by Kate Parker
“It was a safe guess. I’ve had—experience in this area.” Actually, I had relatives who made their living by knowing when to get out of bad deals. Since my grandfather couldn’t imagine a way for Dennison to have made money, the only answer was he didn’t lose any.
“The commander was always hard up. He needed to raise cash, so he sold his stock long before anyone realized the extent of the problems. Then when the project failed…” She lowered gracefully onto a stool.
“Does Lord Taylor know?” Lady Kaldaire asked.
“Yes. That’s what he went over that night to tell your husband. They argued, but Edward finally convinced him of the truth. When he left, all was well between them. How much did your husband lose in the railroad stock crash?”
“Not much. He didn’t have much to gamble with,” Lady Kaldaire said.
“Then why was he hounding me? The commander left me with little. I couldn’t have paid anyone back.” Lady Amanda looked from one of us to the other.
“My late husband was tenacious like that. He believed everyone should be honest and aboveboard, and no one should swindle their friends.” Lady Kaldaire walked over to the dressing table and looked at the jewelry spread out for that day.
Lady Taylor reached out one tapered hand and touched Lady Kaldaire’s arm. “But I didn’t swindle anyone, and I don’t believe the commander did either.”
“I’m afraid Horace assumed you had. Once he got an idea into his head, it was hard to get him to change his mind. He had been a great believer in the DMLR railway and refused for the longest time to believe the company had gone bankrupt. When he finally accepted the truth, he decided he had been swindled. It couldn’t just be bad luck. Not with Horace.” Lady Kaldaire shook her head, but a small smile of remembrance appeared.
“How did Lord Taylor convince Lord Kaldaire that he’d been unlucky?” I had never understood how my swindling relatives routinely convinced their marks of their bad luck.
“The Taylors had lost more money than the Kaldaires, and yet he married me. Edward’s belief in my innocence is what convinced Lord Kaldaire. At least that’s what Edward told me when he came home.”
“How did he seem when he arrived? And what time did he get there?”
Amanda, Lady Taylor stared at me. I’d pushed too hard. “What interest is it of yours?”
I sighed and watched her as I said, “I found Lord Kaldaire injured, and I know what time that was. I feel duty-bound to give Lady Kaldaire the answers she’s seeking about her husband’s murder. The more facts I can discover, the sooner I’ll find out the truth.”
I could see in her eyes when she accepted my story. “He seemed fine. Relieved that the two of them were no longer quarreling. And he returned about eleven.”
I nodded.
“What time did you find him?”
“A few minutes after eleven.”
She looked worried. “There must have been someone there after Edward and before you arrived.”
I gave her a smile. “I’m sure of it. I just have to figure out who it was.”
“Now, we need a plausible excuse as to why we’ve holed ourselves up away from the guests for so long,” Lady Kaldaire said.
Lady Taylor smiled at me. “I need to buy one of your wonderful motoring veils I’ve been hearing about.”
I took one out of the bag I had with me and showed her how to drape the veil for a hat with either a low or high crown, with either a wide or narrow brim, protecting the hat as well as the wearer. Fortunately, Lady Taylor was a quick study, her maid was a quick worker, and we soon left the boudoir.
We walked downstairs to the morning room where we found both Ladies Linchester with the other ladies. “Wherever did you go?” Marjorie, Lady Linchester asked us.
“She bought one of Miss Gates’ motoring veils. It’s very clever, and since Lord Taylor has become enamored of these machines, I expect Amanda will be using hers often,” Lady Kaldaire said.
“They’re frightfully ingenious,” the younger Lady Linchester said. “I wore mine for a quick spin yesterday—”
I didn’t hear anything else because I looked past her into the entrance area where several rally teams were standing, shed of their goggles and dusters. Two of the men looked very familiar. Too familiar.
What were Uncle Thomas and Cousin Tommy doing there?
And how would I avoid them at the luncheon?
