“How was your luncheon?”
Her face took on a dreamy expression. “Oh, my lady, it was everything wonderful.”
“How lovely.” I placed a hand on her shoulder as I stepped out of the black dress.
“The dining room was so elegant, filled with small tables covered with snow white cloths.” She paused, assessing my waistline. “We’ll have to tighten your corset a bit, I think.” She turned me around and got to work. “Well, when they rolled the tea cart over to our table, I just wanted to order one of everything. Scones, seedy cake, and the tarts—all so luscious.”
“Ooof” was the best response I could manage as she pulled my laces tighter. I drew a tentative breath. Yes, I could breathe—barely. “Bridget, you do realize I’m going down to dinner, don’t you?”
She slipped the gown over my head. “I’d advise you not to eat overmuch, my lady.”
“I doubt I’ll be able to.” I worked my arms into the tissue sleeves and gave her a glare over my shoulder.
She smiled. “I have some information on the matter you asked me to check into as well.” She settled the dress on my shoulders and began working the buttons.
“Ah, do tell.”
“Well, my friend Sadie says Miss Zimmerman is one of the nicest people she’s ever worked for, so she was real eager to talk about her. On and on she raved.” Tugging the fabric together at my back, she peeked over my shoulder, a scowl marring her features. “As for the duke, it seems people are always telling Miss Zimmerman about his antics.”
“Really? People in general, or her friends?”
“Sounds like these people are no friends, ma’am. And I don’t think there’s anything about him that would surprise her. She’s well aware he’s only after her money.”
“Well, at least her eyes are open.” I turned to inspect myself in the mirror. Yes, I’d do. Bridget was bundling up my discarded gown. “Thank you for your assistance today, Bridget. And I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” I sighed. Another suspect off the list. Another ninety or so to go.
* * *
Fortunately, dinner included only Lottie, Charles, and myself so we were at liberty to discuss all the new developments of the day, from who had attended the funeral, to my new job as a columnist, to the possibility that it had been the editor Charles saw at Mary’s house the night she was murdered.
“And since he’s also been murdered, I am once again the most likely suspect.” He lifted his wineglass in a mock toast before draining its contents.
I frowned. It wasn’t his first glass. “But if it was the editor you saw then, as Mr. Hazelton pointed out, Mary was alive at the time you drove past.” I hadn’t noticed a thing I’d eaten at dinner, but since only cheese and fruit were left on the table, it appeared we’d finished. I wasn’t sure if it was the turn of events or drink that made him increasingly maudlin, but it seemed a good idea to move him away from the source of wine. I suggested we retire to the drawing room.
Lottie seated herself at the card table covered with Mary’s files, while I drew the drapes across the street-facing window, and Charles turned up the gas on the overhead lamp. “What do we do now?” she asked when we joined her at the table. “Do you and Mr. Hazelton still believe Mrs. Archer threatened to publish someone’s secrets unless they paid up? And since the editor was also murdered, does that mean he was also involved in the blackmail scheme?”
“The only thing I’m sure it means is that someone knew they were working together.” I picked up Lily’s forgotten pen and tapped it on the table. “But we haven’t determined how they found out.”
“She would never have told anyone,” Charles said. “And you’re certain no one at the Observer knew Mrs. Archer’s identity?”
My gaze drifted upward while I considered the question. “We didn’t specifically ask, but no one from the Observer tried to contact Mary when Mr. Norton died. And Mr. Mosley indicated Norton kept her identity to himself. I feel fairly comfortable that she worked with Norton alone.”
“Perhaps a servant had a case of conscience and told his master.”
“That servant would not only lose his employment, he’d never work again. Facing such an end, I think he’d choose to live with the guilt. But you make a good point, Charles. What if the servant hadn’t passed any gossip on to Mary, but knew of her and her system of obtaining it? Might that servant have mentioned it to his master?”
He pursed his lips as he considered the suggestion. “If I’d been Mary, I’m not sure I would have used my true name while collecting gossip. But I suppose the servant might have known her by sight.”
“Just to play devil’s advocate,” Lottie said, “even if someone recognized her from a servant’s description, why not just expose her? That would put an end to the gossip columns and shame her in society.”
Blast, she was right. “I fear we’re going in circles. We keep coming back to her threatening someone.”
Charles slumped back in his chair.
“It isn’t necessarily blackmail,” I said, and explained George’s theory that Mary was about to expose someone’s wrongdoing. “Frankly, that sounds more like the woman I knew,” I added. “But it must be one or the other. If blackmail, the leverage of holding a scandal over someone’s head is the only thing that would protect her from exposure. If she was acting as a vigilante, then the issue was so egregious, she’d risk exposure.”
“Either way, we are still looking for something scandalous in these files, aren’t we?” Lottie asked. “Is that how you want us to proceed?”
“Perhaps you two could make a list of anyone who was at the funeral and has a note in the scandal files.” I picked up the two Do not use folders and handed one to each of them. “Meanwhile I’ll try to write a column or two from the gossip files. Mr. Hazelton said he’d have a footman deliver them to the Observer, and Mr. Mosley is holding a space for it, so I’d best get busy.”
