by Louise Allen
‘And your Uncle Horace takes his son’s side?’
‘Yes. He accuses Papa of acting as though he’s already the Viscount – and you may imagine how that goes down, with Uncle Frederick still alive and under the same roof!’
‘Yes, hardly tactful, squabbling over the title with the new incumbent hanging on by a thread,’ I said. ‘Why had your father gone to so much trouble for his youngest nephew?’
‘Jerald is his godson.’
‘Ah. Ingratitude to his godfather as well as general thanklessness. I can see how that would annoy your father.’
‘Yes, I suspect that is what is at the heart of his displeasure. It isn’t Jerald’s way of life – Papa never kicked up over my brothers sowing their wild oats – and, frankly, I was surprised to find Jerald so in need of funds because of betting that he had to ask Cousin Henry for money. So far as I was aware he was staying within his means.’
Adrien glanced across to where the rest of the group were discussing the problems Lady Radcliffe faced in bringing Rook’s Acre into a fit condition to rent out. He lowered his voice still further. ‘I did wonder whether Jerald was unhappy about something and that was at the root of it, but I am probably reading too much into youthful rebellion. Frankly, Papa lecturing on one’s future career can be enough to drive a man to drink, as I discovered myself.’
I recalled Adrien confiding that his father had wanted him to enter the church and had been horrified at his political ambitions, so I could see why he had sympathy with his cousin.
‘Remind me again who everyone is,’ I asked him. ‘You all look too much alike for me to be certain.’
‘They are sitting in families, which helps,’ Adrien said. ‘Mama is sitting next to Papa, of course. Then that’s Marcus, my eldest brother, with Clarissa.’
‘I had a few words with her at the funeral,’ I said, eying my potential Lady Macbeth.
‘She can be rather… demanding,’ Adrien said, with a grin. ‘Then Charles with Anne – she’s expecting a happy event.’
Imminently, I thought, looking at the elegantly-draped bump with some apprehension. I’d thought heavily pregnant ladies were supposed to stay at home in this time, which, although deplorable, of course, was more soothing for those of us who’d experienced the police training on assisting at a childbirth and had absolutely no desire to put it into practice.
‘I noticed.’
Adrien snorted. ‘And finally, of my family, there is Bertram, who is trying very hard not to look bored.’
I eyed the handsome youth who had a raffish air that probably made him fatally attractive to young ladies – or so he hoped.
‘He is the wild one in our family – cards and low dives, mainly – which is another reason why Uncle Horace doesn’t take kindly to lectures directed to his own offspring.’ Adrien nodded towards the other grouping of sofas. ‘There’s Uncle Horace and Aunt Prunella, then my cousins arrayed in order of seniority.’
‘I think I’ve worked them out,’ I said. ‘Percy, George and Jerald. I was surprised that none of them are betrothed. In fact I’d have assumed that the older two would be married by now.’
‘It is finding them estates that’s the problem,’ Adrien explained as I studied the cheerfully ordinary faces of the two older sons. Jerald was definitely the better looking. ‘They are all more interested in farming than anything, and, frankly, they aren’t bright enough for the law, the church or medicine. Aunt Prunella has the vapours if the army or navy are suggested. Of the three, Jerald has the brains, which is why Papa suggested banking for him.’
‘So the death of your cousin and their resulting legacies will help establish them, I assume. Oh, of course, that is why they suddenly developed an interest in Miss Jordan once they knew they were coming into money and that so was she.’
Adrien nodded. ‘They’ll be very content with a snug little estate each to experiment with sheep breeding and turnip growing.’
‘It sounds as though agricultural improvement is an interest in your entire family. Your father was at that Court reception for agriculturalists.’
‘As were my uncle and my cousins, as you know. I think Uncle Horace wanted to give them all the social experience and I wasn’t joking about their involvement – Percy has actually done some quite valuable work on turnips and winter fodder for sheep.’