Chapter Nineteen
Before I came up with an excuse to hide in the house, several ladies professed an interest in my motoring veils. I was swept up by women chatting to me about hats while they walked out of doors. By the time we reached the gardens for the picnic luncheon, I had orders for several motoring veils to deliver when we returned to London.
The tables and chairs were set up under tents and trees on the manicured lawn. The food and drink were laid out on long tables under a separate tent with maids and footmen in silent attendance.
Viscount and Lady Taylor had ordered up a feast. Roast beef, chicken, salads of every description, dainty rolls, lemonade, sherry, coffee and tea—the bounty went on and on.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It appeared the Taylors had even ordered the weather.
I’d filled my plate and begun to wander in the direction of my uncle when Lord George Whitaker came up to me. “Hello, Miss Gates. Wonderful day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, the weather is lovely. How did you do in the rally this morning?”
“Oh, we won’t count up points until tonight. But we’ve done smashing in the first legs. I don’t think anyone has beaten our times, and they’ve been clean.”
“Clean?”
“We haven’t speeded. If your time is too fast, they know you’ve been speeding and they deduct points for that.” He went on and on.
I wondered how long I needed to keep up this conversation when a familiar male voice said, “Well, my lord, the morning’s racing has been fine.”
“Indeed it has. Oh, Miss Gates, may I present Mr. Longacre.”
“How do you do?” I said, staring into my uncle’s eyes. At least I didn’t have to worry about anyone knowing these men were my relatives. They were here under a false name, no doubt with some theft in mind.
The only questions were: where, and had they already taken what they came for?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gates. I’ve heard about your wonderful veils for ladies who motor. Where did you get your inspiration? Do you travel by motor carriage often?”
“No. My first journey by horseless carriage was just the other day with Lord George. Are you local to these parts, Mr. Longacre?”
“Oh my, no. I’m from London myself. Motored up here with my son. I enjoy it, but I’m afraid I’m finding that road rallying is a young man’s game. I’m staying at the White Horse in Rolling Badger. Lovely town. So quiet. So peaceful. Have you seen it?”
I was glad the cousin was Tommy and not Petey. Tommy had some sense. “I haven’t spent any time there, but I plan to. I’ve heard the church is lovely.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
We had a meeting place if it became necessary. I really hoped it wouldn’t, because I did not want to be sucked into my father’s family’s larcenous schemes.
And I had no way of knowing if Inspector Russell had sent someone here to spy on me.
* * *
Once we returned to the Linchester estate, I was bored. Since I was accustomed to working all day every day, and half the night when necessary, this enforced idleness was wearing on my nerves. We’d learned what we’d come for from Lady Taylor. I’d received a few orders for my motoring veils, although I’d given away nearly as many as I’d sold.
I could leave a happy woman, but Lady Kaldaire wasn’t ready.
“Emily, it would look odd for us to leave after only a day’s visit. We need to stay for the rest of the race, to give Marjorie moral support.” She was dressing for tea, as were both Ladies Linchester.
Not having the extensive collection of
clothing they had, I planned to wear the dress I wore to lunch again to tea. “My business needs practical support. I need to return to town.” I smiled at Lady Kaldaire’s maid. “You can return to town with Mary.”
“And what will you be doing while I’m here?” Lady Kaldaire’s gaze was icy.
“Running a millinery shop. That is my occupation.”
“I need you to find out what happened to my husband. And that letter. That must be the key to this business.” She thrust her arm into a sleeve, nearly hitting Mary.
“Whatever happened must have occurred between the time Lord Taylor left and I arrived. It was only a matter of minutes, but any other clues or witnesses must be in London. You need to go back there as much as I do, no matter what Inspector Russell says about our safety.”
The longer I was away from London, the less threatened I felt by the unknown assailant. In another day or two I would convince myself I’d dreamed any threats I feared.
My expression must have been hard, because Lady Kaldaire waved away Mary’s suggestion of a very plain mourning skirt and jacket for tea and said, “Give it one more day. If we haven’t learned anything more by tomorrow night, we’ll return the following morning.”
