Death of a Debutante (Riley Rochester Investigates Book 1)

by Wendy Soliman

  The cab pulled up outside the Dalton residence in a street similar to Riley’s own a short time later. ‘Dalton has a string of warehouses, I think,’ Riley said in answer to a question Salter hadn’t asked. ‘He is connected to a good family, so society forgives him for resorting to something as vulgar as trade.’

  Salter guffawed. ‘Very gracious of them, I’m sure.’

  ‘My point is, Jack,’ Riley said as his sergeant wielded the door knocker, ‘that Miss Dalton would be a much better prospect for Terrance Ashton, financially speaking. And we already know that she is quite taken with the blighter. The question is, how far would she go to eliminate the competition?’

  ‘You surely don’t think that a woman could have…’

  ‘I honestly don’t know what to think. The more we discover, the less sense it all makes.’

  Their conversation was cut short when the door opened and a footman admitted them to the house. It became obvious that they were expected when they were immediately shown into a small drawing room made to look smaller by the excess of furniture in it. Riley felt fresh appreciation for his own more Spartan tastes and the freedom his single status afforded him to indulge them.

  They found Mrs Dalton employed with her embroidery. Of her daughter there was no sign.

  ‘Ah, Lord Riley,’ she said, looking up and smiling. ‘I thought you would get round to us today. Please take a seat. Can I offer you both some tea?’

  The footman was despatched to make the necessary arrangements. Mrs Dalton either did not employ a butler, or it was his day off. Riley wondered about that. Butlers were a status symbol, tangible evidence of wealth and prosperity. Perhaps Dalton wasn’t as well situated as Riley had been led to believe. He suppressed a sigh, realising that this entire business revolved around money and ambition, or the lack of one or both. Much like society as a whole, he supposed. One was judged by one’s status and material possessions, strictly in that order, and the ability to engage the services of a proficient butler was a public declaration of the latter.

  ‘Gloria is walking in the park with my maid, but will be back directly,’ Mrs Dalton said. ‘However, I am glad we have this opportunity to talk before she returns. My daughter, you must understand, is very delicate and feels things acutely. Emily Ferguson was a special friend to her, and she is much affected by her untimely demise. I hope it will not be necessary for you to upset her with too many questions.’

  ‘It is not my intention to upset her at all, Mrs Dalton,’ Riley replied in a mild tone. ‘But I would be failing in my duty if I did not ask her for an account of her activities on the evening in question.’

  ‘Gloria had nothing to do with her friend’s death.’

  ‘I am not suggesting that she did. But she might have seen or heard something that will be helpful to our enquiry. We need to…what’s that expression, Sergeant Salter?’

  ‘Eliminate her from our enquiries, sir.’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  Mrs Dalton released a slow breath. ‘Yes, of course.’

  The tea was served and Mrs Dalton poured, giving her something to do with her hands. The clink of china did little to relieve the strained atmosphere that threatened to engulf them.

  ‘I am sure if she does know anything, she will be more than willing to tell you. We all want this terrible business to be resolved as quickly as possible. Poor Lady Ashton blames herself. I don’t think she will ever recover from the shock.’

  ‘It is most regrettable that the tragedy happened in her house,’ Riley agreed, recalling Lady Ashton’s remote manner the previous day when he had interviewed her, unable to help thinking that she hadn’t seemed especially upset by the tragedy. ‘You were in the drawing room with the other ladies, I believe you said.’

  ‘The entire time that the poor girl was being murdered on the other side of the wall and none of us heard a thing. Only imagine.’ She shuddered. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about. Gloria and Prudence Ashton were together. Not that a woman could possibly have committed the crime, of course, but I do understand that you have to establish where everyone was.’

  ‘Theirs is a friendship you encourage?’

  ‘I see no harm in it. Gloria seems to like Pru very much and the poor girl needs all the friends she can get. I don’t mean to be unkind, but…well, perhaps I shouldn’t say more. It will sound spiteful.’

  ‘You think Miss Ashton is not particularly attractive and therefore not as popular as Gloria?’

  ‘It seems unfair. Prudence is very interesting when one gets to know her but, of course, the young people don’t look beyond appearances. Luckily, Gloria passes muster in that regard.’

