Fallen Grace - Mary Hooper [72]
As Mr and Mrs Unwin shut the door behind them, the Unwin staff gravitated as one to the far end of the workroom, all the better to try and hear what was going on. The voices of all three Unwins were raised, which made eavesdropping easier.
‘Where in the name of hell is it?’
‘If I knew, I’d look there!’
‘It must have been taken by outsiders.’
‘Perhaps a draught from the window?’
‘What, took it out of its envelope? Don’t be ridiculous, woman!’
‘Can’t whoever made it make another?’
‘No time,’ said Sylvester Unwin. ‘The other faction is right behind us.’
There was a moment’s silence and then George Unwin said, ‘It must be an inside job. Get everyone together, and we’ll search all the rooms.’
The whole Unwin staff, including the blacksmith and ostlers, were then gathered together in the hall and told that something important had gone missing and their rooms were to be searched. This was carried out in a very short time, for their rooms contained nothing but a bed and a chair, and none owned more than one change of clothes.
As the other workers, pretending concern, enjoyed the drama of the occasion, Grace fought hard to keep her composure. She was certain that the servants would be questioned next, and perhaps searched, and although no one would find anything on her, she feared greatly that it would be Mr Sylvester Unwin who’d do the searching. If he did so, if he as much as touched her, then she knew she wouldn’t be able to control herself any longer. She might not be capable of killing him, but she would not stand there and be pawed by him. She would be tempted to bite and scratch and maul him. And then, of course, the game would be up.
‘No one has left the building within the last hour, have they?’ Sylvester Unwin asked.
As everyone shook their heads, Mrs Unwin did a quick headcount. ‘Not as far as I can see,’ she said.
‘So if the missing document is not hidden in the building, then someone must have it on them.’
‘Hang on.’ George Unwin pulled out his gold pocket watch and, shielding the engraved words To Thomas Perkins from his loving wife, clicked it open. ‘Someone has left the building. Two people actually. Tomorrow’s cadavers have gone off to Waterloo Depository ready for the morning train.’
‘Well, they haven’t taken it!’ scoffed his wife.
There was a moment’s silence and then George Unwin said thoughtfully, ‘They might have. I went down to the cool room earlier to make sure all was in order, and noticed that one of the coffin lids was slightly displaced.’
‘You’re saying that a corpse got up and stole the certificate?’
George Unwin gave his wife a withering look. ‘I’m saying that someone put it in the coffin to get it away from the house.’
Hearing this and feeling quite faint with horror, Grace looked at the faces of the other girls and tried to copy their more innocent, interested expressions. She had long known, of course, that the London Necropolis Railway always collected any coffins destined for a Brookwood funeral the night before the event, but in the stress of the moment hadn’t remembered this.
‘Now what?’ asked Mrs Unwin.
‘Now we must go after the coffins,’ said Sylvester Unwin. ‘Where is it they’re going, exactly?’
‘The coffin depository, just by Waterloo station in Westminster Road,’ said George Unwin.
‘And whose corpses will I be looking for?’
‘Mr Truscot-Divine and Mr Mayhew,’ Mrs Unwin answered. ‘In polished cherry wood and oak respectively.’
‘Or what looks very much like oak,’ George Unwin murmured. He turned to his cousin. ‘Do you want company?’
Sylvester Unwin shook his head. ‘You stay here and search again, in case we’ve got it wrong,’ he said curtly. ‘Besides, my driver’s outside in my gig and there’s only room for me.’ He pushed the nearest servant. ‘Go and get my jacket, girl.’
Everyone began dispersing, whispering to each other and trying to work out what was going on, while