The Sudbury School Murders by Ashley Gardner Page A

of small
sweetness. In the silence that followed, I grew to respect Lucius
Grenville. At that moment, he might have chosen to quit me, to
leave behind our friendship forever. By speaking a few words at
White's, he could ruin my character. He could make certain I was
received nowhere, simply with the lift of an eyebrow, the shrug of
a shoulder.
    He also could have shouted at me, accused me
of all kinds of things, just as Colonel Brandon did whenever I
angered him, which was often.
    Grenville did neither. What he did instead
was sit still and let his anger course through him. Then, quietly
and slowly, he mastered his emotions. I watched his gaze cool as he
drew upon his sangfroid and good breeding, becoming more and more
remote as his grip on the arms of the chair relaxed.
    "I will send word to Bow Street," he said
quietly, "and tell them I no longer need the services of a
Runner."
    I gave him a quiet nod. "I will make certain
she returns home. Although I cannot guarantee the state of her
temper."
    He rose from his seat and casually poured out
another glass of brandy. I admired him greatly at that moment.
    "I am certain she will be quite annoyed,"
Grenville said, returning to his chair. "But let us speak no more
of it." He gave me a wry smile. "Let us return to the somewhat
safer topic of murder."
    In some relief, we immersed ourselves again
in the problem at hand. We talked over everything I knew and the
steps I had begun to take. We did not mention Marianne again.
    Later, a servant came to tell Grenville that
rooms had been made ready for him. Grenville left with the servant
to seek rest, and I made my way to Rutledge's study and the day's
correspondence.
    Rutledge was disinclined to talk of the
morning's events. Instead he growled as he read his morning's post
and dictated responses in a rush. He was already receiving letters
from worried families about the murder. He told me to answer all
with a statement that a Romany had been arrested and all was well.
He eyed me balefully and read over each letter I wrote for him, as
though fearing I'd put forth my idea that Sebastian did not commit
the crime. The wealthy men whose sons attended this school would
not care who did the murder, Rutledge implied, as long as somebody had been arrested.
    Rutledge had made arrangements for Grenville
to take luncheon with him in his private rooms. He grudgingly
invited me along, but I declined, knowing he did not truly want me.
I made my way instead to the common dining hall, where I seated
myself next to a morose Fletcher.
    "I suppose it does not matter," Fletcher
sighed as he scraped the last of his stew from his bowl. "I should
never have become a tutor, but I much needed the post. I was a
translator, you know, in London. I translated books from fine Latin
and Greek into raw English so that the great unwashed could
understand them. Sacrilege, but one must eat."
    He ate the remainder of his soup now,
hungrily.
    "Do you lock your rooms?" I asked him.
    "No, why should I? Servants have to tidy and
lay the fire, do they not? Anyone is free to enter, including those
bent on destroying perfectly innocent books." His mouth quivered.
"A good book is like a good friend, do you know, Lacey? One you can
turn to when the night is cold and you are lonely. And there is old
Herodotus, standing ready to regale me with tales of his
travels."
    "Yes," I said sympathetically. "Grenville has
offered to help you replace some of the books."
    He brightened. "Good heavens, has he? How
noble of him. Well, I shall toast Mr. Grenville." He lifted his
port glass.
    I drank with him to Grenville. "Why should
anyone burn your books?" I asked presently. "I mean your books in particular, rather than, say, Tunbridge's math texts?"
    Fletcher shrugged. "Science and mathematics
are all the rage, you know. But who has time for good old Horace? I
managed to save one." He patted his robe. "In my pocket at the
time. One, when I had so many."
    "I am sorry," I told him. "It was a