The Candlelit Coffin (Lady Fan Mystery Book 4)

by Elizabeth Bailey

  Ottilia’s amusement faded. “My laughter was out of place. It is a besetting sin of mine, I’m afraid, to be merry at the wrong moment. It has got me into all sorts of awkward situations, I assure you.”

  Mrs Ferdinand visibly relaxed. “A sense of humour is never out of place. We could not get through the exigencies of life without one.” Then she drew a tight breath and the distress returned as she glanced across at the émigré, who had retired from the conversation and was sipping tea in a meditative fashion. “I have stood in place of her mother to that girl. I promised Madame Benoit I would use her as if she had been my daughter. But that was of course nonsense. Any daughter of mine would have trodden the boards.”

  “I understand you have kept her close and tended her with the utmost care, ma’am.”

  “Not close enough since she did not see fit to inform me of Dulcie’s condition.”

  Ottilia all but gasped. “You know?”

  The matriarch’s features became tighter still. “If I had known earlier, Dulcie would not be dead. Cecile’s confidence came too late.”

  “When did she tell you?”

  “After the colonel routed us out of bed to search for a missing purse.” There was wrath in the woman’s eyes. “I questioned Cecile since she clearly knew all about it and she confessed the truth.”

  “You have not told the others, I trust?”

  “Cecile begged me not to, and I did not wish to add to the general upset besides. My people are distressed and bewildered enough, and the men cannot be wholly comfortable until the murderer is discovered. Nor any of us indeed.”

  “Which, I presume, is why you were willing to allow me to question you all.”

  The woman’s chin came up in a gesture both proud and touching. “The sooner the business is cleared up, the sooner we may recover a semblance of normality.”

  “It is both distressing and uncomfortable for everyone, I agree. I do know just how it is, Mrs Ferdinand.”

  The woman regarded her with the first show of interest in other than the matter at hand. “It is said you have experience in these matters.”

  “Yes, and in no case has it been either easy or other than horrid for all concerned. Murder is a painful business for those left behind.”

  Mrs Ferdinand nodded, but sighed too. “We have wandered far from the point. What of Colonel Tretower, Lady Francis?”

  Ottilia began to realise why this woman was indeed the matriarch of the player company. She was nothing if not persistent. What could she say? “George is a good man, ma’am. But I really think your questions would be better addressed to him.”

  “That won’t help me.” The voice was almost a snap. “I am less interested in whether he can support a wife than in the type of man he is. He is obviously a gentleman and a man used to command. He seems to be just and, to a degree, considerate. But is he kind? Is he sensitive? Will he comfort my poor lost little waif? If he takes her away from us, she will have no one, for we are her family, unworthy as we are. This George of yours must be all in all to Cecile, don’t you see?”

  The suppressed agitation of this speech moved Ottilia to clasp the creature’s hand and give it a comforting squeeze.

  “If you suppose George would influence Cecile to reject her friends, you misjudge him. He is far more likely to encourage her to keep close contact with you all. Nor do I think Cecile would dream of abandoning you. George himself spoke of her as being fiercely loyal.”

  “Has he affection for her? Does he truly care for her?”

  Ottilia was obliged to smile. “If you ask me, I believe he was smitten with Cecile from the outset. But he will not commit the solecism of proffering his suit until this matter is settled. He is charged with finding the murderer, after all, and he considers it would be inappropriate.”

  “Then you’ve spoken with him on this subject,” accused Mrs Ferdinand quickly.

  “I’ve tried, but George is too discreet to discuss his personal affairs at length, even with me.”

  A long sigh escaped the matriarch. “You paint a worthy picture, ma’am.”

  “I am relieved if anything I have said has helped to ease your mind.”

  The other woman nodded, becoming brisk all at once. “You wanted to know about Lord Charlton.”

  “Indeed I did. Also Captain Edgcott. Kate told me you would remember just when and where it was that he was hanging around Dulcie some weeks back, and outside of Weymouth.”

  “The military man? He has been something of a fixture but, to my belief, Dulcie did not encourage him.”

  “My mother-in-law said you knew him?”

  “An acquaintance only. He greeted me by name as I left the theatre.”

  “When he was waiting for Dulcie?”

  “I presume so. He was apt to delay me with effusive praise of our performances. I suspected he was merely trying to curry favour but I did not encourage him.”

