The Devil in Beauty: A Lord Trevelin Mystery (The Lord Trevelin Mysteries Book 1)

by Ashworth, Heidi

  “Indeed, it is there at the bottom of the area steps.” I followed his gaze down to see Rey staring back at me. “He is very much alive, despite being rather stiff at times.” I gave Rey a brief smile before I recalled how twisted my terse smiles had become.

  The constable did not look amused as he made his way down the steps in the driving rain. After a cursory inspection, he hurtled back up and heaved into the bushes in the same vicinity as my much-abused hat.

  “Pray tell, is this your first corpse, Constable?”

  He looked at me over his shoulder before he turned to heave again. He took a few deep breaths, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and turned to me. “Of course not! I was at the scene when the Gilbert boy was done to death by his own brother!”

  “I believe you to be mistaken, Constable.”

  He drew himself erect and lifted his chin. “I ain’t. This is me patch. Who else would have been fetched to Gilbert House? Tis the same square!” he insisted.

  “Tell me, Constable,” I said through gritted teeth. “What was William Gilbert wearing when you arrived?”

  “Wot was he wearin’?” He stared at me as if I had run mad and then he grinned. “I remember, now! The simpleton was standing in the street wearing naught but a shirt!”

  I adopted an air of studied indifference. “And what can you tell me about this shirt?” I asked as I examined my fingernails. They must have been found wanting, for I recall that I buffed them against my coat sleeve.

  The constable shrugged. “It was just a shirt. It was long and very high quality, just as a swell’s shirt ought to be.”

  “And in what condition did you find this shirt?”

  He looked at me, perplexed. “Good, I suppose. What does this have to do with that girl by the kitchen door?” he asked with a jerk of his head in her direction.

  “Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything. I only wish to know one thing and then you may be the one to pose the questions.”

  “All right, then,” he said, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. “If that’s the way it’s goin’ to be.”

  “Was the shirt clean or dirty? Think carefully now; a man’s life is at stake.”

  The constable frowned. “I don’ see as how it matters.”

  This admission was not in the least surprising. “As I have said, answer the question,” I demanded, “and then I am at your disposal.”

  “I don’ know. I truly couldn’t say. It was not important.”

  “But it was!” I bellowed, play-acting having worn thin. “How does a man stab another without being spattered with blood?”

  The constable staggered back in the face of my fury, his face white. “He did it. The eejit still had the knife in his hand! His parents ought to have kept that beast locked up in the attic. The world will be a better place when he’s bin hanged.”

  My blood seemed to boil in my veins. Heady with the heat of it, I stepped menacingly towards the constable. Rey raced up the steps to forestall me, but I had the constable nearly in my hands before the Spaniard seized me by the wrists.

  “No, my lord, you shall not do this thing!”

  My fists were nearly level with his black curls; it would be the work of a moment to bring them crashing down upon his head.

  When I did not relent, he tightened his grasp and gave my wrists a shake. “The man I know is of a character too chivalrous!”

  It was if he had dashed cold water in my face. My arms went slack, the weight of their fall sufficient to break Rey’s weakening hold. “I begin to see what Miss Woodmansey sees in you,” I said as I turned away, rubbing my wrists. He was far more astute than I had realized. “See that the constable’s questions are answered,” I instructed over my shoulder. “I should be astonished should he arrive at any correct conclusions, but one must endeavor.”

  It still rained, so I made my way to the front door to stand under the roof whilst Rey answered the constable’s questions. I could feel the gaze of the footman from where he stood by the long window alongside the door. I do not indulge in the smoking of cigars, but heartily wished for one regardless. It would have given me something to do other than ensure that I did not smudge the window with my wet coat, and seethe. That Willy should die because of the failures of such a gudgeon was intolerable!

  As a man who had been assigned so much evil, I was determined not to be a back-biter. I willed myself to refrain from calling the constable every name for such a dull-wit as I could muster, and concentrated on a means to help Willy. When even Rey was forced to shout at the man through pure frustration, however, I knew that I had misjudged no one.

