A Lady's Guide to Etiquette and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  “Nonsense. We can work this all out. Just make sure your reception room is presentable for callers and leave the rest of the house for later. I can stop by for you tomorrow, and we’ll take my carriage to make calls and leave your cards. I can also take you both to the modiste later in the week.”

  This still seemed like a great deal to accomplish but with Fiona’s help, and a systematic approach, it could be done.

  “And don’t forget you have George.”

  That pulled me up short. “George?”

  “Of course. He has a carriage, and he lives right next door to you, and will probably be attending the same functions you wish to attend. And if he isn’t, he should be.” She gave me an emphatic nod. “I’ll speak to him about it.”

  “Oh, no. Fiona, I don’t wish to impose on your brother,” I said, my stomach clenching as panic set in.

  “Frances, he’d be delighted.” She clutched dramatically at my hands. “I’d be delighted. Please, please drag my brother out for some fun and frivolity. He’s finally settled in one place but all he does is work and go to his clubs. If we don’t get him out, he’ll soon become an old stick in the mud.”

  I was saved from having to answer by Robert’s return. And I must say I felt much more secure with the large sum of money in my reticule. Well, I felt secure in having it, but anxious to get it home and locked up. Fiona sent me home in their carriage, promising to call on me the next day at noon.

  * * *

  If I had to be stuck in a series of drawing rooms, at least I was pleased with the group of ladies Fiona had chosen to call on. We were now at our fourth, and last, stop for the day—the home of Lady Caroline Fairmont. There were only six of us still here as the afternoon was getting on. Caroline sat on a sofa behind the teapot, with her mother and Fiona. I was seated across from her with two other ladies. One of them, a Mrs. Richardson, addressed Fiona. “Did you say you called on Anne Haverhill yesterday? Was there any progress on the robbery?”

  “Sadly, no. They have not found the thief or the stolen items.”

  This was news to me. “The Haverhills were robbed?”

  “Yes, about a week ago,” Mrs. Richardson explained. “They held a reception for a visiting dignitary, from some Eastern European country.” She paused to release a weary sigh. “Haverhill’s an MP you know. Always involved with foreigners though and constantly pursuing Home Rule for Ireland. I think our members of Parliament should be more concerned with the British.”

  “Well as Ireland doesn’t have Home Rule, I don’t believe it’s fair to consider them foreigners,” I said, certain Mrs. Richardson considered me a foreigner as well, though she wouldn’t have the nerve to say as much.

  Fiona called us back to the topic. “The day after the reception they realized five snuffboxes were missing from Mr. Haverhill’s collection.”

  “Why, that’s terrible.”

  “Indeed,” she continued with an emphatic nod. “The missing pieces were quite notable, and worth a great deal, so after a thorough search of the house, they contacted the Metropolitan Police.”

  “But it’s been a week, and they’ve had no success?”

  I was addressing Fiona, but Mrs. Richardson, in her enthusiasm, responded before Fiona had a chance to form an answer. “Criminals these days are very skilled, and organized. I wouldn’t be surprised if one or more of the servants were involved.” Her eyes narrowed, and I could almost see her thoughts take a new turn. “You have recently set up your household, have you not, Lady Harleigh? I hope you were careful in hiring your staff.”

  I assured her I had taken meticulous care in interviewing candidates and verifying references. “Both my household, and my needs, are small,” I said. “Although both are about to increase. My sister and aunt will be arriving this week and staying for the Season.”

  “Oh, so you’ll be sponsoring your sister this spring,” Caroline said. “How delightful for you.”

  “Delightful, you call it?” Mrs. Foster, Caroline’s mother, wore an expression of pain. “I brought out four girls, and all I can say is I’m delighted there wasn’t a fifth.” We all chuckled as she’d expected. “I’m only half joshing you, my dear. Monitoring a young girl’s behavior is no easy task. Not to mention a young man’s.”

  “I suppose there are always some ne’er-do-wells to be avoided,” Caroline agreed.

