“What I don’t consume, the staff eats. In fact, I think they resent the mornings when Fiona stops in for breakfast.” He gave me a grin. “You know she’s always reducing, so she won’t have anything more than toast served at home. Poor Robert has to eat at his club. When she comes here, she’s ready to indulge in a big meal.” He picked up a plate from the sideboard. “Can I tempt you to indulge? I usually just help myself, but I’d be happy to prepare a plate for you.”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. “I’ll help myself.” I stood and took the offered plate, choosing a few items from the chafing dishes. “So,” he said when we were both seated again, “aren’t you risking your reputation by calling on a single gentleman?” He arched one dark eyebrow. “What if someone had seen you on my doorstep?”
“I never risk my reputation, as you well know. And I was never at your doorstep. I slipped out the back from my garden gate and in through yours. You had the doors open to your drawing room, where I found your maid, who called your butler, who led me to you.” I brandished my fork like a wand. “And voilà! Here I am.”
George set his own fork down with a clang. “Good Lord, you could be a spy.” He leaned back and took me in with a glance. “While I like the idea of you sneaking around just to see me, I have the feeling your reasons are far from romantic.”
I chuckled at that. “Yes, I’m afraid you’re right. I have two reasons for coming, neither of which could be considered romantic. The first is to ask if there’s been any progress with the anonymous letter.”
“Ah! I do have some news on that front.” He took a sip of coffee and dabbed at his lips with his napkin. “My friend managed to see the letter, which is roughly three sentences that verify what Inspector Delaney told you. Reggie’s death was not from natural causes and the police should look to the wronged wife.”
I frowned. “The wronged wife?”
“A direct quote.”
“How dramatic.” I felt my shoulders slump as I let out a sigh. There was no feigning indifference. I was worried. “You might as well tell me the worst. What will the police do?”
He placed a hand over mine. “Chin up now. They aren’t coming to arrest you yet.”
“Yet?” A twinge of fear slipped up my spine.
His wink was barely perceptible. “Probably never.”
It took a moment to absorb the words and in that space of time, anger replaced my fear. I pinched his hand. Hard. He jerked it away with a yelp.
“This is my life, George. Stop playing with me and tell me what you learned.”
I glared at him while he rubbed his hand. “Good Lord, that smarts! We once had a nursemaid who did that when my brothers and I misbehaved.”
“Was it effective?”
“Rather.” He gave me a sheepish grin. “All right, the good news is that the Guildford police have found no evidence to support this letter. The doctor thinks it’s all hogwash, the earl is in London and unavailable for questioning, and none of the local constables are willing to knock on the door of Harleigh Manor and ask the countess for her opinion on the matter. So they will have to give up any hope of ordering an autopsy.”
“Goodness, how did your friend learn all this?”
“A few pints at the local pub works wonders.”
Relief flushed through my veins. “Then it’s over?”
“As far as the police are concerned, it’s over, but since the letter was unsigned, they won’t be able to tell the writer the accusation was false.” He shrugged. “There may still be some whispers around Guildford.”
“That also means we’ll never know who wrote it.”
“Someone who knew you were the wronged wife?”
I shot him a look of scorn. “It seems everyone in society knows I was the wronged wife.”
“But the letter was posted in Guildford so . . .” He paused to frown at me.
A flush of shock heated my skin. “Graham?”
George gave me an incredulous stare. “I was about to say, disgruntled housemaid. I thought you’d decided Graham wouldn’t want to start a scandal.”
“No, I suppose that was just an impulsive reaction. Graham would abhor the scandal and Delia would be worse.” I had to chuckle at the thought. “If she thought I’d murdered Reggie, she’d do all in her power to cover it up.”
“Considering they had the most to gain from Reggie’s death, why would they question the cause? Since the letter is no longer an issue, I wouldn’t be too concerned about the writer.”
“I agree. As I have enough worries already, I’ll have to be satisfied I’m no longer a murder suspect.”