  ‘Fortunate indeed,’ Riley said, but the irony in his tone appeared to escape Mrs Dalton’s notice.

  Gloria joined them at that point, still bonneted following her walk, and looking a little pink on the face.

  ‘Goodness, it’s so hot,’ she complained, falling into the nearest chair and removing her bonnet, which she flung carelessly onto another vacant seat. ‘Good morning, Lord Riley, Sergeant,’ she said, as if only just noticing they were there. ‘I expect you have questions for me. Pru said that you questioned her for ages.’

  ‘Not so very long.’

  Riley expected objections from Mrs Dalton when he asked to speak with her daughter alone but the woman surprised him by rising to her feet with alacrity. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t want you to think that my presence influenced my daughter’s replies to your questions. We have nothing to hide and she is glad to help. I shall be in the next room when you need me, Gloria.’

  ‘Well then, Miss Dalton,’ Riley said with a smile as the door closed behind her mother, ‘can you think of anything more that might help us catch whoever did this terrible thing to your friend?’

  Gloria wrinkled her brow. ‘Not a single thing, Lord Riley. I wish I could.’

  ‘All three of the young gentlemen at the soiree were keen to marry Emily.’

  This declaration produced a frown. ‘Not all of them. They liked her very much because she was so pretty, but she had no money, you know. That is important because one has to live on something.’

  ‘You are pretty too,’ Salter said, ‘and do have money.’

  Gloria accepted the compliment with grace, offering Salter a demure smile. ‘I have no shortage of admirers, although perhaps I should not say so. It sounds very conceited.’

  ‘I hear tell that Terrance Ashton was determined to offer for Emily,’ Riley said.

  ‘Oh no, not really. I think it was more of a temporary infatuation. His friends liked her, so they entered into a sort of rivalry to see which of them could win her affections. Young men do that sort of thing, you know.’ Gloria’s pretty face was suddenly marred by the spiteful downturn of her lips. Miss Gloria Dalton, Riley decided, was spoiled and indulged and knew all there was to know about sulking if she didn’t get her way. Her hands, he noticed, were large. Large enough to squeeze the life from Emily’s slim throat? ‘Anyway, I know he wasn’t serious about her because Terrance and I have an understanding.’

  ‘Really?’ Riley exaggerated his surprised reaction. ‘Odd that he didn’t mention it when we spoke to him. In fact, he seemed totally devastated by Emily’s death.’

  ‘His father didn’t mention any sort of arrangement either,’ Salter added.

  ‘It hasn’t been formalised yet, I expect that’s why.’ Gloria brashly embellished her lie. She probably didn’t think of it as a lie, Riley imagined, hoping that if she said it often enough it would become a reality. Riley had seen other indulged people act in a similar fashion. Either that or she was making a clumsy attempt to remove suspicion from Terrance, thereby earning favour with him. ‘Besides, now that Emily has gone it would be inappropriate to…well, to be happy,’ she finished lamely.

  Riley allowed a moment’s silence to embrace them all. ‘There is no arrangement, is there, Miss Dalton?’ he eventually said.

  ‘Because you
cannot imagine Terrance preferring me over Emily!’ Gloria pouted. ‘Everyone thought Emily was perfection but she was not. She pretended to be sweet and obliging but she really didn’t care about anyone else’s feelings. She was selfish and conceited and led all her admirers on, giving them false hope because she didn’t really have an interest in any of them. There, I’ve said it, may God forgive me for speaking ill of the dead.’

  ‘Not such a good friend then. You are glad she is gone.’

  Gloria looked at the two men, and Riley saw a calculating glint in her eyes. It was as though she had just recalled that they were not confidantes but policemen on the trail of a killer, and it would not reflect well upon her if she expressed her dislike of the murdered girl any more strongly. ‘Not glad precisely.’ Gloria turned from jealous harpy to sweet little thing in the blink of an eye. ‘I just wish everyone wouldn’t keep saying how wonderful she was, because it isn’t true. She muddled Terrance’s thinking by pretending that she liked him when really she did not. It was very unkind of her.’

  Riley wanted to push her, but he could see that she was close to tears. Making her cry would achieve nothing, so he played along with her.

