“I have no idea.”
“Especially if she staged her own death at the expense of another’s life that would be very dangerous, don’t you agree? I could have arrested her for the murder of that other woman who died in her stead.”
“But she didn’t know you would be at the party last night. She meant to scare someone in the company and have them give her money. She must have agreed to meet someone on that bridge to get money and…”
“Did you leave the house last night to go after the woman in red?”
“Go after her?” Her heart beat even faster. How much did he know?
“If only because you wanted to make sure that she wasn’t Lady Bantham and no threat to your marriage and your future.”
“No. After seeing her on the balcony, I fainted and I felt very weak after that. My husband took me home and we were together all night.”
“So he didn’t leave either?” Jasper held her gaze. “You’re certain of it?”
“I slept so I cannot be certain of anything. But I don’t see why he would go to her.”
“To give her money to leave. The right sum might have persuaded her not to ruin his current marriage. Her appearance here at the party happened a long way from England. If rumours of it got back to your friends and family at home, you might wave it off saying it was just a joke made at a party. Money can persuade people to do many things. And that someone might have given her money, you just suggested yourself.”
Lady Bantham sucked in air. She was tying a rope for her husband’s neck, but better for his than for her own or Arundell’s. They had to play this well.
She said slowly, as if she was considering this right now, “I think her appearance upset him very much. Would it be so surprising that he wanted to talk to her, find out where she had been, why she came back?”
“And who died in her place.” Jasper studied her. “Do you have any idea, Lady Bantham?”
It gratified her he still called her that. She was and she would be a lady. She had done too much to let go of what she had. “I wasn’t a friend of the family’s at the time, I’m afraid. But if you have questions about that, you must see Larissa Kenwood. She was the late Lady Bantham’s best friend. She was there the night before she died and she was there last night. In fact, I think she wasn’t very happy to see her.”
“Why would that be?” Jasper asked.
Lady Bantham fidgeted with her fingers. She supposed it would pain a loving wife to speak of a friend with whom her husband might be having too close a bond. It would be awkward to mention and should look exactly that. “Larissa has been a comfort to my husband since his wife died and… I think sometimes she entertained hopes he would marry her. But he never saw her in that light and…”
“He married you,” Jasper supplied.
“Exactly. She’s always perfectly nice to me and I to her, as well, it would be rude of me to push an old friend of the family out of the fold, but…”
“You did want to do that at times?” Jasper sounded understanding, even confidential.
She leaned over to him. “Why, yes. She can be so – demanding. Like she has a right to my husband’s time and attention.”
“And what do you think Miss Kenwood felt when she realized last night her best friend of old might not be dead and buried?”
“I think she was very angry. And she might have wanted to meet with her to tell her so.” Lady Bantham took a deep breath. Stop here, or push on? She had never shunned risks. “I heard from my husband, she was killed with a blade. I think Larissa could be cold enough, if anger grabs her, to stab someone who was in her way.”
“Even a best friend?”
“Yes, definitely.”
Jasper held her gaze. “I saw your brother with Miss Kenwood last night. Does he know you suspect her of the murder?”
“Suspect is such a strong word. I am only telling you what I know of her. And my brother doesn’t like her.” She swallowed down the rage that always welled up inside of her, when she thought of Arundell risking everything by playing around with the Kenwood creature. Perhaps if she had been beautiful or witty, she could have understood it.
‘She’s available,’ Arundell had said, like it explained everything. That was the way men were; they took what they could get.
Jasper said, “Thank you for all the information you provided me with. If you think of anything more, please send word to me. Is your brother around?”
“He’s not staying here. In fact, I was quite surprised to find him in Venice. He’s busy with the income from the mine – investing it.”
“I see. Then I will have to hunt him down. Thank you.” And Jasper retreated to the door.
Lady Bantham stood very still, assessing her own performance. Had she done well, or made mistakes? And how would Arundell keep himself? He was always so cool and self-confident, but Jasper wasn’t just anybody. He had used the words ‘hunt him down’ and in the past he had been an expert hunter. Hunting for big game and usually catching it.
She wet her lips. She wasn’t safe yet. Not by far.
Chapter Thirteen
Jasper walked down the stairs quickly, his mind going over the information that the current Lady Bantham had provided him with. It didn’t surprise him that she claimed to have been home in bed all night, with her husband by her side, as it was the exact thing one would expect her to say if either had left the house. Especially if Bantham had promised to wed her again to make it all legal, as Lady Bantham had put it.
Bantham himself hadn’t seemed much so inclined. His burst of anger before he had left the room had been rather peculiar.
Jasper halted when he saw the maid hovering at the foot of the stairs. She seemed to start when she saw him and at the same time not be able to turn away. “I want to ask you something,” he called and ran down the last few steps to her. “You’re Lady Bantham’s maid, aren’t you?”
She nodded and curtseyed.
To put her at ease, he asked, “What’s your name?”
“Rose, sir. Rose O’Neill.”
“Well, Rose, did you see Lady Bantham last night when she came home from the party?”
