A Lady's Guide to Etiquette and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  “What circumstances are you considering?” I took a chair by the tea table.

  Graham held up a newspaper, folded to a story titled GRUESOME MURDER IN BELGRAVIA!

  “Oh, I haven’t seen that one.”

  “Well, I suppose that explains why you aren’t packing.”

  I gave him a hard stare. “Packing?”

  He tossed the paper on the table and seated himself on the edge of the chair next to mine, resting his forearms on his knees as he leaned toward me. “A brutal murder took place right in this very neighborhood. Surely you don’t contemplate staying here? You can return to Harleigh tomorrow with Rose and Delia.” He sat back in the chair as if that settled the matter.

  It was far from settled. If Graham thought he could sweep in here and tell me what to do under the guise of ensuring my safety, he had better think again. If he knew the murder had occurred in my own garden, I could understand his concern, but under these circumstances, his behavior was simply too high-handed.

  “I thank you for your concern, but I have every intention of remaining right here.”

  He examined my face as if he wasn’t quite sure I was serious. “What a foolish notion. Do you not recognize the danger?”

  “I don’t see my neighbors fleeing their homes. Are they all fools, too?”

  “They are not women living alone.”

  “Neither am I, which reminds me, what would I do with my aunt and sister if I returned to Harleigh?”

  He waved aside my protest. “They are welcome to come as well.”

  “And what of the house?”

  His expression brightened. “I’ve spoken to an estate agent and the house can be sub-leased and provide you a steady income until such a time as you wish to sell. I can take care of that for you.”

  My mouth had fallen open as he spoke. I snapped it shut. Graham had read the story this morning. How had he managed to contact an agent, obtain a meeting with him, and learn the details of my lease before noon? Impossible. He must have been working on this scheme for days. Heavens, he really did think I was a fool.

  “This has nothing to do with my safety at all. You simply want me back at Harleigh so you can control the income from leasing this house.” I rose to my feet, fists clenched at my sides. “You should leave now.”

  Graham stood as well. “I’m astonished by your lack of gratitude to this family. You have no sense of duty.”

  “If familial duty means I must fund the Wynns forever, I am glad to be rid of that sense.”

  As he headed to the door, he paused and turned back, his face contorted in anger. “You are the most unnatural female I have ever come across. You have not heard the end of this.”

  I glared at the door as it slammed shut behind him. This clumsy maneuver convinced me Graham was working alone to gain control of my money. Delia would never have been so obvious. And the only reason he’d take these measures without her knowledge was if he didn’t plan to share. Considering each of them coveted my money for their own purposes, perhaps it was time to tell Graham’s wife what he was up to.

  * * *

  Fashionable London between Easter and Whitsuntide, while not the height of the Season, could still drive one to distraction. The flood of people coming to town, and the constant whirl of activity, left one with barely time to breathe, much less think. And thinking, or better yet, planning was exactly what I needed to do. Instead, here I was, with Hetty and Lily, at the Savoy Hotel, for tea, and Mrs. Worthington’s charity fashion show. But Mrs. Worthington was Delia’s mother, and I needed to speak to Delia, so my presence here was a necessity.

  I sipped my tea as yet another young debutante glided down the serpentine runway in a rather daring evening gown. I’d say the charity was doing quite well today. The young ladies had to pay a fee to walk the runway. Those attending, and it was quite a crush, had to pay an entrance fee, and I understood there would be an auction for a few of the more noteworthy gowns—all proceeds going to the charity.

  Meanwhile, we squeezed ourselves behind small tables, too many of which were stuffed into an overly warm room, made smaller by the addition of a runway. We drank tepid tea and ate delightful cakes. Yes, the delightful cakes spoiled my tirade, but they did make the afternoon bearable—just. I’m sure everyone here wished they’d just sent a donation and stayed home, but that wasn’t the point. One must come to be seen, and to mix with society.

  My point in coming was to speak to Delia, who persisted in eluding me. I couldn’t see her anywhere in the crowd. I’d sent my card backstage to let her know I was here so I assumed she’d join us after the show.

