Jamie knew he should not ask, but he could not help himself. “What has you worried this time?”
“She is set on finding the man who ruined our grandfather.”
“What will she do when she finds him?”
“Trust me, you do not want to know,” Francois said, before he set off through the crush of people to waylay his sister.
Linnet usually had little difficulty getting information from men. Every merchant she approached today, however, evaded her questions. Their palpable unease made her believe she was getting close. Whoever was behind her grandfather’s ruin was someone the others did not wish to cross.
Even that dragon, Mistress Leggett, seemed frightened. She grabbed Linnet’s arm and yanked her into a dark alcove behind a pillar.
“Pray, use what little sense God gave you, girl,” the woman said in a harsh whisper. “Let sleeping dogs lie.”
“My grandfather was robbed,” Linnet said, jerking away from the woman’s huge, hamlike hands. “I promise you, I shall have justice for him.”
“Would your grandfather want to see your body floating down the Thames?” Mistress Leggett said, her jowls shaking. “I am warning you for his sake, because he was a good and honest man:Leave this be.”
“If your husband were alive, he would help me.”
“You know nothing, girl,” the woman said. “My husband was part of it. But when they were planning to take you and your brother, that troubled him, see?”
Could she have been wrong about Leggett? She remembered a cane pounding on the floorboards by the bed as one of the men shouted, “Where are the children?” The cane had an unusual silver end in the shape of a lion’s paw.
“So he comes to me,” Mistress Leggett continued, “and I tell him that if he ever wants a warm bed again he must sneak you out of London and put you on a ship.”
Linnet blinked at the enormous woman. “Thank you for saving us—but what did they want with us?”
Mistress Leggett glanced toward the hall before she answered. “They had a notion someone would pay ransom for you.”
Alain would not have paid ransom for them, for his legitimate sons were still alive then. But how had the men found out about their nobleman father? Their grandfather must have let the secret slip to one of his “friends” after he grew feebleminded.
“Do you know the names of the others?” Linnet asked.
“All I know is that some powerful merchants were involved.” Mistress rested a heavy, clammy hand on Linnet’s shoulder. “And that is all you need to know as well.”
When Mistress Leggett left her, Linnet took a deep breath. There was one other person in the hall who might know something useful. Her clerk, Master Woodley, believed that if a vast quantity of Flemish cloth had changed hands without proper payment ten years ago, Alderman Arnold would know of it.
When Linnet found the rotund alderman and cornered him, he broke out in such a sweat that she feared he might expire at her feet. She bit her lip as she watched him dance from foot to foot. Who could be powerful enough to put fear into an alderman? What she needed was an ally who was more powerful than her enemy.
“Excuse me,” the alderman said and backed away from her as if she held the point of a blade to his soft belly.
When he was some distance from her, he signaled to someone across the hall. She rose on her toes, straining to see who he was looking at, but there were too many people to guess which one it was.
From the corner of her eye, she followed him as he worked his way around the edge of the room until he reached the arched doorway that led to the privy palace. Then, with a quick glance over his shoulder, the alderman left the hall.
Linnet pushed her way through the crowd, not caring if she stepped on a few toes. By the time she made her way to the vestibule outside the hall, the fat alderman was gone. The cold air felt good on her skin as she stepped through the outer doors to peer out into the darkness toward the privy palace.
She heard footsteps on the flagstones, but the sounds disappeared as she followed them down the covered walkway past Saint Stephen’s Chapel. She entered the next building by the closest door and found herself in a corridor dimly lit by thrush lamps. The building seemed empty—which only heightened her suspicions. Why would the alderman come here except to meet someone in secret?
She followed the corridor around a corner and saw two hooded figures in long black robes in front of her. When they halted by a door on the left, she drew back quickly. She waited until she heard the creak and swoosh of a door, then peeked around the corner.
She caught sight of the edge of a robe disappearing through an opening on the right. Odd, she had not noticed a door there before. She waited a few more moments, but when they did not come back out, she tiptoed down the hall to listen at the door.
But there was no door on the right.
She glanced up and down the corridor to be sure no one was coming, then ran her fingers along the paneling. She smiled when she found what she was looking for—the outline of a secret door. If she had not known where to look, she never would have seen it.
She pressed her ear to the panel, but heard nothing. Now, how to open the door? For several frantic minutes, she felt along the panel, pressing every few inches, trying to find the release. Frustrated, she stood back and glared at the panel with her hands on her hips. She gave the panel a good kick that hurt her toe.