A Lady's Guide to Gossip and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  But what if they hadn’t come along? Would I have made some attempt to support myself, or crawled back to the safety of my late husband’s family? If there was a rift between Mary and her in-laws, it must have been something important since she chose to support herself selling gossip rather than turning to them for assistance.

  Or was I simply projecting my distaste for this manner of earning a living onto her? I didn’t know Mary very well. Yet she had notes about me. How had she obtained that information? I considered who knew about the financial dispute Graham and I had a few months ago. Obviously, he and I. Mr. Stone, my solicitor, Lily, Hetty and George. Oh, yes, Fiona and her husband. Fiona was an incurable gossip, but she was also my best friend. She would never carry that tale to anyone.

  Lily and Lottie were reviewing the “still in town” stack. I must have been very deep in my thoughts, for when I looked up they both stared at me with concern.

  “I was just wondering,” I said, “how Mary came by all this information.” I lifted a page and gave it a cursory read. “One does not overhear details about Lord Frobisher’s financial situation in a crowded ballroom.”

  “That’s true.” Lily sat back and threaded her finger through a stray curl at her neck. “You might hear someone hint about someone else’s financial distress, but you would never hear details about such a thing.”

  “Do you remember the difference of opinion I had with Graham earlier this year?” I raised my brows, hoping Lily would remember the bank account story without requiring me to spell it out in front of Lottie.

  Lily nodded while Lottie discreetly tried not to pay attention.

  “Mary knew about that.”

  “How?”

  “I can’t imagine. None of you would ever speak of it.”

  “Servants?” Lily suggested.

  “Did you say anything to the servants?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Neither did I, though I expect they were well aware of it. I can’t imagine Mrs. Thompson, Bridget, or Jenny carrying gossip outside the house.” I shook my head firmly. “They have far too much integrity.”

  “What about Graham and Delia’s servants?”

  Now that was possible. Graham and his late wife wouldn’t have said anything directly to one of their servants, but they might have been overheard in the battered old manor house they’d lived in. I certainly did my share of eavesdropping on them. I pondered the matter.

  “All right, let’s assume Mary received her intelligence through servants. In my case, that means she either had a correspondence with a servant at Harleigh Manor, which I find unlikely, or she obtained this bit of gossip from Graham’s valet. When the earl came to town, he only ever brought his valet.”

  “Well, that rather narrows it down, don’t you think? We need to have a talk with Graham’s valet.”

  I held up my hand. “Not we, dear. Why on earth would he admit anything to us? The gossip was about me, for heaven’s sake. I think we’d have a better chance with Jenny.”

  Jenny, while not a maid-of-all-work, was certainly a maid of much work. Pretty enough for the parlor, she was also strong, capable, and efficient. Though only seventeen, she’d been in service with the Wynn family from the age of twelve and knew well how a house should be run. I brought her with me from Harleigh Manor after she’d caught me eavesdropping on a conversation between Graham and his late wife. Not a breath of my indiscretion escaped her lips.

  “Jenny used to work with Graham’s valet,” I said. “After the funeral tomorrow, I’ll pay a call on Harleigh House and take her with me. While I’m visiting with Graham, perhaps she can wheedle something out of the valet.”

  Lily and Lottie exchanged a look. “It’s as good a plan as any,” Lily said.

  Chapter 10

  Why must it always rain at a funeral? I peered through the misty drizzle at perhaps two dozen of my fellow mourners, huddled under their own umbrellas. If George was correct, one of them might have taken Mary’s life. The thought further chilled me.

  He’d been correct about Delaney. I noticed him as soon as we arrived at the cemetery and moved to his side at the back of the group. All the better to observe everyone, I suppose.

  Closest to the casket was Mary’s sister, Louise, and her husband, whose given name escaped me. They were dressed appropriately in black, but Louise’s outdated dress was all the more notable as she stood next to Caroline Archer, Mary’s sister-in-law. Her gown, which had probably been designed and made within the last few days, hugged her figure like a glove. Likewise, the hat with its peekaboo veil flattered her high cheekbones. Jet earrings replaced the more precious stones that usually dripped from her ears.