  “Why do you suppose Mrs. Worthington didn’t invite me to model the clothes?” Lily asked. “This is my first Season, too. And we are related, in a way.”

  “Mrs. Worthington is on the committee but she isn’t in charge of the production.” If she were allowed any power on these charitable committees, much of the proceeds would find their way into her pocket. Further, I knew Mrs. Worthington to be an implacable snob. In her mind, Lily didn’t have the pedigree to participate in her show.

  While galling, perhaps it was for the best. I wanted Lily in the background for now, and completely out of the picture as soon as possible. Her safety was more of a concern than her popularity. I had just drawn that conclusion when Hetty applied a sharp elbow to my side. I looked up to see Viscount Ainsworthy bowing over Lily’s hand, her face in full blush.

  He turned and nodded to my aunt and me. It was impossible for him to maneuver around the table to our side. “Good day to you, Countess. Mrs. Chesney. Have you seen anything you simply must add to your wardrobe?”

  I gave him my most brilliant smile. “Not yet, my lord, though I believe one is expected to purchase something.”

  He glanced around the room. “That explains why all the other gentlemen here are with their wives. I’m afraid your sister-in-law will be disappointed in me, but I was actually about to slip out the back door. When I saw you ladies, I had to come by and ask if you’ll be attending the Roswell ball this evening.”

  “Yes, indeed, we’ll all be there. Mrs. Roswell is an excellent hostess, and her events are always entertaining. May I assume you will be there as well?”

  “I will,” he said with a nod. Then he turned his dazzling smile on Lily. “If you’re not already engaged, will you honor me with the first dance, Miss Price?”

  Lily beamed, and accepted, while Hetty and I ogled. He left us a few minutes later, and Hetty sighed. “Lily, if you don’t marry Viscount Swoonworthy, I swear I will!” Our laughter caused an older woman at a nearby table to cast a curious glance in our direction, but it definitely lightened my mood.

  The show ended before long, and soon Delia squeezed over to our table. After showering her with accolades for a wonderful event, I brought up her return to Harleigh. She was delighted at the prospect of taking Rose with her while clearly confused at the addition of my sister to her party. After much debate with Hetty and Lily, we had concocted a new tale for her withdrawal from town, which I relayed to Delia, sotto voce. In this story Lily had attracted an undesirable admirer. She was infatuated, but I was certain he only wanted her fortune, and I considered him in desperate enough financial straits that a week’s absence would cause him to seek a new heiress.

  “Of course we’ll put it about that Lily was taken ill and returned with you to recover in the country air. I wanted you to know the truth, however,” I added, crossing my fingers at the fib.

  “How clever of you, my dear. We certainly don’t need anyone grasping at your sister’s fortune,” she added with a firm nod.

  As she said this with a complete lack of irony, the only polite thing to do was agree. Delia’s eyes were alight with curiosity, but she was far too proper to ask the name of the gentleman. I was content to leave her wondering. Let her try to wheedle the name of the non-existent suitor out of Lily.

  Now for the difficult part. I leaned closer to Delia. “I wish I could provide something for your
mother’s charity, dear, but that lawsuit of Graham’s has frozen my account.”

  Delia cocked her head, giving me a look of confusion.

  “Didn’t you know? Graham’s filed a claim for the funds my father gave me.” I shrugged. “He can’t win, of course, but he’s temporarily made me a pauper.”

  Delia was no fool and the horror on her face showed me her train of thought. Graham did this without telling her, which means he wouldn’t have given her a shilling. Nor would she be able to come to me for her pin money.

  She placed a hand over mine. “I’m so sorry, Frances. But don’t you worry. I’ll speak to him before I leave tomorrow and put an end to this nonsense.”

  “That would be such a relief, Delia.”

  We made the arrangements for their departure in the morning, and while I felt a little misty about losing the company of my daughter and sister for the next week—if not longer—I was satisfied they would be safe now. As we headed back home, I felt a welling of gratitude for Aunt Hetty for staying with me, as well as a desire to spend more time with my daughter before she left me in the morning.

