A Study in Murder

by Callie Hutton

  “I believe that is the woman who had been courted by St. Vincent and then disappeared to London?”

  “Yes. And she returned shortly before he was killed.”

  His nod encouraged her to continue.

  “The very strange thing that happened was her reaction to me. You see, I arrived at Lady Ambrose’s house before Miss Hemphill. I was sitting in the room when she entered behind the butler. She took one look at me and fainted dead away on the floor.”

  His head whipped around to stare at her. “You don’t say? How very odd.”

  “That is precisely what I thought. But she quickly recovered herself and continued to cast hateful and alarming glances in my direction the entire time I was there.”

  William chuckled. “I hope you didn’t think she would be full of kind thoughts about you. From what you told me before, she was expecting to become engaged to Mr. St. Vincent and then returned from her trip to find you had snagged him while she was gone.”

  Amy huffed. “I hardly snagged him. He and Papa worked everything out, and I was coerced into the betrothal.”

  “With Miss Hemphill absent when this all took place, I can imagine what she thought when she returned. But in any case, a collapse at the sight of your mere presence does seem a bit over the top.”

  “That’s what I thought. She avoided me for the rest of the time I was there, and finally, realizing I would never get any information from her, I left.”

  “So she remains on your suspect list?”

  “Definitely. One other thing. Every time our eyes met while we were both there, the amount of hatred I saw there actually frightened me. I believe Miss Hemphill is someone who could harm another person if provoked.”

  “Interesting. Well, she is on the list. I think it would be a good idea to get as much information about her as we can. For example, why did she disappear to London?”

  “And, remember, Mr. St. Vincent also took a trip to London during that time period. That was when he met with my father.”

  William walked alongside her for a few minutes, staring at the ground, obviously pondering what she’d just told him. Then he looked over at her. “What is it your aunt had to say about our investigation?”

  “Thank you, I had almost forgotten about that. One thing we have not considered up to this point is the distribution of the drugs St. Vincent was importing.” She stopped and bent to pick a flower that had been trampled by careless strollers. She sniffed the bloom and held on to it. “Although St. Vincent owns a shipping company, there would still have to be someone who accepted the drugs and then repackaged them for sale to individuals.”

  “Of course. I doubt he would dirty his hands with such doings. So there is a middleman who might have a reason to see Mr. St. Vincent dead. That does make a lot of sense. I have no idea how we would uncover this person, but that is definitely something we should add to our list.”

  “Agreed.”

  Their walk took them to a bench, where they sat and simply enjoyed the lovely spring air. After a few minutes, William said, “There is something I need to share with you about Mr. St. Vincent.”

  “What is that?”

  William leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs and turned his head to look at her. “According to Mr. Harding, when St. Vincent approached your father with the offer of marriage, his business was on the verge of bankruptcy.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “Bankruptcy?” Amy couldn’t have been more surprised if William had told her St. Vincent had survived the knife attack and this entire murder was a figment of her imagination.

  “That is correct. Also, he had borrowed significantly on his personal holdings to keep the business propped up. It seems he’d suffered a loss when one of his ships went down. However, my man said although that was an unfortunate event, it should not have put him in the precarious situation he was in when he died.” He shrugged and sat up, placing his arm across the back of the bench. “Shipping is a risky business. While I know you are indeed a prize catch on the marriage mart, I believe Mr. St. Vincent was more interested in your dowry than suddenly enamored with you.”

  “Should I be insulted?”

  “No. You are the prize, not him.” William stood and took her arm again.

  “Well, thank you for that.” They began their stroll again. “What I don’t understand is how Papa could have missed St. Vincent’s nebulous financial state, along with the fact that he was selling opium.”

  “The man was devious. The only reason my man uncovered his true financial state was because he has another client who suffered the same loss, so he had a basis from which to start. That gave him the idea to delve further into St. Vincent’s financial circumstances and come up with how close he was to ruin.”

