by Kate Parker
I pinned on my wide-brimmed gray hat with the violet ribbon roses and feathers, pulled on my gloves, crossed my fingers, and with a cheery good-bye, walked out to the carriage.
Thank goodness we didn’t have any customers in the shop at that moment.
When I was handed up by the footman, I discovered the seat cushions as well as the curtains in this carriage were a plush dark blue velvet. The decorative edgings were gold. The Duchess of Blackford and Lady Kaldaire had the forward-facing seat, so I sat with my back to the horses. Fortunately, the rocking of the carriage didn’t give me queasiness as it did to so many.
This must have been the carriage the duke had used the day before.
The Lawson residence was not far from Regent’s Park. The footman was sent up to ring the bell and present the duchess’ and Lady Kaldaire’s cards before helping us down from the carriage. As usual, I went last, giving me a chance to notice the relative newness of the buildings and the cheerfulness of the early spring flowers set out in pots and along the edges of the buildings.
The manservant, still a boy really despite his livery, escorted us up to the main drawing room. Two women were already waiting in the blue and cream-colored room.
The younger of the two rose when we entered and said, “I’m Priscilla Lawson. I will warn you again that Hugo, Mr. Watson, does not want me to make any statements about Victoria’s death.” She was small and delicate and had the slumped shoulders of someone who carried a great weight with her all the time.
I wanted to meet Mr. Watson. Was he the great weight she carried?
The older of the two rose and said, “I’m Lady Marian Lawson. Welcome to my home.”
We greeted Lady Lawson while she curtsied to the duchess in the small space between a heavy table and a massive sofa. Lady Lawson still preferred decorating in the style of our late queen.
After we were seated and the tea was poured, no one knew quite how to begin a conversation concerning Miss Lawson’s guilt or innocence.
As usual, I leaped in. Unlike these other ladies, I didn’t have all day. “I understand you were a good friend of Victoria Abbott.”
Priscilla gave me a shy smile. “Yes, we were close since the days when she was Victoria Watson.”
“Did you see much of her after her marriage? After all, you were both in London all the time, weren’t you?”
She shook her head. “We were both in the country for the autumn. Then we met again at the Watson estate for the Christmas season. Bartholomew, Hugo, and one of Hugo’s brothers were about the same age and served in the navy together.”
“Was it after Christmas that Victoria and Bartholomew began to frequent the Marlowe Club?”
Her glare was full of fury. “They never frequented the Marlowe Club. They were only there a few times.”
“And that quickly, Victoria was dead.”
The fury in her eyes melted in unshed tears. “It wasn’t right.”
I softened my tone. “What wasn’t?”
“Vic—”
“That’s enough, Priscilla,” her mother said sternly.
“Priscilla, tell us,” I said.
“I forbid it,” Lady Lawson said.
“Do you want Victoria’s killer to go free?” I glared at the thin older woman.
“It’s not seemly.” She folded her hands in her lap.
“Murder isn’t seemly,” the duchess said, “which is why it must be punished.”
All heads turned to look at her, sitting demurely while holding a teacup. She gave Lady Lawson a regal nod.
“If you know anything, you must tell us,” I told Priscilla.
“Why? What can you do?” she demanded.
“See that justice is done,” I replied. It sounded grandiose, but I hoped it would work.
“Hah.” Obviously, Priscilla didn’t fall for my sweeping claims.
“What makes you think I can’t?”
“Because he’s dead.”
She stopped me, but she didn’t stop the duchess. “Who is? Bartholomew or Theo?”
“Both,” Priscilla replied.
“They were in it together?” I sounded amazed to my own ears.
“No. Victoria was already dead when Bartholomew found out what had happened after gambling all night. He went after Theo. Theo taunted him with not being there to protect his wife. Theo laughed at him and said Bartholomew failed her.” Priscilla let loose one loud sob.
I felt ill at all the ruined lives Theo was responsible for. “How did Victoria die?”
“She just stopped breathing.” Priscilla’s voice faded as she looked down.
“Was she strangled?” I asked.
She nodded, still looking down. “She resisted Theo and he choked her as he…” Priscilla burst into sobs.