“Agreed.” How much could happen in a day?
We went down to tea, an exceedingly tedious affair with only the four of us present. Lady Deborah, at my insistence, had little Lord William, affectionately called “Billy-billy-boo” by his besotted mother, brought in for us to meet.
His nurse handed him off and Lady Deborah and I fussed over the baby. The older two ladies made pleasant comments from a distance, but Deborah and I got right into it, singing nursery songs and playing with his fingers and toes. He liked my version of a spider, smashing my fingers with his little fist.
After a half hour, the nurse returned and tranquility, and boredom, settled on the parlor once more. We were discussing literature, something I couldn’t add much to, when Lord George came into the parlor.
After a brief greeting and even briefer bow, he said, “I have the best news, Mummy. The Prince of Wales is coming for the motor rally tomorrow. It’s an unofficial visit, but he’ll be at Willows for the lunch break to look over the motor carriages. Wouldn’t it be swell if he took up road rallying? I’d love to have a go at racing the Prince of Wales.”
“How did the duchess get to be so lucky?” the Dowager Marchioness of Linchester asked the room.
“Jonas Henry wrote to the prince and invited him. Turns out they’ve known each other since they were youngsters in the Navy,” George said.
“Lord Jonas Henry is the duke and duchess’s second son,” Lady Deborah explained.
“Are we invited, or is this a gentleman-only event?” Lady Kaldaire asked.
“Oh, no. The entire party is invited, from here and Taylor’s, at least. I couldn’t have the prince eating lunch with us without having my best girl along.” Lord George gave his mother a vacant smile.
“I wouldn’t think the duchess wants to face thirty ravenous men and the Prince of Wales on her front lawn without female company,” Deborah, the Marchioness of Linchester, said. She appeared to be fighting down a smile.
I appreciated my chance to meet Lady Deborah on this trip. I enjoyed her unvarnished honesty and subtle sense of humor. I also thought it providential for the aristocracy that James was born first and had chosen Deborah for his wife.
Her mother-in-law didn’t sound thrilled with Lady Linchester’s comment when she replied, “Hosting the Prince of Wales is an honor, no matter if it is unofficial.”
“Yes, I would say it is,” Deborah replied. “It gives a shine of respectability to motor racing. I know James will be delighted. How did you make out today on the road course?”
There was a pause because Lord George had just stuffed two teacakes into his mouth.
Into the silence, Lady Kaldaire said, “I suppose it’s white dresses and wide-brimmed straw hats for all. That’s all right for you young ladies, but it leaves the matrons looking rather washed out. I’m almost happy I have to wear mourning.”
* * *
As it turned out, Lady Deborah was the only one wearing unsmudged white in our carriage the next morning. I wore my dark blue skirt with a white shirt, while Lady Kaldaire was in unrelieved black and Marjorie, Lady Linchester, wore the gloomy colors of a long-established widow.
The laundering necessary to keep a skirt white when all around me was grass, or more often street dust and coal soot, was prohibitive. The style was only for the very vain or very rich, and I was neither. I didn’t even have a lady’s maid, a deficit ignored by the other two ladies and supplied by Lady Kaldaire, who lent me the use of Mary when necessary on this visit.
Lady Kaldaire had been in a state, truly bad-tempered, until I suggested she wear the newest hat I’d designed for her with a curved-down brim, black roses, netting to symbolize mourning, and a high crown. My own hat, in dark blue to match my skirt, had a wide brim with white ribbons and trimmings. With my auburn hair, and wearing dark blue, I would stand out in a whitewashed crowd.
Marjorie, Lady Linchester, was horrified that I didn’t fit in and unsure of what she thought of Lady Kaldaire’s hat. Deborah, Lady Linchester, looked pleased and told us how much she liked our outfits.
We were almost there, clopping along the lane at trotting speed, when the driver started to slow the carriage. “Ma’am, one of the machines seems to have broken down ahead.”