  Amy frowned and picked up her skirt, deftly stepping around a small pile of dog leavings on the pathway. “That is probably why he was so upset when I ended the engagement.”

  “And most likely why he returned, hoping to convince you to reconsider.”

  “Poor Miss Hemphill.” She looked up at William. “I don’t know her very well, but she doesn’t appear to come from a well-off family. Her dowry was most likely not enough to salvage Mr. St. Vincent’s business.”

  They had strolled along for about another five minutes when Amy burst out laughing.

  “What?” William smiled, even though he clearly didn’t understand what was so funny.

  “That horrible Mr. Harris believes he will be a wealthy man when the will is read. Instead, he will inherit a bankrupt business.”

  “Serves him right.”

  “Especially if he was the one who killed Mr. St. Vincent, only to inherit the ruined business.” Amy continued to smile at the awful man’s predicament.

  “I believe we shall keep Mr. Harris on our list of suspects. If he contends that he will be wealthy, he obviously doesn’t know about his uncle’s financial state. I wonder why it’s taken so long for the will to be read?”

  “I have no idea. Generally it’s done after the funeral, but there is always the chance that some other reason has held it up. Maybe his solicitor is in London, or perhaps traveling and unaware of the man’s death.”

  She began to giggle. “I know it’s unkind to enjoy what the man is about to hear, but Mr. Harris was so horrid to me, I can’t help it.”

  William patted her hand. “Well deserved, my dear.” He gazed off into the distance and frowned. “Is that not Lady Carlisle?”

  Amy studied the lady walking toward them. It was indeed Lady Carlisle. She was strolling with Mrs. Miles and her son. The two women had their heads down and were in a deep conversation, while Mr. Miles looked as though he would prefer to be anywhere other than where he was. A situation she had often observed at the book club meetings as well. It was nice of him to take his mother places, but the sour look would surely take the joy out of the outings.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Carlisle, Mrs. Miles, Mr. Miles.” William’s voice drew their attention.

  “Oh, Lord Wethington, Lady Amy, how nice to see you.” Lady Carlisle studied them with interest and speculation. Of course, it would be a surprise to members of the book club to see her and William taking a stroll together, since they had never before been more than acquaintances.

  “I see you are enjoying a stroll on this lovely day,” Amy said.

  “It is lovely out, is it not?” Mrs. Miles offered a smile in complete opposition to her son’s scowl. They chatted for a few minutes and then went their separate ways. “Did you notice how fatigued Lady Carlisle has appeared the last few times we have seen her?” Amy asked.

  “Not particularly, but I was busy watching Mr. Miles act like strolling with his mother and Lady Carlisle was the worst thing he would do this week.”

  “Yes. He does confuse me. I know he accompanies his mother everywhere, which is quite nice of him, but on the other hand, he doesn’t mind showing how much he dislikes it.” Amy shrugged. “I find him to be an odd sort, actually.”


  They walked for a few minutes; then William said, “My mind keeps returning to Miss Hemphill and her overly dramatic reaction to your presence at Lady Ambrose’s sewing circle. We know she expected Mr. St. Vincent to propose to her, but might there be more to her story?”

  A sudden realization struck Amy. She shook her head. “So much has been going on. I nearly forgot to tell you.”

  William placed his hand on hers. “It’s quite all right. As you say, a lot has been going on. What is it?”

  “You were there when I told the police I had received an anonymous note informing me of Mr. St. Vincent’s dealings in the drug trade.”

  He nodded. “I remember.”

  She stopped their momentum and stared into his eyes. “I firmly believe Miss Hemphill wrote that note.”

  William studied her for a minute, obviously deep in thought. Then he nodded and moved them forward again. “It fits.”

  “Perfectly. She knew I would not abide marrying a man who did such a thing, and by sending me that note, it was practically guaranteed I would end our engagement, leaving him free to marry her.”

