10. Arrival of a Courier

Marfleet walked briskly down the block, scouring the empty street for carriages that weren’t there. Cordelia followed at a near skip, hastily trying to keep up.

She had already informed him of Adah’s account, and he had recounted his conversation with Mrs. Bellingham. Apparently, Marfleet was able to get her to admit that she hadn’t seen fortune tellers in the forest that night, but she had been in Dulwich. Mrs. Bellingham had lied because she felt guilty for tricking her husband, and being the initial cause of his disappearance.

He had been brusque with her through the conversation, but she didn’t ask why. Now, he was looking for a carriage, because apparently he hadn’t told the one that dropped them off to wait.

Suddenly, Marfleet whirled on her. “What was that? I’m the detective here, not you.” His brown eyes were alight with pent-up frustration.

Cordelia took a step back from him, her eyebrows bunching together. Clearly the lack of carriages on this street was not improving his mood. “Excuse me?”

Marfleet narrowed his eyes and leaned in towards her. “Were you trying to upset Mrs. Bellingham? You shouldn’t talk like that to a grieving woman.”

He was upset that she had questioned Mrs. Bellingham’s word? Even after they’d found out she’d lied? That was what this was about? Cordelia stiffened defensively. “I didn’t know asking an important question was going to prompt her to insult me!” she retorted.

The man just shook his head. “You should have let me do the talking. No wonder you work with Mr. Blackburn; both of you are insufferable.”

“Really? You seemed quite pleased at first that I’d chosen to come along with you.”

“At first. But you’re apparently some sort of… actress. I can’t trust a word that comes out of that pretty little mouth,” he said matter-of-factly. His anger seemed to have dissipated as quickly as it arrived; now he only looked down his nose at her.

Cordelia didn’t bother holding back a snort. “I don’t think you—”

“Miss Cordelia Green?”

The two of them had been so caught up in their fuss that they completely missed the courier run up. He bent over, sucking in a breath.

Cordelia quickly composed herself and turned to the young man. “She is I.”

“I thought for a moment I’d missed you,” he said, regaining his breath. “A letter. From a Mr. Kent Blackburn.” He offered her a folded up paper.

“Thank you,” Cordelia said, taking the note. Marfleet stepped closer to read over her shoulder as she unfolded it.

Cordelia (NOT Marfleet),

Samuel Bellingham is found.

Do not tell anyone yet. He is like you.

Come to Dulwich at once.

Kent

“What does he mean, like you?” Marfleet asked, reaching for the paper.

Cordelia pulled away and tucked the note into her glove. “I have no idea.”

Marfleet gave her a disbelieving look. “I’ve never met a woman full of so many lies.”

Cordelia gave him a closed-lipped smile. “Then you haven’t met very many women. Now, we best be off to Dulwich.”

He shook his head, his brown curls shaking slightly, even from beneath his hat. “I’m telling Mrs. Bellingham. She deserves to know.”

He is like you. Mr. Bellingham was like her. Cordelia put a hand out in warning. “No! Don’t. What if he’s dead?”

Undeterred, Marfleet took a step towards the Bellingham house. “Wouldn’t your Kent have said? I say it would be most important to mention.”

She scoffed. “Perhaps not! Clearly Mr. Blackburn only just scrawled this note. And in a haste, I’d say. Don’t give her false hope based solely on the absence of words.” She hoped by appealing to his mistrust of Blackburn he would hold his tongue.

She saw in his face that her argument convinced him. To a degree. Sighing, Marfleet said, “I’m going to tell her he’s been found. Dead or alive, she’ll have to learn later.” He turned on his heal and walked away.

--

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