A Lady's Guide to Gossip and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  “Why, Lady Harleigh.” He was all smiles. “What a wonderful bit of luck to find you here.” He held the door and ushered us inside. “I am just picking up that little trinket I mentioned the other day. If you have the time, I’d love to hear your opinion of it.”

  Lottie was right. It was impossible to imagine this genial man had committed murder just a few days ago. At a fit fifty years, he had the wind-lined face of an outdoorsman. If I recalled correctly, the family hailed from Cornwall so seafaring was not out of the question either. He was a rather no-nonsense type, so I was surprised to observe a hint of indecision in his expression.

  “We’d be delighted to give our opinions, though if you chose it, I’m certain Mrs. Goulding will find it perfect.”

  As the proprietor vanished behind a curtain to retrieve Mr. Goulding’s purchase, I introduced Lottie and launched into my questions. “When I last spoke to you I neglected to ask if you were at the Prince of Wales Theatre for Tuesday’s performance. I thought I caught a glimpse of you in the lobby, but by the time I made my way through the crowd, you were gone.”

  “Had I been in the lobby, I would have been happy to wait for you, but as it happens, I was at my club Tuesday evening, so it was not me.” His brow knit together. “A Tale of Two Cities is still playing there, is it not? We saw it earlier this year. How did you enjoy the performance?”

  As I’d been nowhere near the theater that evening, I would have been hard-pressed to come up with an answer. Fortunately, the jeweler returned at that moment with a small velvet pouch. He placed a length of black velvet on the glass-topped counter and spread a lovely diamond and pearl bracelet on its soft surface.

  “Oh, my!” Lottie leaned forward for a better view and turned to Goulding, her face full of wonder. “Your wife will be thrilled, sir.”

  Both Goulding and the jeweler beamed at her praise. “I can only echo that sentiment,” I said. “Is the gift in honor of a special occasion?”

  Goulding gestured for the man to wrap it up, clearly pleased by our reactions. “The anniversary of our wedding.” His expression grew reflective. “It has not been an easy year for my wife. I’d hoped this would allow her to have some good memories of it.”

  I dug my teeth into my lip. George would have to check on his alibi, but of the three suspects we’d approached today, I truly hoped this one was innocent of this crime.

  * * *

  Our spirits were subdued by the time we returned home. It had taken nearly the entire day to track down three suspects only to eliminate all of them—well, pending confirmation of their alibis. When I considered I’d barely gone through half my file and there were still three other files to be reviewed, this investigation became a daunting prospect.

  Mrs. Thompson waited for us in the foyer. “Mr. Hazelton is in the drawing room, my lady,” she said, taking my hat and gloves.

  “Excellent. I’m eager to hear his news.”

  George was rifling through the files I’d left on the card table and stood when we walked in. Just a glimpse of his grim face told me his news would not be good.

  “Oh, dear, I’m afraid to ask how your day progressed.”

  “Not well.”

  Lottie and I seated ourselves on the sofa. “What happened?”

  He took the chair across from us. “Evingdon and I canvassed the neighborhood as planned. We received no real information from any of the neighbors. Nor did he recognize any of them as the man he’d seen leaving Mary’s house. Unfortunately, one of them recognized him. A woman who lives across the street from Mrs. Archer told the police she’d also seen a man leaving Mary’s house that night.”

  “I don’t understand. That’s good news, isn’t it?”

  He bounced his fist off the arm of the chair. “Not at all. The description she gave of Mrs. Archer’s unknown visitor also fits Evingdon. Since he’s already admitted to being in the area, I can understand Delaney’s suspicion. He had two constables waiting at Evingdon House all afternoon. When he never came home, Delaney thought to check in with me. He arrived just as we returned from our canvass.”

  I felt a sick sense of unease. “George, what are you saying?”

  He raised his eyes to mine. “Evingdon is now in police custody.”

  Chapter 7

  “Arrested!”

  Lottie jumped to her feet, her outstretched arm just missing my head.