  ‘Please don’t overset yourself, Miss Dalton. I appreciate your forthright views, and I am certain that they do not implicate you in any way.’ He saw Salter from the corner of his eye, struggling to repress a smile. ‘Are you aware if there was anyone whom Emily liked?’ he asked, suspecting that Gloria was the last person Emily would have confided in.

  ‘She was too self-absorbed to care for anyone other than herself,’ Gloria replied sulkily.

  Pots and kettles sprang to mind as Riley stood to take his leave, aware that he would get nothing more than vitriolic spite from the young woman.

  ‘Whoever marries that one will live to regret it,’ Salter said as they left the house. ‘A right little madam, accustomed to having her way.’

  ‘Precisely so. And isn’t it convenient that her rival for Ashton’s affections just happens to be dead?’

  ‘You don’t think she was involved, sir?’

  ‘No. Not unless Prudence Ashton is lying about being with her the entire time, and I don’t think she is.’ Riley extracted his watch from his waistcoat pocket. ‘It’s later than I realised. Let’s take an early lunch and then go on to Mrs Ferguson.’

  ‘With pleasure, sir,’ Salter replied. ‘I just happen to know of a basement tavern where the air is cool, the beer is always cold and the steak pies may not have succumbed to the heat quite yet.’

  ‘Music to my ears, Salter,’ Riley replied with enthusiasm. ‘Lead on.’

  Chapter Nine

  Revived by tankards of ale and meat pies of questionable provenance, Riley and Salter made their way to Mrs Ferguson’s establishment. Jute answered the door and admitted them to a stuffy little sitting room at the back of the house, where Mrs Ferguson and Amelia were waiting for them. The full length windows afforded a pretty view over a long garden with a small summerhouse situated at its farthest point. A speckled cat slunk along on its belly, eyeing a thrush that sat on a wooden fence post. The bird watched his progress with a marked lack of concern and took to the wing before the feline predator got anywhere near. The cat stalked off, rigid tail twitching, and settled in the shade on the summerhouse’s veranda to keep a watchful eye on its territory.

  ‘Emily’s cat,’ Mrs Ferguson said with a sad little smile. ‘He probably wonders what has become of her and is waiting for her to come home.’

  ‘Don’t upset yourself, Mary,’ Amelia said, leaning over to pat her friend’s hand.

  She offered Riley a sweet smile, no evidence of her earlier annoyance apparent. The room was fussily yet indifferently furnished. Flowers filled every surface, their perfume cloying. Some were wilting, their petals fallen and not removed. Riley wondered how the ladies could abide sitting about in such a stifling atmosphere but they seemed unaffected by the oppressive heat. He longed to throw the windows open to capture what little breeze there was, then reminded himself that this was a house of mourning, as evidenced by Mrs Ferguson’s black gown and Amelia’s subdued garb.

  ‘Good afternoon, Riley. Sergeant,’ Amelia said. ‘We expected you before now.’

  ‘My apologies, ladies,’ Riley replied. ‘We were unavoidably detained.’

  Mrs Ferguson looked up at him through dead eyes devoid of tears. Riley was pleased to see that she had recovered from her initial shock. He had seen other relatives go through similar stages of the grieving process—too many others—but no two reactions were alike. Mrs Ferguson was fragile but he sensed that she would be able to answer his questions today without breaking down.

  ‘Once again, Mrs Ferguson, permit me to express my condolences for your loss,’ he said, taking the chair across from the ladies that Amelia motioned him towards. Salter sat further back in the room, pad and pencil at the ready.

  ‘Thank you, Lord Riley. It was such a wicked thing.’

  ‘I can’t begin to imagine,’ he replied softly.

  ‘Had you called an hour ago,’ Amelia said, exchanging a speaking look with Riley, ‘you would have found Lord Ashton here, paying his respects.’

  ‘It was kind of him to call,’ Mrs Ferguson said. ‘He probably feels responsible for what happened but I assured him that he is not. No one could have anticipated…’ Tears flooded her eyes but she blinked them back. ‘He still insists that Emily must have interrupted an intruder.’