“I hope you’re happy,” her mother snapped at me.
“How could anyone be happy over Victoria’s death?” I asked.
“Digging up gossip.” Lady Lawson glared as she leaned toward me in her chair.
“How did she end up in the carriage?” the duchess asked.
“You’ll have to ask Hugo,” Priscilla said between sobs.
“I’ll have the duke ask him.” The Duchess of Blackford spoke serenely.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Lady Lawson said.
“Of course I would.”
I looked at the duchess in admiration. I wondered if James could be as accepting a husband as the duke.
Priscilla looked from one to another of us and then said, “Hugo bribed one of the men who works at the club, who said he helped put her in a carriage. Then two carriages raced off, Lord Theo driving one of them, until he got into an accident with a delivery wagon.”
“Miss Lawson, was Victoria in the carriage that was in the accident?”
“No,” she told me, shaking her head as she wiped away a tear, “she was in the other carriage that overturned later. It was in a park and no one saw who was driving or who freed the horses. The carriage was stolen.”
“Who did the man from the Marlowe Club say was driving the second carriage?”
Priscilla looked down. “Lady Westkirk.”
“Why would Lady Westkirk steal a carriage and drive off with Lady Abbott’s body?” Lady Kaldaire’s tone made clear she didn’t understand any of what happened.
The young lady burst into tears. “I don’t know. All I know is Victoria was my friend and now she’s dead because of Lord Theo Hughes.”
“Did Hugo or any of the Watson family attempt to get revenge on Lord Theo?” I asked.
“It certainly would have been understandable,” Lady Kaldaire muttered.
I shot her a dark look as Priscilla said, “No. I asked Hugo and he promised me he wouldn’t. He said he’d like to shake the hand of the man who killed him.”
“Hugo doesn’t know who killed Theo?” the duchess asked.
“No.” Priscilla shook her fair head. “And neither do I. But I know who killed Victoria, and he deserved to die.”
“And his wife? Did Roxanne deserve to be murdered?” I asked.
“Theo killed her, not Lady Theo.” Priscilla turned her head at the sound of voices in the front hallway. “Hugo’s here. Now you can ask him yourself.”
Hugo Watson blew into the room, a big man looking to be in high temper from his reddened complexion. He glared at the three of us before standing next to Priscilla and laying a hand on her slumped shoulders. “Have you been badgering Miss Lawson?”
“Hello, Mr. Watson,” the duchess said with a smile. “Miss Lawson has just been telling us how distressed you both are at your sister’s death.”
“What else has she been telling you?” he asked.
His fiancée flinched.
“That someone did you both a favor and killed Lord Theo before you had a chance to,” I said. “What she didn’t have a chance to tell us is whether you two killed his wife, Lady Theo.”
“The notorious Lady Roxanne? Why would we do that? She had nothing to do with Victoria’s death
.” His tone didn’t waver from belligerent. They obviously hadn’t heard the story we had.
“I have no idea,” I told him. “But I do know it would have taken two people to move her body from where she was killed to where she was found.”
“Well, it wasn’t us.” His lower jaw stuck out. I wondered if that was his normal pose or if he was trying to frighten us off. The three aristocratic ladies sat in their customary straight-backed position, looking as though we were discussing the weather.
“And it wasn’t your brothers?”
“Why would they?”
“Why would they, indeed?” I smiled at the couple, aware of Lady Lawson glaring at me. “And I suppose you’ll tell me you weren’t the one to give a beating to Lucky Marlowe, the owner of the club where Victoria died?”
Hugo looked around the room to find all of us staring at him. “Yes, I did, but that’s all I did. He deserved worse, running a club like that. Once he knocked himself out on a wall, I kicked him a couple of times.” He glared at me. “He was alive when I left.”
“If you’re quite finished here, I’m sure Priscilla and Hugo and I have preparations to make for the wedding,” the older woman said as she rose.
We also rose and said our farewells. I was impressed at how gracefully Lady Kaldaire and the duchess could leave a place they were not welcome. I made a pale imitation of their exit.