  “Señyor Rey,” I called as I hurried down the steps to the black and white tiled porch. “We have done our duty here. The constable knows where to find us should he have further questions.” I reached into my pocket for a card and cursed when I could not find one. “Señyor Rey, you must give him yours.”

  “I shall, but to what purpose?” He drew one from his vest pocket and handed it to the constable. “This is my name and occupation,” he said, pointing to the card with his rather stubby finger. “This is my address. As you can see,” he said as if speaking to a child, “it is in Barcelona. We are now in London, yes?”

  The constable nodded.

  “Very good. I stay at Hampton House in this same square.” Rey turned and pointed down the street. “You may find me there; if you should require his assistance,” he said, turning his finger towards me, “I shall take you to him.”

  I vented a breath I hadn’t realized I had held captive. I was profoundly grateful that Rey had not revealed my name. I decided that if the sapskull of a constable wished to ask me further questions, he would have to find me first. I knew that asking any questions of him would be fruitless at best.

  “Señyor, I believe a return to our friend at the gate is in order.”

  Rey looked at me blankly. It was clear that he did not remember to whom I referred. “Of course, my lord.”

  It seemed he trusted me absolutely. The man was a saint.

  We went first to Canning House. After ordering out the carriage, I left Rey in the study to get warm whilst I went above stairs to towel my hair and fetch another hat. It was my best, the one I wore to the opera house with Miss Woodmansey, but it could not be helped.

  I returned to the study to put my hands to the fire alongside Rey until the carriage was brought ‘round.

  “Who is this friend of ours at the gate?” he asked.

  “The one with the nose at the workhouse.”

  “Ah, yes!” he replied. “You gave him money in exchange for information.”

  “Information I have not yet received,” I pointed out. “I pray there is something he has to say that will exonerate Willy.” I had to force my thoughts away from my sad friend’s state or I would have been undone.

  “Upon our return from the workhouse, we ought to stop at Gilbert House to ascertain whether Sally’s key fits the kitchen door.”

  Rey nodded, and we said no more until the carriage arrived and we climbed aboard.

  “Your friend, Mister William; shall we not soon call on him?” Rey settled deeply into the white velvet seat. He looked for all the world like a black seed in a sea of cream. “I fear that he is suffering too much from the loneliness.”

  I wanted to say that I had been to see Willy and that I would be happy to see him again. However, my lips refused to speak those words. “If you recall,” I said rather too harshly, “our friend the doorkeeper was to discover whether Janie Cooper could be found in the dark room he spoke of with such loathing.”

  “Yes, and if she is there that says to us nothing. Is that not so?”

  “Indeed. However, if she cannot be found within those walls, it means that another has disappeared from the workhouse, the very same from which Sally hails.”

  Rey cocked his head. “But I do not see how this information assists Mister William.”

  “It is only aids him if it aids us in finding the true kil
ler.”

  As there was nothing more to say on the subject, I turned my head away. I did not wish to invite questions in regard to Miss Woodmansey and our evening together. I hoped I came across as mournful rather than recalcitrant. Either way, I knew Rey would honor my wishes. Not for the first time, I wondered what I had done to deserve such loyalty.

  When we arrived at the workhouse, I approached the gate with eagerness. However, the doorkeeper was not at his post. I ran my cane along the metal bars; when it yielded no fruit I repeated my actions. Finally, an old woman came out of the house and made her laborious way to the gate.

  She wrapped her wrinkled fingers around the metal bars and smiled brightly. “How may I help you?”

  “Good afternoon,” I said with a tip of my hat. “You must be the matron of this establishment.”

  “That is correct,” she said kindly.

  “Greetings. I wish to speak to the doorkeeper. He has information that I require.”

  Her face darkened. “The one with the nose?”