“Well, see if they need anything,” the dowager marchioness said. “Really, all these terrible machines do is break down.”
We pulled alongside the motor carriage, which sat between the lane and a high wall, and our driver said, “Do you need any help?”
“No, no. We’re fine. Won’t take but a few minutes more, will it, Tom?” I heard a familiar voice say. After a pause, the same voice said, “No. We’ll be along soon. Thank you for asking.”
I peeked out the carriage window. It was indeed my grandfather, disguised by a duster, goggles, and a plain motoring cap, but I saw no sign of Uncle Thomas or Tommy.
Another carriage pulled up on the outside, the two carriage drivers conversed for a moment, and then the other carriage drove on. After a “good day,” our driver put his team into motion.
I was facing backward and on the side of the carriage closest to the broken-down motor vehicle. I watched out the window long after we were past, but I didn’t see any sign of anyone but Grandpapa. Then, just as we turned into another lane and some trees were about to block our view, I thought I saw a head appear over the top of the wall.
I didn’t want to ask what they were up to.
Chapter Twenty
We didn’t travel far before we made one more turn, and we were on the drive up to The Willows. The house was a pale mansion of classical grace in the midst of normally placid lawns. Now, it stood as a backdrop to the hubbub of drivers and servants and princely retinue. Motorized carriages were lined up in the forecourt, and tents were set up in a grassy field beyond the gravel.
“Oh, dear. The prince has arrived and we’re late,” the dowager Lady Linchester said.
“He’s not here to see us, Marjorie. I’m afraid we’re reminders of his grandmother.” Then Lady Kaldaire looked at me and smiled.
Lady Kaldaire would never remind me of Queen Victoria. I’d never met the queen. I’d never even seen her. But I couldn’t imagine her sneaking around a palace, sending her servants searching for clues to a murder.
The carriage crawled up to a spot for the ladies to descend, the carriage in front of us just pulling away. As always, I was the last one down.
“Emily, wander around and see if you can hear anything about any of our suspects,” Lady Kaldaire murmured as she pulled me aside.
“I’d think murder would be the last thing on their minds. The sun is shining, the next king is here, and they’re celebrating a marvelous new invention.”
“Well, that’s not why we’re here.”
“We’ve
ruled out Viscount Taylor. There’s nothing keeping us here. We need to get back to London and continue our search there,” I reminded her as firmly as I could in a whisper. I didn’t want to be anywhere in the area when my father’s family pulled whatever theft they had in mind.
“You’re right, Emily. It’s looking more and more like Prince Maximilian, and he’s in London. We’ll leave in the morning. I’ll tell Marjorie I need to organize my move from Kaldaire House. She’ll understand. Former householders aren’t the most popular of tenants.”
“Especially when it’s the previous tenant who has the fortune?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“Emily, you’re being impertinent.” Lady Kaldaire tapped me with her parasol, but she was smiling.
We fixed our plates and sat at a distance from the prince, who was surrounded by the duke and duchess, their motoring son Lord Jonas, and some other men whose names and faces meant something to the other ladies there, but nothing to me.
In honor of Prince George, King Edward’s heir, we had both hot and cold dishes at this picnic along with champagne, three types of wine, and tea. The servants must have been run off their feet with the well-rehearsed delivery of everything anyone might want.
I stuck with tea and sandwiches, eating them off delicate china, since I never knew when a customer or potential customer might be watching my behavior. It would never occur to them I might be watching theirs.
I was glad we’d catch a train tomorrow morning and be out of here before there was a hue and cry over some crime. How long would it be before they realized there was no one named Longacre here?
And then the criminals rounded the corner and chugged up the drive. With a belch of smoke, they came to a stop in the forecourt, fortunately far enough away not to send smoke toward the picnic. Several of the drivers went over to greet them and commiserate over their bad luck.
I watched them, wondering what they were up to, when I realized there were only two climbing out of the machine and removing their goggles and dusters. My uncle and my cousin. Where was my grandfather?