The Counterfeit Heiress: A Lady Emily Mystery (Lady Emily Mysteries)

by Tasha Alexander

  “It must have been awful,” Colin said, leaning forward. “I am most grievously sorry for your pain.”

  “There needn’t have been any,” Mrs. Hopwood said. “I heard the child cry, but Mary insisted she had to take her away, to keep her from me. She didn’t leave her with us and she would have if the child had been dead, wouldn’t she? She would have left her for us to deal with.”

  Not knowing the details of what had happened on that sad occasion, and not wanting to further agitate the woman, I changed direction. “Did you see Mrs. Darby after that day?”

  “I visited her, over and over, but she refused to see me. Wouldn’t offer so much as a word of comfort, because she knew she couldn’t. She knew she was the instrument of my pain.”

  “How often did you try to see her?” Colin asked.

  “It is so very difficult to remember.” Tears pooled in Mrs. Hopwood’s already red-rimmed eyes. “She spoke to me only once, and tried to give me something to help me sleep, as if that would take away the memory of what she had done.”

  “So you did speak to her?” I asked. “Was this here or at her rooms?”

  “She would not help me, so what choice did I have?”

  I looked to Colin, not sure what to do. “You had to take matters into your own hands, Mrs. Hopwood, didn’t you?” he asked.

  “I did. I followed her every chance I could, hoping she would lead me to my baby.”

  “And when you saw her leave Devonshire House last night?” he asked.

  “Devonshire House? I can’t say she’s ever been there, Mr. Hargreaves. She’s not nearly that fine a lady. No, no Devonshire House for her.”

  “But you found her near the river?” Colin pressed.

  “No, she was most often at that theater in the West End. I never saw her near the river.”

  “Which theater, Mrs. Hopwood?” I asked.

  “The one not far from St. Martin-in-the-Fields,” she said. “They are putting on a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I think she may have got the idea to steal my baby from being part of something so concerned with fairies and magic and all sorts of evil things.”

  “Did you ever see her with the baby?” I asked.

  “No. I would have taken her back if I had. You must believe me,” she said. “I would not leave my little one abandoned. Why will no one help me find her? Will you help me?”

  Colin rose to his feet. “I assure you, Mrs. Hopwood, I will personally do everything I can to assist you through this dreadful time. If I may be so bold, I should like to send my private physician to attend to you. He is a man of great intelligence and skill and will be able to help you learn what happened to your daughter.”

  “I don’t want something to make me sleep.”

  “No, of course not,” Colin said, his voice gentle and soothing. “I shall tell him as much.”

  We took our leave from her and were met by a servant in the corridor near the front door. “Sir, I sent for Mr. Hopwood the moment you arrived. He is outside, hoping to speak to you. He didn’t want to disturb my mistress, you see.” She opened the door. “He is there, just across the street.”

  “Please walk with me,” Mr. Hopwood said as we approached him. His gray hair and lined face suggested he was considerably older than his wife. “Mrs. Hopwood does not often look out the window, but I do not want to take the chance of alarming her in case she does. No doubt you have ascertained that she is greatly disturbed?”

  “Yes, I am afraid so,” Colin said.

  “There is no question of kidnapping here, sir,” Mr. Hopwood said. “Our daughter died within moments of being born.”

  “Your wife heard her cry?” I asked.

  “She did, but it was only once. I held the child myself. There was no life in her.”

  “I am so sorry,” I said.

  “We have suffered a series of disappointments, as so many do, but my wife, I am afraid, has come undone from it. She blames the midwife, though there was no indication the woman had done anything wrong. She took it into her head that she spirited the baby off, when in fact I had asked her to do so in order that my wife might be spared having to face another dead infant in the house waiting for burial.”

  “Did you have a funeral?” Colin asked.

  “We did, but Mrs. Hopwood was in no condition to attend. She took, shortly thereafter, to following Mrs. Darby, harassing her. It’s rather an embarrassment, and I do not know what to do to stop her. She has refused medical attention and I fear may require institutionalization.”

  “She has agreed to let my physician see her,” Colin said, “but the matter is more serious than you may know. Mary Darby was murdered last night.”

  “Dear Lord,” Mr. Hopwood said. “You don’t think—”

  “At the moment we are gathering all information pertinent to the investigation,” Colin said. “Is it possible your wife attacked her?”

  “I should like to say no, but her behavior has been so erratic of late…”

  “Were you home last night, Mr. Hopwood?” I asked.

  “I was not. I have taken to spending several nights a week at my club. In the circumstances it seemed the best thing.”

  “Quite,” Colin said. “Which club?”

  “The In and Out. I had a commission in the navy before taking a position in the City. I am employed as a banker now.”

  “Do you know if Mrs. Hopwood was at home all last night?” I asked.

  “She had no plans to go out, but I cannot say with confidence what she did. You are welcome to speak to our servants, but I would request that you allow me to send them down to meet you at the public house two streets over. It is best if Mrs. Hopwood is not further agitated.”

  “Of course,” Colin said, and took from him the details of the establishment in question. Soon we were settled at a table there. Colin ordered a pint of ale for himself and half a pint for me.