  Moving along the line, Mary’s brother-in-law, Gordon Archer, came next. Tall, fair, and well, businesslike. In fact, he looked every inch the banker he was. Two more Archer siblings and their spouses stood to his left, but it was Gordon Archer and his wife, Lady Caroline, who interested me most. As wealthy as they were reported to be, they had left Mary to live in what would have to be considered reduced circumstances. Yet they stepped up to organize her funeral. Curious.

  I leaned closer to Delaney. “Are you aware of any rift between the Gordon Archers and Mary Archer?”

  He kept his gaze on the crowd. “What have you heard, my lady?”

  I glanced at him through the tail of my eye. “Nothing, but it strikes me as suspicious. Archer is quite well off. Why leave his brother’s widow to fend for herself?”

  “It would be suspicious if you were making a case for Mrs. Archer to murder Gordon Archer, but not the reverse.” This time he turned his gaze to me, a half smile on his lips. “The case is still under investigation and there are plenty of suspects. You don’t have to throw more of them under my feet.”

  “Is anyone here worthy of your particular attention?”

  He shrugged. “So far, no one more than your cousin. I assume you’ll be happy to hear he’s been released.”

  “Indeed, I am, though it doesn’t sound as though you’ve changed your mind about Mr. Evingdon.”

  “We haven’t charged him, but you should understand he is still a suspect. At this point, our best suspect.” He lowered his shaggy brows. “And you can tell him he needn’t hide. No one should know he was brought in for questioning.”

  I raised my brows. “Where exactly is he hiding?”

  Delaney tipped his head to the left. I took a peek beyond him to see a man holding an enormous black umbrella. More accurately, I saw only the torso of a man. The umbrella completely hid his head and shoulders. I chuckled behind my hand, though I had to admit it was a rather effective disguise.

  The movement of the crowd distracted me. The service had ended, and the group dispersed to their carriages, either to go about their business or return to the Archer home. I bid Delaney good day and walked over to my cousin.

  He tipped the umbrella to reveal his face as I approached and greeted me with a smile.

  “I’m surprised to see you here, Charles. Mr. Hazelton said you’d be staying out of society for the next few days.”

  “Probably should be, but I wanted to come to the funeral.” He shrugged. “Seemed the right thing to do.”

  “Delaney thinks no one has found out you were ever in police custody so hiding may not be necessary. I’m pleased you managed to survive the ordeal with no ill effects.”

  We fell into step as we walked back to the carriages lining the street. “Ordeal? Oh, yes. The inspector chap had a great many questions but no beatings, no rack. Though I don’t think they torture prisoners anymore, I was only there the one day, so I couldn’t say for sure. My brother came and vouched for me, you know. So here I am. Fit as a fiddle.”

  “I’m happy you have your freedom once again. Are you going back to the Archer home?”

  By this time, we had reached the carriage. Once again, I’d borrowed George’s. His driver opened the door and took my umbrella while Charles assisted me inside where Jenny had been waiting for me.


  “Truth is,” he said, “I hired a hack to bring me here as I was hoping to tag along with you back to the house. I want to pay my respects, especially to Mary’s sister, but I’m not sure the Archers are aware Mary and I were keeping company, and I’d feel rather uncomfortable wading in there alone.”

  At my invitation, he joined me in the carriage. Why had I never thought to ask him about Mary’s relationship with her in-laws? Heedless of Jenny’s presence, I put the question to him.

  “She spoke of her sister quite frequently but not the Archers. We spotted them at the theater once, but she wanted to avoid them. She said they did not get on and she’d rather not spoil the evening by conversing with them.” He cocked his head to the side. “It struck me as odd, but I decided she knew best and didn’t push her for an explanation.”