  “Indeed! I should be grateful if you were to fetch him here.”

  “I am afraid I cannot.” Her smiled slipped. “He is gone.”

  I was taken aback. “The big fellow?” When she nodded, I pressed her further. “Does he return or was he dismissed?”

  She sighed. “Just gone,” she replied shortly, her smile weakening further.

  “Then what can you tell me about Janie Cooper?” I asked, dismayed. “Has she been found?”

  She frowned. “She’s gone, too,” she said with a sigh. “Same as the others.”

  “Have you informed the constable?” I asked. I could find no fault in my assumption that he had to be more intelligent than the one who failed the residents of Berkeley Square.

  “What good has that done me? ‘Tis a puzzle to be sure, but no one cares what happens to these folks.”

  I was at a loss for words. A short time ago, I had not cared what happened to a one of them, either. “Well, then, can you tell me about Edmund Throckmorton?”

  “Oh!” she cried in delight, her smile returning. “I was never so glad when one of my little ones found an important position out in the world. He arrived at the Foundling Hospital during my first year as matron there, years before I came to be here. Oh, he was a sight to see! Black curls, very much like those of your friend there,” she said, pointing to Rey who had taken up his usual stance just to one side and slightly behind me. “And those eyes! They were as pretty as a flower! Still are! He comes to see me and bring things we have a hard time acquiring here.”

  “He came often to see Sally as well, is that not so?”

  “Yes, Sally. She’s a dear one! The two of them never looked at any other once they had seen each other. Like a fairytale it was!”

  “I am so sorry,” I said shortly. “Sally is dead.”

  Her eyes opened wide and filled immediately with tears. “No! It can’t be! She just paid me a call last week!”

  “Do you know who might have wished to kill her?” Rey asked.

  “She was murdered?” She shrank back, aghast. “Are you certain it was no accident?”

  “I’m afraid not. It is very plain.”

  She started to back away from the gate. “I don’t know who would have done such a thing. All I can say is that it was not Edmund. He would never hurt her. He loved her. He told me that they were soon to marry, though not soon enough. The poor dear was anticipating their first child.”

  My heart sank like a stone. “I am very sorry to hear that. You remind me that I have a duty to inform her beau, if he has not heard already.”

  “I beg you to be kind to him.” She drew close again and reached out her hand to grasp mine through the bars. “And give him my love.” She released me without waiting for a reply, and returned to the house as quickly as her pains would allow.

  I turned to Rey, who attempted to hide the fact that he wiped away a tear. “So it is left to us, is it not?”

  He nodded, and I realized that he could not trust his voice to speak.

  We climbed aboard the coach and returned to Hampton House in a heavy silence. When we disembarked, the sun shone exactly as if tragedy never happened in this world. The birds were singing and children were playing in the garden of the square, laughing as if they hadn’t a care. It seemed ludicrous that anyone could be happy when there was so much sorrow in the world.

  We entered the house, and went immediately to the first-floor salon in search of Lady Vawdrey. I decided it best to break the news to her. That way it would be she who informed Throckmorton of his sweetheart’s demise. However, when we were ushered into the room, we saw that the two of them were, unfortunately, together.

  Seated on the sofa across from his mistress, Throckmorton behaved as if he was her son. They appeared to be discussing a matter as frivolous as which of their invitations to accept for the week. As we entered the room, they both looked up in surprise. Instantly, he jumped to his feet to take up his customary place behind her chair.

  “Lady Vawdrey,” I said with a brief bow. “Señyor Rey and I have come bearing sad news. We believe it would be best if we spoke privately.”

  It was not Lady Vawdrey who replied. “There is no need,” Throckmorton said in a voice hollow with grief. “I know what you have come to say. My Sally is dead.”

  Chapter Twelve

  My mouth fell open in surprise. “Who has told you?”

  “No one. I simply…know,” he said, looking down at his hands. They trembled, as did his lips.

