Murder at the Marlowe Club

by Kate Parker

“You don’t need to worry about the police, Emily. You need to worry about your business.” Lady Kaldaire stared at me.

  I understood Lady Kaldaire’s threat. She’d learned about my father’s disreputable family. They were con men, thieves, burglars, swindlers. It didn’t matter how good I was at making hats. No respectable woman would wear my designs if my family connections were whispered about. I would be out of business in a fortnight if Lady Kaldaire were to tell her friends and acquaintances.

  It was a very effective threat. But why was she forcing me into this investigation? It made no sense. Glancing at the duchess, I said, “How was your son murdered, if his death wasn’t due to an accident?”

  “He was bashed on the back of the head by some unknown object while he walked along one of our upstairs hallways. I’m sure of it.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  It seemed an odd way to kill someone. “What time was this?”

  “It was in the middle of the night.”

  “Where did he live?”

  “He and Roxanne lived under our roof. Had since they married. We thought it might settle down their excesses. Wretched woman.”

  “Do you have any evidence of who might have killed him?”

  “Roxanne, obviously.” Her tone was stronger now as she accused her son’s wife.

  “Did anyone witness this? Do you have any evidence? Or is your accusation due merely to your dislike of her?” I hoped if I forced her to examine her motives, she’d decide she didn’t want my help and I would be free to get back to work without infuriating Lady Kaldaire.

  The duchess glared at me. “You’re impertinent.”

  “Do you really want to know who killed your son and his wife, or are you content to cast blame without any facts?” I was sailing close to being thrown out of the house, but I didn’t care. The duchess wasn’t a customer. And I didn’t want to investigate another murder.

  The duchess pointed at the door. “Leave. Now.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” I set down my cup and saucer and rose from my seat.

  “No. Wait. Lulu. Wouldn’t you feel better if you knew?” Lady Kaldaire said.

  The duchess turned her ire on Lady Kaldaire. “It won’t bring Theo back.”

  “It didn’t bring Horace back, either, but I sleep better at night.” Lady Kaldaire wanted to investigate this murder, but I had no idea why. To do this, she was willing to placate the duchess. And that meant she had to find a way to turn the duchess’s temper away from anger and sorrow.

  “Roxanne killed Theo. No one else would dream of doing such a thing to my sweet boy.”

  I doubted anyone who was struck over the head in a houseful of family was a “sweet boy.”

  I reached the door and glanced back. The two women were glaring at each other. I was forgotten. I opened the door and walked away.

  The butler had my coat and umbrella for me and opened the front door. I stepped out into the path of Detective Inspector James Russell and a uniformed sergeant before I could get my umbrella open. I ducked under the protection of James’s.

  James tipped his hat. “Miss Gates, you’ve beaten me to the people I wish to speak to. Again.” He didn’t sound pleased.

  I nodded to him, I hoped graciously. “Lady Kaldaire wished me to speak to the duchess and prepare her for the shock awaiting her.”

  “And where is Lady Kaldaire now?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but what I really wanted to do was ask when he could next have dinner above the hat shop with me and my family. “She’s in the morning room with the Duchess of Wallingford.”

  James looked at the butler, standing in the open doorway. “Is the duke at home?” he asked as he showed his badge.

  “The duke is in his study.”

  James gave an audible sigh of relief. “Could you please take us to him?” He again tipped his hat as he gave me a smile. Then he and the sergeant entered the house and the door was firmly shut against me.

  I put up my umbrella, but not in time to save me from a moment of drowning.

  Chapter Four

  I spent most of the rest of the day in my shop, fitting and designing hats for my wealthy clients. Despite the damp, chilly weather, they kept arriving, wanting the latest in summery fashions. I even sold two hats from my inventory to a shop assistant and a clerk. My tired feet and I were looking forward to closing time when I heard a carriage pull up in front.

  The bell over the door jingled. Both Jane, my shop assistant, and I looked toward the door of my finally empty shop. A mother and her daughter, who appeared to be about six years old, walked in. Their clothes proclaimed that the mother had good taste and the income to buy the best. With a shock, I recognized the mother’s hat as having been created by the famous French milliner Caroline Reboux.

