A Study in Death (Lady Darby Mystery, A Book 4)

by Anna Lee Huber

  The thought permanently soured my stomach, and I pushed away my plate.

  I glanced up as Figgins entered the room, holding out a silver tray. “My lady, this just came for you.”

  “Thank you.” I took up the letter, expecting it to be from Gage, but the handwriting was far more feminine than his almost illegible scrawl. I opened my mouth to ask Figgins who had delivered it, but he had already quietly exited the room. Picking up my knife, I split open the seal and unfolded the missive. My eyes went immediately to the bottom, where I saw with a start that it was from Lady Stratford.

  My heart stuttered as memories from my first investigation flooded back to me. Seven months ago a viscountess had been murdered during a house party Alana had hosted at their home in the Highlands, Gairloch Castle. Lady Stratford had been framed for the murder, but because of my persistence, we had uncovered that it was her husband who was the real culprit. The Earl of Stratford had then kidnapped his wife, her maid, and me, and nearly succeeded in sending us to our watery graves.

  Though Lady Stratford had initially despised me, believing the rumors about me, she had eventually apologized and even extended a tentative offer of friendship. Knowing what she’d been through, I had not held her previous treatment of me against her, and had even felt a certain kinship with her. But I’d never expected to actually hear from her again, let alone be invited to join her for tea, I discovered as I perused the letter.

  She would still be in mourning for her malicious husband, who had suffered the fate he’d intended for us after being shot during our rescue, so her activities would still be restricted. Personally, after what her husband had tried to do, I thought she should have refused to grant him the courtesy of observing full mourning. I had not remained in my widow’s weeds for as long as dictated after Sir Anthony’s death, and for all his sins, he had not framed me for murder and then tried to kill me. But then, I had been hiding away at my sister’s isolated castle, where no one but family and their servants saw me. Upon leaving Gairloch Castle, Lady Stratford had gone to stay with her great-aunt near Glasgow, and now she was apparently in Edinburgh, where there was a great deal more of society to encounter.

  I considered ignoring the missive, but then I decided it would be silly not to accept. I had no immediate plans for the day, except stewing in my own gloom. If the visit turned out to be awkward, I could always decide not to return. Besides, I didn’t have many friends outside of my family. It would be nice to have someone to talk to. Just because I was not gregarious by nature did not mean I didn’t long for companionship. My marriage to Sir Anthony and the subsequent scandal had made it difficult to make and keep friends, but that was no reason to have given up on the prospect entirely.

  So several hours later, after spending some time in the nursery with the children and then changing my clothes after one-year-old Greer smeared snot across the shoulder of my dress, I found myself being ushered into a town house off St. Andrew Square on the opposite end of New Town. Lady Stratford was still staying with her great-aunt, Lady Bearsden. They had simply relocated to Edinburgh for the spring.

  Lady Stratford appeared as lovely as ever, perhaps even more so, as she shook out her black bombazine skirts and rose to greet me. Widowhood, or more accurately, escape from her late husband’s philandering and insults, seemed to agree with her.

  “Lady Darby, I’m so glad you could come.” Her smile was warm, and her cheeks flushed a pale shade of pink.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” I replied, sitting on the pearlescent blue settee she indicated. “I hadn’t realized you were in town.”

  “We only just arrived earlier this week, and, of course, I cannot go many places.” She gestured to her mourning gown. “Have you been introduced to my great-aunt, Lady Bearsden?”

  I turned toward the older woman perched on a chair near the crackling fire. Her hair was an almost shocking shade of white, as pure as snow. “I have not. How do you do?”

  “Very well, thank you.” Her voice was bright and musical. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you. I’ve wanted to thank you for what you did for my darling Charlotte.” She gazed at her great-niece affectionately. “When I think of what might have happened had you not been there . . .” She shuddered.

  I squirmed in my seat, unaccustomed to such gratitude. “It was the least I could do.”

