His voice was quiet, but there was a certainty in it which she had learned to recognize.
For the first time that evening, she felt a little less alone.
Renforth placed the instruction beside the other papers. “We shall see if Mallory’s delivery occurs tomorrow. Until then, I would prefer that no one outside this room learn what we have discovered.”
Judith nodded. “I understand.”
“Miss Finch, do not underestimate the person responsible. Whoever has arranged this correspondence has managed to deceive Mallory while remaining entirely beyond his reach.”
Judith considered the warning. “I have no intention of underestimating anyone, sir.”
She returned to the drawing room shortly afterwards, accompanied by Baines, who now wore a clean coat. He had apparently decided that allowing her to walk the length of her own house unescorted constituted an unacceptable risk.
Lady Dunsmore greeted their arrival with considerable indignation. “There you are, Miss Finch! I had quite given you up. Horatio has been exceedingly troublesome, and your servants appear incapable of discovering where he has concealed Lady Beckenham’s handkerchief.”
Judith looked towards the hearth. Ptolemy lay asleep upon the rug, one paw resting possessively upon a crumpled square of lace. Horatio occupied the sofa beside his mistress, looking as though he had never experienced a moment’s hardship in his life.
Miss Hammond rose immediately, but Judith forestalled her. “I shall see to it.”
Baines bent to retrieve the handkerchief. Ptolemy opened one eye, considered the matter, and permitted the theft with the resignation of a creature who had already accomplished his purpose.
“An accomplished criminal,” Baines observed.