  “In custody,” George corrected, holding up his hands as if to halt her panic. “There’s a world of difference. Delaney doesn’t feel Evingdon was completely forthcoming when he questioned him. This is rather an intimidation tactic to make a suspect either provide more information or confess.”

  “Do you suppose he was less than forthcoming with Delaney?”

  He pressed his lips into a grimace. “It’s more likely he was incoherent.”

  “Wouldn’t such intimidation make him even more so?”

  “That’s my fear, but I’ve instructed him not to answer any questions until I’m with him. I only stayed home long enough to get word to the viscount, Mr. Evingdon’s brother,” he added for Lottie’s benefit. “Then stopped off here to see if you’ve learned anything I can pass on to Delaney. Otherwise, I’ll leave it to the viscount to intervene and put a stop to this.”

  I raised my hands helplessly. “Though we still need to check their alibis, everyone we spoke with did indeed have one.”

  “Then I’ll go see Evingdon now.” He turned from my stricken expression to Lottie’s. “All is not lost, ladies. Witness descriptions are notoriously unreliable and Delaney is well aware of that fact. It will take a good deal more evidence to convince him Charles Evingdon is the culprit. And no matter what happens, they can only detain him for so long. Even if they decide to charge him, the viscount should be able to gain his release. Then we still have about a week before the assize to find the real murderer, or at least provide Delaney with a better suspect.”

  I swept my gaze over the files waiting on the card table. Only a week to find some clue in that stack of notes.

  I walked George to the door and asked if he’d had the opportunity to search Mary’s house or check on her bank account.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “No, I didn’t want Evingdon involved in that sort of search and he was with me all day.”

  “I know you have to mount a defense for him but promise me you’ll check on those issues as soon as possible. Meanwhile, if I must double my efforts to review Mary’s notes, I may need help.”

  He nodded. “Right now, let me see to your cousin. We can discuss that later.”

  Once he left us, I had little time to prepare for dinner with the Kendricks. Charles’s difficulties nearly drove the engagement from my mind. But Lily, of course, reminded me.

  With the help of Bridget, my lady’s maid, I’d made it. Preparing myself mentally for the ordeal might take significantly longer. Not that I had a problem with the Kendricks. They were lovely people, and I wanted to become better acquainted with them. However, we’d be discussing Lily and Leo’s engagement this evening. Just the fact of Lily marrying so young and leaving the safety of my home made me squeamish.

  Well, I suppose the safety of my home was questionable considering a man had been murdered in my garden just a few months ago, but that was not the point. Lily would be surrendering herself to the care of a husband, a man she’d known only a few months. How could I not equate her situation with mine? Or rather, what my situation had been.

  I’d only known Reggie, my late husband, for a short time before he and my mother agreed on our marriage. She wanted his title. He wanted my money. The moment he laid hands on it, I disappeared for him. Became part of the furniture. It was not a happy marriage. I had to wonder if given more time to get to know Reggie, would I have married him?

  I know there were differences in our situations. For one thing, Leo was not marrying Lily for her money. Yes, she had a large dowry, but Leo’s family was well-to-do, so her fortune hardly mattered. Their feelings were clearl
y engaged, Lily was of an age to know her own mind, and both sets of parents had agreed to the match. Still, I felt the need to push for a long engagement. I was sure I’d be the only one with this opinion.

  I’d kept Leo close in the past months, trying to learn as much about him as possible and I found him to be a fine young man. Now I needed to learn if his family would accept and love Lily. As this was almost a fait accompli, there was no point in my agonizing over it. Leo was not Reggie. Lily had made a good choice.

  In an effort to distract myself, I asked Bridget what she had planned for her afternoon off tomorrow as she put some finishing touches on my hair.

  “Very exciting plans, my lady. A good friend of mine is in service with Miss Zimmerman, a lady from America who’s staying at the Savoy. Well, my friend also has the afternoon free, and she’s arranged for us to have tea there.” She beamed at the prospect. “So, I’ll be dressing in my finest and meeting her there.”