“I still don’t understand why you’re writing the column.”
Before I could attempt an explanation, Lottie spoke up. “If someone murdered Mrs. Archer and Mr. Norton to stop them from printing something, seeing the column in the paper again might make him fear that his story may be published after all.” She rose from her seat and began leafing through pages before her. “And I have another idea.”
Goodness, she fairly buzzed with excitement. I simply must provide alternative entertainment for the girl.
“Along, with the regular gossip stories,” she said. “I suggest we publish one or two of the more scandalous notes. Or perhaps just a portion of the note.”
She glanced from Charles to me and bit her lip as she realized we were not following her. She pulled a page from her file. “Here’s a good example. We determined this one was about Lord Larkin and Mrs. Frazier spending two days together at a hotel in Paris when Mrs. Frazier was supposed to be buying a new wardrobe. Why don’t we publish just a suggestion of it? Was Lord L. acting as a modiste while in Paris? If this writer learns there is more to this rumor, dear reader, I will report.”
Yes, I definitely needed to find a more suitable form of amusement for her. This was not the type of experience Mrs. Deaver had planned when she’d left her daughter with me. Still, I had to commend her ingenuity. “So, we tease the readers with a glimpse of a story to follow. I like it.”
Charles blew out a breath. “I don’t understand it.”
“Mr. Hazelton thinks the return of the column will draw the murderer out. But we all agree no one would kill to put an end to the minor gossip. But if we reveal just a hint of the more salacious stories we have, he’s bound to become nervous and make some attempt to find out who is writing the column again.”
“What about something like this one?” Lottie pulled another page from her file and placed it in the center of the table. “It’s one we weren’t able to decipher.”
SSE, CTS, W-H & S, CACC. 6 March, 1898. LH, SH, LM, LR at least J.
“I still have no idea what it means or to whom it relates,
” I said.
She frowned as she stared at the note. “The date is clear, but everything else is just letters or initials.”
Charles leaned forward to peruse the note. “Gad, my eyes are crossing trying to make sense of it. Must be old news though, judging by the date.”
I hadn’t noticed, but he was right. “Mr. Mosley told us Mary had been writing the columns for close to a year. This is several months earlier.”
“If she kept it, it must still have some significance, don’t you think?” Lottie moved around the table to get a better look. She ran a pencil along the handwritten lines. “Though I’m not sure how we’d use it.”
“Why don’t we print the first set of initials, then a dash, followed by the second set? Then ask, Is someone up to no good? This writer will find out.”
Lottie smiled. “I like it.” She foraged through the notes on the table for Lily’s leftover stationery and began composing the column.
I turned to Charles who sat back and raised his hands. “I’ll leave this to you ladies and make my list of the funeral guests. Should I include the Archers? Did you find any scandalous notes about them in here?”
“Only if it was even more cryptic than that last note.” He and I moved our conversation across the room so as not to disturb Lottie’s writing. I felt a slight twinge of guilt that she was doing my work, but it passed quickly.
“Besides, if she was getting her information from servants, then the Archer servants would know her. She wouldn’t dare approach them for gossip.”
“No, I suppose that would be very reckless, wouldn’t it? But even if she didn’t approach one of them that doesn’t mean an Archer servant didn’t get wind of the system.”
Charles leaned casually against the sofa back, arms crossed in front of him. “As far as the family members themselves, can you be sure no one in the family knew Mary was writing the column?”
I chewed on my lip, pondering the thought. “Louise definitely thought the Archers were providing Mary’s support. I’m quite sure she had no knowledge of the column.”
He observed my hesitation. “But Lady Caroline?”
“She was harder to read. She mentioned Mary was involved with a lower class of people.” I closed my eyes and struggled to bring her exact words to mind. “At the time I assumed she was just throwing barbs at her sister-in-law, but perhaps she knew Mary was working with servants and journalists.”
“Is there a way to find out?”
I gave my cousin a smile. Sometimes the man was quite clever indeed. “There may be a way, but I’ll need your assistance.”
Chapter 14
The next day Charles and I set out to call on Lady Caroline. It was somewhat improper to call on a grieving family so soon after the funeral, but my cousin was known for his rather eccentric behavior, and as long as he was his usual self, we’d likely get away with this.
Nevertheless, my mother had drummed these social rules so deeply into my head, my legs shook as we stepped up to the door. To my surprise, the bell knob was bare. No draping of black crepe. None on the knocker either.
I turned to Charles and lifted a brow. If the Archers were not designating the house as one in mourning, perhaps my hesitation in calling was baseless. Interesting.
After seating us in a small sitting room, the butler took my card to his mistress to determine if she was at home. Within ten minutes, the lady herself walked into the room, wearing black, and a smile that crinkled her hazel eyes. Hmm. Observing mourning but not necessarily feeling it.
“Frances, how kind of you to call.”
We both stood on her entering the room. “I’m relieved to hear that, Caroline. I was concerned about intruding on you too soon.”
“Heavens. We are old friends, are we not? Surely a quiet visit would offend no one’s sensibilities.”
