by Kate Parker
Balderdash. I’d learned from my father’s family that the wealthy would cheat their friends as fast as they would any other class. And they were as easy to swindle. That was how all of the Gates earned their money, except for Matthew and me.
What had happened to that railway money, and did Amanda, Lady Taylor know? I bet my grandfather would have some ideas.
I was drawn away from my musings when Lady Kaldaire said, “I think I want more pink in the drawing room.”
I made a show of penciling in a note on the sketch.
“Where is Caroline these days?” Lady Eddington shook her head at the offer of a biscuit.
“In New York. She married an American.” Marjorie helped herself to another tiny sandwich. “She even manages to giggle in her letters.”
“How extraordinary,” Cecily said.
The other women gazed at her in silence for a long moment, until Lady Kaldaire said, “Would anyone care for more tea?”
I made my escape soon after that and headed straight to my grandfather’s house. In his part of London, narrow streets and dead-end alleys were the rule, making it easier for someone familiar with the area to escape anyone following them—the police, perhaps, or an angry gang of thugs. I found Grandpapa in front of the stables, studying a contraption with my uncle Thomas.
“Pet,” my grandfather called out as soon as he saw me, “look at what your uncle has.”
“What is it?” As if I didn’t know. It had wheels and seats and shone in the sunlight. What it didn’t have was a place to hitch the horses.
“A horseless carriage. Can you imagine London streets filled with these things?” Grandpapa’s voice held a note of wonder.
“Won’t they scare the horses?” I hoped they wouldn’t turn it on or expect me to ride in it. Uncle Thomas was a daredevil with anything that moved.
“Soon, they’ll replace the horse,” Uncle Thomas said. “These are all the rage with young toffs. And a lot of the omnibuses are motorized nowadays.”
I’d ridden on motorized buses and considered them safe, although liable to break down. But the buses weren’t driven by Uncle Thomas.
“And you bought this?” my grandmother said, coming out from the stables and looking askance at the three of us.
I held up my hands and took a step back as I shook my head.
“Want to go for a ride, Ma?” my uncle asked.
“I should think not. How much did you pay for it?” My grandmother now had her hands on her hips. Uncle Thomas was reckless, so much so he often worried my grandmother.
“Pay for it?” my uncle asked innocently. “We just have it on trial while we study on an idea.”
I knew what that meant, and I didn’t want to hear his idea. I was sure the vehicle was stolen and they’d use it for something illegal. “Grandpapa, I’d like to pick your brains when you’re free.”
“No time like the present. Tom, put that away before somebody sees it. And Aggie, put the kettle on for tea, please. Our granddaughter wants to talk.”
Grandpapa and I went inside to sit at the dinner table, where all family talks took place. Uncle Thomas stayed outside admiring “his” motorcar, and Grandmother went into the kitchen, shaking her head and muttering.
“Now, pet, what do you want to discuss?”
“What do you know about the DMLR railway?”
“That wasn’t any of us,” he said, holding up one hand.
“I’m sure of that. I need to know how the trick worked and who the players were.”
“Why? That was years ago.”
“It may have to do with Lord Kaldaire’s murder.”
Grandpapa changed from scoffing to deadly serious. “Pet, you’d better tell me why you’re interested in Lord Kaldaire’s murder. You’re not in any trouble, are you?”
“I found him. He wasn’t dead yet, and I called for help. Lady Kaldaire, who’s a force to be reckoned with, won’t tell the police I broke into her house if I help her find out who killed him. And Lord Kaldaire was an investor in the DMLR railway and was somehow mixed up with Commander Dennison’s widow.”
My grandmother walked in, set down the tea things, and gave me a puzzled glance. Then she walked out in silence.
Grandpapa poured the tea and then settled in to tell me the story. “It wasn’t a con. It was pure bad luck.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely. We study these things, you know, so we can improve our business by learning from others’ mistakes.” He stopped and took a sip of tea.
“They had to bridge a river.” He made a gesture with his long, aristocratic hands. Fingers adept at lock picking and sleight of hand. “Not usually a problem, but they were in the wilds and it turned out there was quicksand all over the area. Equipment, supplies, men, all sucked in no matter where they tried to build. Eventually, they gave up. Out of money. Out of luck.”
“And declared bankruptcy?”
“Yes. A lot of swells lost money in the venture. But no one made money. It all ended up in the quicksand.” Grandpapa chuckled. “And it didn’t appear that anyone figured out how this venture was going to end. No one sold out early.”
“Are you certain of all this?”
He frowned at me. “No. I’m not. It just seems to be the logical result from what is known. Is it important?”
“It’s believed Commander Dennison made money on this company. When he died, they believe his wife ended up with this bounty. She later married Viscount Taylor, who was one of the investors.”
“Interesting.” He steepled his hands. “Who is ‘they’?”
“It’s only gossip among people who lost money on the deal. Could Commander Dennison have made money on the DMLR railway through fancy bookkeeping or out-and-out theft?”
“It’s possible, but I don’t know how.” He scowled, studying the ceiling as he thought. “Do you want me to look into this further?”
“Yes, please. Could you?”
