by Louise Allen
We went back and, while Luc ran upstairs to speak to his mother and spend some time with the twins, I found Garrick, abandoned by his wife who was visiting friends, and James, likewise alone, having refused to accompany Kit on an expedition to buy new boots and what sounded like a massive list of odds and ends.
‘He is the world’s most indecisive shopper,’ James complained. ‘It is his only fault, I must admit, but he is enough to reduce most shopkeepers to tears of sheer frustration.’
‘I am going to update the evidence,’ I told them. ‘Coming?’
They followed me to the study and I told them about our morning while I added notes to the boards.
‘Madame Vaillant sounds utterly alarming,’ James said, once he had stopped sniggering over my description of her making eyes at Luc. ‘Whatever possessed Tillingham?’
‘She is so utterly unlike anyone I would expect him to associate with that novelty might be the answer,’ I suggested. ‘She is undoubtedly spectacular, I am sure she is exceptional at what she does, and it might have been a relaxation from being so very respectable and orderly.’
When I had told them everything we sat and stared at the boards until James declared, ‘What we need is a list of things to do.’
When we had finished that, he shook his head. ‘It doesn’t help, after all. It is so vague.’
‘Motive, means and opportunity,’ I said, suddenly energised and ready to channel any number of Golden Age detectives. ‘We list those, then we note actions we can take.’
We ended up with a list:
The staff (individually or in any combination):
Motives: Unknown unless they were expecting significant legacies or bore secret grudges.
Opportunity: At any time. They knew victim’s habits and could just walk in on him.
Means: Kitchen knives? Pocket knives?
Action: Discover contents of the will. Check on missing knives.
Doctor Frederick Prescott:
Motive: Inheritance of the title.
Opportunity: Unless his illness is a sham or greatly exaggerated – none.
Means: Hired assassin.
Action: Establish how ill he is and proceed from there.
Mr Alexander Prescott:
Motive: Inheritance of title.
Opportunity: By own admission was in the study at the right time.
Means: Could have brought weapon with him.
Action: Discover who put the note on the table at the Palace. Could he really not have noticed the body? Experiment.
Mr Alexander Prescott’s sons (Marcus, Charles, Bertram & Adrien):
Motive: Inheritance of title (applies only to Marcus) or expectation of personal gain if father inherits (all of them).
Opportunity & Means: All familiar with house and location of study. Probably all knew about open window. Would bring weapon with them.
Action: Establish whereabouts during possible timeframe for murder.
Mr Horace Prescott & his three sons (Percy, George, Jerald):
Motive: Unknown, unless expecting significant legacies.
Opportunity & Means: All familiar with house etc.
Action: Establish whereabouts during possible timeframe for murder. Check the will.
Madame Vaillant:
Motive: Fury at being dismissed. Expectation of legacy??
Opportunity: May have known about location of study & likelihood of open window.
Means: Brought weapon with her. Or a besotted lover on her behalf? Or paid assassin?
Action: Check will. Check whereabouts.
Campbell the dismissed footman:
Motive: Revenge for sacking without character.
Opportunity: Would know about study, window etc.
Means: Brought weapon with him.
Action: Trace him. Employment offices? Question other servants.
Son of Colonel Archibald Prescott (if he exists and is legitimate):
Motive: Inheritance of title.
Opportunity: ?
Means: Brought weapon with him
Action: Establish whether he exists. (Note to James: Stop snorting. Have you no romance in your soul?)
Passing Random Burglar:
Action: Any reports of other break-ins in the area? Anyone suspicious seen hanging around?
‘I suggest waiting until after the inquest for most of these,’ Garrick said, rocking on the back legs of his chair as he brooded. ‘We can talk to the staff here about suspicious characters and any recent burglaries – I’ll do that presently. Meanwhile, we could go and experiment with what Mr Alexander Prescott could have seen. We need someone of similar height.’
‘You would do, I think,’ I said. ‘He is the same height as Adrien – I noticed because I thought how alike they were – and you and he are more or less equal.’
The three of us trooped along to the Viscount’s house and found Adrien in discussion about funeral preparations with Grainger the butler.
‘Father sent a message that has just arrived. The funeral will be at Tillingham Hall and my Uncle Frederick is travelling there tomorrow by easy stages. I only hope the strain is not too much for him and we end up with a double interment.’ Adrien took a deep breath. ‘Anyway, Grainger is to leave a skeleton staff here and go with the remainder to the Hall to assist the staff there. The family will all be staying and Father thinks that Arabella – Miss Jordan – and her parents should also come as they are neighbours, as well as the betrothal, of course.’
We drew him aside and told him why we were there. ‘If we can work out what your father might, or might not, have seen, then it will help to establish whether the body had been moved,’ I said, hoping to make it sound less as if we were assessing Alexander’s guilt.
‘By all means. The desk is in exactly the same position as when he was found. If you can manage by yourselves?’ He turned back to the butler before we could answer. ‘Grainger, I require the duplicate cellar books to make certain we need to send no further supplies down to the Hall.’