  “No! To put yourself in danger like that. Why, I’m not sure my dear Lumpy would have been willing to do what you did, and he loved me.” Her eyes widened in emphasis. She had a way of speaking that stressed every second or third word, making it difficult to tell if she was being serious or sarcastic. I suspected it was the former, given that Lady Stratford was listening to her so calmly.

  “Her husband,” she clarified, though I’d suspected just that. I couldn’t help but imagine what a man nicknamed Lumpy had looked like.

  “Well, I’m glad I did,” I said, not knowing what else to say. At the time, I’d only done what I thought was right. And now, looking back, I could honestly say I wouldn’t have chosen differently, even knowing the danger I would face.

  “Good.” Lady Bearsden nodded.

  Lady Stratford smiled at me again and changed the subject. “Allow me to offer my congratulations on your engagement to Mr. Gage.”

  “Oh, thank you.”

  “I have to say, I’m not entirely surprised. The way he cradled you in the boat after they pulled you from the loch and you passed out and his urgent stride up to the castle were very telling.”

  I felt a blush burning its way up into my cheeks. I hadn’t realized Gage had held me in the boat. No one had ever told me. I, of course, remembered how he jumped into the loch to save me, and the way he had first kissed me while we floated, waiting for the boat to reach us. And Alana had informed me that he’d carried me into the castle and up to my room. But the time between was an empty void. Apparently one filled with Gage’s embrace. Even knowing how cold I was and how much pain I had been in, I almost wished I could remember it.

  There was a glimmer of teasing in Lady Stratford’s eyes. “I only wonder why it took him so long to propose.” She tilted her head. “Or did it take you this long to accept?”

  I fumbled for a reply, unused to this side of Lady Stratford. There had been no light banter between us at Gairloch Castle, but then again, she had been facing much more difficult circumstances. I was glad to see how much happier and serene she seemed. I was curious whether this was how she had been during her London season when she had been a diamond of the first water, plucked up by the rakish and elusive Lord Stratford, who had hidden his darker side very well. I made a note to ask Alana, who had debuted the year before her.

  Her mouth softened sympathetically. “You don’t have to say. I’m just pleased for you. Mr. Gage is a good man.”

  I smiled in return, knowing she might be one of the few people who truly understood what it meant to find someone like him after such a horrible first marriage. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

  “Is he related to a Captain Gage?” Lady Bearsden asked, leaning forward over a cane that was propped between her legs.

  “Yes. Mr. Gage is his son. And Captain Gage is now Lord Gage.”

  “Is he now? Given the title for his service during the war, I suppose,” she mused, settling back in her chair.

  “Among other things,” I replied. Namely some delicate inquiry he’d conducted on behalf of King William a few years ago. I wasn’t privy to the details.

  Her gaze turned wistful and her fingers tapped the gold figurehead on the top of her cane. “Oh, I remember how he set all the ladies aflutter when he first came to London. Such a charmer, and so handsome. I don’t suppose his son is anything like him?” Her eyebrows lifted hopefully.

  I hid a grin. “Very much so.”

  “Well, then you must bring him by the next time you call.”

  I glanced at Lady Stratford, who appeared equal
ly amused. “I’m sure he would be eager to meet you.” Especially when I told him what a character she was. “And actually, Lord Gage is in Edinburgh as well.”

  Lady Stratford’s eyebrows lifted.

  “Then you must bring them both,” the older woman proclaimed. “It would be good to reminisce. Didn’t he marry the Earl of Tavistock’s daughter?” Her eyes brightened. “Oh, yes. I remember. They discovered she’d been murdered. By her maid, if I recall correctly.”

  Her great-niece appeared shocked by this news, but I had already heard the story from Gage. It was one of the things he had first confided in me to explain some of his actions at Gairloch Castle.

  “Yes, that’s right,” I said, my voice more subdued.

  Lady Bearsden shook her head. “So sad. And now I hear Lady Drummond may have been murdered as well.”