  Interesting. Jenny pretended to ignore us, her gaze glued to the window as we traveled through the streets. “Do you have any idea why they didn’t get on? Was there a disagreement?”

  “Afraid I never asked. She spoke from time to time about her late husband. Well, not time to time actually, more like once, and it was more of a mention. But she never spoke at all about his family.”

  The carriage came to a stop as we reached the Archers’ home in Belgrave Square. I gave Jenny leave to do as she pleased for the next half hour. As the rain had stopped, she might like to stretch her legs.

  Charles assisted me from the carriage and we took ourselves inside. “I took note of everyone who attended the funeral today,” I whispered. “It might be wise to do the same here.”

  As we entered, I could see a large group had gathered in the drawing room, far more than had attended the funeral, everyone speaking in hushed voices. Even if it were not a mournful occasion, the drawing room itself was magnificent enough to engender whispered tones. Dwarfed by the expansive space and soaring ceilings, we mere mortals gathered in small groups so as not to be overcome by the overt display of wealth. It truly resembled something an Astor would build, and, in fact, would be much more at home on Fifth Avenue.

  As we planned to stay only long enough to pay our respects to the family, we’d have to note our observations quickly. We hung back near the entrance to the room so as to have a good view as everyone arrived. When I spied Mary’s sister entering the drawing room, I stepped up to speak to her.

  “Louise, dear.”

  Louise, Mary’s older sister, was a short, solid woman in her mid-thirties with a matronly air about her. Premature, given her age, but likely a result of giving birth to five children and the concern of how to feed them all. Her face registered confusion before she recalled who I was. A sad smile played about her lips as she reached for my hand. “Frances, how good of you to come. We haven’t met for an age.”

  “Not since Jasper’s funeral. How sad it is that these are the events that bring us together.” I squeezed her hand. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, my dear.” She sighed and gave me a brave smile.

  “Mary and I had lost touch once we both became widows, but in recent weeks we’ve revived our friendship. She was such a lovely person. Her death must have come as a shock to you.”

  Her gray eyes misted. “Indeed. She lived a rather quiet life this past year or so. We corresponded regularly but I have absolutely no idea why someone would wish her harm.” She dabbed at a stray tear with a black-edged handkerchief.

  “Has the police inspector in charge of her case spoken to you yet?”

  She tucked the handkerchief into the cuff of her sleeve. “We just arrived from Oxford yesterday. We are to meet with Inspector Delaney tomorrow.”

  “I had some experience with Inspector Delaney when someone broke into my house last spring. He’s quite competent, and I’m sure he will find out what happened in this case.”

  I’d hoped my comment would reassure her, but her face registered her distress. “Someone broke into your house?” She tutted. “I knew Mary should have come to live with us. This city is far too dangerous for a woman alone.”

  “Did you ask her to move to Oxford?”

  “Of course. As soon as Jasper’s funeral was over, and several times since then. She and Jasper moved out of the family home not long before his death so I wasn’t sure the Archers would help her.” Her chin trembled and she took a breath. “Mary was adamant about supporting herself, though I can’t fathom how she did it. I suppose the Archers must have provided some small pension as she did manage living alone.” She retrieved the handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes again. “She never asked anything of us.”

  “I’m sure she could have moved back to the Archers’ home if she found it difficult to manage her own household.”

  Louise shook her head. “I’m not sure that was possible. She never spoke against them, but she gave me the impression their relationship had cooled. I don’t know why, but she did have an independent streak.”

  “I can attest that living with another’s family is uncomfortable at best.” Clearly Louise was not the source of Mary’s income. If she didn’t know how Mary supported herself, who else would?

  Louise cast a glance over my shoulder and I saw Charles had come up behind me. I took my cue and introduced them. She brightened when I mentioned his name.

  “My heavens,” she said. “Mary wrote to me about you, told me what a good man you are.” Her eyes watered once more.