I remembered that Garrick hadn’t seen the corpse, so I asked him to wait outside while James and I went in, closed the door and studied the room. I placed the chair where I had seen it, with the Viscount on the ground between it and the desk. ‘James, why don’t you come here and be the body?’
He grumbled a lot but eventually came and submitted to me yanking and pushing until I had him in the same position as Lord Tillingham. ‘You are taller and slimmer than he was,’ I said. ‘Your legs are too long – can you bend your knees more?’
Fortunately I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, because I was trying to decide where to place the two seats on the other side of the desk. When we had come in that morning one had been pulled right up to the desk, presumably by Adrien who was accustomed to sitting on that side of the “partners’ desk”. The other was at an angle and I guessed he had pushed it aside when he had seen the body.
I looked out into the hall. ‘Grainger, how were the chairs placed when Mr Alexander Prescott called that evening?’
‘I didn’t see inside the room, Miss Lawrence. But unless his lordship had moved them they would be facing the desk. Shall I show you?’
‘Yes, please.’
He entered, looked around as though surprised that he could not see James, and placed the chairs about three feet back from the desk, slightly angled towards it, with a gap of about three feet between them. ‘That is how they should have been unless his lordship had moved them.’
‘Thank you, Grainger.’ He went out and I called Garrick in. ‘If we believe Alexander, he had come in response to a message from his nephew,’ I said. ‘What do you think he would do if the study seemed to be empty? Adrien says his father was respectful towards Lord Tillingham as the head of the family.’
‘I think he would sit down,’ Garrick said. He hesitated and then went to the chair further from the door.
‘Why that one?’
Garrick shifted around on the seat. ‘Because it is
angled towards the door and I can see who comes in. If I sat in the other one, then my back would be to the door.’
He took off his hat, set it on the floor beside the chair, crossed his legs and sat back as comfortably as possible.
‘You are the picture of an English gentleman trying not to look put out by finding his host is not waiting for him. What can you see of the body?’
Garrick looked around, then stood up and paced back and forth a couple of times, gazed vaguely at the bookshelves, the desk, the pictures, then sat down again. ‘Nothing.’
‘Try pulling the chair up to the desk,’ I suggested.
He did that, sat, then shook his head.
‘Then how did Adrien find the body?’ I wondered.
Garrick studied the desk for a moment, then stood and leaned across the wide surface to take a pen from the rack that was placed half way. ‘Now I can see one leg and James’s backside,’ he reported.
‘That fits with the way the chairs were when we saw the body,’ I told him as he went to retrieve his hat. ‘Adrien had pulled his usual seat up to the desk and the other was pushed aside, probably as he hurried around to the far side after glimpsing his cousin.’
James uncurled himself and stood up. ‘Assuming that Alexander is a well-behaved type and didn’t got nosing about, then his story of not seeing the body holds up.’
‘He seems scrupulous, judging by his attitude to his nephew,’ I said. ‘This doesn’t clear him, of course, but it does make his story more plausible.’
‘One thing to cross off our list,’ Garrick said as we let ourselves out of the front door.
Kit Lyle was strolling down from the direction of York Street, so presumably he had finished driving the shopkeepers of Mayfair to distraction. James went to meet him as a hackney carriage drew up and Carola got out. That disposed of Garrick, who immediately turned from a tough, unflappable, henchman into an anxious, doting father-to-be.
I left them all, went in to make a note on the evidence boards and then tried to find Luc who I eventually tracked down in his dressing room in animated discussion with Sinclair, his young and keen-as-mustard valet. He was also a tactful type who managed not to appear at all surprised, let alone shocked, to find an unmarried female guest of the Countess in the Earl’s room. On second thoughts, he probably knew exactly what was going on and was merely the possessor of a straight face.
‘Some support!’ Luc greeted my arrival with relief. ‘Please tell Sinclair that I will not suit a pink waistcoat. I don’t know what came over me to buy it.’
I squinted at the garment in question. ‘I wouldn’t call that pink. More salmon. I like the dark blue embroidery at the edge – very restrained.’ I held out my hand, took the garment from Sinclair and held it up against Luc, who flinched. ‘That really suits you. It would look superb with dark blue superfine.’
‘Just what I was saying to his lordship, Miss Lawrence.’ Sinclair directed a beaming smile at me. ‘If your lordship would just slip it on with the coat of your new suit…’ He produced it, helped Luc into it and stepped back.
Luc glared at his own reflection in the long glass. ‘I suppose it is not too offensive.’
To our credit neither Sinclair nor I smirked. The valet eased the coat from Luc’s shoulders, then took the waistcoat.
‘Thank you, Sinclair. I will keep it. That will be all.’
‘My lord.’ He dealt with the garments and effaced himself, leaving Luc in his shirtsleeves.
‘Turn around.’
‘Why?’ But he did as I asked.
‘Because I am admiring your very superior rear view without your coat tails interfering,’ I admitted.
Luc glanced at the clock. ‘You could admire it without any clothing at all, should that please you. There’s an hour before we must change for dinner.’
I did my best to look nonchalant. ‘I had thought of washing my hair…’
* * *
We arrived downstairs somewhat after the dinner gong had sounded, but not as late as James and Kit. They excused their tardiness by explaining that it was necessary to examine in detail every one of the items that had been delivered following Kit’s shopping trip. I winked at James, he grinned back.