  My surprise must have shown on my face, because the mother said, “Yes. I suspect you recognize a fellow designer’s work.”

  “Oh, my. It’s lovely.” I hoped jealousy didn’t show in my tone. “I’m Miss Emily Gates, designer for Duquesne’s Millinery. How may I help you?”

  “My daughter, Lady Juliet, needs a hat to wear to a birthday party for a little friend. I’ve brought a swatch of the material the dress is made of.”

  I nodded to the mother and said to the young girl, “Lady Juliet, if you would care to sit over here, we will be happy to measure your head and then we can look at some ideas for your hat. Will you be wearing your hair the way it is styled today?”

  I seldom had customers this young, but when I did, they were almost all ladies. Therefore, her father must be at least an earl.

  The child looked at her mother with a puzzled face and clutched her doll closer to her.

  The mother said, “Yes, I think your hair looks good in braids.”

  The child faced me then and nodded. She climbed into the chair and Jane began the measurements around her crown, down to her ears, and from the top to under her chin. I had just turned to the mother to ask about styles when Annie, our eight-year-old apprentice, burst in from the storeroom behind the shop.

  Seeing customers, she froze. Then she saw Lady Juliet and smiled. Lady Juliet, seeing her in the mirror, smiled in return.

  “Lady Juliet, this is my apprentice, Annie.” Annie took a half step backward as if preparing to flee. “Annie, would you go into the storeroom and bring me the smallest size of the flat crown bonnet, the ribbon back bonnet, and the empire lace bonnet?”

  Annie nodded and hurried away.

  “These are just plain examples of the three most popular styles for young ladies. We can do any of them in any color and with any trim,” I told the mother.

  “I’ve spoken to Lady Kaldaire,” the mother replied in a soft voice.

  My stomach dropped. I couldn’t afford to turn away customers, particularly if they paid on time, but I didn’t appreciate gaining customers simply because they were interested in having the best gossip in their social circle.

  Before I could say anything, she continued, “Lady Kaldaire knows that before I married, I was involved in investigations of a criminal nature.”

  My jaw dropped and my eyes widened before I forced my expression into a calm mask. “I’m afraid I don’t even know your name, Your Ladyship.”

  The woman gave her daughter a reassuring smile before she turned to face me. She was about average height and had the same reddish hair that I possess. Not what I’d expect of the higher ranks of the aristocracy, who all seemed to me to be blond and washed-out. “Before I became the Duchess of Blackford, I was Miss Georgia Fenchurch of Fenchurch’s Books. I was a member of the Archivist Society.”

  “Does the Archivist Society want to assist Lady Kaldaire with her investigation?” I could see hope for avoiding this insanity.

  “I’m afraid the Archivist Society disbanded after I, and then the cofounder, Sir Broderick, married, and I became a mother. Our lives changed. We’re just friends now. None of us have carried out an investigation in six years.”

  I had no idea wh
o these people were, but my hope vanished into the damp spring air. There was no longer an Archivist Society to aid Lady Kaldaire and get her off my back.

  There was no enthusiasm in my tone when I said, “What can I do for you, Your Grace?”

  “I was thinking I could be of some assistance to you. I ran my bookshop for many years until I married. I know how much time an investigation takes up. I don’t think Lady Kaldaire appreciates your sacrifice.”

  I was saved from responding as Annie came back into the shop carrying the three models. At my nod, she set them out on the big central table.

  The duchess walked over to them, and then glanced at Lady Juliet. When Jane told the girl she could get down, she hopped down and rushed to her mother.

  They quickly agreed on the flat crown bonnet. “I want bows and flowers,” Lady Juliet said.

  Her mother glanced at me.

  “This is a style that welcomes bows and flowers. Just how much depends on the fabric chosen and how much your mother intends to spend.”

  The duchess had brought with her a swatch of fine wool, soft as a baby’s blanket. Using the piece of deep green material, we matched the color to velvet and silk ribbons. This was becoming an expensive hat. When I mentioned a price, the duchess blanched before she glanced at her daughter, who wore a hopeful expression, and nodded.