  Lady Stratford’s already perfect posture stiffened further. “What?”

  “Where did you hear that?” I asked hesitantly. How were our suspicions spreading so quickly when Gage and I had made such an effort to keep them quiet?

  “I believe it was Mrs. Oakley next door who told me. And she said she had it from a very reliable source.”

  “I’m sure.”

  I could feel Lady Stratford’s eyes on me, but I did not look at her, choosing instead to stare at the landscape painting of a cliff-backed beach hanging over the fireplace.

  A maid entered at that moment, carrying the tea service as well as a plate filled with delicious-looking sandwiches and small cakes.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll go lie down for a time,” Lady Bearsden said, pushing herself to her feet with the aid of her cane. “It was lovely to meet you, Lady Darby.”

  “And you as well,” I replied.

  “Mary, if you would?”

  The maid slid Lady Bearsden’s arm through her own and helped guide her from the room.

  “Sleep well, Auntie,” Lady Stratford called after her.

  “Your great-aunt is delightful,” I told her after the pair had disappeared from sight.

  She leaned forward to pour the tea. “She’s incorrigible, is what she is. But yes, thank you. I’m terribly fond of her. She helped raise me, you know. After my mother died in childbirth. My father was an old bachelor with no idea what to do with a young girl. So his favorite aunt stepped in.”

  “That was good of her.”

  “She was never able to have children of her own.” Lady Stratford paused, staring at the delicate china cups, and I knew she was thinking of her own barren state, proved so cruelly by her late husband when he got one of her closest friends with child. “So she always calls me her little changeling.” She looked up at me through her lashes. “You know the myth?”

  “That fairies will secretly take a human child and leave one of their offspring in the baby’s place? Yes.”

  “She said the fact that I was so fair and beautiful only proved the matter.”

  I smiled, imagining Lady Bearsden saying just that.

  Lady Stratford passed me my tea and then took a sip of her own before carefully setting her cup back in its saucer. “Now. What’s this about Lady Drummond being murdered?”

  I brushed a piece of lint from my plum skirt, avoiding her gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “Do not play coy with me. If there is suspicion of murder, I know you and Mr. Gage must be involved somehow.” She ran a finger around the rim of her cup. “Especially since I know you were painting Lady Drummond’s portrait.”

  I looked up into her soft gray eyes, realizing there was only one way she could know that. “You were friends.”

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “Though not as close as we once were. The truth is, we hadn’t seen each other in years.” She glanced toward the dainty writing desk in the corner of the room. “We corresponded regularly. I sent her a letter on Tuesday asking her to call on me, and I received her reply that afternoon. She promised to visit this week, but . . .” her face paled “. . . she never got the chance.”

  Lady Drummond had died on Wednesday morning, which meant her note to Lady Stratford just might have been the last missive she ever wrote. From the tightness around Lady Stratford’s eyes, I could tell she was conscious of this.

  A thought suddenly occurred to me.

  “Were you acquainted with her husband?”

  “Not well. Lord Drummond was quite a bit older than his wife.” She hesitated slightly, her posture and expression becoming more rigid, as I remembered it from seven months ago. “Like Lord Stratford was. So we had that in common. And though she never went into details, she did say that he was also a bit controlling.” As Lord Stratford had been.

  “Would he have any reason to disapprove of his wife’s acquaintance with you?”

  Lady Stratford’s eyes drained of all emotion.

  “My apologies,” I leaned forward to say, realizing I had misstepped. “I’m not explaining myself well. You see, Lady Drummond received a letter on Tuesday that her husband became very angry about. He confronted her about it during our portrait session, and I was just wondering if it could have been the note from you. I didn’t mean to imply . . .”

  She held up her hand. “Please. I understand.” Her lips compressed into a tight smile. “I’m afraid I’m still a bit touchy. I find I’m not used to being considered a social pariah because of what my late husband did.”