“Well,” the duchess said as we climbed back into the carriage, “that was a good guess, Emily. But what will be our next step?”
“We’ve ruled out one pair who could have carried Roxanne out of the tunnel and across the street. We need to think of some others,” I said.
“As much as the Duchess of Wallingford would approve, I doubt she and the duke are the pair you seek,” Lady Kaldaire said in a dry tone.
The duchess chuckled. Then with a sigh, she said, “Bartholomew Abbott was dead before Theo, so he couldn’t be involved. Perhaps Lucky Marlowe and one of his henchmen?”
“He seemed surprised to learn that Victoria died in his club rather than in the carriage accident,” I told them.
“And you believe him?” Lady Kaldaire asked. “He’s nothing but a ruffian.”
“Ruffian or not, he sounded sincere,” I replied. “What about Lord and Lady Ellingham? Or the duke’s heir and his wife? Oh, wait, no,” I said as I pictured hysterical Dorothy. “She couldn’t manage to move a body without going insane. But I bet Lady Margaret Ellingham could.”
“She wouldn’t,” Lady Kaldaire said.
“How can you be certain?” I asked.
“That’s not the sort of thing she’d do. Order Roxanne’s clothes to be packed in a trunk and deposited on the pavement. Snub her. She would do something direct. Margaret didn’t need to kill her. She would just see that Roxanne was banned from polite society,” Lady Kaldaire told me.
I was glad to see even Lady Kaldaire could give Roxanne her own name and not call her Lady Theo, a name the poor dead woman must have found hateful.
But here we’d found another pair that failed to meet the requirements of Roxanne’s killers. As we rode along, I had one more thought. “How about Lord and Lady Ravenbrook? Or Lord Armstrong and Lady Westkirk?”
“Why would they kill Roxanne?” the Duchess of Blackford asked.
“I’ve been told she was going to emigrate and that takes money. Perhaps she was blackmailing them and they either couldn’t or wouldn’t pay.”
“That sounds like Lady Westkirk, but not Lord Armstrong. He has to be circumspect or his wife, the royally born Lady Armstrong, could have him cut off without a penny and banned from the royal court. The kiss of death for a man in Armstrong’s position,” the duchess said. “He has a title, but absolutely no money of his own. And Lady Armstrong made certain before they wed that he could never get his hands on hers.”
“Does he get an allowance from her?” It made sense to me that Lady Armstrong would give him a large one in the hopes of keeping her husband out of trouble and the penny press.
“A very small one. Lady Armstrong works on the principle that her husband can’t get into trouble if he doesn’t have the money to afford it.” The duchess shook her head. “From the amount of gambling he does, Lady Armstrong thinks he’s either very lucky or owes a great number of people who will soon show up on her doorstep.”
I knew Lucky Marlowe wouldn’t be one. He said Lord Armstrong always had a full purse. “Then I suppose we need to talk to Lady Ravenbrook again.” I looked from one lady to the other.
The duchess knocked on the ceiling and when the footman responded, she gave him directions to the Ravenbrook address. As she settled back in her seat, the duchess said, “Let’s hope she’s not out calling on friends. That would make it difficult to find her, and she seems to be part of our likeliest pair for Roxanne’s murder.”
If it wasn’t the Archers, as they called themselves at the Marlowe Club, I was out of suspects. It seemed so unlikely that a random housebreaker would find out about the tunnel, find Roxanne there, kill her, and then undress the body and put it in the park across the street. Too unlikely to be believed.
The killer had to be someone who knew her well. If it wasn’t, we’d never figure out this murder, and Roxanne’s killer would go free.
Chapter Twenty-Three
We arrived at the Ravenbrook residence a few minutes later. This time, before the duchess could send up her card with the footman, Lady Kaldaire said, “I think we should just ring the bell, don’t you? She’s not expecting us. Less chance of her not being at home.”
I knew if members of the aristocracy didn’t want to invite you into their drawing room, they had their servants say they weren’t at home. I suspected Lady Kaldaire would march past the footman into the house, making it harder for Lady Ravenbrook to deny being home.
As it turned out, I needn’t have worried.