  “Has the constable called on you?” If so, I wished to correct any of the misrepresentations he was certain to have delivered.

  “A constable? Here?” Lady Vawdrey cried as she twisted her head to look at Throckmorton. “Who is this Sally?”

  “I wished to tell you, my lady, but I feared you would disapprove.” He took a deep breath and lifted his chin. “She is a housemaid for Lady Clara.”

  “A housemaid and you?” Lady Vawdrey accused. “How could you, Edmund? You are meant for better things!”

  Throckmorton seemed to dissolve at her words. His hands dropped to his sides, his shoulders slumped, and his legs quivered such that they threatened to deposit him on the floor. “There was no one but her,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “She was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.”

  I knew he exaggerated, but it is often said that love is blind. “Mr. Throckmorton, can you tell us anything that might help us discover who did this to Sally? It is very likely that she and Johnny have been deprived of their lives by the same person.”

  “No!” Lady Vawdrey insisted, her lips warped with displeasure. “Whoever killed John Gilbert could have nothing to do with a housemaid. Where is the sense in that? I would suggest it was her lover who did it if Throckmorton weren’t he.”

  “Which reminds me.” I turned to Throckmorton. “The matron at the workhouse sends her love. She is very sorry to hear of Sally’s death, as well.” I did not mention the baby. I doubted Lady Vawdrey would be able to carry on under the weight of such news.

  Throckmorton took no notice of my words. Instead, he collapsed into the chair next to his mistress. “I cannot credit it. How can she be gone?” The shock was settling upon him. I wondered how he could be so certain of what I was to say, and yet be so appalled when I had said it.

  I looked to Lady Vawdrey. He was her man, after all. She, however, seemed put out in the extreme and had turned away from him.

  It was Rey who came to the rescue. “Drink this,” he said as he held a glass of something strong to Throckmorton’s lips.

  He obeyed, his throat and lips the only portions of his body that stirred.

  Rey placed the glass on the table and joined me. “My lord, should we not question him about the key?” he murmured.

  “Do you think he is capable of giving a coherent response?” I wondered.

  “I shall ask him, yes? And then we shall see.”

  Rey returned to put the glass again to
his lips. “Mr. Throckmorton, do you know anything about a key?”

  He shook his head, but I saw how his body stiffened. Whether it was the drink that gave strength to his spine or fear, I did not know.

  “I regret having to say such things to you,” I apologized, “but Sally was found with a key on a cord around her neck. Do you know its purpose?”

  He sat up straighter, licking the moisture from his lips. “It must be a house key. Why should she not have one?”

  “Should she? Keys are meant to be in the possession of the housekeeper,” I pointed out. “You of all people should know that.”

  “Of course. However, this key is not to any door at Manwaring House. It’s merely an ornament.”

  “So you do know of it?”

  “Well…yes. I gave it to her.” He plucked the glass from Rey’s fingers and drank.

  “Then you know which lock it fits?”

  “It’s not about the lock it fits. Rather it’s a symbol.” He offered a wan smile. “We hoped to one day marry and set up our own establishment.”

  “With a housemaid?” Lady Vawdrey demanded. “When everything I have is yours?”

  He turned to stare at his mistress. “You don’t truly believe I would live here forever?”

  “But why should you not? It shall be yours when I am gone. Who else should live here?”

  Throckmorton sat as if stupefied. Perhaps the drink had been too much for him.

  “From whence does it come?” I asked, in hopes of guiding the conversation back to the key.

  He turned to look at me, dazed and uncomprehending. “From whence did what come?”

  “The key, Mr. Throckmorton, “the one that Sally wore.”

  “I don’t recall.” He looked down at the glass in his hands. “I found it. How do you know of it?”

  I had no wish to deflect the conversation with talk of our discovery of Sally at the bottom of the area steps. “I should prefer to talk about the key at the moment. I realize you have been dealt a dreadful blow, but it is important that you remember where you came by it.”