The Candlelit Coffin (Lady Fan Mystery Book 4)

by Elizabeth Bailey

  The actress blew an impatient breath. “Fitz, of all things! A confirmed bachelor. I’ve never known him to hanker after any female. Not that I think he’s one of those types if you know what I mean. In fact, I did hope at one time…”

  She faded out, a faint flush creeping into her cheeks. Had she had designs on Fitzgerald herself? Ottilia probed gently. “You thought at one time?”

  Hilde looked decidedly uncomfortable. “He’s quite a catch, is Fitz. When he first took over as manager, some years ago now, I tried — well, I threw out a lure or two, let’s be honest. But he wouldn’t bite.”

  Ottilia was conscious of feeling rather sorry for Hilde. She had evidently settled for a less than lawful alternative, having failed to secure a more permanent and solid investment. On impulse, she reached out to lay a hand over the pudgy one lying in Hilde’s lap.

  “Why don’t you marry Lewis?”

  Colour swept into the woman’s face. “He hasn’t asked me. Besides, it wouldn’t answer. He could no more secure my future than I can myself. No, Lady Fan. We’re better off muddling along as we do.”

  Ottilia left it there, feeling anxious to tackle Kate instead. As if she read her mind, the girl rose from where she had been sitting with Cecile on the chaise longue and came across to the window. Wholly ignoring her senior, she fixed Ottilia with a pair of candid dark eyes.

  “Cecily says you want to talk to me, ma’am.”

  Ottilia smiled. “Indeed I do.”

  “Suppose you want me to give place,” Hilde grunted, picking up her cup and plate and shoving to her feet. She patted the younger girl. “Good luck, dear. Lady Fan is nothing if not shrewd. Don’t bother prevaricating.” With which, she threw Ottilia a wink and moved off to join the others, breaking into their conversation without ceremony. “Well, she’s done with me. Your turn after Kate, I expect, Janey.”

  Kate took the vacated seat, treating Ottilia to a moue of distaste. Her tone was almost waspish. “It didn’t take Hilde long to revert, I see.” She brought her gaze to bear on Ottilia, faint apology in it. “Janey told us to be on our best behaviour.”

  “Acting a part for my benefit?”

  A tiny laugh escaped Kate. “Yes. Or more for Lady Polbrook, for Cecily told us you are easy to talk to.” Her voice changed, a trifle of apprehension entering in. “She said you are helping that colonel and you have solved murders before. You must be very clever, ma’am.”

  Ottilia was beset with her usual embarrassment. As ever, the tribute felt undue.

  “I am not particularly clever. Merely observant. It is a knack, if you like, which has proved useful in the past, yes.”

  Kate eyed her with a look of interest. Genuine? Or was it assumed? “You might have made an actress then.”

  Astonished, Ottilia was betrayed into a disbelieving laugh. “I hardly think so. I am no hand at mimicry. Besides, I should be terrified.”

  “It is not mimicry, ma’am. But it is observation. You have to study humanity. Not just how we walk and talk, though that is part of it. More, you must look for what is inside that may be revealed upon the outside. People give their thoughts away in all sorts of ways and a player must be alert to that.”

  Impressed, Ottilia regarded the girl with increasing interest. “Then it is something like perhaps. But you go further, Kate — if I may? — for you must reproduce these things upon the stage.”

  A sudden smile lit the girl’s unremarkable features, lighting them up. “That is the trick of it. But it should not be a conscious thing once you are in play. You must live within the skin of the role and the rest will follow.”

  “You are giving me a remarkable insight into your trade, Kate.” Ottilia was genuinely interested, almost to the point of forgetting her purpose. “I take it Dulcie did not have this attribute of bringing the role to life?”

  A spasm crossed Kate’s face. “She did not have to. Her shine and beauty were sufficient.”

  “You did not like that?” A surprised look made Ottilia amend this. “I do not mean to imply that you were jealous of her success.”

  “Not of her success. I should much dislike to be lauded merely for my looks.”

  “Then?”

  Kate sighed. “Oh, for being overshadowed by her, if you wish to know. While they were being dazzled, audiences could not note my skills.”

  “You are forgetting the feminine element in your audiences, Kate.”