‘They were all in London at the time of the murder,’ I said blankly, realising we had not seriously considered the implications of that. ‘And all together in Upper Wimpole Street.’ We knew this of course, but…
‘Yes, except Jerald because he was sulking about Papa still, I assume.’ Adrien stared at me. ‘You don’t think that any of them – ’
‘They all have motives that were stronger than we at first thought,’ I pointed out. ‘I wonder if they can have known about the size of their legacies before the will was read. They did all appear surprised,’ I added by way of consolation. I didn’t need to tell him that, even with the bequests, their motives weren’t as strong as his father’s or his brother Marcus and his wife.
‘Oh lord,’ he said on a sigh. ‘Have you eliminated everyone outside the family, then?’
Chapter Thirteen
I wished I could encourage Adrien by telling him there were any number of suspects besides his own family, but I couldn’t.
‘The footman Campbell seems unlikely, despite the fact that he carries knives and is of a somewhat volatile disposition. I really cannot see Madame Vaillant managing such a cool and controlled killing, although, of course, she might have hired someone. Then there is your new cousin, Mr Kumar, but I just can’t see his motive unless it was a sudden loss of temper or exasperation. But he seems too sensible for that. He did find Lord Tillingham infuriatingly pedantic, but he also knew he had good proofs and they would be accepted. He would have to be very stupid to risk his inheritance – and his neck – for simple irritation.’
‘And the rest of the staff are old family retainers,’ Adrien said gloomily. I couldn’t blame him: finding that “the butler did it” would be very convenient.
‘And no one else in the Square reports intruders or attempts at break-ins. I think the passing cat-burglar theory is probably pretty unlikely too.’
‘Cat-burglar? Oh, you mean second-storey men. Yes, I agree. And there would surely be more disturbance in the study if the attack had occurred as part of a burglary.’
‘We had better go and join the others now everyone is settled,’ I said. Helpfully passing cake and tea cups would allow me a better look at our field of suspects.
The men all leapt to their feet and I took a seat between Marcus and Charles’s pregnant wife who was making serious inroads into the shortcake. I joined her and we exchanged banalities about recipes for a minute or so.
‘This would be a terrible thing at any time,’ I remarked, passing her the plate again. ‘But it must have been very difficult for you, just at the moment.’
‘Oh, frightful. I hardly dared leave the house when I heard, but dear Charles said I could not be in any danger. And it was so unexpected. My Papa-in-Law says it must have been that footman Lord Tillingham dismissed.’ She stared at me earnestly, her big grey eyes widening at the awfulness of it all.
Bless her, I thought. Sweet and not perhaps the sharpest hat pin on the dressing table.
She turned to her husband and began on a lament that, from his expression, was a familiar one: was it safe to visit London? Should the accoucheur she had been consulting with come out to Buckinghamshire?
As her husband made suitable soothing noises I smiled at Marcus. ‘Were you in London for this reception as well?’ I asked.
‘No, I leave the turnips and the milk yields to my father and cousins,’ he said with an easy smile. ‘Don’t see the fascination myself – that’s what a landowner hires a steward for, in my opinion. Clarissa would have liked to attend, I’ve no doubt, but it’s one thing for the ladies to show off their Court dress and their plumes, but it’s a confoundedly uncomfort
able business for us men, you know.’
‘Is it?’ I asked. ‘I’m not from this country so I don’t know about things like that. Why is it so uncomfortable?’
‘Court dress. All that gold embroidery, tight tail coats in overheated rooms and having to carry around a chapeau bras. You must try not to trip over your dress sword and ladder your stockings at a guinea a pair and those confounded buckled shoes always pinch. And then you are standing around for hours – they never open a window, you know, and you mustn’t sit down – and the refreshments are pretty paltry.’
‘So you and your wife stayed at home in the country.’
‘Oh no. Clarissa didn’t want to miss out on the shopping and I like to take a look-in at my clubs, you know.’
‘Could I trouble you for the biscuits? Thank you. I think Adrien said both families stay at a house in Upper Wimpole Street?’
‘That’s right. We all squeeze in somehow. If we’d been up for any longer we’d have all been expected to stay in St James’s Square.’
