by Amanda Quick
“I see.”
“I never dreamed that he might be after the notebook. To think he actually broke into your house like a common burglar.” She frowned. “You say that his family owns a petroleum company?”
She was oddly grateful for the disturbing news about Declan Garraway. Discovering that he was pursuing the notebook came as a relief—not because it explained a few things about his attentions to her on the Northern Star but because it provided a convenient topic of conversation.
She had not slept well last night and a certain portion of her anatomy felt a bit bruised. And the thought of seeing Benedict again had made her unaccountably anxious all morning. She had no idea how a woman was supposed to conduct herself the day after the first passionate tryst with a new lover.
She had deliberated between two approaches—pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred or hurling herself into Benedict’s arms. One look at his stern countenance when she had walked into the drawing room had settled the matter. She would carry on as though she was quite accustomed to such unusual events.
“It would be more accurate to say that young Garraway is working in the family business,” Benedict said. “The Garraway Oil Company.”
“Interesting. Garraway Oil must be extremely concerned about the potential competition that a solar energy system represents.”
“One can see the company’s point of view,” Benedict said. “The Garraways are not alone in believing that petroleum will be the most important source of energy in the future. It’s true that currently it is mostly used as a source of kerosene for lamps, but a significant number of inventors and engineers are developing machines and devices designed to operate on petroleum-based fuels. The oil companies have a reason to fear the development of a rival technology that utilizes a source of energy that is free to all.”
“I suppose that does answer some of the questions I had about Declan Garraway,” she said. “But I must say that I did enjoy our conversations on the topic of psychology. He had some very interesting theories about why otherwise normal people do seemingly irrational things.”
“Human nature is complicated. No doctor can explain it, at least not with our current state of knowledge.”
“I agree.” She drummed her fingers on the seat cushion. “Nevertheless, it occurs to me that it might be useful to discuss the actions of the Bridegroom with Mr. Garraway. He might be able to cast some light on the killer’s reasoning.”
“Damnation, Amity, Garraway is after the notebook. Haven’t you been listening? He broke into my house last night. That makes him a member of the criminal class.”
“I’m sure the attempted burglary was a one-time event.”
“One time is sufficient to throw some doubt on his character, as far as I’m concerned.”
“He was probably quite desperate,” Amity said. “From the sound of things, his father and his uncle are putting a great deal of pressure on him. I’m sure you realize such a situation can be extremely stressful.”
“I don’t believe this. Now you are feeling sorry for Declan Garraway?”
“I can’t bring myself to believe that he’s a bad person—not down deep inside.”
“And you’re certain of this because you had extensive conversations with him on board the Northern Star?” Benedict demanded.
“Well, yes.”
The carriage rolled to a halt in front of a handsome town house.
Benedict glanced out the window, clearly irritated by the interruption. “We have arrived.”
“I look forward to meeting your relatives,” Amity said politely.
“You don’t mean that.”
“You’re right. The truth is I am not at all looking forward to lying to your brother and sister-in-law, who, I am certain, are very nice people.”
“Yes,” Benedict said. He opened the carriage door. “They are nice people. We won’t stay long.”
Marissa Stanbridge was a very pleasant, very charming lady, Amity discovered. She was also a very pregnant lady. They sat together in the garden behind the town house. Benedict and Richard were closeted together in Richard’s study. From where she sat Amity caught occasional glimpses of the two men through the French doors, which stood open.
“We will be leaving London as soon as possible after the baby is born,” Marissa said. She touched her belly in a protective manner. “We want to raise our child at our estate in the country, where the air is clean and fresh. The fog here in the city cannot be good for young lungs.”
“I agree,” Amity said.
“The only reason I’m not having the baby at the estate is because Dr. Thackwell maintains his practice here.”
Amity put her cup down in the saucer. “You are satisfied that Dr. Thackwell is a modern-thinking doctor, I assume?”
“Yes, indeed. Richard and I investigated him quite thoroughly. He holds with all the most advanced theories on the importance of cleanliness and sanitation. In addition, he keeps chloroform at hand in the event that the pain becomes unmanageable.”
Amity smiled. “My father was a doctor. From the sound of it, I think he would have approved of Thackwell.”
“I have read your pieces in the Flying Intelligencer,” Marissa said. “You make globetrotting sound very exciting.”
“It has its moments.”
Marissa raised her brows. “Such as when you saved Benedict’s life on St. Clare?”
“He mentioned that business to you?”
“Of course.” Marissa took a sip of her tea. When she lowered the cup she looked at Amity with veiled curiosity. “We are all very grateful to you. It is appalling that you returned home from all your adventures abroad only to encounter that dreadful killer they call the Bridegroom. Benedict is extremely concerned about your safety, to say the least.”
Amity stilled. “I am aware of his concern.”
“It’s only natural under the circumstances.”
“Yes.” Amity sensed that she was on dangerous ground. “But I’m certain that the police will soon locate the killer.”