  “I’ve been out of society for so long I’m not familiar with all the young men. I expect each of you to inform me if a particular gentleman should be avoided.”

  “Your sister must meet the new Viscount Ainsworthy,” said Mrs. Richardson. A murmur of agreement followed.

  “He would be this Season’s great catch.”

  “Such a vulgar phrase, Caroline,” her mother said.

  “But true, nonetheless.” She leaned in toward me. “The old viscount died just a few months ago, and I understand there was quite a bother trying to find his heir, a nephew who had been living in South Africa for years. The new viscount arrived in England about a month ago and has spent most of that time at the family estate in Kent. But he’s been in London about a week now, and it’s rumored he’s looking for a wife.”

  “And is he the source of that rumor or its victim?”

  “It is most difficult to know if this is idle speculation, or even wishful thinking,” said Mrs. Richardson, oblivious to my joke. “But it would be a wise move on his part to marry well. He’ll need a well-bred young lady, and her family, to guide him.”

  I thought the poor viscount had best make his choice quickly before the London mamas stepped in to make it for him. “Since Lily is an American, she’s not a likely candidate. And as she’s only eighteen, I won’t encourage her to marry anyone this Season.”

  “Ah, but she may fall in love,” suggested Mrs. Richardson, “and you never know where a young girl’s heart may lead her.”

  A chill of dread rushed over me at the thought of my sister in love with a scoundrel, or a selfish philanderer like Reggie. Lily’s life shattered. Her heart broken. All my protective instincts surged to the fore. “Should that happen, you may be sure I will be looking into that young man’s background in great detail.”

  From across the table Mrs. Foster gave me a knowing look. “As I said, this is not an easy task.”

  Chapter 5

  I was to think on Mrs. Foster’s words frequently over the next few days. Returning home that afternoon I found another missive passed on from Harleigh House. This time from Aunt Hetty, telling me their ship had docked in Southampton, and their train should arrive at Victoria Station the following day. I engaged Mr. Hazelton’s carriage, coachman, and a footman to collect them at the station, and expected them in time for a nice afternoon tea.

  The carriage returned as scheduled, but brought only two servants, and a large pile of luggage. No sister. No aunt. No message for me. Their maids could only tell me the two ladies had decided to take the train. What train? To the best of my knowledge, there was no train service from Victoria Station to my door. Good heavens! What were they thinking? Were they now lost somewhere in the middle of London?

  I sent the driver back to the station, with orders to look for a middle-aged woman and a young lady traveling together. As I hadn’t seen them in years, that was all the description I could supply. I spent the next hour pacing my drawing room, worrying they’d been robbed, or kidnapped, or on a train to Scotland, with no servants and no clothing, when finally, Mrs. Thompson ushered in two disheveled women, whom I took to be Lily and Hetty.

  The younger one ran forward and, with a squeal, threw her arms around me. My fears dissipated like vapor.

  I held my sister close, hardly believing she was in my arms and all grown up—and smelling as if she’d just cleaned my chimneys. “What on earth happened to you two?”

  Lily laughed as she backed away, and Aunt Hetty put her arm around my shoulders, giving me a peck on the cheek. “Greetings to you too, my dear niece.”

  Aunt Hetty had changed little over th
e last ten years. Her full cheeks had drooped a bit, and the delicate skin around her eyes was creased, but she was as tall and slender as I remembered, with my father’s dark hair and eyes. Surprisingly, her hair was still untouched by gray.

  Lily, on the other hand, had grown from a child into a lovely young woman. She was exactly as I would imagine our mother to have looked at her age—blond, blue-eyed, and petite. Tears stung my eyes as I realized how much I had missed of her life. And now, here she was, so grown up. And so . . . smoky.

  “Where have you been?”

  “We took a little detour once we arrived in London.” Lily giggled, and Hetty was positively smirking, as if she had a great tale to tell. “We took a ride on the Metropolitan Railway—the one that runs underground.”

  “That’s what I smell.” I was appalled. “Why would you do such a thing? All manner of people ride those trains. You might have been robbed, or stabbed, or—”

  “But as you see, we are fine,” Hetty said, dismissing my concerns. “And it was quite an adventure.”