  She shook her head. “I am not. She had that quality of drawing the eye, you see. Females were as much taken with her. I was myself.”

  It began to seem as if Katharine Drummond might benefit from Dulcie’s death. But to do her justice, she had made no such leap herself. Or she had the grace not to say so.

  “What I am wondering, Kate, is whether Dulcie confided in you?”

  A tiny frown settled between the girl’s brows. “About her admirers?” Her gaze strayed to the French girl. “She was more likely to tell Cecily, if she told anyone.”

  Ottilia scotched this at once. “Only to a degree. Since I am sure you know it, I don’t scruple to say that Cecile is much too strait-laced to be the recipient of that sort of confidence.”

  Kate’s brows rose in an unexpectedly haughty look. “The sort that marks us for little better than prostitutes?”

  “I did not say so. Nor did I imply any kind of judgement, Kate.”

  There was no sign of consciousness. The girl continued to regard her steadily. “Everyone makes that judgement. It is a risk of the profession. But we do not all succumb.” She drew a sharp breath. “I thought Dulcie would. She chattered of the men who pursued her.”

  “That is just what I am after, Kate. Who came up in her chatter? What did she say of them? You’ve spoken of observation yourself. Such details may reveal a good deal.”

  Kate look struck. “Of course you are right. Only I don’t know if I can remember much of it. I like to run my lines in my head while I prepare, you see, and I paid scant attention to Dulcie’s inconsequence.”

  Ottilia could have screamed with vexation. Must the girl be so single minded? She tried for a coaxing note. “Try, Kate. Any little thing tucked away in your head may be of use.”

  The actress hesitated, not as if she sought to prevaricate, but with a look of concentration as if she gathered her memories. Ottilia waited, taking opportunity to observe how the girl’s thoughts became mirrored in her face, yet without grimace or apparent change in her expression. It was fascinating to watch. When a pertinent thought arrived, Ottilia knew it at once by an abrupt change.

  “Yes, there was a peculiarity now I think of it.” The dark gaze came to rest on Ottilia. “The night she died Dulcie spoke of her good fortune. Or did she say good? Fortune certainly.”

  “Do you recall just what she said?”

  A tiny frown settled between Kate’s brows. “Not exactly. Something about change. And having played the roles she had done fitting her for her fortune. She kept making a curtsey before the mirror and plying her fan. ‘My lady,’ she said. ‘My lord.’ I paid no mind at the time. Dulcie was always posturing.”

  “Did she say a name? Or speak of a particular person?”

  A shrug came. “If she did, I did not notice.” Then her eyes widened. “Stay! She did mention someone. Perry? Not that night. Earlier, I think.”

  Alert, Ottilia pressed her. “How much earlier?”

  “Oh, before we came back to Weymouth. We may have been in Exeter or Lyme for all I know. We make a circuit through the month. Sometimes as much as six weeks if Arthur has managed to secure an extra booking.”

  Impatient of this divagation, interesting as it was, Ottilia probed for more pertinent detail.

  “Wherever it was, can you remember just what Dulcie said of this Perry?”

  Kate gave a tiny laugh. “Oh, yes. The naïve little idiot supposed he was in love with her. She seemed to think she had only to decide. Imagine it! I think she had some notion she was in the position of a debutante in society. I dare say she took
it from one of her roles. She was apt to confuse real life with what we did on stage, believing it to be a true reflection.”

  “Did she have others in mind besides Perry when she thought to choose?”

  “I imagine she must have done. There was no shortage of admirers wherever we went. Indeed, one or two were apt to follow her from town to town. I could swear that army captain turned up at the stage door in Exeter.”

  Startled, Ottilia caught her wandering gaze and held it. “When? When was this, Kate? Please try to pin it down. It may be particularly important.”

  The girl’s face reflected surprise back. “Indeed? Is he the man?”

  “I don’t know that, Kate. But he is known to be one of her admirers in Weymouth. Think back, if you please.”

  For the first time, a hint of consternation entered the dark eyes. “It was weeks back.”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know. Four to eight perhaps? We have visited The Exeter Theatre since, so it must have been the time before. Janey will know. She keeps track of these things for Arthur.”