  As I started to sketch my idea for the duchess, Annie inched a little nearer to Lady Juliet. “Your dolly is beautiful.”

  “This is Mrs. Peeples,” Lady Juliet said in a serious tone. “She’s dressed like my governess.”

  Indeed, the doll’s clothes and hat were made in exquisite detail. She must have cost five times what the child’s hat would cost her mother.

  “May I show her Eliza?” Annie asked in a whisper.

  “Of course.”

  Annie ran off, and I looked at Lady Juliet’s doll again. What would my customers think of Annie’s dirty, torn, much-loved toy?

  I had resumed drawing the hat I was imagining when Annie returned from our flat over the shop. She showed Eliza to Lady Juliet and said proudly, “I made her hat.”

  Lady Juliet’s eyes widened and she bounced on her toes. “That is wonderful. Isn’t it, Mama? May we play?”

  “Of course, dear.”

  The girls moved to a corner of the shop and sat on the floor with their dolls in their laps. Lady Juliet was wearing a yellow velvet dress. I winced and said, “I’m not certain how clean the floor is.”

  “They can worry about that when they’re older,” the duchess said.

  “Is she your only child?” I asked, curious about the Duchess of Blackford. She wasn’t how I pictured a duchess would act or speak, particularly after meeting the Duchess of Wallingford.

  “No, she has two younger brothers. The Marquess of Axford, his father’s heir, whom I still call Jamie, is four, and Lord William—Wills—is two.”

  “I remember my brother when he was little getting dirty at every opportunity.” I gave her a smile.

  “All three are constantly busy, and dirty,” she said, not sounding at all worried about any possible mess, before pointing to a detail in my sketch and asking about adding another ribbon flower.

  I sketched it in and made a couple of other suggestions, gesturing to where they would go on the model of a flat crown bonnet. Then I mentioned another price with everything we’d discussed.

  She told me the price she was willing to pay for the hat and asked how many ribbon flowers that would purchase.

  I showed her on my sketch and added, “I can tell you’ve had experience running a business. You make both of our tasks easier by being direct.”

  “I don’t hesitate to mention price where many of my more gently raised contemporaries have been schooled to avoid any reference to money,” the duchess said. “Yes, that looks nice. Now, while the girls are playing, tell me what your connection is to Lady Theodore Hughes.”

  “I didn’t know her in life. She wasn’t a customer. Had you met her?” I hoped the duchess would be able to help.

  “Yes. Wallingford House is across the street from Blackford House. Roxanne was the wife of the younger son of the Duke of Wallingford. She and Theodore made a handsome couple.” She shook her head. “What a tragedy.”

  As long as Lady Kaldaire was determined to throw me headlong into another murder investigation, I decided I’d ask questions of the Duchess of Blackford. It was a rare day when I saw two duchesses, much less spoke to them. “Do you subscribe to the Duchess of Wallingford’s theory that Lady Theodore killed her husband?”

  The duchess raised her eyebrows. “She told you that?”

  “Yes, and she is determined that whoever killed Lady Theodore should escape hanging.” I watched her to see her reaction.

  I didn’t need to study her features. Her words told me everything. “If the duchess had paid attention to her son, she would have known what an evil, rotten—”

  “Mama, may I go upstairs to Annie’s room?” a small voice broke in.

  The duchess gave a little jump. “That depends on whether it is all right with Miss Gates.”

  I gave a quick thought to the neatness of our flat above the shop. The cleaner had made a pass through that morning. “Annie, can you two behave upstairs?”

  “Yes’m.”

  “Then you may.”

  They left in a flurry of dashing feet.

  The duchess and I looked at each other with expressions that said, They can’t get into too much trouble.

  “Lord Theodore was evil?” This duchess was a contrast to the Duchess of Wallingford.

  She nodded. “Most people thought Lady Theodore was the wilder of the pair, but I thought Lord Theodore was a terrible little heathen when I first met him seven years ago. At the time, he was torturing a cat.”

  “Good heavens.” The Duchess of Wallingford thought her cat-torturing son was an angel? How deluded could she be?