  “Not one I’d repeat,” Lily added, although I believe it was only to appease my concerns. She shook out her skirt, and I’m not sure if I only imagined the ash floating down to the carpet. “And I would like to clean up if I may.”

  “Of course you would.” I took them up to their rooms, still trying to regain my composure. They were safe. They were unharmed. And they would never do this again. I’d have to have a talk with Aunt Hetty to determine if she had any other adventures in mind for her stay here.

  I slipped up to the nursery to bring Rose down for tea. By the time Lily and Hetty had changed their clothing, and freshened up, George Hazelton had joined us, wishing to assure himself that nothing had gone amiss in collecting my relations. Although I was eager to have them to myself, I encouraged him to stay, and performed the introductions. Both ladies greeted him warmly and turned to Rose.

  “And who have we here?” Lily went down to one knee, putting herself at eye level for Rose. “This cannot be Rose. Rose is just a little baby.”

  “She was a baby when you and Mother last visited,” I said. “But that was seven years ago. She’s changed considerably since then. You both have.”

  “Well, I stand corrected,” Lily said. “You are quite the young lady.” She rose to her feet, her gaze darting between my daughter and me. “All that dark hair, and those lovely blue eyes, put me in mind of someone, but I simply can’t think who.”

  Rose gave her aunt a smile. “Nanny says I look like my mother.”

  “How clever of you, my dear.” Hetty leaned closer to Rose as if she were speaking to her in confidence. “Your grandmother came to see you when you were born, and her report was that you looked very much like your grandfather.” She pulled a horrified face, making Rose giggle.

  “Rose, why don’t you invite everyone to the drawing room for tea?”

  We moved into the newly, but still sparsely, decorated drawing room. I have to admit after living for ten years at Harleigh Manor, where every horizontal surface was littered with mementos from the earl’s travels, or some unsightly heirloom, I just couldn’t bring myself to fill my new house with bric-a-brac.

  We all seated ourselves around the low tea table. Lily and I each took a chair, Hetty and George shared the sofa, and Rose moved among us, passing out plates of scones and biscuits, while I poured the tea.

  While they chatted about London, my gaze landed on Mr. Hazelton. Heavens, should I tell him about my visit from the police? I couldn’t recall if I mentioned his name to Delaney. Would the inspector pay a call on him? He should be warned.

  When I realized the conversation had stopped, I looked up to see everyone staring at me. “Forgive me, I was lost in my plans for Lily’s debut.”

  “Well, while you are seeking a lord for Lily,” Hetty said, “I plan to do a little scouting for your father and Alonzo, as I do, you know.”

  I did know. My father was a shrewd investor, and Alonzo, my younger brother, followed in his footsteps. But nobody—nobody—could sniff out a potential gold mine like my aunt Hetty, and they never failed to take her advice. While this was profitable for all concerned, I always felt it was a shame Hetty couldn’t transact the business herself. Unfortunately, business was a man’s world.

  “If it’s the underground you’re interested in, I can introduce you to some of the principals involved,” George said.

  “Mr. Hazelton, are you active in business yourself? Forgive my ignorance, but I didn’t think men of your class worked for a living.”

  Hmm, Lily did need some polish. If she were asking anyone but Mr. Hazelton, I’d have been mortified by her question. But he merely smiled. “I may not report to an office every day, but since I didn’t inherit the family title or fortune, I have to earn my living. I studied law, but I find business more interesting.”

  Lily still looked confused, so I explained further. “Mr. Hazelton is the son of an earl, but in England only the first son inherits. The heir usually provides for the other family members as best he can, but in general, they have to make their own way.”

  “But what exactly do you do for a living?” my aunt pressed. “Are you in some sort of business?”

  George looked uncomfortable, as if this were too personal a question. I sought for a way to change the subject, when, to my surprise, he answered.

  “I have invested in a few enterprises,” he said in an offhand manner, “but as I mentioned, I was trained for the law, and occasionally I work on a case for the Crown.”

