by Joan Smith
“The butler has my card,” Reg said. He turned to her. “Just drop me a line, in the unlikely event that you see the lady again and are able to follow her.” He rose and gave Coffen a commanding look.
“Surely you’ll stay for some refreshment!” Miss Barker said.
Coffen definitely looked interested. Before he could agree, Prance said, “We really must be off. So nice meeting you.”
“You’ve been a big help,” Coffen added. “We’ll be talking to you again soon.”
She followed them out to the door, where she and the butler fought over the privilege of seeing the gentlemen out. The butler won.
“Well?” Prance said, when they were in the carriage. “Did you get anything out of that?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it.”
“Where can I drop you?”
“I’ll go along to Bond Street with you. Don’t worry I mean to tag along into the shops. I’ll just walk and think.”
He proceeded to sit and think while they drove along to Bond Street.
Chapter Ten
On Bond Street the luxury goods of the world were on display in shop windows and Prance, who doted on finery, could have afforded more than one man’s share of them. Yet in all the vast array of silks and silver, snuff boxes, china and crystal, jewels and bibelots of all sorts, nothing tempted him to buy.
In frustration, he was driven home to sulk. He spent a fruitless afternoon with Lady Lorraine but got no farther with her than he did in discovering whether Byron was attending Lady Dunn’s party. Frustration put him in a foul mood.
When he had a note from Byron asking whether he would see him that evening at Lady Dunn’s, his misery was complete. Who, after all, was Lady Dunn to snub him? Who was she before she was Lady Dunn? Where did she come from? He had never heard of her until last week, ergo she was no one.
Was he sunk to spending an evening with Coffen Pattle? Damned if he would. He would take to his bed and claim a sick headache. It was an excuse not to reply to Byron’s note, and a pretext for calling on him the next morning to explain the lapse. And of course find out about the rout party. If folks assumed he had been invited, he needn’t enlighten them.
Luten would gladly have given Prance his invitation, if it had been possible. He attended the party purely as a duty. He knew Corinne liked parties, and he felt he should become a little acquainted with the lady a cabinet minister was planning to make his wife. She might prove a friend for Corinne as so many of the political wives were older ladies.
The party was every bit as boring as he knew it would be. Fiddlers making a racket in the largest parlor, which was still too small to accommodate the three squares performing there. The other guests crowded into a drawing room that had been emptied of comfortable seats so that one had to stand. Champagne and orgeat in the refreshment parlor. He met and chatted to the same gentlemen he worked with every day, and danced with some of their wives. He made a special point to be friendly to Lady Dunn. When he saw Corinne talking to her in the refreshment parlor, he joined them.
“A lovely party, Lady Dunn,” he said, smiling as if he were having a marvelous time. The lady was wearing rouge and a too elaborate gown for a small party, and in a too vivid shade of green. Those diamonds, if he was not mistaken, were the Grafton diamonds, which she should not have been wearing until she wore Grafton’s title.
“You are too kind,” she replied. “Just a little last minute affair to repay some of our many social obligations. Grafton, you must know, is a shocking hermit. He would never go out if I didn’t push him. We shall have much nicer do’s after we are married, for I can’t entertain more than a handful of guests in this little doll house.”
“It’s a charming house,” Corinne assured her. “My own place on Berkeley Square is no larger.”
When the ladies began talking house management, Luten just stood, pretending to listen while thinking of other things.
“Then we are in the same boat, you and I,” Lady Dunn said, “but you, of course, were married to Lord deCoventry and would have a much better idea how to go on than I. I shall take you as my mentor when it is time to entertain Grafton’s guests properly.”
“When are you being married?” Corinne asked.
“In a month’s time. Just a quiet do at Mersey Hall, Grafton’s estate in Kent. Only his family and a few friends.”
“Where is your own family from? Are they not coming?” Corinne asked.