  “This is rather exciting,” I said, sipping the bitter drink. “I’ve never before been in a public house. Is this what they are all like?” The walls were paneled in dark wood, and a surly barman had handed our beverages to Colin so that he might bring them to our table. The pleasant scent of meat pies filled the premises, and I was about to suggest ordering some when one of Mr. Hopwood’s servants approached us.

  “My master has sent me to you,” he said. “My name is Will Mundy, and I have worked for the Hopwoods these eleven years. We’ve not a large staff, there are only the three of us, but we take good care of the family.”

  “I do not doubt it,” I said. “We understand the situation has been difficult these past few months, particularly for Mrs. Hopwood.”

  “Her heart is right broken, madam.”

  “Do you know if she was home last night?” Colin asked.

  “She was most of the evening,” he said. “Nearly all of it, in fact. Cook had gone to bed and Molly and me, we was reading the evening paper belowstairs. Mr. Hopwood lets us have it when he stays at his club.”

  “And you saw Mrs. Hopwood?” I asked.

  “She had gone to bed, you see, hours before, but then we heard a commotion on the stairs, and I went to take a look. It was the mistress, still in her nightdress. I asked her if she wanted a cup of warm milk to calm her nerves, but it was like she didn’t even see me. She walked straight past me to the front door.”

  “Did she go outside?” Colin asked.

  “I blocked her way, sir,” he said. “I meant nothing improper, of course, but I couldn’t let her leave the house like that. Not in her nightdress.”

  “No, you could not,” Colin said. “So she remained inside?”

  “I turned her round and put her in the direction of going back upstairs and waited until I heard a door close. I figured she had gone back to her room.”

  “Had she?” I asked.

  “I don’t rightly know, madam. I thought she had, and I went back downstairs. But then, must have been about ten minutes later, we heard a clatter on the servants’ stairs, and she rushe
d down right past us and out the door before I had the chance to even try to stop her.”

  “Was she still in her nightdress?” I asked.

  “She had put on a cloak, but I could not tell you what she wore beneath it.”

  “Did you follow her?” Colin asked.

  “As quickly as I could, but got no farther than seeing her get into a hansom cab. I have no idea where she went after that.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Round about midnight, best as I can say.”

  “Did you notify Mr. Hopwood?” Colin asked.

  “I know we should have at once, sir, but we couldn’t get the telephone to work, and we thought she would come back quickly.”

  “Did she?”

  “No,” Will said. “So around two o’clock in the morning, I went to find the master and left a message for him at his club.”

  “Did he come home?” Colin asked.

  “Not until the morning.”

  “Was the message delivered before then?” I asked.

  “I told them at the club it was urgent.”

  “When did Mrs. Hopwood return home?” Colin asked.

  “Just after dawn, sir. She was in a state, her hair wild and her cloak torn.”

  “Do you have any idea where she had been?” Colin asked.

  “None. I’m sorry not to be of more use. Cook said to tell you she has nothing to add. She slept through all the excitement.”

  “Thank you, Will,” Colin said. “Will you send Molly to us straightaway?”

  Molly had nothing to contribute beyond corroborating Will’s story. She was nervous and upset, afraid she might lose her position if she did not get back to the house quickly enough. We reassured her as best we could before sending her on her way.

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” she said before scurrying out the door, “living in a house like that. I fear we’ll all be mad before Christmas.”

  “Well?” I asked my husband once she had gone.

  “Mr. Hopwood, I presume?” he asked. “Clearly he has been somewhat less than forthright.”

  Estella

  iv

  “I am afraid you have taken me for a fool, sir,” Estella said to her caller, the man she had let herself come to trust, whom she had believed valued her for the previously unbeknownst-to-her business acumen he insisted she possessed. “I have taken Dr. Maynard’s Formula, and found it to be nothing more than worse-than-usual-tasting laudanum. I have no interest in investing in such a thing.”

  He felt as if the world were crashing down around him. He had added laudanum to the mixture in an attempt to assuage his fear that she would feel no effect when she sampled the tincture. It was a mistake he would long regret. She ordered him to leave the house at once and to never call again. A burly servant bustled him out the back door. Always before he had used the front.

  Estella cringed to think of it after he was gone. She had been so foolish, so trusting, so stupid. Monsieur Pinard would have identified this man as a charlatan in an instant, she knew, and she wished she had had the sense to consult with him in the matter. Fortunately none of her friends knew of the now spoiled business arrangement. She had mentioned it once, to Cécile, but only in passing, and her friend was unlikely to remember the conversation. Estella would suffer no more mortification because of it, except in her own head.

  For two days after the incident, Estella did not leave her house. She retreated one afternoon to the cupboard in the nursery where she still kept her favorite dolls. It was too cramped for her to sit in comfortably now that she was full grown, but she folded herself into it nonetheless, wrapping her arms around her knees and pulling them to her chin, bending her neck so that her head fit beneath the shelf. She confessed everything to her dolls and saw in their green eyes no mocking laughter, the sort she was certain she would find in her friends’ if she told them what she had almost done. She had never before told the dolls a story that had not first belonged to her mother, and now that she had, she felt a release unlike any she had known before. These were her friends, her true friends.