  I nodded, wondering how much more difficult it must be to fall from the ton’s graces when you were one of their darlings. Would Gage face a similar downfall once he wed me? Would he resent me for it?

  “Have they snubbed you?” I asked gently.

  “Some people have.” She tilted her head to study me. “But I suppose, if nothing else, this whole experience has shown me who my true friends are. And maybe I needed to learn that.” She sighed. “But to answer your question, I don’t know how Lord Drummond felt about me. Lady Drummond never said. But it’s quite possible he believed I was too scandalous for our association to continue.”

  So the letter Lord Drummond had waved in her face could have been from Lady Stratford. Though it seemed an extreme reaction to have over such a small thing. After all, Lady Stratford was still in mourning, and as yet unable to move freely about society. It was unlikely their friendship would be noted or commented upon.

  Lady Stratford squeezed her hands together in her lap. “You were there when she died?”

  “Yes.”

  She glanced down and then up again. “Did she . . . was she in a lot of pain?”

  I didn’t know how to answer her. I couldn’t tell her yes, and yet I didn’t want to lie. But in the end, my silence spoke for me.

  She nodded and tears filled her eyes.

  “It was over quickly,” I said through the tightness in my throat, hoping to alleviate some of her distress.

  She sniffed into a lace-edged handkerchief she’d pulled from her sleeve. “And . . . and you believe it was murder, not an apoplexy?”

  Once again, I hesitated, and she lowered her handkerchief to look at me more closely. “I don’t know,” I finally admitted. Revealing my misgivings to Lady Stratford suddenly felt very different than speculating on them to Gage or my sister, or even Lady Rachel, who had held suspicions of her own. Would they seem ridiculous? Would they only hurt her more?

  When Lady Stratford continued to stare at me, I pressed a hand to my forehead, feeling confused and uncertain. “There’s no proof that it was murder. It could very well be an apoplexy. That’s what everyone seems to think.” Including Gage’s father.

  “Yes. But everyone is not you,” Lady Stratford replied with quiet certainty.

  I looked up in surprise.

  “And proof is not always clear. Did not the proof in Lady Godwin’s murder all point to me? And yet you knew something was not right. You believed in my innocence before you had evidenc
e of it.” Her steady gaze brooked no argument. “So if you believe that Lady Drummond’s death was not so straightforward, if you think something is wrong, I trust you’re right. I would be a fool not to.”

  A warmth flowed through me at the surety in her words. Her confidence bolstered something inside me that had been floundering, something that even my sister’s belief had not repaired. But before I could thank her for it, she pressed me with another question.

  “What does Mr. Gage think?”

  I placed my teacup on the table. “He is willing to support me.” I frowned, reaching up to finger my mother’s amethyst pendant. “Or at least, he was. I’m not sure what he thinks after his father scolded us last night for our idiocy in pursuing such an investigation.”

  Lady Stratford took a dainty sip of her tea. “I thought relations between Mr. Gage and his father were strained?”

  My hand tightened on my pendant. “Is that commonly known?”

  “How could it not be? You must have seen the way they bristle when they are near each other.”

  “Like two hedgehogs fighting over a snail.”

  This surprised a smile out of her. “Quite.”

  “Do you know Lord Gage well?”

  “No,” she said, drawing out the word. “But I am aware he’s a terrible snob. And determined to see his son rise to even greater heights than he has.”

  “I gather Gage’s mother’s family did not approve of the match.”

  She laughed dryly. “Not in the least.” Her eyes narrowed in consideration. “But then not many respectable members of the ton dream of having their children marry into the notorious Roscarrock family.”

  “Roscarrock?”

  “Lord Gage’s mother was a Roscarrock from Cornwall. Apparently they’re infamous. Smugglers and rogues, barely able to call themselves gentlemen.”

  This was the first I’d heard of Gage’s maternal ancestors. Like so many things, he had been reticent to share much about them.