  ‘He has the advantage of me, ma’am. I am not yet in possession of all the facts, so I cannot express any opinion. It is dangerous to jump to conclusions, so all I will say is that I have found nothing so far to support Lord Ashton’s theory.’

  ‘I explained to Mary after he left that he would like to believe it was an intruder, otherwise he has to face the unpalatable fact that one of his guests is culpable,’ Amelia added.

  ‘Then I hope very much that Lord Ashton is right,’ Mrs Ferguson replied. ‘Everyone adored Emily. I cannot think why anyone would deliberately harm her.’

  ‘I understand your husband is making immediate arrangements to return from India,’ Riley said, turning the conversation in the direction that he wanted it to take.

  ‘If that prospect is supposed to comfort me, Lord Riley,’ Mrs Ferguson replied, sitting a little straighter, her expression flint-like, ‘you quite mistake the matter.’

  Riley sent Amelia a questioning look. Amelia lifted one shoulder, implying that she knew more but that Riley would have to wait until they were alone to find out what it was.

  ‘You will hear it from others,’ Mrs Ferguson continued in a dignified manner, ‘so I might as well tell you myself. I know you will question my servants, if you have not already done so, and I would not have them lie on my behalf.’ She took a deep breath and folded her hands around the small square of lace cambric that passed for a handkerchief which appeared to be perfectly dry, implying that it had not been pressed into service recently. ‘My husband is a bully and tyrant, who lashes out at me if I do the slightest thing to displease him. And the worse our circumstances became, the more things angered him. His decision to return to India for an unspecified period was a blessing in disguise.’ Colour flooded her cheeks. A hothouse flower, fragile and vulnerable, finding strength in tragedy. She fixed Riley with a challenging stare, as though daring him to contradict her.

  ‘I am sorry to hear it,’ he said, meaning it. ‘I find nothing to admire in a man who uses violence against any woman.’

  ‘Patrick is a fool!’ Once again Amelia and Riley shared a look of incomprehension. ‘He frittered his fortune away and struck me when I advised him on a course of action that would see him recoup some of his losses. Women, you see, are incapable of understanding such complex matters.’ Riley thought of Prudence Ashton, who undoubtedly had a better understanding of the family business than her brother ever would, but who was treated in a similarly dismissive manner. ‘He threw good money after bad, trying to recover hi
s position, and when that failed he pinned all his hopes upon Emily making an advantageous marriage. Well,’ she added, transferring the handkerchief to one hand and spreading the other in a wild gesture, ‘perhaps I exaggerate a little, but not much. You can see for yourself the neglected state of this room—which I can assure you is better than many of the others. We are within a hair’s breadth of being evicted with nothing more than the clothes on our backs.’

  Riley wondered why they hadn’t taken smaller lodgings, sold their horses and carriage and dismissed most of their servants. But, of course the trappings of wealth were necessary. Appearances had to be maintained if Emily was to land her big fish.

  ‘I am sorry to hear that,’ he said. He far preferred the forthright and candid, magnificent in her anger Mary Ferguson to the weeping, distraught mother he had encountered the previous day. ‘Presumably Emily was aware of the situation.’

  ‘Of course she was! As if she could fail to notice the signs in our daily lives. The small economies that became ever larger, the activities that had to be curtailed due to lack of money to pay for them.’

  ‘Your husband has aristocratic relations. Could they not have helped?’

  Mrs Ferguson shook her head. ‘They are not much better situated than we are. Patrick’s father paid for Emily’s coming-out, and got himself into debt in the process. Besides, they are tired of giving Patrick handouts and no more will be forthcoming, they have made that abundantly clear.’

  Riley didn’t blame them. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Please continue. I interrupted you.’

  ‘Emily’s father wrote constantly to remind her that our future now rested in her hands. The poor child was made to feel guilty about her own father’s shortcomings. It was heart-breaking to observe but there was nothing I could do to intervene on Emily’s behalf. If Patrick understood the true nature of my feelings, he would likely do the opposite of what I asked of him, just out of spite.’ Riley was tempted to ask why, but it was clear there was friction in the marriage, probably caused by Ferguson’s guilt at his inability to provide for his family. ‘Emily was young and lovely and should have been given the freedom to enjoy herself, not be burdened with responsibilities.’