  The impulse to shift at once to Jane Ferdinand was strong, but Ottilia curbed it. Whether or not this put Captain Edgcott back in the running, she had still to sift the matter of this man Perry. Sir Peregrine?

  “Kate, I must ask you to think carefully, if you please. When was it — or where were you, if that is easier? — when Dulcie spoke of believing Perry was in love with her?”

  The little frown reappeared and Ottilia saw the girl fall into the same concentrated attitude. Not unhopeful, she waited out the effort, and was rewarded.

  “I believe it was in Lyme Regis.”

  “Was Perry in evidence there?”

  “Not that I noticed.” Then her tone became confident. “No, he wasn’t. Dulcie said she must decide before we came back to Weymouth.”

  “Decide what? Whether to accept an offer? Could the choice have been whether to marry or stay with the theatre?”

  Kate’s face showed a trifle of anguish. “I don’t know! I wish I did. I wish I had listened more closely, truly I do. But the truth is, I found her assumption so nonsensical, I shut her chatter out of my mind and concentrated on my lines.”

  Her agitation would not help to recover the memory. Ottilia backtracked. “Never mind it. I dare say it is of less importance than I suppose.”

  It did not answer. “How can it be? You are thinking this man Perry might have killed her, are you not?”

  “Any one of her admirers must be suspect, Kate. We do not yet have any firm evidence to show just who it was, which is why I wanted to talk to you all. The more we know of these men, the closer we may come to finding out.”

  Kate put her fingers to her mouth in a gesture that made her seem vulnerable all at once. “I see that. I am sorry not to have been of more help.”

  “You have been of immense help, Kate, and I cannot sufficiently thank you for being so open with me.”

  The girl nodded and rose. “You will want Janey, I expect.”

  Ottilia smiled and raised her voice. “Yes, but I think we might all take a refill, don’t you? Sybilla!” Her mother-in-law, who was looking a trifle bored, glanced across. Ottilia gave her a little gesture of apology. “Is the tea still hot, do you suppose? Should we send for another kettle?”

  The conversation became general for a while as Tyler was sent for to refresh the tea. Ottilia moved to stand by Sybilla’s chair from where she was able to observe the players. It was noticeable that both Hilde and Kate had become more relaxed, the latter cutting into a discussion under way between Cecile and the older woman concerning a new costume.

  “But I beg you won’t do it in blue, Hilde, for I believe a dark red would suit better.”

  “You mean it would suit you better,” returned the matron. “Arthur doesn’t want it changed.”

  “I’ll talk to him then,” said Kate. “Or Janey will. Janey!”

  Mrs Ferdinand, who was responding to some question of the dowager’s, looked round with an admonishing frown. “Hush, Kate! I am talking to Lady Polbrook.”

  The girl did not flush, but her eyes showed dismay and she threw an apologetic look at Sybilla. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I did not mean to interrupt.” A smile of great charm appeared. “Only you and Lady Fan have made us feel so much at ease, I’m afraid I forgot my manners. Pray forgive me.”

  It was, to Ottilia’s mind, both prettily expressed and very much a sample of Kate’s acting skills. She convinced Sybilla, who became at once gracious.

  “Think nothing of it. I am glad to know you feel comfortable.”

  “You are very kind, ma’am, thank you.”

  With which, Kate smiled again, shot a look at Mrs Ferdinand as if she sought approval and turned back to her companions. Ottilia noted Hilde’s raised eyebrow and knew she had guessed aright. Kate was acting a part.

  Cecile seemed not to notice. “Is it not that there is red cloth in the trunk, Hilde?”

  Or was it an attempt to smooth over the little faux pas? Recalling the émigré’s origins, Ottilia thought it likely. She must have been well versed in social ease before she had been obliged to fall in with a company of players.

  Her attention was claimed by their matriarch as George had called Mrs Ferdinand. “I understand you may wish to converse a little, Lady Francis?”

  “If you are willing, ma’am.”

  Sybilla intervened. “When we have a fresh pot, Ottilia. You will be interested to know that Mrs Ferdinand is acquainted with Lord Charlton and this captain we hear so much about.”

  This was said with a meaning look and Ottilia was at once interested. “Is it so, ma’am? Do you know either of them well?”