“Yes, on one condition. That you find a way to distance yourself from Lady Kaldaire and this murder.”
I wished I could. He had no idea how relentless Lady Kaldaire could be. “I’m trying, but she has me designing the public rooms for her new house.”
“I hope she’s paying you.” When I gave him a nod, he continued. “Try harder to distance yourself from her, no matter how much work she gives you. You’ve forgotten the first rule when dealing with murder.”
“What’s that?”
“Once murderers strike, there’s no reason for them not to kill again to save their necks.”
Chapter Twelve
I looked at my grandfather in alarm. “You think Lord Kaldaire’s killer will strike again?”
“If you can prove who did it, or even come too close to finding out, he’ll kill you. He’ll already swing for the first murder. They can’t hang him twice.”
His words made me shiver. I took a sip of tea, but found it had cooled too much to warm my insides. Or maybe it was the warning that chilled everything.
“What do you think I should do? Lady Kaldaire can get me in a lot of trouble with Scotland Yard. Trouble the shop can’t afford. Trouble I can’t afford.”
“Can you keep stalling her until she gets over her grief or finds another interest?”
I shook my head. “It’s not grief. It’s more a desire to see the murderer punished for killing her husband. She’s very determined that the right thing be done for Lord Kaldaire.”
He nodded. “Vengeance can be a strong motivation, particularly if she feels guilty.”
“Oh, Grandpapa, she didn’t kill him. I’m sure of it.”
“Not guilty of striking the blow, pet. Guilt of putting him in a position where someone else felt obligated to bludgeon him. Or not caring that someone else struck him down.”
An interesting thought, but I didn’t see where it would help with my problem. “What do I do?”
“Do enough to keep Lady Kaldaire satisfied. And if you feel you’re in danger, tell me.
Tell one of your uncles. Tell your father. We’ll help you.”
I sat back and folded my arms. “No. Not my father.”
“He wants to help you.”
“Not. My. Father.” I’d wanted nothing to do with him since my mother died and I didn’t want to forgive him.
He nodded. “All right. If you feel you’re in danger from this investigation, come and see me. We’ll think of something.”
“There’s another problem.”
“Another one? Pet, you surprise me. I thought you were the sensible one of my grandchildren.”
I’d thought I was the sensible one, too. How did I get trapped between Lady Kaldaire’s plans and spying for Inspector Russell? “Ever since Lord Kaldaire was murdered and Petey hid his loot in my hat factory, Inspector Russell has been after me to work for him and to let him know what you and the family are planning. He’s certain I’m guilty of something, so he’s having me followed twenty-four hours a day.”
My grandfather smiled. “That’ll make it harder for milord’s murderer to attack you, with a bobby dogging your steps.”
“It’s not funny.”
His voice turned soothing. “I know it’s not, pet. I’ve known Inspector Russell has had you followed since the first time you came over here, but I’m glad you told me.”
“You knew?” I felt like a fool.
“Yes, and if he asks what we’re up to, tell him you have no idea.”
“That’s the truth.” I gave him a rueful smile.
“I’m not going to let you be cornered. Family doesn’t do that to family.”
“You mustn’t be related to the Kaldaires.” When Grandpapa gave me a puzzled look, I told him about my late-night capture behind the curtains in Lord Kaldaire’s study.
When he stopped laughing, Grandpapa said, “Poor Inspector Russell. He seems to be the one caught in the middle. That could be to your advantage.”
I couldn’t imagine how. Inspector Russell suspected me of burglary, theft, and murder. He was certainly keeping an eye on me. Not that I would have minded if it were for some other reason than my supposed criminal skills.
* * *
For the next two days, I revamped my drawings for Lady Kaldaire’s new house while designing several hats that had been requested for summer weddings and trousseaus, balancing accounts, and keeping my employees busy. Annie was getting better at curling feathers and pressing hat brims, but I despaired of her ever learning to make ribbon flowers.
Then Jane came to tell me I was summoned to Kaldaire House and to hurry. When I arrived, I was shown into the morning room when Lady Kaldaire finished speaking to one of the maids.
As soon as the door shut, Lady Kaldaire said, “Ah, Emily, what a relief to see you. You’re sensible. There’s nothing more tiresome than having to interview servants you already employ for positions in a smaller house. Everyone is wondering who is going to be chosen and what the wages and duties will be. And Cecily is beside herself because I’m taking some of her staff, which means she’ll have to hire new.”
“Will you take all of your staff from here?”
“I would if I could. Gregson hasn’t given me an answer, and the cook refuses to work in a widow’s establishment.” She gave a theatrical sigh.
“While you’ve been talking to the staff, have you asked them if they saw anything unusual the night Lord Kaldaire was struck down?” It seemed a likely line of inquiry. Then I wondered if that thought came from spending too much time with Inspector Russell or with my grandfather.
“They should have all been downstairs in the servants’ hall or upstairs in the attic in their rooms.”
“But were they?” If I had been where I was supposed to be, I wouldn’t be involved in this murder.
“You think I should assume none of my servants were where they were supposed to be and question them all?” She gave me a sideways glance as she shook her head.
“I think you should question them all in the hopes that one of them wasn’t where he or she should have been and can tell us something useful.”