“Is there something I can do to lessen your worries?”
I sighed in frustration and told him about my conversation with Bridget. “Would you be able to confirm that Ainsworthy was at his club on Thursday as well as Grayson?”
“I believe so. Confirming the exact time might be difficult, but since he was there for several hours, chances are he was playing cards, which means I’ll have a few people to help sort out a time line.”
“Thank you, George. At the risk of sounding pushy, how soon can you check on this?”
“I have some business this morning, but I should be able to go this afternoon. If you’ll be home later, I can stop by to report in.”
I beamed. “That would be perfect. I hope to pay a call on the Rockinghams today, but I doubt that will take long.” At his look of surprise, I explained their relationship to Mr. Capshaw, and how I thought they might be able to help.
I preened a bit when I saw George’s look of amazement. “You really did miss your calling, you know, but what do you intend to do with any information you glean today?”
“Assuming they actually have any knowledge of Capshaw that connects him to one of my three suspects, otherwise known as my sister’s suitors, I will of course pass it on to Inspector Delaney.”
“Hmm. From that little light in your eye, I’d say you are savoring the idea of passing on information to him.”
“I am,” I admitted. “He believes me to be quite useless, and I’m eager to prove him wrong, however childish that might be.” I sighed as I sank back in my chair. “Unfortunately, I’m much less confident of my suspects. We both feel quite certain Mr. Grayson is not our culprit. The evidence seems to be pointing away from the viscount as well. That leaves us with only Mr. Kendrick, and a more unlikely villain I’ve never met.”
George cocked his head as one brow jerked upward. “You find that unfortunate? I’d have thought exonerating Lily’s gentlemen would be the very definition of fortunate.”
The truth of his words hit home. “Good heavens, George, you’re right. Their innocence of this crime is precisely what I’d been hoping for.” I shook my head. “What on earth is wrong with me?”
He gave me an indulgent smile. “You’ve been taken by the fever. You’re embroiled in a mystery and wish to solve it. With your three suspects absolved,” he raised his hands, palms up, “where do you turn?”
“Without my three suspects, I’m left with the perplexing question of just what did Capshaw want to tell me, if it had nothing to do with those three men?”
“Perhaps you’re not yet convinced of their innocence?”
“Perhaps I will be when you tell me what you discovered last night,” I said, with a sidelong glance.
“Ah! I wondered when it would come to that.”
I gazed at him, shaking my head. “I can’t believe you made me ask. Surely you realize I’m burning with curiosity.”
George set down his fork and leaned back in the chair, never taking his eyes from mine. “If I tell you I found the absence of any evidence incriminating Leo Kendrick, would that satisfy you?”
“You know it wouldn’t, or why would you even ask?”
His only reply was a blank stare. Teasing man. “All right then, let me see if I can work it out for myself. Last night you determined three things if I remember correctly. First, stolen goods are difficult to dispose of, unl
ess one has a ready buyer; second, the thief was stealing whatever was at hand when he had the opportunity; and third, he therefore had no ready buyer.”
So far I was only repeating what George had told me himself, but the re-telling helped me to understand what was in his mind, and therefore, what his actions might have been.
“If the thief was unable to dispose of everything, he must still have some of the items hidden away.” I pointed my fork at George. “So you went looking for the thief’s cache. What did you do, break into Mr. Kendrick’s lodgings?”
He maintained a stony expression, but I saw the slightest glint in his eyes that told me I was right.
I was also horrified. “You broke into his lodgings?”
George didn’t flinch. “That is the logical place to look. Don’t you agree?”
Words failed me. I simply stared at him, most likely with my mouth gaping open in an unattractive manner. It took several moments to come to my senses. “George, you cannot mean you snuck into another man’s house without his knowledge or permission. Surely it’s a crime to do so.”
“In most cases, I believe it is, which is why it’s imperative one not be caught.”
