by Candace Camp
“My husband protects me, sir. I see no further need for protection. As I stated before, I see no reason why Mr. Reed’s murderer would come after me. I’m sure he was someone involved in some nefarious business of Mr. Reed’s, and ’tis there you should be looking, not at Dure House, which I’m sure Mr. Reed never entered.” She rose, dismissing him. “Thank you for coming by, Mr. Gorham. Perhaps you’ll come back when you have some useful information.”
Simon leaned back his head and laughed when Charity described her visit from the inspector in detail. She made a face at him.
“It isn’t funny, Simon. Why, he was asking me to spy on you, to try to get information against you. That man thinks that you killed Faraday Reed.”
“I know. I could tell that from the first.” Simon shrugged. “But he hasn’t any evidence apart from that stupid handkerchief. It isn’t enough to arrest me.”
“But what if he manages to dig up something else that looks suspicious?”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know how the handkerchief managed to be there, either. But I don’t like it. He makes me nervous.”
“Refuse to let him in next time. I’ll tell Chaney to say that you’re out.”
“That isn’t the answer. We need to find the man who really did kill Reed. ’Tis the only way to completely clear your name.”
“Indeed? And how do you propose to do that? Scotland Yard hasn’t been able to.”
“Well, of course not, if they have ninnies like Mr. Gorham working on it. Besides, we have an advantage over Scotland Yard and Mr. Gorham.”
“And what is that?”
“We know that you did not do it. He is wasting his time trying to prove it was you. We can start looking elsewhere.”
“What do you propose to do?” he asked, smiling down at her determined face. “Question Reed’s servants?”
“Not a bad idea.” Charity’s face brightened. “We could send Chaney or your valet over there to talk to them. I’m certain they’d be more willing to talk to a fellow servant than to the police—or to you and me,” she added honestly. “You can even give them some money to open their mouths, if they don’t want to talk.”
“You’re a cunning little thing, aren’t you? Why did I never notice this before?”
“I don’t know,” Charity responded pertly. “It’s always been there. As I’ve pointed out to you, I have a habit of getting what I want.”
“So you’ve told me.” His eyes warmed as he remembered the night she had told him that.
“You and I, on the other hand, can talk to people who knew Reed. Maybe we can find out more about him. He was a perfect cad. I’m sure there were several other people who would have loved to have shot him. His wife would be my first guess. Or maybe someone who he was blackmailing.”
Simon’s eyes flew to Charity’s, alarmed. “Venetia could never have shot him.”
Charity cast him a surprised look. “I didn’t mean Venetia. But I suspect that if he was extorting money from her, he was extorting it from other people, as well. He would have enjoyed the money, as well as the power over people.”
“But to find his other victims, we would have to find out the secrets he might have known about any number of people. A rather large task, I should think, starting from nothing.”
“It does seem a little daunting,” Charity admitted, but she brightened a moment later. “If we talk about Reed at parties and on calls and such, and we watch everyone else’s reaction, we can see if the subject makes someone nervous. Then we will know who to question further.”
“I should imagine many of them would be nervous about talking about Reed to his alleged killer,” Simon pointed out dryly.
Charity rolled her eyes and went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Then there’s the matter of the handkerchief. Who could have had one of your handkerchiefs? We ought to pursue that.”
Simon turned and walked away, sighing. “I don’t know. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I wouldn’t have left a handkerchief lying around somewhere. I think it must have been stolen from my house, in which case almost anyone could have done it.”
“It seems more likely to me that it would have been someone who visited your house. That would have been the easiest way to get it. Someone whom no one would have said anything about if they were seen in your house.”
“I can’t imagine who…”
“I know.” Charity sat down on the sofa, curling her legs up under her in a most undignified way. “It’s hard to think that someone you know could have taken your handkerchief, especially in order to make it look as if you had committed murder. But I’ve been thinking about that. What if it was someone who really didn’t care about Reed one way or the other?”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“What if Faraday just happened to be handy? What if the person knew that you had fought with him, that it would be you on whom suspicion first fell? So they stole the handkerchief to make it look even more suspicious and went to Reed’s house and shot him, then left your handkerchief. Just to get you in trouble.”
“A very nice theory, my love, but I don’t know anyone who hated me that much, except Reed himself. And who would go to such elaborate lengths, even kill a man, unless they hated me very much?”
“Perhaps it was a bit of both, then. Say they wanted to get rid of Reed and they hated you, too, so this seemed like the perfect solution to get rid of all their problems.” She paused, her brow knitting. “Or maybe they wouldn’t have to hate you, really, so much as that they would benefit if you were found guilty of murder.”
“If I were found guilty, I would hang, so that would mean someone who would benefit by my dying. Aside from you, my dear—”
“Simon!” Charity paled, her eyes wide. “How can you say that!”
“It was only a jest.” He went to her quickly and took her in his arms. “I did not mean to hurt you. But you see how silly it is, don’t you? No one would benefit from my death except people in my family. You would get the bulk of my unentailed property, and my uncle would get the earldom and the entailed property.”
“Well, I did not do it,” Charity said with heavy sarcasm, pulling away from him. “I wasn’t even married to you at the time.”