We rang the bell, the ladies handed the footman their cards, and he escorted us to the drawing room. Lady Ravenbrook bustled in a few minutes later, dressed elegantly and appearing energetic and in command.
“Lady Ravenbrook, I’m so glad to see you’ve overcome the effects of the poison,” Lady Kaldaire said.
“Thank you. Won’t you sit?” our hostess said. “You’re lucky to have caught me in.”
“Are you traveling?” I asked.
“Yes. Lord Ravenbrook and I are going to our country estate to avoid the hot weather in London.”
We were still months away from any hot weather. I didn’t believe her, but there was no point in saying that and having us thrown out of Lady Ravenbrook’s drawing room. “Has Scotland Yard had any luck in finding out who poisoned the punch?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I said. “And you don’t believe the attack was aimed at you personally?”
“No.” The idea seemed to startle her as her eyes widened and she smoothed her green skirt. “I have no enemies who would want to kill me.”
“But you do have enemies.” I made it a statement and watched her reaction.
She lifted her head. “Everyone has enemies.”
“Roxanne had enemies. I suppose that’s why she planned to emigrate.”
“Roxanne? Emigrate?” Frown lines appeared on Lady Ravenbrook’s forehead. “She never told me that, and I think she would have told me.”
“Why do you think she would have told you?” I was curious about their relationship.
“We got along well. Two bored married women disliked by our husbands’ mothers and looking for a little excitement to break up the monotony of our lives. We tried to help each other survive.” She relaxed a little and unhunched her shoulders. The tension in her face disappeared.
“Would Roxanne have left her husband? He was, by all accounts, brutal.”
“She knew she could never escape him. She was in it for life. She half expected him to lash out and kill her at any moment. Which was why she was so relieved when he died.”
“Relieved?” I sounded surprised, but if Lady Ravenbroo
k’s words were true, I could understand Roxanne’s gratefulness.
“Yes. She spoke once after Theo died about going back to northern England, where her family lives, and putting Wallingford House behind her. She said she was sick of London. Theo had been brutal to her, to the servants, to his nephew. And he was getting worse.”
“Then why would she have taken an…overindulged young lady to him in the upstairs of the Marlowe Club?”
She laughed. “Not Roxanne. She wouldn’t have done it anyway, but the woman who takes care of all those arrangements at the Marlowe Club is Lady Westkirk.”
“Lady Westkirk took Victoria Abbott to Lord Theo? Not Roxanne?” If so, it changed everything I’d thought about these deaths.
“Of course it was Bianca Westkirk. Lady Beatrix indeed. She was born to be a madam.” There was scorn in her tone and something else. Anger? Fear?
Then her words hit me. “Lady Westkirk took care of all of the arrangements between willing participants at the Marlowe Club?”
“Of course. Sometimes she arranged unwilling participants, too. That was what Roxanne told me. She was as disgusted by Bianca as she was by Theo.”
Lady Kaldaire gasped. The duchess looked ill.
I was having trouble picturing this. “And it was Lady Westkirk who drove Victoria’s body away from the club in a stolen carriage? She couldn’t have done all that by herself.”
“I imagine Lord Armstrong or a couple employees of the club did the heavy lifting, but Lady Westkirk was the brains behind the carriage ride,” Lady Ravenbrook said. “She bragged to me about it later.”
“It sounds like Lady Westkirk was in a powerful position at the Marlowe Club. Almost an owner. Why did Lucky Marlowe let her do these things?” I asked.
Lady Ravenbrook spread her hands apart and shrugged her thin shoulders. “Because there was a need for someone to carry out these tasks, and Bianca was born to please men. For the right incentive, of course. With Bianca, that incentive was money.”
Why Marlowe let her do this was a question I also needed to pose to Uncle Thomas. “What did Lord Abbott do about Lord Theo and Lady Westkirk treating his wife that way?”
“He had been losing heavily at the gaming tables for weeks and when encouraged that night to help himself to the brandy bottle, he was in no condition to know where Victoria was until it was over and she was dead.” Lady Ravenbrook shook her head. “Victoria was a sweet child and should never have been treated that way.”