I was still wearing my fish face—goggle-eyed and openmouthed. Who was this man sitting at the table with me, casually eating breakfast? “I can’t believe this is something you learned working for the Home Secretary.”
“That’s precisely where I learned it.” He rose from his seat and pushed the door closed. Turning back, he gave me a mischievous smile. “The security of the country was at stake, Frances. Sometimes I had to do things that weren’t strictly legal. Though I don’t work for the government any longer, that work has put me in contact with several men in high places, and occasionally I’m asked to do a favor for one or another of them.”
“Like Haverhill, for example?” I narrowed my eyes. “George, is this some kind of political espionage?”
He frowned. “I doubt it. Since the Conservatives took power they’ve done their best to make their Liberal counterparts look as bad as possible. That’s not unusual, but I’d rather not allow them more ammunition. The theft probably had nothing to do with politics. But if the opposition party found out about these items, they could show Haverhill in a very unfortunate light.”
I searched his face for any signs he was joking. How absolutely incredible. “So does that mean you’re authorized to take action that would otherwise be unlawful?”
“That’s rather a sticky point. When people ask for my help, they want results and rarely ask questions. How far I wish to test the lawfulness of my actions is up to me. If I’m ever caught, I’ll no longer be of any use to them. Which is why you must understand this is to go no further. Not Fiona. Not Lily. No one else must know.”
I was still having a difficult time giving credence to his words, but I nodded in affirmation. “Yes, yes, of course. But weren’t you taking a dangerous risk last night?”
“Not really. Kendrick himself told me he’d be out, and I knew his valet always takes his master’s absence as an opportunity to go to the pub and enjoy a pint.”
As I absorbed this information, I assessed my feelings about it. I noted much less horror, and a growing fascination with George’s work. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what that might say about me. “If you found nothing to implicate Mr. Kendrick, what will you do next?”
His smile spread and a mischievous glint lit his eyes. “That’s where you come in.”
“Me?” Nothing could have shocked me more. “What can I do?”
“You can give Bridget the night off, or rather request that she get Barnes away from home for an hour or two.”
My mouth fell open. “Ainsworthy? You are looking at him next?” Another thought hit me. “Wait, how do you know Bridget is stepping out with Barnes?”
“It’s all part of the job, my dear, and yes, I am looking at Ainsworthy next. The question is—can you help me?”
I can’t explain it, but suddenly it became my fondest wish to help George with this mysterious and exciting—well, criminal enterprise. Though it wasn’t exactly criminal, was it? He didn’t intend to steal anything; he was only looking for stolen goods.
“I’ll do my best,” I replied. “I’m not sure what to tell Bridget, but I’ll try to encourage her to get Barnes out of the house. I can tell you, when we meet this afternoon, if I was successful.”
With that settled, I retraced my sneaky steps back to my own house, and found a response from Mrs. Rockingham. It turns out, her husband would be away from home all afternoon, but she’d be available to receive me at my convenience. Since I had absolutely nothing to do at the moment, I decided now was convenient. It was nearly noon, so once I changed my clothes, and had Jenny order a cab, I’d arrive at the correct time for a “morning” visit. It seems I was about to do some investigating of my own.
* * *
I met Mrs. Rockingham in the drawing room of her sister’s town house on Hamilton Place. Fortunately for me, the sister was out paying calls. Unfortunately, I’d given no consideration as to how I’d pose my questions to Mrs. Rockingham. Why was I such a ninny? I should have fabricated some sort of story in advance. As we greeted one another, I assessed her to be upwards of sixty, not a tall woman, but of sturdy build, and with a face that held the wrinkles of someone who’d smiled a great deal in her lifetime. She did not strike me as the type of woman who would willingly engage in a conversation about murder.
I was wrong.
After the usual opening pleasantries, she informed me she’d read about Capshaw’s murder in the paper. “At my age, I’m not unused to hearing about the death of people I know, but to read one of them was murdered, well, that came as a shock.”
