Execution Dock - Anne Perry [131]
He stared at her as if she had grown horns and a tail.
She found herself gulping for air. She could never go back now, as long as she lived. She knew how Caesar must have felt when he crossed the Rubicon to declare war on Rome.
“Are you sure that is what you wish me to do?” she said softly.
“I don't know what has happened to you,” he said, looking at her with loathing. “You are a disgrace to your sex, and to all that your parents hoped of you. You are certainly not the woman I married.”
“I understand how that pains you,” she replied. She was well on the far bank of the Rubicon now. “You are the man I married, and that pains me, which perhaps now you also understand. There is little for us to do but make the best of it. I shall do what I believe to be right, which is to continue to help those in need, and fight with every ability I have to bring men like Jericho Phillips to justice before the law. I think you would find it in your best interests to pretend that you support me. You would be hard put to justify any other course to your friends, and I know you value their opinion. Whatever their private habits, they could not be seen to think differently.” And before he could reply, she left the room, and told her maid that she would take supper in her boudoir.
In the morning she left for the clinic very early indeed, before six. It was light at this time of the year, and when she arrived half an hour later, she found Ruby up and working in the kitchen. She had already decided that it was Ruby whose help she would ask.
“‘Mornin’, Mrs. Burroughs,” Ruby said with surprise. “Summink ‘appened? Yer look kind o’ upset, bit feverish. Like a cup o’ tea?”
“Good morning, Ruby,” Claudine replied, closing the back door behind her. “Yes, I would like a cup of tea. I have not had breakfast yet, and I imagine you haven't either. I brought some butter and a pot of marmalade.” She produced it and set it on the table. “And a loaf of fresh bread,” she added. “I wish for your advice, in confidence.”
Ruby looked at the excellent Dundee marmalade and the crusty bread, and knew that it must be serious. She was alarmed.
Claudine saw it. “There is no need to be concerned,” she said, going over to the stove and opening the door, ready to make toast. “I wish to do something that I hope will help Mrs. Monk. It will be uncomfortable, and possibly a little dangerous, so I imagine she would stop me if she knew, which is why I am speaking to you in confidence. Are you willing to help me?”
Ruby stared at her in wonder. She was very aware that Hester was in trouble; everyone knew it. “‘Course I am,” she said decisively. “Wot'd'yer want?”
“I want to sell matches,” Claudine replied. “I thought of bootlaces—that might also work—except people do not need to buy them very often. Flowers would be no use at all, nor would any kind of food.” She straightened up from the stove and began to slice the bread. The aroma of it filled the room.
Ruby pulled the kettle over onto the burner and reached for the tea caddy, her mind whirling. “Why d'yer wanter sell matches?” She was utterly lost. She knew it could not possibly be for money. Claudine was rich anyway.
“As an excuse for standing in the street outside the sort of shop where they would sell the photographs that Jericho Phillips takes of little boys,” Claudine replied. “We know the faces of some of his boys; perhaps I can find these photographs, or at least tell Commander Monk where they may be found. Then he will have another way in which to trap Phillips. Or he may trap some of the men who buy them …” The further she went in trying to explain her idea, the more desperate and foolish it sounded.
“Cor!” Ruby let out her breath in a sigh of amazement and admiration. Her eyes were wide and shining. “Then ‘e'd ‘ave the proof! ‘E could make ‘em split on Phillips, eh? It wouldn't be like ‘angin’ ‘im, but it'd make ‘im mad, for certain.