“Oh I come from way up north. I have only an ancient aunt and uncle there now, and they shan’t be coming. My parents passed away some years ago. Papa raised sheep in Northumberland. I shan’t invite my late husband’s family. They will think it very rash of me to remarry only five years after my husband’s death. And of course it would be a long trip for them, all the way from Northumberland.”
“What made you come to London, when your family is up north?” Corinne asked. “Or do you have connections here?”
Lady Dunn laughed lightly. “No, not a single relative. It was the lure of the bright lights, the excitement of a big city — theaters and art galleries and music. All that was very attractive to a country mouse like me. And of course I had friends here. Elizabeth — Lady Melbourne you know, has been very kind.”
“You certainly don’t seem at all like a country mouse,” Corinne smiled. “Have you been here long?”
“A few years. Long enough to brush the hayseeds from my hair,” she said. “But I’m sure your story is much more interesting. You’re from Ireland, I think someone said?”
Corinne just mentioned briefly that she had married Lord deCoventry before coming to London. She did not go into details of her background. As they chatted, Corinne found that she and Lady Dunn did indeed have many things in common, and was happy to make a new female friend. “There is so much to do, so many decisions to make,” she said. “I expect I shall sell my little place on Berkeley Square, as Luten’s place is right across the road.”
“Someone — Byron, was it? — was telling me about the Berkeley Brigade. Why you are called that, I mean, as you all live there on the Square.”
As if summoned by his name, Byron strolled up to them. After a few words with Luten, he turned to the ladies. “Did I hear my name being taken in vain?” he asked.
Lady Dunn gave him a coy smile. “You were only mentioned in passing, Byron. We were not discussing what a horrid rake you are.”
“Don’t flatter him,” Corinne joked. “He likes to hear that sort of thing. We were actually discussing real estate. Will you sell this house, Lady Dunn?”
“I expect I shall, and the furnishings along with it. Looking after Mersey Hall and Grafton’s mansion here in London will be more than enough to keep me busy. I don’t want to turn landlady as well.”
“A pity that murder victim we were speaking of last night is not alive,” Byron said. “He was interested in buying a small house on Grosvenor Square.”
“Russell?” Lady Dunn asked in surprise. “How could he afford it? I thought from what you said he was not well to do.”
“Yes, Russell was his name. I believe I mentioned he had a well-dowered lady in his eye. I wonder if Miss Fenwick would be interested in buying your place.”
“I doubt it,” Corinne said. “I understood it was Russell’s plan.”
“Would you like me to mention it to her, Lady Dunn?” Byron asked.
“Oh no,” she said at once. “This is not the time to pester her with business, when she has just lost her fiancé. I doubt I shall have any trouble finding a buyer. Or I might just rent it after all.”
Other guests came into the parlor and she excused herself to speak to them.
Luten turned his attention back to his fiancée. “Well, my dear, how did you and Lady Dunn get along?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said. “We have the same problems, you see. Marrying a beastly rich man, and having to decide what to do with our own little hovels.”
“A great inconvenience, to be sure.
Rent ‘em. It will save your beastly rich husbands providing you pin money,” he said, and before she could retaliate, Lord Grafton came up and began talking to Luten.
“You and Lady Dunn hit it off, I see,” Byron said to Corinne.
“Luten asked me to sound her out, see what sort of a political hostess she would make.”
“What is the verdict?”
“She seems all right. But you could do a better job than I, since you are on such close terms with her bosom beau, Lady Melbourne. I believe she has known Lady Dunn for some time.”
Byron’s eyebrows rose in a question. “That’s news to me. Lady Melbourne only met her after her betrothal to Grafton. He asked her to take Lady Dunn under her wing.”
“Oh, I asked her if she had friends in London, and she mentioned Lady Melbourne. I thought they were old friends as she called her Elizabeth. Actually she didn’t say how long she had known her.”
“Not more than a month. I fear the lady is a climber,” Byron said. “Mind you, I don’t say that as a criticism. I like the breed. The successful ones are usually intelligent and charming.”
