The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie
Page 73
“Sylvia.. That’s all you need to know.”
“1 am pleased to meet you, Sylvia. I’m sorry to bother you, but I want to ask you a few questions.” “Out here on the back stairs? That bitch of a cook wouldn’t let me in the kitchen. I want to be sat in the parlor, and your slaveys waiting on me, or I won’t talk.” “Mind your tongue,” Katie snapped. “You’re not fit to sit in m’lady’s parlor. We stay in the shadows so no one knows she’s talking to you.”
Beth raised her hands. “Peace, both of you. It will only take a few minutes, Sylvia, and I know you are the right one to speak to. I imagine you know so much.” Sylvia preened under the base flattery. “You was asking about the house in High Holborn. I know all about it, and about the right old bitch who runs the place. What do you need to know?”
“Everything.”
In answer to her questions, Sylvia confirmed what Fellows had said: that Mrs. Palmer had been Hart’s mistress and he’d bought her the house in High Holborn. “She met him when he was still at university, and her already long in the tooth,” Sylvia said. “Didn’t no one love a young man like Angelina Palmer loved him. She’d do anything for him, piss in her own shoes if he asked her to.” “But he sold her the house later,” Beth said. “I had the idea she was no longer his mistress after that.” “Oh, he gave her the push, all right, and she turned her hand to being a businesswoman, if you take my meaning. It weren’t a bad place when I was there, but me and Mrs. Palmer never rubbed on well. I left as soon as I found better prospects.” She glanced fondly at her diamond rings. “Then it truly is over between them,” Beth said. “It might have been for his part, but never hers. The duke started being high-and-mighty, hobnobbing with the queen. He’d need a young and beautiful lady, not some old biddy he had since he were twenty. I’d have been angry as anything, but Ma Palmer was most understanding. Went on loving him to pieces, though her heart was broke. If we ever said a word against the duke, we got our ears boxed.”
Beth stared thoughtfully at the iron railings of the staircase.
“You say she’d do anything for the duke?”
“Course she would. She’s like a dewy-eyed schoolgirl with him, for all she’s fifty if she’s a day.”
Beth’s thoughts whirled. Could Mrs. Palmer have discovered that Sally wanted to blackmail Hart? Had the madam decided to shut Sally’s mouth permanently? But in that case, why not wait until Ian had gone home and no Mackenzie could be implicated? Or did she not care who swung for the crime, as long as it wasn’t Hart? She itched to find the woman and question her.
“When did you work in the house, Sylvia?”
“Oh, ‘bout six, maybe seven years ago.”
“Did you know Sally Tate?”
“That bitch? Not surprised she got herself murdered.”
“You were there at the time of the murder?” “No, I’d moved on by then. But I heard all about it. Sally had it coming, missus. She strung men along right enough, but she hated ‘em. She could charm all kinds of money out of ‘em. She and Ma Palmer had dustups all the time because Sally didn’t want to share the takings. She had her own lady love, kept talking about the two of ‘em taking a castle in the sky together and living happily ever after.” Katie glared in outrage. “That’s disgusting. M’lady, you shouldn’t be out here listening to such talk.” Sylvia shrugged. “Well, they get tired of men pawing at ‘em, don’t they? Some do, anyway. Not me, I like a handsome gentleman.”
“Never mind that,” Beth said impatiently. “Who was Sally Tate’s lady love? Did you know her?” “It was one of the other girls what lived there. They used to lock themselves in an upstairs bedroom and bill and coo. Sally always vowed she’d take the girl to a cottage somewhere and they’d raise roses and some nonsense. Not bloody likely, was it? Catch any respectable folk in a village letting a house to a couple of hermaphrodites what used to be whores.” Sylvia tapped her lip. “Now, what was her name? Oh, I’ve got it. Lily. ‘Cause Sally was always saying they’d have lilies in the pond on account of her. They were both daft.”
“Lily Martin?” Beth asked, her voice sharp.
“That were it. Lily Martin. Now, what about me money, m’lady? I come a long way, it’s damp out here, and this silk will be all ruined.”
Ian woke when the little clock on the dresser struck ten. He stretched, his body warm and pliant, and he rolled over to wrap his arms around Beth.
He found an empty bed.’
He opened his eyes in disappointment. But perhaps she’d gone down for something to eat. She’d be hungry. Ian rubbed his hand over his face, trying to stave off the memories of their argument. He’d told her things he’d never meant to tell her, things he hadn’t wanted her to know about himself and his monstrous family. But he’d at least made her understand.
Ian swung his legs out of the bed and stood up. He didn’t want to wait for her to return; he needed her now. He’d find her and get Curry to bring some supper to them. He wouldn’t mind seating Beth on his lap and feeding her from her plate. They’d enjoyed that at Kilmorgan, and he saw no reason not to enjoy it now.
He pulled on his trousers and shirt, remembering how Beth had helped undress him a few hours ago. Her touch had been gentle and his had been impatient; he wanted her with fierce intensity.