  Excitement shone from Bridget’s eyes. How lovely for her. It amazed me how Bridget managed to have such a rich social life considering she had so little time off. I assessed her features in the mirror while she pulled my hair into an intricate mound of twists and curls. She had a pink and cream complexion and a mass of blond hair under her cap. “Would you be overdressed if I gave you my rose silk poplin dress? You’re a bit shorter than I, but I know how fast you are with a needle. You could certainly alter it in time.”

  Bridget blushed furiously. “I might be mistaken for an upper-class lady, ma’am, but I have to say I wouldn’t mind a bit. Thank you, my lady. I wondered what I could wear to such a posh place as the Savoy.”

  “I’m sure it will suit you beautifully, Bridget.” The rest of her words sunk in. “Did you say your friend works for Miss Zimmerman? Helena Zimmerman from Cincinnati?”

  “Just lately. She really works for the hotel, but Miss Zimmerman’s maid took ill so Sadie—that’s her name—was asked to fill in.”

  My brain worked out a plan so furiously, I was surprised steam wasn’t billowing from my ears. Perhaps it was as Bridget, watching me in the mirror, chewed nervously on her lip. “If I were to fund the tea for both of you, would you be able to steer the conversation to the Duke of Manchester?”

  Bridget frowned. “What is it you want to know?”

  What I needed to know was if the duke would murder someone to keep Miss Zimmerman from learning of his peccadillos, but I could hardly tell her that. I quickly improvised.

  “Just whether or not her mistress is aware of his exploits with another heiress in town.”

  Bridget compressed her lips as she gave the matter some thought. “That should be easy enough. Miss Zimmerman may have talked to Sadie about the duke, asked for details and such.” She gave me a bright smile. “Consider it done, my lady.”

  “Excellent. I’ll give you a note for the maître d’hôtel to send the accounting to me.”

  I left for my dinner with a much-improved outlook.

  * * *

  The Kendricks had a lovely home on Green Street, just off Park Lane. A slightly smaller mansion than the Argyles’ home where the garden party had been. As George had taken his carriage to the police division, to rescue Charles, the Kendricks had kindly sent theirs for us. So Hetty, Lily, Lottie, and I arrived in style. Lily was in high spirits, her excitement contagious. We were all laughing as a liveried footman assisted us to the pavement. I turned at the sound of a squeal, just in time to see Lottie tripping off the carriage step, almost colliding with Hetty. Apparently, she’d missed the hand the footman held out to steady her as she climbed down and caught her heel in the hem of her gown.

  I took her arm. “Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure Mrs. Kendrick’s maid can see to your hem in a trice.”

  The gaslight of a massive chandelier cast the foyer in a warm glow. The Kendricks waited there to greet us, and when Mrs. Kendrick placed an arm around Lily’s shoulder, the gesture went a long way toward easing my concerns. I knew Patricia Kendrick beyond the general social whirl and was fond of her. The second daughter of a second son of a baron, her venerable family line dated back to the Tudor reign. Her marriage to Henry Kendrick came as quite a shock to society. Mr. Kendrick was of less distinguished stock. His father had gained his fortune in the mining industry, which allowed him to give his sons a proper education among boys of the upper classes.

  The Kendricks would have been a worthy family in the States but here they were seen as new money social climbers. Rather like I’d been regarded when my mother and I first came to London. But the Kendricks’ marriage took place a good fifteen years before I’d arrived, so I imagine the outrage engendered when he managed to steal an aristocrat’s daughter from under their aristocratic noses was far greater than anything I’d experienced.

  With Patricia’s status, the family had a toehold in society and Henry Kendrick hoped to solidify that with grand connections for his children. In that sense he had a great deal in common with my mother. But I’d try not to prejudge.

  “Thank you for having us, Patricia,” I said, taking her extended hand. Indeed, she exuded a pink and golden glow that made her appear far too young to have a son of twenty-five. She wore her light brown hair in a twist, Gibson style, with tendrils brushing her neck and shoulders. Her gown was a light shade of amber, trimmed in gold netting.

  “Have you met Lily’s friend, Miss Charlotte Deaver from New York?”

  Patricia smiled. “Indeed, we met last week. Oh, dear,” she added as Lottie stepped forward. “Has something happened to your hem?”