  Something tugged at her heart, and she thought of Cécile. Cécile would not laugh at her. Cécile would give her a glass of champagne and tell her this all proved that she was too good and too trusting for most of this world, and that she should be proud to have discovered the fraud before she made her investment. Estella decided to go to the place Saint-Germain-des-Prés, to her friend’s house, and confide in her. She drew herself out of the cupboard and threw a cloak around her shoulders before stepping outside into the crisp autumn sunshine. The day was so bright she had to squint to see. The walk to Cécile’s was not a short one, but still she did not bother to take her parasol. Instead she tipped her head back, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face.

  She turned onto rue du Dragon and had not taken more than three steps when she felt strong arms grab her from behind. A rough cloth covered her face, and when she breathed, the air tasted too sweet. She grew tired, so very tired.

  And then the world went black.

  5

  We returned to the Hopwood residence after finishing with the family’s servants, but Mr. Hopwood had not gone there after speaking to us, so we sought him at his place of employment in the City. He looked rather shamefaced when he saw us, and ushered us into a room furnished with a large desk and three uncomfortable chairs. “I should have told you what happened last night,” he said, the moment we had sat down.

  “Quite an understatement,” Colin said. “Please do enlighten us now. First, I want to know precisely what happened. Second, I want to know why you did not tell us earlier.”

  “I had gone to my club, just as I said, but when I went to bed, I gave strict orders that I was not to be disturbed.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “You have met my wife. Living with her has become something of a trial, and more often than not she sets off on nocturnal adventures.”

  “This happens frequently?” Colin asked.

  “Not in the extreme,” Mr. Hopwood said, “but she has with some regularity ventured out of the house. In the beginning, I followed her in a panic, only to find that she did nothing more than wander for a few blocks before sitting on the pavement, wailing for some time, and then going home.”

  “This did not make you think she was in dire need of medical attention?” Colin asked. “I can assure you that if my wife were in such a state, I would not dream of abandoning her to her madness.”

  “Madness? Is that what you think it is? I understand why you would believe that, but it does not adequately address her condition. She is not completely unhinged, and I have no desire to see her locked up in some awful place and treated like she has no reason left at all. She is mad, but for a very specific reason, and one that I am certain will pass in time. This is a temporary setback. A serious one, I agree, but not all-consuming.”

  “She is a danger to herself wandering around in such a state,” Colin said.

  “Yes, yes, I suppose so.” Mr. Hopwood dropped his face into his hands. “It has become so very difficult, all of it. I am grieving, too, you know, though she does not see it. Grieving without a wife to offer any meaningful support. She is too lost in her own pain to care about anyone else’s.”

  “So you are content to let her wander the streets at night?” I asked. “One almost wonders if you hope she comes to harm.”

  “No, that is absolutely untrue. I swear it.” He rubbed his forehead, his eyes dull. “I realize how dreadful it sounds, that you must think me a monster, but have you ever dealt with a situation like this? At first it consumes you, and you are desperate to fix things. In time, however, you start to realize you have almost no power whatsoever, and you begin to find yourself inured to it. Your helplessness becomes callousness, and before long you hardly remember having emotions at all.”

  I wanted to lift him from his seat and give him a stern reprimand followed by a lecture on how one ought to treat one’s spouse if one has even th
e barest respect for the marital state, but decided, on balance, the current situation did not merit such actions. They would be neither welcome nor helpful. “No one is arguing these are not the most difficult of times,” I said instead.

  “It is your duty to look after your wife properly, Hopwood,” Colin said, “and I insist that you start to do it at once. Furthermore, I will call at your club to corroborate your version of last night’s events. Knowing this, is there anything you wish to add to your narrative?”

  “No, there is nothing,” he said. “I have given serious thought to what you said to me earlier, Hargreaves, and I cannot believe my wife would hurt anyone, even Mary Darby. Somewhere inside her she knows there is no one to blame for our daughter’s death. She may rail against the midwife, she may be upset with her, but she would not strike out physically against her. Of that I am certain.”

  I cannot say that I shared his confidence.

  “Disgraceful man,” Colin said as we left. “To allow his wife to carry on in such a manner is unconscionable.”

  “I have never believed the primary role of a husband is to control his wife,” I said. “Quite the contrary.”

  “You know, my dear, that we agree on this point, but there are times when human decency requires intervention. This is one of them.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “I feel fortunate to have a most rational wife.”

  “You are extremely fortunate. So fortunate, in fact, that I may even deserve an award of thanks.”

  “I shall see to that in the most thorough manner possible later this evening. For now, however—”

  “The In and Out,” I said. “Where I, of course, am not welcome.”

  “I am certain the navy shall one day come to see the error of their ways.”

  “It is unlikely I shall live long enough to see it. There is something that has been nagging at me, however, and I would like to pursue it while you explore the hallowed halls of Mr. Hopwood’s club. Would you collect me at Devonshire House when you are finished?”