“Benedict indicated that they think the Bridegroom is a member of the upper classes—that he may actually move in Society.”
“Benedict and the police are working from my impressions of the killer. I am convinced that he is well bred and wealthy and there are reasons to think that he learned about me when the rumors of my . . . association with Benedict began to circulate after the Channing ball.”
“Those factors will go far to shield the monster from a police investigation.” Marissa paused. “Which is, of course, one reason why Benedict is assisting in the inquiries.”
“I know. As I said, I’m sure the police will find the killer soon.”
“And then what will happen, Miss Doncaster?” Marissa asked gently.
Amity nearly choked on a swallow of tea. It took a moment to pull herself together.
“Sorry,” she said. “Not sure I understand the question. What do you suppose will happen?”
“What I think,” Marissa said coolly, “is that once the killer is caught there will no longer be any need for you and Benedict to remain engaged. When the danger is past, you will be free to publish your book and set sail on another journey to some exotic foreign port of call.”
Amity froze. “Are you implying that you think my engagement to Benedict is a fraud?”
“Yes, Miss Doncaster, that is my great fear.”
“I see. I’m not sure what to say, Mrs. Stanbridge.”
“You must call me Marissa.”
Amity glanced toward the open doors of the study, hoping that Benedict would miraculously emerge and take charge of the situation. But he and his brother both had their heads down over some papers spread out on Richard’s desk.
Amity sighed. She was on her own.
“Marissa,” she repeated.
&nbs
p; “And as for what you can say to me, please assure me that you will not end the engagement once you are safe,” Marissa continued briskly.
“I’m sorry,” Amity said cautiously. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You can tell me that your feelings for Benedict are sincere, that the engagement is for real. You can assure me that you will not break Benedict’s heart by buying a ticket on the next ship bound for the Far East as soon as your book is published and the police have arrested the Bridegroom.”
Amity caught her breath, stunned. “You think that I am in a position to break Benedict’s heart?”
She was aghast at the misunderstanding but she had no notion of how to go about correcting it.
“Benedict has waited a long time for the right woman to come into his life. He certainly has not lived a monkish existence.”
Amity cleared her throat. “Yes, I am aware of his past association with Lady Penhurst.”
“It meant nothing to Benedict.” Marissa waved her hand in casual dismissal. “Which is not to say that Lady Penhurst did not have her own plans. She was out to snag a wealthy husband at the time and everyone, including Benedict, knew that. She thought she could seduce him into marriage, but Ben is not that easily fooled. He learned his lesson after the disaster of his first engagement. There was never any possibility that he would give Leona the Rose Necklace.”
Amity remembered some of the whispers she had heard at the Gilmore ball. “I see that she is not wearing the family necklace.”
“Mrs. Stanbridge—Marissa—I don’t mean to disagree with you but I don’t think you understand the nature of my relationship with Benedict. Our engagement is a very modern arrangement. It is based on friendship and mutual interests and . . . and a number of other things.”
Marissa did not appear impressed. “Has Ben told you about Eleanor, the woman he was engaged to marry when he was much younger?”
“No. I’ve been told that there was a prior engagement, but he has never mentioned the woman’s name. The subject is no doubt far too painful.” Amity took a deep breath. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to change the topic.”
Marissa ignored that. “It was a disastrous relationship from the start. There is no doubt but that Eleanor was forced into the engagement because her family’s finances were in desperate shape. She was barely eighteen. She tried to do her duty. But I’m afraid that poor Benedict believed that she truly loved him. He loved her, you see, the way only a young man can love.”
Amity reflected briefly on her own youthful passion for Humphrey Nash. She shuddered. “I see.”
Marissa patted her hand. “We were all that young once. Luckily, some of us make the right choices at that point in our lives. But I’m inclined to think that success in that regard is mostly a matter of chance. How can a person of that age possibly know what to look for in an alliance that is destined to last a lifetime?”
“Good question,” Amity said.
She cast another, hopeful glance in the direction of the study, but Benedict and Richard were still immersed in the papers on the desk. She knew the conversation with Marissa was veering into dangerous territory. Part of her was curious to know the truth about Benedict’s past, but another part of her did not wish to hear how much he had loved his first fiancée—his real fiancée.
“In the end, as you are probably aware, Benedict was left at the altar,” Marissa said. “Eleanor ran off with her penniless lover the night before the wedding.”
“How very melodramatic of her.”
“Indeed. But as I said, she was only eighteen and at that age everything is melodramatic, is it not?”
“Quite true.”
“It was all very awkward at the time, but Richard assures me that when the dust settled Ben soon realized he’d had a narrow escape. And for her part, Eleanor was honest enough not to take the Rose Necklace when she ran off. Some women in her situation would have kept the necklace and used it to finance a new life with her lover.”
Amity smiled. “So Eleanor wasn’t such a bad sort, after all.”
