“I hope you’re right,” Farleigh said in a grave tone.
Now Farleigh had him worried.
Lady Cornell knew where to find Estelle. It would not take much for the woman to incite Lord Cornell into a jealous rage, and the snake always wrought vengeance on those incapable of fighting back.
Vane inclined his head. “Thank you for your counsel. Perhaps I have misjudged the threat Cornell poses. Have no fear, I shall deal with the matter promptly.”
He would visit Mr Joseph and have someone watch the premises on Whitecombe Street. At this rate, Joseph could rent a house in Mayfair as well as hire a carriage.
Farleigh smiled. “I shall be here if you need me.”
Mr Joseph was not at his table in The Speckled Hen tavern. Despite offering the landlord a bribe, Fred refused to say anything about Joseph’s whereabouts though he offered Vane a mug of ale and suggested he sit and wait.
Vane declined the offer. A man of his ilk did not linger in the slums of Whitechapel when alone. Instead, he had Wickett park outside Mr Hungerford’s house so he could observe the comings and goings.
Wickett was right. As daylight faded, no one came to draw the curtains. Not the faintest flicker of light could be seen glowing from within. There was something eerie about the place. A disturbing silence that left an uncomfortable feeling in Vane’s chest. Despite the bitter chill in the air, Hungerford’s was the only smokeless chimney.
Something was most definitely amiss.
Vane returned to the tavern, relieved to find Joseph at his table. The rumble in his stomach persuaded him to order supper. And the smell of stew wafting past his nostrils was preferable to the stench of the streets.
Vane sat down opposite Joseph. “Any news on Hungerford?”
“I’ve just come back from seeing his maid.”
“So he has servants,” Vane said, surprised. “I’ve been watching his house for the past two hours and didn’t see you there.”
“That’s because he’s given the maid notice. He sent her packing this morning.” Joseph picked up his notebook, which lay amongst a pile of tatty paper, and flicked to the required page. “Biggs followed her to the Servants’ Registry. He gave me the nod as I’m better at dealing with those of a delicate disposition.”
Vane knew enough about scoundrels to know the glint in Joseph’s blue eyes meant he’d received more than information from the maid.
“And what did you discover?”
“That she’s the only person who works for him. That his wife fell ill within the first two weeks of marrying him. So the maid said.”
“Did she say why he’s given her notice?”
“She said he’s leaving. Seems the house is rented.” He scanned his notes. “Her story rings true when you consider he’s planned to take the coach to Bath tomorrow.”
“Bath?” None of it made any sense. Why court Estelle if he was planning to leave London? “Did the maid say why he needs to leave so soon?”
The landlord appeared at Vane’s side and plonked the bowl of stew on the table. Steam rose from the vessel like a ghostly apparition — a good sign, he decided.
“Can I get you anything else, my lord?”
Vane shook his head.
As soon as the landlord shuffled away, Vane repeated his question. “Did she say why?”
“Oh, she was more than free with her tongue when the mood took her.” The runner grinned. “She said that now his wife had died he wanted to move. By all accounts, he was married before but lived in Dartford. Seems she died, too.”
“Did you find any record of his last wife at St Clement Danes?”
“No. I tried other churches in the district but found no record of anyone by that name. I know the maid said they were married, but it wouldn’t be the first time two lovers lived as man and wife.”
Hungerford seemed too principled to live in sin.
“He could have lied to maintain appearances, I suppose.”