“And pretty,” Corinne added.
“That too,” he said, looking across the room to where the lady in question was chatting up Lady Cowper. “Yes, Miss Dunn has certainly come far.”
“That’s Lady Dunn.”
“So it is. I forgot she’s been married once already. I wonder who she was before she nabbed Dunn.”
“She’s from Northumberland, where her papa raised sheep. I, as the former Miss Clare from Ireland, don’t hold it against her that she has bettered herself in marriage, if it is indeed the case.”
“Sorry. One has to be so careful when cutting up one’s friends. I was a poor boy myself, and don’t consider poverty a disgrace. Where’s Prance tonight? I wrote him asking if he was planning to come. He didn’t answer.”
“Really?” she said, surprised that Prance would ignore a note from his idol. “He must be ill.”
“I shall call on him tomorrow, bearing possets, potions and poisonous on dits. Do you know any good scandal I might take him to aid his recovery? Extramarital liaisons, crim cons for choice.”
Luten was never happy to see his fiancée with Byron. He knew this was childish of him, but when a man is in love, he might be allowed to behave foolishly. He escaped from Grafton as soon as he politely could and joined them.
Corinne, who was well aware of his jealousy, decided to reassure him. She said, “Byron was just telling me had written to Reg and got no answer. I wonder if he is ill.” This would let him know how innocent the conversation had been.
“Really? I’m sorry to hear it. Well, we’ve done our duty, my dear. It’s nearly eleven. Shall we leave?”
“By all means.”
They took their leave of their hostess, who promised she would call on Lady deCoventry soon, and returned to Berkeley Square. Corinne reported that Lady Dunn seemed a suitable candidate for political wife.
Chapter Eleven
The Berkeley Brigade met in Corinne’s drawing room the next morning to share their findings in the Russell case and discuss the next step. Black served coffee, and with a wink to Coffen, handed him a plate of toast.
Prance’s main interest was to hear all about Lady Dunn’s party. He would have to wait until Luten left to do his quizzing as he had no intention of revealing to him that he cared at being left out. He knew it was petty, beneath him, yet he was burning to hear all.
As it turned out, he didn’t even have to ask. “Byron was asking about you at Dunn’s do last night, Prance,” Luten said, before they got down to business. “He said he’d written to you and you hadn’t answered. He’ll be calling on you today to see what ails you.”
“We told him you must not be feeling well, as you’re always punctilious in answering notes,” Corinne added.
“Especially from —"
Before Coffen could finish his speech, Prance spoke up quickly. “I had one of my thundering headaches,” he said, hardly having to lie at all as his head certainly had ached. But it wasn’t aching now. The sun was shining, Byron was going to call on him. He was on thorns to get home. He assumed a brisk, businesslike air and said, “Well, we’re here to discuss Russell, and we know you’re always in a hurry to get to the House, Luten, so let us get on with it.”
“Right, how did the visit to Miss Barker go, Coffen?” Luten asked.
“Pretty good. She thinks the only one of the whist group who could have done it is Cooper, but other than his being jealous, has no real reason to suspect him. Miss Barker lives with a rich aunt or cousin. Says Russell was wooing her till he found out she had no hope of inheriting the cousin’s estate. She’s pretty sure he was only after Fenwick for her blunt.”
“Is there any chance Miss Barker herself might have done the deed?” Luten asked.
“She don’t seem the type,” Coffen said. “What do you think, Prance? You were there.”
“She’s much too sensible,” Prance said. “I could see her giving him a punch in the nose, but not shooting him.”
“And there’s another thing, could be a clue,” Coffen continued. “Barker saw him talking to some lady on Bond Street. Seemed to be almost harassing her. As she hurried off, he called her Polly. Miss Barker thinks he didn’t know her at all, and was just letting on he did when he spotted her watching him.”