  Really? This was a surprise. I tried to picture George as a barrister, in robes and white wig, but the image wouldn’t take hold. Perhaps it was a good thing my relations were outspoken, curious Americans. I might actually learn something about my acquaintance.

  Lily was still trying to grasp the concept of primogeniture. “So the reason you are Mister Hazelton, not Lord Something, is because you are a second son.”

  “It’s worse than that,” George replied, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “I’m a third son with two healthy, older brothers. Far removed from a title.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s a wonder I allow him in my home.” “You are all condescension, Lady Harleigh.” Although we laughed, Hetty and Lily seemed not to be in on the joke. Had I become too British for my own relatives?

  “But Rose won’t inherit a title either, yet isn’t she called Lady Rose?”

  “Yes, she is,” I replied. “But it’s all rather complicated. I’ll go over it with you later if you like. I’m actually surprised Mother didn’t drill you on all the titles and honorariums.”

  Lily struggled to hide a grin. “She tried, but I’m afraid I was a poor student.”

  “Well, that seems far too old a name for you, little one.” Hetty gave Rose’s braid a gentle tug. “I shall call you Lady Rosebud.” Rose giggled and looked up at her with a shy smile. I could see she was on the verge of adoring her aunt Hetty. At Harleigh she’d never spent much time with adults, other than myself and her nurse. Perhaps we were both going to benefit from having my family here.

  As if reading my mind, Mr. Hazelton placed his teacup on the table and rose to his feet. “Delighted to have met you both, but it’s time I leave the four of you to catch up on family matters.”

  “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you, Mr. Hazelton,” Lily said.

  “I’ve been given strict orders from my sister, whom I’m sure you will be meeting soon, to go out in society and enjoy myself. So consider me at your service as escort to all the balls, receptions, breakfasts, and picnics you wish to attend.”

  “Let me see you out, Mr. Hazelton.” I walked him to the foyer and out of the hearing of my relatives. “I’m not quite sure how to bring this up but I must warn you of something.”

  He had one hand on the doorknob and a brow raised in question. There was no time to dither. “I had a visit from a police inspector,” I said. “He came at the request of the Guildford police who had some questions about Reggie’s dea
th.”

  Both brows shot up. “What sort of questions?”

  “Inspector Delaney asked me about the events of that day and how I learned of his death. He also suggested the Guildford police might suspect foul play.”

  “Good Lord. What did you tell him?”

  “That’s the problem. By the time he mentioned murder, I had already told him the story we had devised. I wanted to warn you in case he pays a call on you.”

  “Good to know.” He darted a glance toward the drawing room. “We’ll have to discuss this at another time. For now, try not to worry.” He opened the door as if to leave, then turned back with a smile. “Thank you for the warning.”

  I stared at the closed door. Don’t worry? That was not the reaction I’d expected. He seemed completely unconcerned about the business. I was beginning to find Mr. Hazelton quite the puzzle. And I had to admit, I found his confidence quite attractive.

  When I returned to my guests, I saw that Lily was looking at me with one eyebrow raised in question.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  A sly smile spread across her lips. “Just that it looks like one gentleman of your acquaintance is pleased you are no longer in mourning.”

  Considering the direction my thoughts had just taken, I immediately became flustered, and felt my cheeks grow hot. Hetty misunderstood my reaction and gave me a sympathetic look. “Lily, that was unkind,” she said. “Clearly Frances still feels the loss of her husband.”

  Lily was beside me in an instant, kneeling by my chair in an agony of remorse. “Frances, I’m so sorry. I must learn to think before I speak.”

  I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s quite all right, Lily. You just took me by surprise.” What else could I say? Especially with Rose in the room. “Don’t concern yourself, it’s been years since I mourned Reggie’s loss”? Or perhaps the more impersonal “Ours was not a love match”? Or even, “How odd you should single out Mr. Hazelton, as he helped to move Reggie’s body from his mistress’s bed to his own.” I hated lying to her, but what choice did I have?