“Do you suspect my uncle?” he asked incredulously.
“I don’t know. I hardly even know the man. But someone had to put that handkerchief there for some reason.” She paused. “Your cousin Evelyn would have gained, too. He would have been next in line for succession if your uncle received the earldom. But if you married, as you were planning to, and had heirs, his chances of ever receiving it would diminish greatly.”
Simon looked at her for a long moment, then said, “No. I cannot believe it. Really, Charity, I cannot see either of them as a murderer. Uncle Ambrose is far too proper, and I can’t picture Evelyn making such an effort.”
Charity sighed. “No doubt you are right. Which means that ’tis probably someone much more difficult for us to find. Still…don’t you think we should have a party, now that we’re back in London? A dinner party, say, my first as Lady Dure? Just for your family?”
“Charity!” Simon couldn’t keep from chuckling. “Are you planning to line them up and question them?”
“Nothing so obvious, I hope,” she replied. “But it wouldn’t hurt, would it, to do a little prying about where they were that night, and so forth?”
He looked at her, shaking his head. “You are going to get me cast out by my family.” But there was no anger on his face, only amusement and fondness, and he kissed her on the forehead. “By all means, go ahead and have your dinner party.”
Charity started her investigation the very next day. First she had a long and serious talk with Chaney, who promised solemnly to take care of acquiring information from the Reed servants. For her part, she boldly brought up the subject of Faraday Reed when she paid calls or received visitors or attended a social gathering of any kind. She received some strange a
nd uneasy looks from people, but, beyond learning that many women thought he was a perfectly blameless sort and a few looked carved in ice whenever he was mentioned, she found out very little.
She also spent a good deal of time on her upcoming party, consulting with her mother and Venetia, as well as the cook, the housekeeper and Chaney. She set a menu for it and sent out the invitations, then put the housekeeper and maids into a flurry of cleaning, wanting to have the whole house in spotless condition. It was, she thought, a curious task before her: to host the perfect dinner party for Simon’s family, as it would be her first for them and she wanted to impress them, yet at the same time to question them all about a murder. It made even Charity uneasy to think of walking such a fine line. Talking to Venetia about planning the party was not as comfortable as usual, as she could not reveal to her that she had an ulterior motive in giving it.
A few days before the party, Charity took a break from her round of calls and planning and decided to go shopping, simply for the pleasure of it. Her first stop was a milliner’s, where she tried on several bonnets. The last one was quite tempting, a dashing little thing that more sat on top of her head than covered it, tilting down toward her forehead at a rakish angle. Of course, she did not really need a new hat. But it was darling…. She wondered what Simon would say when he saw her in it.
“How lovely that looks on you, Lady Dure!” a low voice cried right behind her.
Charity jumped and whirled, astonished to have her thoughts echoed aloud. A lovely woman with black hair stood behind Charity, smiling. Charity remembered her instantly, although it took her a moment to recall the woman’s name. She had met her only that one time in the park.
“I hope I’m not presuming,” the woman said humbly. “We have been introduced, but…”
“Of course not.” Charity smiled, and felt relieved when the name at last came to her. “You’re Mrs. Graves. We met once when you were riding in the park.”
“Yes. How kind of you to remember.”
“Mr. Reed introduced us.” Charity wondered if this woman had been a friend of his.
“Yes.” The other woman looked grave. “It was a terrible thing about him, wasn’t it?” She gave a little shudder, then added, “Of course, he was not quite the paragon I thought him. I suppose it was no wonder that he was murdered.”
“He fooled you, too?”
Mrs. Graves nodded. “I fear he fooled many people. Once he found out I could not help him socially or financially, he no longer bothered with me. That was how I discovered what he was like.”
“I see.”
A sad look flitted across the other woman’s face. “Alas, I am afraid ’tis all too common a trait among men, or, at least, among so-called gentlemen.” Then she forced a smile, shaking off her moment of gloom. “But, here, you don’t want to listen to my troubles. Not when you’re still aglow with happiness. I understand you and Lord Dure are married now. He is a lucky man.”
“Why, thank you.” Charity beamed. “He’s a wonderful man, actually. I am the lucky one. Frankly—” she leaned forward confidentially “—I never realized that marriage would be so much fun.”
Mrs. Graves’s expression froze.
“I’m sorry,” Charity said immediately. “Did I say something amiss?”
“No, of course not. Every young bride should feel that way.”
“But you looked so…I don’t know…unhappy for a moment.”
“You are a most perceptive young woman. It was not your fault. I was only thinking—” She stopped abruptly and shook her head, trying to force another smile onto her face. “No, I shouldn’t burden you—indeed, I probably ought not to be seen talking to you. It would not be good for your reputation.” She glanced around, a little anxiously, looking to see who might have seen them together.
“Why not? What are you talking about?” Charity stepped closer to the older woman and took her arm, concern wrinkling her forehead. “Why should I not talk to you? What’s the matter?”
“You are very kind.” Tears glinted in Mrs. Graves’s eyes. “But there is nothing you can do. I am now a…a…” Tears began to flow from her eyes, and she drew a sobbing breath. “I can’t…How awful.” She pulled a lace-edged handkerchief from her pocket and held it up to her eyes, dabbing away the tears and looking furtively around.