  “What do you say to collecting Rose from home and taking her on an outing to Hyde Park?” We had just pulled up to the front of my house as the idea struck me. “It’s a lovely day, and I daresay George can spare his carriage for another hour.”

  “You should see if he has an hour of his time to spare as well,” Hetty said, her expression turning grave.

  Lily took the decision of inviting George out of my hands, as she climbed down from the carriage, before the driver could come around to assist her. “That’s an excellent idea. The two of you can get Rose ready, and I’ll collect Mr. Hazelton.”

  Hetty and I descended in a more decorous fashion. “I understand you want to spend time with the girls,” she said, stepping down to the sidewalk, and turning toward me, “but you do need to be cautious.”

  “I doubt we’ll be overset by marauders at Hyde Park, Aunt Hetty.”

  “No, but a band of Lily’s suitors is not out of the question. And if one of them is a murderer . . .”

  “I see your point, but considering Delaney’s suspicions of George, is it being cautious to include him in the outing, or is it throwing caution to the wind?”

  As we climbed the steps to the front door, Hetty turned sharply toward me. “You don’t imagine he had anything to do with these strange goings-on, do you?”

  I smiled at her outraged expression. “Actually I don’t, but I wasn’t aware you were Mr. Hazelton’s staunch supporter. How did this come about?”

  Hetty let out a bark of laughter. “I’d like to think that at my age I’ve become a good judge of character. Although I do make my share of mistakes, I find it best to follow my instincts in assessing people, until there is evidence to prove me wrong, of course.” She gave me a pointed look. “That’s what you should be doing, my dear. Follow the evidence. Perhaps it will lead you out of this mess.”

  “Me? Isn’t that what we trust the police to do?”

  “Well, you trust them if you think that’s best, dear. It’s your life after all. By the way, I have several letters to write, so I’ll let you young people enjoy your outing while I get to work.”

  I watched her walk up the stairs with my mouth half open. Her parting comment hardly rang with approval. But did she honestly think I should take this investigation on myself? I had no skills or resources for such a task. Still, as I climbed the stairs, heading to the nursery for Rose, I felt oddly disappointed in myself.

  * * *

  It was the perfect afternoon. The sun peeked out from behind a thin layer of clouds to remind us of its presence. There was a gentle breeze, but no real chill. And our attempts to amuse Rose had the three of us feeling like children ourselves. We’d left the carriage with George’s driver and took to our feet soon after entering the park. Rose squealed as the riders pounded down Rotten Row. She told George, in great detail, about the pony she’d left behind at Harleigh, and how eager she was to see him again. Delia was right; there was much more for a child to do in the country, and I’d been far too busy, since we’d come to London, for many outings such as this.

  After eating ices from a vendor’s cart, we wandered over to the Serpentine to watch two young men rowing their ladies across the smooth water. George promised to take Rose out in one the next time she came to London. This time, she’d have to be content to walk across the bridge. As we headed in that direction, Rose took Lily’s hand, so I walked with George. The arrangement pleased me, as I’d been wanting to ask him a question since talking with Hetty this morning.

  “Do you think the police will get anywhere with this investigation?”

  He gave me a surprised glance. “Do you mean will they find Capshaw’s murderer?”

  I considered the question for a moment. “No, I mean all of it. Will they find the murderer? And since we weren’t able to talk to Capshaw, will we find the jewel thief or the housebreaker? Will I find out, once and for all, if Reggie died of natural causes? Will my life ever get back to normal again?”

  “I’m sure everything will be resolved, Frances.” He drew my hand through his arm and gave it a little pat. I wanted to cringe. Did he just pat me on the hand? Really? Oh, this was worse than Hetty’s disdain. Did I give everyone the impression of some fragile flower, needing to be cosseted and protected? Is that who I was?

  I had to ponder that a bit. So I bought myself a house and struck out on my own in a display of independence. But at the first sign of adversity, I let others take care of me. Granted, it was a great deal of adversity, enough to knock anyone off their feet. But wasn’t it time I stood back up?