“I hope this will be worthwhile.” Lady Kaldaire used the bell pull and a maid answered her summons. “Please have Gregson come here.”
The maid curtsied and left the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Why Gregson?” I asked.
“He’s the butler. The last person to bed at night. He makes sure all the doors and windows are bolted and he keeps a general watch over the ground and basement floors. He answers the door and the bell after dinner. If anyone knows what happened in here the night Horace was murdered, it would be Gregson.” Lady Kaldaire sipped tea and watched the door.
Gregson arrived almost immediately from wherever he’d been in this huge house, but he walked in, neither out of breath nor ruffled. “You wanted me, my lady?”
“Tell me what happened the evening my husband died.”
“I’ve already been through this with the police.”
She fixed him with a steely glare.
He glanced toward me and said, “In front of the young lady?”
“Yes. Emily is helping me discover what happened to my husband.”
“If I may say so, my lady, the young lady found his lordship. And the police are not satisfied with her innocence.” He acknowledged me then with half a bow.
“If Emily were an innocent, she’d be no help at all.” I winced, but Lady Kaldaire continued, unaware of the double meaning in her words. “I’m certain she had nothing to do with Horace’s death. Now, please answer me.”
“I would imagine that the time your ladyship is interested in is after you went upstairs to your room?”
“Of course, Gregson. Why are you acting as if I were going to attach you to the rack with thumbscrews?”
He blinked. “I don’t believe it works that way, my lady. You see, thumbscrews—”
“Never mind that, Gregson,” Lady Kaldaire snapped in exasperation.
“I merely wanted to ascertain exactly what you wanted to know.” The man was beginning to look a little red in the face.
“Are you clear on this now?” Lady Kaldaire’s tone was acidic.
“Yes, my lady. May I proceed?”
Lady Kaldaire nodded wearily. I recognized someone bartering for time while trying to find a way to be economical with the truth. I suspected the butler’s code didn’t allow for lying to his employer, but Gregson had no plans to be honest about something.
“Viscount Taylor arrived shortly after ten. He stayed in the study with his lordship for perhaps half an hour. I heard footsteps and a door shut. By the time I arrived in the front hall, no one was about. Apparently, his lordship had shown him out.”
“Did you speak to my husband then?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“How was he?” Lady Kaldaire asked, a modicum of curiosity in her voice.
“He seemed to be in good spirits. I asked if there was anything else. He said no and wished me a good night. He said he was going upstairs shortly, and that I could finish locking up. At that moment the front doorbell rang.”
After a pause, Lady Kaldaire said, “Who was it?”
“Prince Maximilian. He walked into the hall as if this were his home, assured me he needed to see his lordship that evening, and then he followed me into the study so I could announce him. I left them, and after making certain the rest of the ground floor was secure, waited for a summons in the servants’ hall.
“Not ten minutes later, the bell rang from the study. I went upstairs in time to show Prince Maximilian out. Then I went into the study to find his lordship alone. He said, ‘This night is interminable,’ and told me he would go to bed in a few minutes and he’d take care of turning off the lights.”
“And then, Gregson?” Her voice was hard.
“Well, I wasn’t summoned again. When the clock struck eleven, I went back up to find the house quiet and the lights extinguished. I checked to make certain the front door was locked. Then I went downstairs since it was time
to lock up the servants’ entrance.”
“And did you?” Lady Kaldaire sounded as if she were running out of patience.
“Finish my rounds? Yes, my lady. I was satisfied all was secure and my duties were finished for the day.”
“So you went to bed,” Lady Kaldaire said.
“Yes, and that is the last I heard from anyone until this young lady rang the bell from the study.”
“How far did you walk into the room the last time you entered the study?” I asked.
“Just to the doorway. His lordship appeared to be alone. I took his wishes to be that he didn’t want to be disturbed further.”
This didn’t sound like the Lord Kaldaire I’d dealt with. “Was this typical of his behavior?”
“Was what typical?” I could tell Gregson was trying to gain time to think of a prevarication.
“To go up to bed without ringing you to lock up. To leave lights burning. To walk off with his desk in a shambles.”
“He could be abrupt. And he knew he could count on the staff to correct any deficiency in the state of the study.”
“So one of the maids would pick up the papers on the floor and put them on top of the desk without regard to organizing them?” Could Lord Kaldaire’s money problems be connected to his sloppy recordkeeping?
“Of course. His lordship would organize them at some point.”
Then it was a good thing Lady Kaldaire kept an eye on her own business affairs. “And at eleven you didn’t check to see if the light was off in the study or that the window was latched?”
“There was no light showing underneath the study door, and I knew the window had been latched earlier at his lordship’s request.”
All of this made his actions plausible. But if he was telling the truth, who turned the light back on? “Was he being abrupt when you last saw him, or was he preoccupied? Angry? Frightened?”
The butler frowned. “Annoyed, perhaps. He’d had an uninvited guest at a surprisingly late hour.”
“Prince Maximilian.” Lady Kaldaire gave a ladylike snort.
“I was certain that as soon as he finished whatever he was doing, he’d go upstairs,” Gregson continued.