  “Except we now know he would not have married her anyway, since he needed money, and you stated it is your belief that Miss Hemphill does not come with a large amount of blunt.”

  William turned them back toward the park entrance, where they had left his carriage. Nothing more was said about either Miss Hemphill or St. Vincent. Amy was almost relieved. This matter had taken over her entire life to the point that she wasn’t even able to plan her next story. Something that had never happened to her before.

  Deciding a short nap would restore her, she looked forward to her return home and enjoyed the ride back to her house, gazing out the window as they made their way through Bath.

  “Shall I see you at the book club meeting on Thursday?” William shifted as the carriage came to a stop and opened the door.

  “Yes. I plan to attend. Right now all I can think about is putting all of this from my mind.”

  “I agree that would be a good idea.” He helped her out of the vehicle, and they had started up the steps when Amy’s head whipped around. “Goodness gracious!” She slipped free of William’s arm and picked up her skirts, racing around to the back of the house.

  “Amy! Where are you going?”

  There was no time to answer him, and she continued on, the sound of William’s feet slamming against the patio stones right behind her.

  “Why are we running?” He had caught up to her as they both maintained their pace.

  “Mr. Albright,” she panted. She’d seen him in the garden as they had started up the front steps. It appeared he had seen her as well and ducked behind the gardener’s shed. There weren’t a lot of places he could hide.

  “There.” William pointed to Mr. Albright climbing the fence behind the shed. William sped up and reached the fence just as Mr. Albright landed on the other side. He continued to run, but William climbed over, and in less than a minute he had the man by his collar.

  Amy reached the fence, holding her side, which pained her something fierce. “Hold him.” She barely got the words out. Darn this corset.

  William was dragging Mr. Albright back toward the fence, who was shouting and demanding to be let go.

  “William, if you walk him two houses down toward the south, there is an alleyway. Bring him to my house.” Still out of breath, she walked slowly through the yard and climbed the steps.

  “My goodness. Whatever is going on?” Aunt Margaret stood at the front door, frowning and looking Amy up and down. “I heard a great deal of shouting and then you yelling at someone.”

  “Mr. Albright.”

  “He is here?”

  “Yes. I saw him in the yard when William and I were leaving his carriage. He ran off, but William managed to catch him. He is bringing him to the house.”

  Aunt Margaret placed her hand on Lacey’s shoulder. The parlormaid stood wide-eyed, gaping at Amy as she climbed the stairs. She probably looked a mess following her race after Mr. Albright.

  “Everything is fine, Lacey. You may return to your duties.”

  “I heard a lot of shouting, milady. Is everyone well?”

  “Yes. Just fine. Please go to the kitchen and ask Cook to send in tea to the drawing room.”

  Giving Amy a curious look, Lacey made a slight bob and hurried down the corridor.

  With their voices still raised, William and Mr. Albright entered the house, William dragging Mr. Albright by his coat collar rather than the man moving forward of his own accord.

  “Take him to the drawing room, William,” Amy said.

  She, Aunt Margaret, and the two men entered the room. William gave Mr. Albright a shove and pointed to the red-and-white-striped chair next to the hearth. “Sit there.”

  Both men attempted to catch their breath as Amy and Aunt Margaret took seats across from Mr. Albright. He looked uneasy, but in truth did not look as terrified as he surely would have if he had been guilty of Mr. St. Vincent’s murder. No matter what, though, he had disappeared after her ex-fiancé’s death, had hidden an opium pipe in his room, and had run just now when they had spotted him.

  Something was wrong for sure.

  Hands behind his back, William paced in front of Mr. Albright; then he stopped and glared at him. “Did you kill Mr. St. Vincent?”

  “No, milord.”

  Honestly, did William believe the man would just confess right here? Amy used a softer tone than William had. “You served time in prison for murder.”

  Mr. Albright gave her a curt nod.

  “Why did you disappear after Mr. St. Vincent was killed?” William must have taken a cue from Amy’s tonality and had lowered his voice.