  I gave George a warning look from the corner of my eye. “Don’t patronize me, George. I’m your partner now. I want your honest opinion—good, bad, or indifferent.”

  He turned to look me full in the face, one brow arched in surprise. “All right, then. Honesty it is. They have a good chance of finding Capshaw’s murderer. He may have told someone he was coming to your home yesterday, and the police will be able to talk to his friends and associates. The fact that they’re investigating a murder means they’ll likely get more cooperation, and Delaney may be given some help.

  “Regarding the other matters, the thefts and your housebreaker—and I suspect those crimes were committed by the same person—I don’t have much hope.”

  “Why not?” I said.

  George had been looking at me as he spoke. Now he turned and gazed ahead at the path we were taking, leaving me with a view of his profile. “The problem is that while no one ever wants to talk to the police, the aristocracy can actually get away with not doing so. If no one cooperates with them, the police can’t do much unless they catch the criminal in the act. They may place a few more constables in the area for a time, in the hope of catching a man running down the street with a Ming vase, but if that doesn’t work, those constables will be moved to other, more pressing assignments.”

  I sighed. “I suppose that’s all we can expect. After all, they don’t have unlimited resources and there are more serious crimes for them to solve.”

  “They’ve probably already closed the file for Mrs. Stoke-Whitney since her bracelet has been returned. And in your case, nothing was stolen, no one was harmed.” His brow creased in a frown. “I don’t mean to diminish the crime, but from the perspective of the police, you see—”

  “So that means it’s up to us to find him.”

  He slanted his gaze my way. “Us?”

  “Yes, partner. You still have your items to recover and how else will I ever learn if one of Lily’s suitors is a thief, or possibly a murderer?”

  “I see. What do you propose?”

  “We can start by finding out if any of the three attended the other events where we know there was a theft. I already know Mr. Kendrick attended the Chesterton musicale.”

  That earned me a look of approval. “Good work, Frances. How did you learn that?”

  “I
asked him, but it was rather clumsy. I suggest we check with the hostesses instead. After all, the gentlemen could simply lie.”

  “I suspect Delaney has already done that. If you can be patient, I’ll check with him.”

  Patience was not my strongest attribute.

  We’d caught up to Lily and Rose on the bridge. Rose was standing too close to the railing. I leaned over to place a restraining arm around her, starting a chain reaction that happened in the blink of an eye.

  I stepped in the path of a passerby who bumped against me rather roughly, spinning me around. Lily shrieked, and jumped between me and the railing, in an attempt to keep me from sailing over the side. I was still reaching for Rose so my arm was out as I stumbled around and, to my horror, I knocked Lily rather neatly over the railing.

  “No!” I shouted, as George’s arm snaked out to grasp her wrist. I steadied myself and turned back to the water, only to see Lily, swinging in the air, one hand clinging to the stone railing, the other clasped in George’s hands. Good heavens!

  It was the work of a moment to haul her back up onto the bridge—George was strong, I was capable, and Lily was so slight—but staring into her frightened eyes made me feel as though time had stopped, and we would never get her up. Once she gained her feet, she slumped against me, gasping, and weak with relief. Rose threw her arms around Lily’s waist and cried. And I noticed we’d drawn quite a crowd. I shot a glance at George. “Let’s get her home.”

  Between us, George and I peeled Rose away from my sister, and transferred Lily to his arm. The two of them made their way to the carriage. I took Rose’s hand and followed, answering inquiries along the way, and assuring everyone Lily was unharmed, but she’d had quite a fright. Finally we reached the carriage and headed for home, and I was able to determine if I’d been speaking the truth. Lily did appear fit, all things considered. Her dress was torn where it had scraped against the stone wall, and she would likely have bruises, but nothing was broken, and that look of terror had left her eyes. Once we arrived at home, I put her to bed like the baby sister she was, and had Mrs. Thompson prepare a hot toddy to help her sleep. I stayed with her until she dozed off.