“Here, come with me,” Charity decided. She couldn’t let the poor woman embarrass herself by bursting into sobs in a milliner’s. “My carriage is outside. We shall go for a drive. How does that sound?”
Mrs. Graves looked gratefully at her over her handkerchief, murmuring, “You are too kind.”
“Nonsense.” Charity set aside the bonnet she had been contemplating and led her companion through the small shop and out to her carriage. “There, now,” she said, settling into the seat across from Mrs. Graves, having told the driver to drive anywhere he liked.
“Thank you. I feel such a fool, bursting into tears in a store.”
“It probably happens all the time—daughters begging their mothers to purchase a new hat, or moaning that the one they want won’t go with their cape or some such thing.”
“You are too kind. But you really mustn’t let anyone know that you befriended me.”
“Why? That’s nonsense.”
Theodora shook her head and smiled sadly, sweetly. “No, I’m afraid it’s not. I pray that you will never have to find out, as I have. My reputation is in shreds. No decent matron would invite me to a soiree any longer.”
“But why not?”
“I—” She raised the handkerchief to her eyes again and said in a choked voice, “I have been betrayed by a…a man. I cannot call him a gentleman, no matter what his birth.”
Charity sucked in her breath, horrified. “You mean…”
“Yes.” She put her hands to her cheeks. “I am so ashamed. It is no excuse, but my dear husband had just died. I—I was so alone, so unhappy.”
“Of course you were,” Charity murmured sympathetically.
“You will think me faithless to the memory of my husband that I could fall into another man’s arms before my mourning was even over. But it was not that I didn’t love Douglas. It was, rather, that I missed him so much. It felt so good to be held, almost as if he were there again. I was confused and hurt, and when he told me that he loved me, that I was lovely, it was so easy to believe him. So pleasant. I…He seduced me, playing on my feelings with sweet words and tender caresses. I was a fool, of course, but even though I had been married, I was still very naive. I came from a small town, and I had never loved anyone but Douglas. I believed him when he said he loved me. I loved him, too—so very much. I knew it was a sin, but—it was so nice to be comforted, not to be unhappy.”
“That’s only natural.”
“Perhaps, but women are expected to be better than that, not to risk their reputations no matter how lonely they are or how much they love a man,” Theodora said bitterly.
“That is hardly fair.”
“What does fairness matter? It is the woman who gets caught, who cannot escape the consequences.”
Charity’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! You mean…”
Theodora nodded her head, looking down at her lap as though she could not bring herself to meet Charity’s eyes. “Yes. I fear so. I am not sure, but it—I’m very afraid it is true. I went to…him. I thought he would help me, that he would do the right thing. I thought he loved me and would be happy to marry me. But he told me—” Her voice caught on a sob, and she struggled with her emotions for a moment before she was able to go on. “He said he was engaged to marry another, a woman of higher birth and more money. When I told him that I thought we were to be married, he laughed at me! He said I wasn’t of his class. My parents were only country gentry, you see, good enough for the third son of a baronet like Douglas, I suppose, but not for him. It would be a disgrace for him to marry someone like me.”
“Why, that monster!” Charity’s easy sympathy swelled up in her. “How can men be
such cads?”
Theodora shook her head. “I would never have thought it of him. But I realized that I had been very, very wrong about him. He gave me a packet of bills and told me to get out of his life.”
Charity gasped, shocked.
“Yes, I know.” Theodora’s lush mouth turned down bitterly. “I thought he loved me. But to him I was only a mistress. He reminded me how he had paid for my rent after Douglas died, when I was in such despair, how he had bought elegant clothes for me. It was true—he had. I hadn’t thought about it. Douglas had often bought me loving gifts. I had thought it simply love and kindness on his part. Instead, he had been buying me—as if I were a common whore!”
She burst into sobs, hiding her face in her hands as she wailed. Charity watched helplessly, anger burning in her for the man who had treated this poor woman in such a way. A few months ago she would not have thought it possible that a gentleman could treat a woman thusly, or that Mrs. Graves could have been so fooled by a man. She had thought that evil showed on one’s face and in one’s manner. But after learning about Faraday Reed, she had realized that she had been hopelessly naive. “Gentlemen” could be as wicked as the commonest of men, and they could hide a snake’s soul under a pleasant exterior.
Charity moved across the carriage and sat down beside Mrs. Graves, putting her arm around her shoulders and murmuring soothing words to her. “I am so sorry. I wish I could help you. It’s so terribly unfair that you should be treated as a ‘fallen woman’ while that scoundrel is free to move about, still welcome everywhere, as if he had not sinned at all.”
“I know.” Theodora had calmed down, and now she wiped away her tears with her sodden handkerchief, looking defeated and sad.
“Well, I won’t turn my back on you,” Charity promised stoutly. “It was not your fault. I shall invite you to our first ball. After the family dinner, of course, but that’s in only two days.”
“You must not do that,” Theodora murmured. “It wouldn’t be right. It would cause you scandal.”