  “Er, I seem to have torn it.” Lottie took a step back onto the loose fabric and would have tripped again had I not caught her arm.

  Patricia extended a hand toward the girl. “Let’s take care of that right now, shall we? Henry, take everyone into the drawing room.” With that, she swept the young lady up to her boudoir for the repairs, leaving Leo to perform the introductions for the rest of his family, which consisted of his father, Henry Kendrick, and two sisters, Anne and Clara. Leo and his sisters were an interesting collection of their parents’ traits, with little resemblance between them except their father’s warm brown eyes.

  “Our eldest, Eliza, and her husband regret they couldn’t be here tonight but I sent Arthur to the North Country to take care of some business for me. Naturally, he’d want his wife along. I’m very fortunate in my son-in-law, Lady Harleigh,” he added, gesturing for me to precede him down the hall. “That boy is like a second son to me.”

  I’d turned while he spoke and caught a glimpse of Anne, his second daughter, mouthing his very words. Clearly, he’d made that statement more than once.

  We all progressed to a tastefully decorated drawing room for conversation and a glass of wine before dinner. Intriguing landscapes hung on the walls and one could move about the room without cracking a knee on unnecessary tables covered with tatted doily stuffs and assorted knickknacks. Here I was able to observe the elder Mr. Kendrick as he saw to our refreshments. I’d heard much about his business acumen, but not possessing much of a head for business myself, I found myself more interested in his personal qualities. He came to my side as soon as we each had a drink in our hands.

  “I cannot begin to tell you how delighted we are with your sister, Lady Harleigh. Leo has certainly chosen well.” He gave me a hearty smile. I believe he barely restrained himself from slapping me on the back.

  I gave him a warm smile. “We are equally pleased with Leo. And you should dispense with my title. As we are to be family, I should like it if you called me Frances at such family gatherings as this.”

  Contrary to my expectations, a frown clouded his countenance. Ah, yes, I remember the man was coveting titles for his children. But one couldn’t be a countess to one’s relations. If it was so important to him, he could introduce me to his friends as Lady Harleigh and talk about me thus in conversation with others, but here among his family I’d insist he use my given name if I had to glare him into submission.

  It wo
rked. “Yes, yes, of course. We will all be related soon after all. I am Henry, as you know.”

  I nodded. I also knew he had just realized he was on a first-name basis with a member of the aristocracy other than his wife. Why that was so important to some, I will never understand. I decided to draw Hetty into the conversation. “Did you know the Kendricks have a mining interest in the North Country?”

  At this, Hetty’s brows shot up, and she entered into the conversation with enthusiasm, asking pertinent questions about his business. With Henry thus occupied, I wandered over to make the acquaintance of Leo’s sisters. The youngest, Clara, was in conversation with Lily but Anne turned toward me when I approached.

  “How are you passing the summer?” I asked. “Society is a little thin in town at this time of year.”

  The look she turned on me could have curdled milk. And quite frankly, the way she lifted her nose, one would think she was smelling it.

  “Anne doesn’t think much of society events,” Clara inserted with a large dose of sarcasm. “She is only interested in improving her mind.” Clara was perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old. A pretty, vivacious young woman with a sparkle in her eyes, which I’m sure drew young men to her wherever she showed her face. And from that sparkle I gained the impression this was not the first time she’d teased her sister about “improving her mind.” Since she’d waited until Leo had moved away with Lily, I suspected she’d been reprimanded for doing so in the past.

  I gave Clara a sweet smile. “It sounds as though you don’t find that a worthy pursuit.”

  “I think she’d do better to pursue a marriage.” She pushed her lower lip out in a pout. “Men don’t like women who try to act mannish and her actions reflect on me.”

  “Goodness, you do have strong opinions. I believe I’ve heard gentlemen bemoaning that trait in young ladies as well.”

  Her eyes widened as she let out a small gasp. “Have you indeed?” With my nod, she wandered off to ponder this new bit of insight to the male psyche. I turned to Anne, who was trying very hard not to smile.