  Heat rose to his face and I felt his anguish. He’d cut Mary’s acquaintance due to a misunderstanding, though of course, Louise didn’t know that. As far as she was concerned, they’d been a courting couple. Now that I considered the matter, I daresay it’s what Mary had thought as well.

  “Lovely woman,” he murmured. “I do hope we find the villain who took her life.”

  We? Heavens, perhaps he should be in hiding. “I’m sure you mean the police, Cousin Charles. You hope the police find him.”

  “What?” His brow furrowed. “Oh, yes. Them, too.”

  Louise’s face softened as she gazed at him. “You poor dear. And when you cared so much about her, too.”

  Either Charles had given Mary a much stronger impression of his affection or Mary had done so to her sister. As Louise was now fawning over him, I felt secure in leaving them alone, and crossed the room to speak with Mary’s in-laws.

  Like their home, the Archers were impeccably, and fabulously, turned out. Both of the Archer brothers had married into the upper class. Lady Caroline was the third daughter of a viscount who was more than happy to marry her off to any man who didn’t require a dowry. The Archer family had been principals in Bates Merchant Bank for two generations, long enough to have amassed a fortune, but not quite long enough to become accepted in the highest circles of society. Lady Caroline and Mary, whose family was landed gentry, provided that acceptance.

  Now Mr. Archer belonged to any club of his choosing, had a wife who visited duchesses, and children who attended the best schools.

  Caroline gave me a sad smile in exchange for my condolences. Mr. Archer merely quirked his lips then directed his attention to a gentleman behind him. I turned back to his wife.

  “I was surprised to see you at the funeral service, Frances. It’s so kind of you to call on us at this sad time.”

  “But of course I would call. Mary and I were friends after all. I suppose our shared widowhood gave us some common ground on which to come together.”

  Caroline arched a brow. “She kept so much to herself but I’m pleased to hear she maintained some of her more refined friendships.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “It appears she associated with some unsavory types as well.”

  Unsavory? “What leads you to believe such a thing?”

  She gaped at me as if I were dim. “She was murdered in her own home, Frances. That would not have happened if she’d been under our roof, keeping the right company, and living a blameless life.”

  I tried not to stare, but for heaven’s sake, was she truly blaming Mary for being murdered?

  Car
oline took a step back. “That may sound harsh, but you know I’m correct.”

  Apparently, I had been staring. “I’m sure she would have been safer under your roof, Caroline,” I said. “Has there been any progress in finding her killer?”

  “None that I am aware of.”

  Her chilly tone told me she was eager to distance herself from such a distasteful topic. I lifted my brows. “Haven’t the police consulted with you? I would think as her family they would expect you to have some knowledge of her acquaintance, or who might want to harm her.”

  “Yes, well, of course they asked a great many questions when they came to inform us of her death.” Her tone softened along with her expression. “It’s painful to admit we were unable to enlighten them as she kept herself so apart from the family.”

  Caroline’s demeanor confused me. In one breath she condemned Mary’s style of living and in the next she was hurt by her distance. I supposed a murder of so close a relation must bring on a storm of emotions. Many of them at odds with each other. Perhaps Caroline herself didn’t know how she felt.

  “You should not take it to heart,” I said. “Mary always gave me the impression that she truly cherished her independence.”

  “Her death makes me feel so sad about the distance between us,” she said with a sigh. “We were not overly close when Jasper was alive, but since his death, she separated herself from us completely.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. Usually one turns toward family for comfort in times of grief.”

  She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Not Mary. She’d never accept an invitation to our home.” She lowered her voice. “We tried to assist her, but she wanted nothing from us.”

  I could not ask, of course, but assumed Caroline meant financial assistance. Mary’s situation was becoming more and more interesting. If her sister and sister-in-law were to be believed, she refused support from both families. The Archers hadn’t cut her off; it was the reverse. I could understand her need for independence if it hadn’t meant turning to such a distasteful way of earning a living. I doubted Louise and her husband had much to spare, but why had Mary refused help from the Archers? If she would not visit them, it would suggest something more than just a need for independence.