She nodded. “She wasn’t well and wanted me to bring her a cold wrap for her head and brandy.”
“Does Lady Bantham drink often?”
Rose looked pensive. “She doesn’t seem to be very happy.”
“And why is that?”
Biting her lip, Rose looked down. Jasper leaned over. “Come, come, you’re a part of the household and you are close to her. You see her in the mornings as soon as she gets out of bed, at night when she might be tired and irritable. You know what she says to her husband and how he responds.”
Rose hung her shoulders as if she wanted to make herself smaller, almost invisible “It’s not my place to say, sir.”
“Someone died last night. It’s your duty to speak up.”
She shrank under his tone. For a moment he wished he hadn’t put it quite that way, but treated her with a little more concern as she was obviously a shy little creature. But then she looked up and said, “Someone left the house in the middle of the night, sir. I couldn’t sleep and was looking out of the window. I have the room on the floor above her ladyship. I looked down and I saw a shadow slip away. It crossed the bridge leading from the house across the water to the other side and there it slipped along the houses until it could turn into an alley.”
“Lady Bantham? Her husband?”
“I don’t know. Dressed in black and moving quickly.”
Jasper studied her. “Did you wait to see if that person came back later?”
“No. I was suddenly afraid and I dived into bed. I must have fallen asleep, anyway.”
It was a testimony he couldn’t do a lot with as she couldn’t confirm who it had been. It might even have been someone from the host’s household.
“Did you know the previous Lady Bantham?”
“No, sir. I only came to work for Lady Bantham a year ago.”
“No, sir. It seemed too painful to mention. After all, she died and…” She hesitated a moment.
“Yes?” he encouraged her.
“I’m sure it’s just wicked gossip, sir.”
“Still gossip sometimes contains a grain of truth.”
“They say she ran away from the master, sir. That she didn’t want to stay married to him. Some say she got killed in the car accident because she was about to break her marriage. That it was her punishment.”
“Do they also say whether she was going to meet someone in London? Another man?”
“I wouldn’t know about such things, sir. They don’t speak to me about it.”
“And what is the gossip now? About his lordship and his new wife.”
She flushed a bright red. “I can’t say.”
“I just told you it’s your duty to tell me all you can.” He adopted a softer tone and continued, “You would be a big help to me if you told me anything you heard. I want to solve the murder.”
She looked up. “They say Lord Bantham drove his first wife away because he couldn’t stop talking about an heir and he will do the same with his wife now. That it is only a matter of time until she will also start looking around. I don’t really know what they mean by that.”
So Lady Bantham didn’t have a lover yet. But it was going to happen, the staff believed. Too bad this girl hadn’t worked at the estate when the first Lady Bantham lived there. She could have told him so much more.
“Thank you, Rose. You must be about your duties and I about mine.”
She seemed to want to say something, her eyes growing wide, then she nodded and scurried away. He had the niggling feeling he might have discovered more if he had handled it differently, but he really didn’t know what he expected her to be able to reveal. A shy creature would probably not listen at doors to find out her master’s secrets.
He shrugged off the sensation of having failed and went for the front door, eager to visit a widow with an eye on a talented young violinist. Donna Giulieta’s palazzo wasn’t far from Sir James Lovelane’s house, Luigi had assured him, and Jasper wanted to find out exactly how much the widow had known about the woman in red at the party.
* * *
Giulieta Calvieri looked up from her embroidery when the butler announced “a Signor Jasper.” She had no idea who he was and never had unknown men calling upon her, unless they could quote a common acquaintance or business interest. She rose from her chair and stood waiting for him to cross the wide room to her. He was a tall man, which always pleased her, as she had no patience for men she had to look down on.
“I’m a former inspector of Scotland Yard,” he said in a pleasant deep voice. His Italian was tolerable but accented. “You may have heard—”
She waved him off with a curt hand gesture, replying in English, “I’ve stayed in London several times with friends from my boarding school days. It was an international boarding school in Switzerland. We mainly spoke French to each other, but we had to read great literature in English. You must forgive me if I still understand Shakespeare better than your current newspapers.”
He smiled at her. “I’m certain you also understand those very well. They have told me you are an accomplished businesswoman.”
In other men she might have believed this to be false praise to get closer to her, but this man was here to ask her questions about the death on the Ponte della Musica. She just knew it. He wasn’t praising her, but assessing her. Would ‘accomplished businesswoman’ mean she was somewhere on his suspect list?
She returned his smile. “Please take a seat, signor. Let me call for refreshments.”
“Grazie, that is most kind of you.”
While the servants fussed about bringing in coffee and sweet treats, they spoke of Venice and the highlights he had already seen. “I advise you to stay away from the places where the tourists throng.” She grimaced. “They are not the real Venice.”
“You are not an admirer of the church on the Piazza San Marco?”
She made a careless hand gesture. “The piazza is full of pickpockets. I would recommend you seek out less crowded streets. And when you’re on the water, always look up. The house fronts have the most interesting little details hidden in their walls or under the roofs. Even the bridges have emblems.”