  “The duke—the Duke of Blackford, that is—separated Theo and the cat. After that, I tried to avoid Theo. Many of us hoped Roxanne, Roxanne Starley as she was before her marriage, would tone down Theo’s baser tendencies.”

  “Did she?” It was as if I was listening to a frightening tale. Ghastly, but I wanted to hear more.

  “No. He got her involved with his vicious, irresponsible cronies, and Roxanne became almost as dissolute as he was. Of course, the duchess couldn’t see any of this. She believed he was still her impish little boy. As his behavior worsened, she blamed it all on the notorious Roxanne.”

  “So, their deaths could have been due to their involvement in something dangerous or depraved?” Lady Kaldaire wanted to investigate their ends? This was not something I wanted any part of. Leave it to Scotland Yard.

  “More likely because of not paying the suppliers of their debaucheries. Rumor has it they owed everyone. Tradesmen might have to be patient,” she said, and at that we exchanged a knowing smile, “but those who live on the shady side of society, cocaine dealers, gamblers, and procurers of innocents, aren’t known for their patience.”

  I swallowed before I asked, “Does anyone know who these dealers and procurers are?”

  The Duchess of Blackford stared at me. “You’re going to attempt to talk to these people?”

  “Not willingly.” I shrugged slightly. “But I suspect Lady Kaldaire will expect me to at least try to speak to them.”

  Her expression turned suspicious. “That could be dangerous. Why does she have such a hold on you that you would try to question frightening people for her?”

  I felt my face heat as I murmured, “She’s a very persuasive woman.”

  I was doomed. If Lady Kaldaire pressed me into service investigating the killings, I’d have to involve my father’s family. There was no way I could find the people Lord and Lady Theodore owed money to on my own.

  My grandfather was staunchly against the legal but questionable trade in cocaine. He forbade anyone in the family from getting involved in owning or providing for brothels.
Zachariah Gates and his descendants made a good living by stealing from the rich but wouldn’t touch the miseries of drugs and prostitution. I was in for a lecture I didn’t want to hear the moment I asked for their help.

  And if the duchess pressed me for a reason why I’d carry out Lady Kaldaire’s directions, that would mean one more person who knew my secret. One more person who could force me to carry out their instructions.

  She tilted her head to one side. “Why would you do such a thing just because Lady Kaldaire asked?”

  I bit my lip as I shook my head.

  “Miss Gates, I’m in the habit of keeping secrets from my days with the Archivist Society. You needn’t worry about my discretion.” The duchess gave me a tentative smile. “I believe I’ll be able to help, but I always need to know I can trust the person I’m helping. I want to trust you, but I must know the whole truth.”

  Chapter Five

  The Duchess of Blackford made clear by her expression that I had no choice. I was going to have to trust her discretion.

  “I’ve seen very little of my father and his family my entire life,” I told her. That was certainly the truth.

  I saw sympathy flash in her eyes. “Your parents weren’t…?”

  “Oh, they were married.” I sighed. “My father’s a crook.”

  “Oh?” The sympathy disappeared.

  “His whole family are crooks. They’re burglars, con artists, thieves, fraudsters, and swindlers. They’ve probably stolen from half my clientele. If these ladies knew, they’d never do business with me again.”

  I took a deep breath. “I need to keep Duquesne’s Millinery running to put food on the table. My younger brother is deaf and I pay his fees to the Doncaster School for the Deaf. He’s doing quite well there.” There was pride in my tone.

  “I see why you can be coerced by Lady Kaldaire. She is rather determined. I had no plans to come here today to buy Juliet a hat until Lady Kaldaire changed my mind.” She smiled ruefully.

  “I’m so sorry.” The heat on my face told me I was blushing.

  “Don’t be. It’s been a success. But now I need to gather up my daughter and head home for tea.” The Duchess of Blackford patted my shoulder. She was about my height, and while she must have been ten years older, there was something youthful about her. Perhaps it was happiness. “I’ll try to learn more about the Wallingfords and the two deaths, and if I succeed, I’ll let you know.”