  “Not well at all,” responded the matriarch, her voice low-pitched and pleasing. “Lord Charlton sought me out for the purpose of warning me of Dulcie’s innocence. He was concerned she would be taken in by a man of less integrity than himself.”

  “Which she clearly was,” stated Sybilla on a dry note.

  A shadow crossed Jane Ferdinand’s face. “I should have been more alert. Dulcie was scarcely more than a child.”

  Sybilla glanced up at Ottilia with a look she recognised. If the players had not been present, the dowager would have snorted. She plainly had no belief in Dulcie’s innocence. A pragmatic creature was her mother-in-law. She called a spade a spade and had no truck with subtleties.

  Hilde, however, abandoning the resumption of a discussion on costume, was quick to leap to Mrs Ferdinand’s defence. “You can’t blame yourself, Janey. With so many after her, it’s hardly surprising Dulcie lost her head.”

  “I can blame myself, and I do.” Jane Ferdinand’s head came up and she met Ottilia’s gaze with a clear one of her own. “I did not take Lord Charlton’s warning with any seriousness. I believed I had a close enough eye on the girl, and I suspected besides he might be trying to flummery me into chasing off his rivals because he wanted the girl for himself.”

  “Good heavens, why?” Sybilla was staring at the woman in disbelief. “Would he not instead have tried to persuade you of his honourable intentions?”

  “Towards an actress? Hardly, Lady Polbrook.”

  “There is that, I suppose.”

  Ottilia cut in without ceremony. “What made you suspect his motives, Mrs Ferdinand?”

  Her lips worked a little before she spoke. “I knew Dulcie had been seeing the man. I taxed her with it last season, but she protested he was only being kind. Kind! He took her to Mrs Horniman’s late in the night and plied her with dainties and toys. Tokens of what, may I ask? Affection? Mere friendship?”

  Ottilia broke into the rising distress. “Did you ask him?”

  “Certainly not. I asked Dulcie. She said he was like an uncle to her. Well, I beg your pardon, ladies, but I have good reason to know how so-called uncles may behave towards young girls. Especially girls labelled with the stigma that dogs women of our profession. We may be as respectable as any lady of repute, but the world pe
rsists in believing otherwise.”

  Sybilla, with a scorching glance at Ottilia, kept her mouth firmly shut. But the low-toned tirade required an answer.

  “You are perfectly right, Mrs Ferdinand, and I am sorry for it. In this instance, such prejudice has proved tragic. You are understandably and justifiably upset and I applaud your sentiments.”

  The woman blinked a time or two, and Ottilia realised she was winking tears away. Her voice came huskily in the surrounding silence.

  “That is generous of you, Lady Francis. Thank you.”

  Since Tyler chose this opportune moment to enter the room with a freshly steaming kettle and a clean teapot, Ottilia was spared having to answer. By the time tea was once again made and served, an easier atmosphere had been restored and Ottilia drew Jane Ferdinand out of the circle to her improvised eyrie by the window.

  “Pray tell me more of this man Charlton, if you will, Mrs Ferdinand.”

  The woman met her gaze with an oddly hardened expression in her eyes. Her voice remained low. “Tit for tat, Lady Francis. Pray tell me more of this Colonel Tretower.”

  Ottilia eyed her, wary. She had divined George’s interest, had she? Did this mean she knew Cecile was enamoured? It felt distinctly odd to be requested to trot out George’s credentials. She opted for frankness.

  “If you wish to gauge whether he is a suitable sort of man to be courting Cecile, ma’am, you had better ask my husband. They have been friends far longer than I have known either. Comrades in arms too, for my husband was a sometime soldier.”

  Mrs Ferdinand gave her a shrewd look. “Then he is bound to be biased. I wish besides for a woman’s judgement.” A smile flitted across her lips and vanished again. “I have lost one lamb to the slaughter, ma’am. I do not intend to allow another to be gobbled up by a marauding wolf.”

  The thought of George in such a light was too ridiculous for Ottilia. She could not withstand a gurgle of merriment. The affront in the elder woman’s face sobered her at once. She put out a hand.

  “Pardon my ill-timed mirth, ma’am, but your epithet applied to poor George simply will not do.”

  A reluctant smile appeared. “Well, it ought to allay my qualms that you think so, I suppose.”