‘It would have been more spacious for all the family, wouldn’t it? And more central.’
He looked uncomfortable. ‘Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but my cousin Henry was a bit of a bore, to be honest. We could get away with not staying if it was only for a few days.’
‘How nice that you all get on so well together,’ I said sweetly. ‘I know that when my extended family is in the same house for more than a day or so there is always tension and little squabbles.’
‘We have learned to exist together.’ He shot a rapid glance between his uncle and father and grimaced. ‘Most of the time. And it wasn’t quite as crowded as it might have been because Jerald was staying with a friend in his lodgings, which meant that Papa could not – ’ He broke off abruptly and I suspected he had just received a sharp jab in the ribs from his wife.
Damn, I thought. He had almost been lured into revealing more of the family ructions that Adrien had told me about only a few minutes before.
Marcus gave me an apologetic smile. ‘But you must be so weary of our family’s troubles. I hope it is not spoiling your enjoyment of your stay with Lady Radcliffe?’
I assured him that it was not, and that if I could assist in any way I was only too happy. I let him draw me into a conversation about which London sights I was planning to visit and what I thought of the shopping.
After five minutes of that I thought it safe enough to infiltrate the opposing family, so I made my excuses, went to refresh my tea cup and sat down in the rather noticeable gap between Jerald and his brother George.
George had his mouth full – Lady Radcliffe had cunningly sent for cake reinforcements, presumably calculating that if anything was going to keep a largely male party fixed on her sofas, that was it.
I waved him back into his seat as he half-rose and turned to Jerald. ‘Families,’ I murmured to him. ‘Always something of a trial, are they not?’
‘Yes.’ His expression was grim as he glanced past me, but whether that was directed at his Uncle Alexander or his own brothers, I couldn’t tell.
‘Still, you managed to escape from Upper Wimpole Street on the last visit,’ I prattled on cheerfully. ‘Where did you find to stay? I imagine lodgings in London are quite a price.’
‘Oh. Yes. A friend. I stayed with a friend.’
‘That was fortunate,’ I said. ‘Not too far from Mayfair, I hope? Although I expect you are fit enough to walk everywhere. It would cost me a fortune in hackney carriage fares.’
‘Yes. Quite central.’
‘Your friend is a lucky man to be able to afford it.’ I kept a bright, enquiring expression on my face and held eye contact.
As I hoped, he stumbled on, unable to resist the silence and too inexperienced to turn my impertinent questions. ‘It’s in Shepherds Market. Plenty of cheap lodgings around there.’
‘Ah yes, I know it. Just south of Curzon Street isn’t it?’
He nodded, clearly relieved that I had asked something easy, so I bounced back another question.
‘What’s your friend’s name?’
‘Pitts… I mean, Pitt. Er, Desmond Pitt.’
‘No relation of the Prime Ministers then,’ I said with a laugh. ‘They were both William, weren’t they?’
‘Ah. Yes. I mean, his name’s not William. No. Hah ha.’ He was even more uneasy now and I wondered why. Should I keep probing?
Then his brother Percy said something to George that I didn’t quite catch, other than, ‘…ask her now. Best not to waste the opportunity.’
But whatever it was, Jerald had obviously picked it up. ‘Leave her alone! It isn’t fair to hound her and, besides, she doesn’t want you.’
Percy twisted around on his seat, ready to snap a response, remembered just in time that I was between them and managed a sickly smile. ‘Do mind your own business, Jer,’ he drawled. ‘Elder brothers get the first pick at the Marriage Mart.’
I glanced back at Jerald and caught a flare of fury in his eyes before he had his temper under control again.
‘Brothers,’ he muttered.
‘I only have a sister,’ I told him. ‘And we used to fight, but not any longer. Not since she got married, in fact. Perhaps your brothers will be easier to get along with once they find wives.’
I never found out what he thought about that, because Alexander Prescott rose to his feet. ‘This has been a most delightful interlude,’ he told Lady Radcliffe. ‘So refreshing to be away from home for a little while.’