Luten didn’t have a good deal of time to devote to the case, but when he worked, he concentrated his attention and intelligence on the matter at hand. “This isn’t the first appearance of some mysterious lady,” he said. “There was that lady who called at his apartment. Did Miss Barker give a description of the lady she saw?”
“Dark haired, pretty, well dressed, good figure,” Prance rhymed off. “She didn’t mention any distinguishing characteristics.”
“That’s pretty much the way Russell’s landlady described his female caller,” Corinne said, looking to Coffen for confirmation, “except she didn’t actually see the face.”
“It is,” he said. “It’s beginning to look like a cherchez la femme. And we can’t forget kooey bono as well. Though since Russell’s pockets were to let, it don’t seem there’s any kooey bono in it.”
“It doesn’t seem very likely he’d be pestering a total stranger on Bond Street,” Luten said. “Isn’t it more likely he knew her and she didn’t care to acknowledge him?”
Coffen listened, frowning. “If he did know her and was badgering her, perhaps even trying to cadge money out of her, she might have taken some revenge on him, but murdering him seems a hard revenge for a little pestering.”
“It would have to be more than a little pestering,” Luten agreed. “It must have had to do with something serious, like love or money. He had none, and the lady looked prosperous. Did he have something he could use to hold her to ransom, I wonder? If that was the case, she might have been angry or frightened enough to do him in.”
After a moment’s silence while they all considered this, Corinne said, “Unless we could get Miss Barker to identify the lady, I think we’ve come to a dead end here for the time being.”
“Miss Barker’s seen the lady around before a few times. She’s going to try to follow her if she sees her again, and let us know where she lives,” Coffen said.
Luten nodded. “Excellent! Anything else?”
“I did some more tracking of Cooper last night,” Coffen said, and received their full attention. “I went back to that tavern I met him in the other night. He was sitting at a table with some other fellows, talking his head off. When he left, I followed him. He went straight home. I called on him, took the hat with me and put it to him I’d seen him plant it at Russell’s place. He didn’t deny it. He had a funny story to tell. I don’t know if I believe it or not. Tell me what you think.”
“Let’s hear it,” Luten said.
“Well, he’s pretty sure it was Russell’s hat, an old one he didn’t wear any more, and the oil on the inside makes me believe him.
Seems a Miss Graham from the whist group was collecting used clothes for the poor house. You remember, Corrie, Mrs. Ballard was asking us all to donate. The whisters all took in their old clothes. Russell took an old jacket and some other things. Cooper was already suspecting him of being no better than he should be, and took note of the tailor’s name on the jacket. It was some firm in Bedford, same place as the name on the hat.”
“Did Russell donate the hat along with his old jacket?” Luten asked.
“Cooper says not, but he thinks Cooper’s from Bedford because of the jacket, so that’s why he thinks the old hat belonged to Russell as well. He let on he was from Keswick, you recall.”
“How did Cooper come by the hat if he didn’t snatch it from the poor box?” Luten asked.
“That’s the funny part,” Coffen said. “When he got home from work the day before yesterday, he found it on the shelf in his clothes cupboard. Swears it wasn’t there when he left. He already knew the group had fingered him as the one did it for Russell, and thought someone had planted it on him. He was afraid Miss Fenwick might call in Bow Street. She was pretty sore at him when he called on her after the murder and tried to give her a hint she was well rid of Russell. It seems she all but accused him. He feared Bow Street would come knocking on his door with a search warrant, so he wanted to get rid of the lid.”
“But why take it back to Russell’s place?” Corinne asked, frowning.
“He went there to see if any clues incriminating him had been planted at Russell’s flat,” Luten said. “And to lead Bow Street to Bedford.”
“That’s exactly what he said. How’d you know that?” Coffen asked. “Have you caught the second sight from Corrie?”
“It’s not contagious,” Luten replied, chewing back a grin. “You saw him take the hat there, Coffen. Did he look around to see if anything of his had been placed there?”