A shock indeed. Imagine a woman of the upper class not only reading the paper, but admitting to doing so, and discussing what she’d read. Heavens! Not only that, but she recognized the name of someone who’d left her employ several years ago. I liked this woman already.
“I’m so relieved you mentioned that, Mrs. Rockingham. I have a small interest in the resolution of that crime, you see, and was floundering for a way to introduce the subject.”
“Indeed?” I could see her wondering what manner of woman she’d invited to her home and decided I’d better embellish a little. I hoped Delaney would forgive me. Or better yet, never find out.
“Has Inspector Delaney contacted you since you arrived in town?”
“Contacted me? A police inspector? No, of course not.”
“I was afraid of that. The police don’t seem to be as interested in Mr. Capshaw’s murder as they might be if he were of a different class.” I let out a little sigh of frustration. “In fact, they don’t seem to have taken much action at all, and if something isn’t done soon, the murderer may get away with his crime.”
I could see her curiosity growing. “You do sound as if you have an interest.”
“Yes, I do. My younger sister is in London for the Season, or rather she was. She had three suitors, and the police believe one of them may have had something to do with Mr. Capshaw’s murder.”
Mrs. Rockingham gave me a hard look. “Don’t mince your words for me, Lady Harleigh. Are you saying a gentleman is suspected of murdering James? Why?”
“The police believe he knew something to the gentleman’s discredit. Unfortunately, we don’t know which of the three, if any, committed this crime. But until we do, well, the cloud of suspicion will hang over them all.”
“Of course.” She shook her head, most likely wondering what the world was coming to. “I hope your sister is well out of the way.”
“She’s retired to the country until the murderer has been found.”
“Very sensible.” The older woman gave me a nod of approval. “How is it you think I can help?”
“Since we think Mr. Capshaw had some damning information about one of the gentlemen, it stands to reason he must have come into contact with one of them at some time in the past. Mr. Capshaw worked
at your home in the country for several years, so I can’t help but wonder if one of the men visited your neighborhood, or perhaps even your home, while Capshaw was in your employ.”
“Yes, yes. I follow you, though I’m not sure I can help. James was with us for ten years but we didn’t entertain a great deal during that time. I hate to think something nefarious might have been going on in my own home, but,”—she shook her head—“why don’t you give me their names?”
I complied, naming the gentlemen one at a time, but the lady just continued shaking her head. “No, I’m not familiar with any of them. We live a rather retiring life, and right now I’m quite glad of it. I’m sorry, my dear, but I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
I could see from her face that her answers had been honest as was her regret at not being able to help. I thanked her for her time and expressed my wishes that we would meet again while she was in town. Then I collected Bridget, and set off for home, feeling so defeated I didn’t even bother asking the Rockinghams’ maid to find me a cab.
For the next few blocks, I pondered the fruitlessness of my actions thus far. I still didn’t know how Capshaw could have come into contact with any of the three gentlemen. It appeared they all could be innocent of any wrongdoing, and I’d sent Lily away for nothing. Well, not for nothing. Someone had broken into my house, and a man was killed in my back garden. I was just no further ahead in finding out who did it or why.
“Why on earth was that young man murdered?” I asked Bridget, who simply shook her head. Probably disgruntled at my decision to walk. “And what could he have wanted to tell me?”
We’d just approached Hyde Park Corner. I paused, glancing to my left at a queue of cabs along the curb. I was wondering if I should have Bridget engage one, when I felt a hard shove from behind. Losing my balance, I stumbled into the street, flailing my arms in an attempt to latch on to something that would keep me upright.
“Careful, Lady Harleigh!” A strong hand gripped my right arm and hauled me back just as two horses, pulling a cab, trotted past me. The driver shouted at me as he maneuvered the vehicle out of the way, but all I cared about was that I was back on my feet, rather than lying under his wheels.
A Lady's Guide to Etiquette and Murder Page 20