“Hear, hear,” Bea said, cheering her on.
“I will begin those efforts as soon as I figure out what John was up to by meddling with these donations.” Diana turned and started picking her way through the boxes and baskets lining the front pew.
Bea sighed, tempted to laugh. They had come so close to putting their minds and effort toward something noble. But old habits died hard. She glanced toward the chapel’s door, half wishing Harrison would waltz back through with his arms outstretched and a proposal on his lips.
That thought had her laughing at herself as she followed Diana across the front of the chapel. It was one thing to be high-minded, but love had plans of its own, especially when one had a heart that felt purpose-built to love.
She was on the verge of telling Diana that they didn’t truly have a way to discover what the men had been looking for and to give up her efforts so that they could return to Clerkenwell when she spotted a thick string dangling down from the ceiling in the middle of the scaffolding in the corner of the chapel. Perplexed, she stepped closer to get a good look. She hadn’t given the scaffolding much thought when they’d entered the room. Wondering what Harrison was doing had most of her attention then. She couldn’t recall if the string had been there before. There was something intriguing about the way it was tied, though. It was somehow fastened to the ceiling, though she couldn’t quite tell how. The end was close enough for her to reach. She grabbed it, and fueled by the sort of undeniable curiosity that killed cats, she pulled.
Something clicked above her, and in a flash, a wide trapdoor opened, and a cascade of brown, foul-smelling, ice-cold water splashed down on her.
Bea screamed as the dirty water instantly soaked her from head to toe, chilling her to the bone.
“Dear God!” Diana shouted, rushing toward her and pulling Bea out of the way of the stream of filth that continued to rain down. “Help! Help!” she called.
Once she was out of the direct assault of the water, details began to fall into place. Not only was the water filthy, it was mixed with dead leaves, sticks, and even bits of old newspapers. Chances were that it was run-off from gutters around the church’s roof. Whatever it was, Bea let out a miserable yelp and shook her arms as if she could brush the refuse away.
“I knew it,” Diana growled, pulling Bea toward the aisle as Sister Constance and a handful of young nuns dashed into the room. “I knew that they were up to no good.”
“Mercy’s sake, what is going on in here?” Sister Constance boomed as she dashed up the aisle.
“Those so-called gentlemen that you let invade your establishment have pulled the most horrid prank,” Diana answered, leaping to the side to grab a donated shirt from one of the racks of clothes. She used it to swab Bea’s face, though Bea felt rather like she was being battered in the process. “They rigged the ceiling to collapse,” Diana went on.
“Oh, dear,” one of the nuns said as she came to a stop at the bottom of the scaffolding. “I knew we should have prioritized fixing the drains.”
“We can barely afford to feed the children,” one of the others said as she, too, examined the mess around the scaffolding. “I’m surprised it didn’t leak long before this.”
“It did,” the first nun said. “That’s what Sister Francine was trying to fix this morning.”
“She wouldn’t have caused this, though, would she?”
“It wasn’t Sister Francine, it was Lord Whitlock,” Diana insisted in a rage. “He and his accomplice were meddling with the scaffolding, and who knows what else in the room, just moments before Bea was doused. In fact, stand back.” She held out her arms, glaring suspiciously at the donations around her. “They could have planted any number of traps in the rest of these things.”
“What sort of nonsense are you on about, my lady?” Sister Constance said, frowning at Diana as though she were another of her orphans.
“Don’t you see?” Diana stepped closer to her. “It all makes sense. Lord Whitlock and Lord Landsbury are the pranksters that have been menacing several orphanages in the last few days.”
“My lady.” Sister Constance fixed Diana with a scolding look. “Why in heaven’s name would two noblemen, one of them a viscount, for Christ’s sake, stoop so low as to cause mischief in orphanages.”
Bea’s eyes snapped wide at the nun’s bit of blasphemy before her mouth twitched into a grin. There was no telling who or what Sister Constance had been before taking her vows.
The wild thought gave her the courage to stand up to Diana and say, “I think Sister Constance it right. Pranks might not be beneath Harrison and John in our circles, but they would never resort to teasing orphans.”
“Quite right, my lady.” Sister Constance nodded in approval.
“But John and Harrison were present at each of the orphanages that were pranked,” Diana said, tilting her chin up as though offended no one believed her. “They were just at Mr. Siddel’s orphanage when that box of ferrets was let loose—”
“A box of ferrets?” one of the nuns asked in horror.
“Dozens of them,” Bea said.
“—and they were at Hope Orphanage yesterday,” Diana went on.
“Were they at St. Joseph’s the day before that?” Bea asked, wadding the damp shirt she’d used to clean her face into a ball and wondering if she could use it to clean her coat. It was likely that the unfortunate garment was ruined.
“I would be willing to wager they were,” Diana said.
“Here, my lady.” Sister Constance stepped forward, hands outstretched. “Let me take that spoiled thing off of you. Sisters Katherine and Angelica will take you somewhere you can wash your face and hair. And we can lend you something to keep you warm on your journey home.”
“Thank you,” Bea said, as gracious as she could be as the nun helped her to remove her coat. At the last minute, she remembered the parcel Annie from Mr. Siddel’s orphanage had given her and reached into the pocket to retrieve it. “I’m afraid that poor thing is ruined,” she sighed as she turned the parcel over and over in her hands. “It will probably need to be burned.”
“Nonsense,” Sister Constance said, handing the coat to one of the nuns. “We’ll get the stink out and return it to you.”
“Or you could sell it,” Bea suggested. “Consider it my donation to your establishment.”
The nun who received Bea’s coat brightened at the prospect and turned to carry the offensive garment away.
“Yes, this is all well and good,” Diana said impatiently. “But we need to plot a way to expose John and Harrison for the blackguards they are.”
Sister Constance pursed her lips and sent Diana a flat look.
Bea was busy trying to figure out if the package she was supposed to return to Harrison would fit in any of the pockets of her skirts. “Diana, you need to move on to greener pastures. The gents didn’t do this.” She sucked in a breath as a thought hit her. “It was probably that little scamp, Burt. He was at each of the orphanages where pranks were pulled as well.”
“If he was, it was only because he was in John’s employ,” Diana said. A slow grin spread across her face. “But I know just the thing to expose the villain once and for all.”