“No. Just very young. Trust me, Lady Penhurst would have kept the necklace.”
Amity thought about the vindictive expression she had detected in Leona’s eyes. “I think you’re right. Does anyone know what happened to Eleanor and her lover?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. They got married. Probably lived in a garret for a time. Isn’t that what young runaway lovers do? But in the end Eleanor’s family accepted the marriage. It’s not as if they had a choice. And eventually Eleanor’s husband obtained a respectable position as a clerk in a firm of solicitors. The husband made a few investments that turned a very nice profit and now the family lives a comfortable life. Last I heard they have a house in the country and another here in London.”
“So there was a happy ending for Eleanor and her lover.”
“Oh, yes,” Marissa said. “They have three children, I believe.”
Amity pondered that and then smiled. “How fortunate for all concerned that Eleanor’s husband got the post as a clerk and that he had the insight to make those very good investments.”
A secretive, amused smile edged Marissa’s mouth. “Very fortunate, indeed.”
“Benedict recommended Eleanor’s husband for that post at the firm of solicitors, didn’t he? He probably also suggested those investments that turned out well for the couple.”
Marissa laughed. “You do, indeed, know Ben very well—far better than most people know him. Yes, he gave the couple considerable assistance at a time when they desperately needed it. When I heard the tale, I was surprised at his generosity. But as Richard pointed out, Ben quickly realized he’d barely avoided what would no doubt have been an unhappy marriage. It’s Richard’s opinion that helping Eleanor and her husband financially was Ben’s way of expressing his gratitude and relief.”
At long last Benedict and Richard walked out of the study into the sunlit garden. They headed toward the bench where Amity sat with Marissa.
Amity watched Benedict for a moment and then she smiled again.
“No,” she said. “He helped Eleanor and her husband because he felt sorry for the couple. He realized that Eleanor had been pushed into the engagement in the first place and that it was not her fault she had wound up in such a disastrous situation. And because she had left the Rose Necklace behind.”
“As I said, you seem to know Ben well,” Marissa said softly.
Benedict and Richard arrived at the bench. Benedict had his small notebook in his hand. There was an air of barely suppressed anticipation about both men.
“What is it?” Amity asked.
“Did you discover something of interest?” Marissa asked.
“Perhaps,” Benedict said. “Richard made inquiries at his club. He has learned some information about the recent travels of several of the men on the Channing guest list.”
“There were a handful of men on the list who were out of London for extended periods of time during the past year,” Richard said. “Only to be expected, of course. Most were said to have traveled to their estates to see to business matters. A couple claimed to be traveling abroad. Those stories can no doubt be verified by Logan.”
“Between us, Richard and I drew up a time line,” Benedict said quickly. “It is cross-referenced with the time line that Inspector Logan provided. It tells us which of the men were away from London in the interim between the first murder and the more recent killings.”
“The list is quite short,” Richard said.
“I will give it to Inspector Logan so that he can begin making inquiries from his end,” Benedict said.
“Meanwhile, I will continue my inquiries at my club,” Richard said.
“Uncle Cornelius will also continue to assist us,” Benedict added. “It is the least he can do since he is in part responsible for this situation in th
e first place.”
“That’s not fair,” Amity said.
“It’s perfectly fair, as far as I’m concerned.” Benedict’s voice hardened. “Besides, Cornelius is well positioned to gain precisely that sort of information. His reach extends into every club in London.”
“The killer would have needed medical attention and time to heal,” Marissa said. “If he is alive, someone must know how badly he was injured.”
Benedict looked grim. “Richard and Uncle Cornelius have made inquiries along that line. Thus far no one is aware of a gentleman who was attacked or injured in a so-called accident.”
Amity thought for a moment. “Perhaps we are searching for someone who took a cure for a certain unspecified illness a few months ago and has now returned to the same spa for another round of therapy.”
Benedict, Richard and Marissa looked at her.
“That is a brilliant notion,” Marissa said softly.
“Excellent strategy,” Richard added. “What better excuse could the killer use to conceal his wounds than to let it be known that he was taking a cure at an unnamed spa?”
Benedict smiled a slow, cold smile and looked at Richard. “You do see now why I am so happy to find myself engaged to Miss Doncaster.”
Richard chuckled and slapped Benedict on the shoulder. “She does appear to be the perfect one for you, brother.”
Twenty-two
May I ask what you and Marissa were discussing out in the garden?” Benedict asked.
They were in the carriage and on their way back to Exton Street. She told herself that at least this time they had pressing matters to discuss. The investigation was moving forward at long last. But instead of focusing on the next step in the inquiry, Benedict wanted to know what she and Marissa had talked about.
“I congratulated her on the forthcoming birth of their first child,” Amity said. “She is naturally quite excited.”
“I saw the expression on your faces when I came out of the study with my brother,” Benedict said. “Marissa told you about Eleanor, didn’t she?”