  Albright slammed his hands down on the armrests of the chair, his face flushed a bright red. “Of course I disappeared. For the same reason you are questioning me now. Because I spent time in prison for murder, I would be the first person the police would look at.”

  William crossed his arms over his chest, standing tall, forcing Mr. Albright to lean back to look into William’s face. “Actually, that is not correct, Mr. Albright. The first person they looked at was Lady Amy, since St. Vincent was her fiancé and he had come to see her.”

  “Ex-fiancé.”

  Mr. Albright scoffed. “Her ladyship would never kill anyone.”

  Amy smiled at his confident words, although that didn’t get them any closer to the actual killer. She leaned forward. “Mr. Albright, although I appreciate your faith in my innocence, we do have a couple of questions. If you were sent to prison for murder, how is it you were let out? I have never heard of anyone convicted of murder leaving prison except in a coffin.”

  If her gardener was surprised at her blunt words, he didn’t show it. “Because I wasn’t guilty. The man who murdered the bloke confessed before they got the chance to hang me.” Mr. Albright looked anything but smug when he said those words. He looked like a man who had been accused of all sorts of things he had never done and had managed to suffer through them all.

  William continued with the questioning. “We have determined that Mr. St. Vincent was supplying opium to people who are dependent on it. We found an opium pipe in your flat a couple of weeks ago.”

  “You’re the nodcock who took it? I thought it was the police.”

  “Why were you hiding it in your room?”

  Appearing a bit more relaxed since no one had mentioned summoning the police, Mr. Albright leaned back and rested his foot on his knee. “For the same reason I moved on as soon as I found out the jackanapes had turned up dead in the house. Once the police found my opium pipe, then connected it to my short stint for murder, they would be dragging me off to prison. Not going there.” He shook his head. “Never again.”

  Lacey arrived in the room pushing a tea cart, and Aunt Margaret directed her to roll it next to her. The next few minutes were taken up with tea being fixed and passed around. William took one sip of the tea and looked over at Mr. Albright.
“Would you prefer a stronger drink?”

  Looking quite relieved, the gardener answered, “Don’t mind if I do, your lordship.”

  William strode across the room and poured two glasses of brandy. He returned and handed one to Mr. Albright. “Lady Amy learned that Mr. St. Vincent was importing opium. Is he the one from whom you got your drug?”

  “Nay. I seen the cove hanging around here a few times when he was cozying up to her ladyship. He ain’t the gent what sells me my dope.”

  Amy placed her teacup carefully in the saucer. “Do you know the name of the man who does sell you the opium?”

  Mr. Albright shook his head. “In that business, it ain’t smart to ask too many questions.”

  “Can you tell us what he looked like?” William asked.

  The man thought for a minute. “Hard to say, actually. Nothing special about him. Medium height, dark hair, not fat, but not thin.”

  Well, that certainly hadn’t helped. He’d described just about fifty percent of the men in Bath.

  Aunt Margaret had remained quiet up until then but smiled warmly at Mr. Albright. “Why did you return here today after being gone for so long?”

  He shrugged. “I had a few of my things stored in the shed. Thought things had cooled enough that I could slip in and out.”

  “Opium?” William guessed.

  “Yeah, a bit of that too.”

  Amy had been excited when they caught Mr. Albright, thinking he would possess information that would help them with the investigation. She had even hoped he might confess to the crime and they could put it all behind them.

  But after speaking with him for the past several minutes, she had serious doubts that Mr. Albright had killed Mr. St. Vincent. Another thought crossed her mind. “Are you currently employed, Mr. Albright?”

  “No, your ladyship. My landlady just tossed my things out the door last week, and I’ve been sleeping at my sister’s house. But there’s about fifteen of us there.”

  Amy looked over at Aunt Margaret. Despite Mr. Albright’s running off, Amy didn’t want to get involved in hiring a new man, since their efforts so far hadn’t turned up anyone acceptable.