She glanced at the door through which the last servant had vanished and then focused on him with a raised eye brow. “You do want to speak to me about a bridge, don’t you?”
He seemed overtaken by her directness. “A bridge?”
“Ponte della Musica. Usually a peaceful place but recently the scene of a violent crime. A murder.” She picked up her coffee cup and inhaled the strong scent rising from it. “Coffee can only be good if the best beans are used. I believe in only the best. I think we have that in common.”
Jasper frowned. “I’m not a connoisseur of coffee beans.”
She waved her hand. “You were the best in what you did back in London. You must have been as you cannot let go of your work. You are retired but here you are, in a beautiful city, once again looking into murder.”
“How do you know I am looking into murder?”
She laughed softly. “Why else would you be here? To hear my opinion of the Piazza San Marco?” She shook her head. “No, you want something else. And as my time is as precious as yours, I suggest you explain to me what it is.”
She smiled to herself, confident as usual that this direct approach would overtake and stun him. But Jasper held her gaze and said, “Did you kill Lady Bantham?”
A shock went through her. How did he dare ask her something like that? She, a respected widow, a respected citizen, and…
Jasper said, “As your time is so precious” – he threw a look at the embroidery she had put aside – “I will not waste any more of it. Did you go to the Ponte della Musica and kill Lady Bantham?”
“Why would I? I didn’t know her.”
“No, but you knew of her. She had been the lover of your future husband, Leonardo Biancci.”
Anger rose inside of her, but she wouldn’t let him catch her off guard again. “You know more than I do. As a former inspector I assume you deal in facts, not speculations. So you have irrefutable proof they were lovers.”
“I have the admission from his own mouth.”
She blinked. “Leonardo confirmed to you that he and Lady Bantham have been lovers?” He had denied it to her. Of course, under pressure from Marcheti who wanted the alliance more than anything. More than Leonardo had ever wanted. Sometimes she wondered if he wanted it at all. Or if he was just in love with his violin. If that instrument was his true mistress.
“Leonardo professed that he loved her. Loved her so blindly and madly that he is even now willing to kill for her.”
Giulieta felt a chill go down her spine. “If he has admitted as much to you, why do you not arrest him?”
“You want me to arrest the man you are going to marry?”
“If you believe he is a murderer. I have no intention of marrying a murderer.”
Jasper held her gaze. “Do you believe he is a murderer?”
“My beliefs are irrelevant.”
“Are they? I believe you know exactly what you want in life. Your beliefs matter more than anything, at least to the people who depend on you. Leonardo and his teacher, Marco Marcheti.”
“They do not depend on me. It is a persistent and poisonous rumour that Leonardo is courting me for my money. But I assure you he has always had a luxurious life and his performances earn him enough to live well and put money in the bank. He doesn’t need me.”
And she didn’t need him. As long as he kept that in mind.
“Still it must have been painful for you to realize he had loved someone in England and had not forgotten her. There was an incident at the party – I do not mean the woman in red appearing on the ba
lcony. I mean an earlier incident. Leonardo almost strangled his teacher Marcheti.”
She held her head back and laughed. “I can fully understand his sentiments. Marcheti is a man even I would want to strangle. He’s pompous, exacting, vain. One cannot argue against him as he believes himself to be always right. I cannot imagine how Leonardo lived with him since childhood. But then they share their love of the violin. That unites them.” It created an unbreakable bond between them. She had realized from the first day she had met Leonardo that if she married him, she’d always have to share him with the violin and Marcheti. But better with those than with other women. Her first husband had humiliated her that way and she’d never endure that again.
“So you are not surprised or dismayed that Biancci attacked his own master?”
“I’m sure their quarrel has since been forgotten. They often have arguments and they can both be quite fierce. But it amounts to nothing. If you’re here for that reason—”
“What did you think when you saw the woman in red at the party?”
“Nothing. I had no idea she was the late Lady Bantham. There was some consternation as she appeared but it was démasqué and I was busy looking at the people around me to see who was hiding behind what mask, what costumes my friends had chosen. I didn’t realize it was anything of importance until later.”
“Later?” he pressed.
“My butler mentioned, when he served breakfast, that a dead body had been discovered on the Ponte della Musica. The fishmonger had been delayed, having to find another way to cross the canal. I eat fish for breakfast. It’s very good for the skin.”
Jasper waved a hand in the negative. “So you heard about the death and then—”
“He told me it was a woman in a red gown. Probably someone who had been to a fancy dress party.” She shrugged. “I wondered if it was the woman who had appeared on the balcony. Just a brief thought. Nothing more.”
“And then?” A deep frown furrowed the former inspector’s forehead. “You must have found out at some point it was the late Lady Bantham.”
She smiled. “Servants are very curious. My butler left, allegedly on some errand, and went to the Ponte della Musica to see for himself what was happening. He knows both Sir James Lovelane and Lord Bantham from sight. He saw them coming to the ponte to look at the body. It made sense to assume that the body would somehow be related to them. Both of them.”
Under the Guise of Death Page 10