Actually, it would likely offend many sensibilities, but I allowed her to be the judge. I presented Charles, and Caroline sat down with us. We discussed the weather, the visitors from the prior day, and other generalities. Finally, I brought up my ruse for calling.
“My cousin believes he lost his watch fob here yesterday, and it’s rather dear to him. Would it be too much trouble to inquire if anyone found it in your drawing room?”
“Of course not. In fact, let us go there now and I’ll ring for refreshments.”
Once in the drawing room, Charles nudged me away from the sofa and over to one of the chairs while Lady Caroline walked away from us toward the bellpull. “What?” I whispered, giving him a glare.
As an answer, he made some strange contortions with his face and bobbed his head at the chair. Once I glanced in that direction, I realized a newspaper was lying on the table. The Daily Observer—perfect. Goodness, we were far enough away from Caroline that he could have just whispered to me.
I took the chair and picked up the paper, quickly leafing to the gossip column, while he made a show of searching under the furniture for his lost fob. By the time Caroline joined us, I’d returned the paper to the table, folded with the column prominently displayed.
“Mr. Evingdon, it’s not necessary for you to check the room yourself. A maid will be here momentarily. I’ll simply ask if they’ve found anything.” She made as if to sit on the sofa until Charles, with a shooing motion, herded her over to the chair next to mine. I ignored the look of confusion she threw my way, pretending I’d just discovered the paper.
“I was seated here for a time yesterday,” he said, indicating the sofa. “I should check the cushions.” He began dropping the loose pillows to the floor.
“Must be a rather valuable piece,” Caroline muttered under her breath.
I leaned across the table and smiled at her. “He’s a little eccentric,” I whispered. “But very nice.”
Caroline returned my smile then addressed the maid who had just entered the room. “We’d like tea, Bertha. And can you ask if a watch fob was found when this room was cleaned?”
“This is good news,” I said, once the maid had left. “The Miss Information column has returned today. Do you read it?” I lifted my gaze to keep a close watch on her expression while Charles pulled cushions from the sofa.
She glanced down at the column as I tapped it with my index finger then took it from the table. “Yes. I’ve read it from time to time, but not with any regularity.” She turned back to me with some surprise on her face. “I wouldn’t have thought this to be the sort of thing to interest you.”
I released a tinkling laugh that sounded fake even to me. Perhaps I should quell my enthusiasm. “You forget I have two young ladies in my household. They’ve been bemoaning its absence for days now, so I’m delighted for its return.”
A frown furrowed her brow. “Do you really think this is appropriate material for young ladies?”
I gave her a one-shoulder shrug. “I’ve found that forbidding something often makes a girl try all the harder to obtain it. If you’ve read the column, you know it’s relatively harmless. I wonder where she gets her information.”
Charles had finally given up his search and piled the cushions haphazardly back on the sofa. Caroline threw him a glance as he plopped himself down. “Do you really think the writer is a woman?” she asked.
My spirits sank with that question. “I assumed simply from the title—Miss Information—that she was, but I hadn’t given it much thought.”
Caroline wrinkled her nose. “I don’t believe a woman could work as a journalist. It is such a man’s world, don’t you agree?”
“One could make the case that every line of business is a man’s world. Wouldn’t you agree, Charles?”
He squirmed a bit under the weight of our gazes. “I would never underestimate the skills of the female gender, but if the columnist is a woman, she would find herself dealing mostly with men.”
I struggled to repress a chuckle as he grinned back at us. He’d struck the perfect balance with his answer, neither insulting nor condescending.
“But as you say, whe
re would she get her information?” Caroline folded the paper and placed it on the table between us, staring off to the distance as if contemplating the matter. A smile blossomed across her lips. “Unless she bribed the servants.”
The remark was followed by a light ripple of laughter, which I attempted to join with little success. It was difficult enough not to stare at the woman with my jaw hanging open. Remarkably, Charles came to my rescue.
“If that’s true, Miss Information has spies everywhere.” He waggled his brows. “You should watch what you say around your servants, my lady.”
Caroline waved a dismissive hand. “No good servant would tell tales outside their household.”
The maid returned with our tea and the assurance that no watch fob was found in the entirety of the house. Her presence effectively cut off our conversation.
By this point I couldn’t be certain if Lady Caroline had unwittingly stumbled on to the truth, or if she’d known all along her sister-in-law had been Miss Information and was simply baiting me. We stayed for another uncomfortable fifteen minutes, sipping tea and speaking of social engagements. As I could devise no way to broach the subject again without making her suspicious, we took our leave.
* * *
We argued all the way home.
“I’m sure she knows about the column. Why else would she say such a thing?”
“Though I’m inclined to agree, a passing comment cannot be deemed proof.”
He crossed his arms and sank back into the leather upholstery of the carriage. “It would explain why the Archers were so angry with Mary. Rather than return to the family home, she chose to work for a living.”
Indeed, it would. “But even if Caroline knew Mary wrote the column, she certainly couldn’t be the murderer.”
He raised a brow. “But what of her husband? Perhaps she left the dirty work to him.”
“Now you’re jumping to conclusions. I suspect you’d be prepared to see anyone as the murderer so you aren’t required to examine those files again.”
A Lady's Guide to Gossip and Murder Page 15