“1 am pleased to meet you, Sylvia. I’m sorry to bother you, but I want to ask you a few questions.” “Out here on the back stairs? That bitch of a cook wouldn’t let me in the kitchen. I want to be sat in the parlor, and your slaveys waiting on me, or I won’t talk.” “Mind your tongue,” Katie snapped. “You’re not fit to sit in m’lady’s parlor. We stay in the shadows so no one knows she’s talking to you.”
Beth raised her hands. “Peace, both of you. It will only take a few minutes, Sylvia, and I know you are the right one to speak to. I imagine you know so much.” Sylvia preened under the base flattery. “You was asking about the house in High Holborn. I know all about it, and about the right old bitch who runs the place. What do you need to know?”
“Everything.”
In answer to her questions, Sylvia confirmed what Fellows had said: that Mrs. Palmer had been Hart’s mistress and he’d bought her the house in High Holborn. “She met him when he was still at university, and her already long in the tooth,” Sylvia said. “Didn’t no one love a young man like Angelina Palmer loved him. She’d do anything for him, piss in her own shoes if he asked her to.” “But he sold her the house later,” Beth said. “I had the idea she was no longer his mistress after that.” “Oh, he gave her the push, all right, and she turned her hand to being a businesswoman, if you take my meaning. It weren’t a bad place when I was there, but me and Mrs. Palmer never rubbed on well. I left as soon as I found better prospects.” She glanced fondly at her diamond rings. “Then it truly is over between them,” Beth said. “It might have been for his part, but never hers. The duke started being high-and-mighty, hobnobbing with the queen. He’d need a young and beautiful lady, not some old biddy he had since he were twenty. I’d have been angry as anything, but Ma Palmer was most understanding. Went on loving him to pieces, though her heart was broke. If we ever said a word against the duke, we got our ears boxed.”
Beth stared thoughtfully at the iron railings of the staircase.
“You say she’d do anything for the duke?”
“Course she would. She’s like a dewy-eyed schoolgirl with him, for all she’s fifty if she’s a day.”
Beth’s thoughts whirled. Could Mrs. Palmer have discovered that Sally wanted to blackmail Hart? Had the madam decided to shut Sally’s mouth permanently? But in that case, why not wait until Ian had gone home and no Mackenzie could be implicated? Or did she not care who swung for the crime, as long as it wasn’t Hart? She itched to find the woman and question her.
“When did you work in the house, Sylvia?”
“Oh, ‘bout six, maybe seven years ago.”
“Did you know Sally Tate?”
“That bitch? Not surprised she got herself murdered.”
“You were there at the time of the murder?” “No, I’d moved on by then. But I heard all about it. Sally had it coming, missus. She strung men along right enough, but she hated ‘em. She could charm all kinds of money out of ‘em. She and Ma Palmer had dustups all the time because Sally didn’t want to share the takings. She had her own lady love, kept talking about the two of ‘em taking a castle in the sky together and living happily ever after.” Katie glared in outrage. “That’s disgusting. M’lady, you shouldn’t be out here listening to such talk.” Sylvia shrugged. “Well, they get tired of men pawing at ‘em, don’t they? Some do, anyway. Not me, I like a handsome gentleman.”
“Never mind that,” Beth said impatiently. “Who was Sally Tate’s lady love? Did you know her?” “It was one of the other girls what lived there. They used to lock themselves in an upstairs bedroom and bill and coo. Sally always vowed she’d take the girl to a cottage somewhere and they’d raise roses and some nonsense. Not bloody likely, was it? Catch any respectable folk in a village letting a house to a couple of hermaphrodites what used to be whores.” Sylvia tapped her lip. “Now, what was her name? Oh, I’ve got it. Lily. ‘Cause Sally was always saying they’d have lilies in the pond on account of her. They were both daft.”
“Lily Martin?” Beth asked, her voice sharp.
“That were it. Lily Martin. Now, what about me money, m’lady? I come a long way, it’s damp out here, and this silk will be all ruined.”
Ian woke when the little clock on the dresser struck ten. He stretched, his body warm and pliant, and he rolled over to wrap his arms around Beth.
He found an empty bed.’
He opened his eyes in disappointment. But perhaps she’d gone down for something to eat. She’d be hungry. Ian rubbed his hand over his face, trying to stave off the memories of their argument. He’d told her things he’d never meant to tell her, things he hadn’t wanted her to know about himself and his monstrous family. But he’d at least made her understand.
Ian swung his legs out of the bed and stood up. He didn’t want to wait for her to return; he needed her now. He’d find her and get Curry to bring some supper to them. He wouldn’t mind seating Beth on his lap and feeding her from her plate. They’d enjoyed that at Kilmorgan, and he saw no reason not to enjoy it now.
He pulled on his trousers and shirt, remembering how Beth had helped undress him a few hours ago. Her touch had been gentle and his had been impatient; he wanted her with fierce intensity.