‘Shall we go to the theatre this evening?’ Luc asked. ‘I have no idea what is on, but the box is sitting there empty – it might make a change from murder and inquests.’
So we all went to the theatre – Lady Radcliffe and the Garricks as well. I have no idea what the farce was about, because we arrived in the middle of it. The play that followed was fairly dire, although Luc assured me, straight-faced, that the opera dancers who kept appearing for no very good reason and showing a great deal of leg, were excellent.
I was glad we went, though, because following the inquest we found ourselves in a dusty, old-fashioned manor house in deepest Buckinghamshire with very little in the way of entertainment, other than a murder to investigate.
* * *
The inquest was held at The Moon and Sixpence, an inn squeezed into one of the alleyways off Pall Mall. It had what was grandly referred to as the Assembly Room, which was, in fact, a long attic that was doubtless home to assorted gatherings of variable legality, from card schools, through the occasional cock fight to the local debating society and glee singers.
The Coroner, it turned out, was called Doctor Partridge. An inappropriate name, I thought, for a skinny man with none of the cheerful plumpness of the bird. He called the room to order and enquired austerely if the jury had viewed the body.
Their spokesman, who had the appearance of a prosperous butcher, agreed cheerfully that they had and they all sat there looking as though they were anticipating a thoroughly entertaining morning. I was becoming quite an expert on inquest juries and thought this was the most cheerful one I had seen. Certainly no one seemed to have been upset at the sight of a corpse.
Evidence was taken of identity, then the doctor who had first attended described the wound. ‘It would have been almost instantly fatal without extensive external bleeding.’ He lapsed into anatomical technicalities, then described the weapon as Adrien had reported to us, and concluded, ‘The deceased had been in good health.’
‘Other than being dead,’ James whispered in my ear, making me choke into my handkerchief. That earned me several sympathetic looks from the jury who presumably thought I was a grieving relative.
The Coroner asked about defensive injuries to the hands or other wounds on the body and was told there were none. From the condition of the corpse Doctor Harris estimated that death had occurred in the late evening or during the night.
He was excused and Grainger the butler was called, followed by Adrien and then his father.
Doctor Partridge expressed surprise that Alexander had not seen the body of his nephew when he had called and was told stiffly that, as gentlemen did not go nosing around other gentlemen’s studies, there was nothing remarkable about it. He had sat down and waited, he said, until he judged he could not delay longer without arriving back late to the Palace reception. The jury were clearly thrilled by the reference to royalty.
At that point James stood up, gave his name and asked to speak. He explained that an experiment had been tried and described what had been done. Alexander Prescott bristled, so James said smoothly that there was a concern that the body might have been hidden elsewhere and brought out later, but that it was clear from the experiment, and the state of rigor, that the Viscount had been very effectively concealed behind the desk from the moment of his death.
Alexander subsided. The Coroner looked torn between delivering a lecture on interference and gratitude that the point had been clarified and compromised by telling James to sit down.
Two footmen and two housemaids testified that they’d had no reason to go into the study that evening. There had been no summons by bell and they had heard nothing from the room. They were aware that it was their master’s habit to open the long window onto the terrace when he was working: it opened smo
othly and almost silently.
The valet confirmed that the Viscount did sometimes spend the night in the study and that he did not welcome interruptions to his work. Eventually he would ring and then hot water would be taken to his room and the valet would attend to shave and dress him.
The Constable testified that the gate to the mews from the back garden was locked and bolted but that his assistant, a “lively lad”, was able to scale it with ease. There was a ripple of amusement in the room and a voice at the back called out, ‘Good thing it weren’t you and your pot belly trying it, Sim Wiggins!’
Once order had been restored and the red-faced Constable had resumed his seat, the Coroner sent the jury out to consider their verdict.
We sat on the hard benches and I wished someone would open a window but, before the general miasma of unwashed bodies, stale beer and dust became too oppressive, the jurors filed back and their spokesman stood and faced the Coroner.
‘What are your findings, Joseph Baines?’
‘We’re agreed that the dead man is Henry, Viscount Tillingham and that he was murdered by being stabbed in the heart on Sunday last by some person what we don’t know the name of,’ Mr Baines pronounced and sat down.
‘That was not a great deal of help,’ Luc muttered, but I was watching Alexander Prescott who was staring at us with a strangely considering expression.
When the Coroner dismissed the jury and everyone stood up, Alexander did not join the mass of people making for the door, but turned towards us. ‘Lord Radcliffe,’ he said, when he was a few strides away.
‘Mr Prescott. My sympathies, this is a very difficult time for you. I trust Doctor Prescott was not completely prostrated by the shock.’
‘He was very much distressed, but he is determined to do his duty,’ Alexander said stiffly. ‘He is making his way to Tillingham Hall, with a nurse and his medical man in attendance. I must go now and speak to the funeral undertaker so that my nephew’s body may be sent home as soon as possible.’ He hesitated. ‘Lord Radcliffe, Might I call upon you later today? This afternoon, perhaps?’