‘Not your home yet,’ Jerald muttered beside me. There was real venom in his voice. His uncle’s strictures on his way of life must really have stung.
‘Now, we must be on our way before we outstay our welcome.’
Out they all trooped, the ladies assuring Lady Radcliffe that they were sure she would transform the house into a perfectly delightful residence and begging her to call again before we returned to London.
When they had gone we collapsed in less elegant postures and finished off the cake while we caught up with what each of us had gleaned from the conversation.
‘There is something very much amiss with Jerald,’ I said and recounted what Adrien had told me about the family friction and then his uneasiness about revealing where he had been staying in London.
‘Shepherds Market,’ James mused. ‘And a Desmond Pitt…’
‘Do you know the man?’ Luc asked. ‘I’ve never heard of him.’
‘Neither have I,’ James said. ‘But I know a public house in Shepherd Market called The Pitt’s Head.’
‘Do you think Jerald told his family he was staying with a friend so they didn’t ask any questions, but he was actually staying in this tavern?’ I asked. ‘I suppose if he was sick of his Uncle Alexander’s disapproval and his father taking offence over it, that was one way of making his escape. They all think he was in a friend’s respectable lodgings while, in fact, he was in some seedy inn.’
‘Where nobody would question his movements,’ Lady Radcliffe observed. Then she shrugged, an elegant twist of slender, lace-covered shoulders. ‘He is a young man. I see nothing suspicious in him trying to escape family scrutiny.’
‘True,’ Luc agreed. ‘But I think I will write to Garrick and have him investigate. I dislike loose ends and mysterious young men.’
‘It will prove to be some opera dancer or another,’ said Lady Radcliffe.
Was that all it was? I wondered. An immature young man’s resentment of family pressures? But there was something else as well, and I was beginning to think Jerald was not as interested in opera dancers as he was in Arabella Jordan. There had been something in the vehemence with which he had lashed out at his brother a few minutes ago… They had been childhood friends – had it turned into a love affaire? I shook my head: Arabella had shown no signs of regarding Jerald as anything other than an old friend and she certainly had not the air of a woman released to marry her true love.
What I find interesting,’ Lady Radcliffe was observing when
I paid attention once more, ‘is that Mr Alexander Prescott is already acting like the head of the family, with his nephew hardly in his tomb and his own older brother still alive. Is it insensitivity or worse?’
‘You mean is it the arrogance of a man whose scheme is coming to fulfilment?’ Luc looked grim. ‘He is the most obvious suspect. He could easily have done it if we suppose that he arranges for that note at the reception, he makes no bones about his actions, which is a good way to disarm suspicion, and then he adds to that appearance of innocence by asking for my help.’
‘The Horace Prescotts were also at the Palace,’ I said. ‘All of them. But not Adrien’s brothers. Not that it gets us any further forward. The Horace clan had the best opportunity to drop that note for the footman to find, but Alexander’s elder sons were unaccounted for and could have committed the murder, either singly or together. Certainly the Horace Prescotts have a far less compelling motive,’ I added.
‘I am not so sure about that,’ Lady Radcliffe said slowly. ‘Luc, if Alexander murdered his nephew and was convicted, who would inherit?’
‘You are thinking of a bill of attainder?’ He sat up alertly and put down his tea cup. ‘It used to be that the guilty man’s property and titles passed to the Crown and his heirs were disbarred from inheriting land or title. There have been cases where the Crown has granted the lands and titles back to an heir, but it is by no means certain that they would. I am trying to recall when it was last used.’
‘Lord Edward Fitzgerald,’ James said. ‘It was in seventy eight or nine, I think. He was trying to foment rebellion in Ireland,’ he told me. ‘I think the son has got the lands back now.’
‘So it sounds as though, if Horace attempted to frame Alexander for this, it wouldn’t be a certainty that the land and the title would be his. They might be kept by the Crown or they might be allowed to go to Marcus, if he could be shown to have had no involvement in the crime,’ I argued.