  “Can you pinpoint where and when he appeared other than in Weymouth?”

  “I recall seeing him both at Lyme Regis and Exeter.”

  “When, Mrs Ferdinand?”

  “I could tell you more precisely by examining my books, but certainly in both June and July. We perform each play in every location, so we have been three times to the Marine Theatre in Lyme and twice to Exeter during those months, although we began the season here at the Theatre Royal in May for two of the plays.”

  “As long ago as that?”

  Ottilia made a rapid mathematical calculation in her head. The victim had been around two months gone, according to George’s surgeon. She could have been impregnated at any one of the locations, although everything pointed to the deed having been accomplished in Weymouth.

  “Did your company return here in between those two engagements?”

  “Indeed, for we brought The Rivals here a month since. Or rather, nearly five weeks now.”

  “Was Captain Edgcott in evidence at your opening visit?”

  Jane Ferdinand looked regretful. “That I cannot tell you with any certainty. The opening of a season demands a great deal of my time.” Her tone became tart. “We were here preparing for several weeks, but I had little leisure to be noticing which stage door followers might be pursuing our leading female player. I had enough on my hands ensuring our male juvenile was fit to take the stage.”

  “Jasper?”

  An exasperated snort almost worthy of Sybilla escaped the matriarch. “The bane of my poor husband’s life, Lady Francis. If I was not so extremely fond of the boy, I should urge Arthur to throw him off the payroll. Not that he would, of course. One does not wilfully cut one’s own throat.”

  Amused, Ottilia yet took the chance to shift attention to the male players. “I gather he can account for his movements that night, but what of Rob?”

  Mrs Ferdinand’s gaze became hard and fixed. “I thought you wished to ask me about followers. I won’t believe any of our lads capable of this horrific crime. Against one of our own? Unthinkable.”

  Ottilia did not pursue the subject. It was evident she would get no help from the matriarch. She changed tack. “Let us talk of Lord Charlton then, ma’am. You did not trust him.”

  “No, I did not.”

  She had lost the woman’s cooperation, Ottilia realised. Touching on the players had been maladroit. She persisted nevertheless.

  “Charlton has two young daughters. He contends that his concern for Dulcie stems from how he would feel if either were subject to such importunities as she suffered.”

  “Does he indeed? I have yet to learn of a gentleman who equates his female kin with the lot of actresses. We are considered a race apart. We have foregone our entitlement to the courtesies accorded to ladies.”

  It was plain this aspect of her profession was a thorn in Jane Ferdinand’s flesh and she could not think beyond it. Ottilia settled for plain facts.

  “Can you say if Charlton was in evidence at either of the two resorts where you saw Edgcott?”

  “He was not. Nor did
the other young man appear.”

  “Sir Peregrine?”

  “Is that his name? A good-looking boy. Rather a temptation, I thought, but Dulcie claimed she had no tendre for him.”

  “Had she one for any of these men?”

  Mrs Ferdinand shrugged. “I cannot say. She hid it well, if she did. From me at least.”

  From everyone, it would seem. Which suggested Dulcie did believe the affair was serious. It had been too much to hope she would have confided in Mrs Ferdinand, since she did not take her desperate situation to the matriarch.

  Ottilia felt she had gleaned food for much thought, but nothing to set her firmly on the track of the murderer. If there was only some way to elicit a description of the man. It was a pity George had no means of tracing the person or persons who had dug up the grave.

  Chapter Nine

  Banished from his lodgings and charged with a message to General Godfrey cancelling his mother’s engagement to play whist, Francis took opportunity to pursue the man Paglesham. Primed by Tillie before leaving the women to their tea with the female players, he was hopeful of eliciting more pertinent detail.

  “He may perhaps be more forthcoming talking man to man.”

  “Not if he’s such a coxcomb as my mother claims,” Francis objected.

  His wife had given him one of her mischievous looks. “He might if you affect to be admiring of his conquest.”

  “Tillie, you wretch!”

  She had laughed and set her hand to his chest in the intimate gesture he had grown to find tender in the extreme. “You need not fawn and flatter, Fan.”

  “You may be sure I won’t.”

  “But you might say how you envy his having seen the beauty upon the stage perhaps?”

  He had regarded her warily. “I might.”

  “And that you had heard he knew her personally. If all Sybilla says is true, that will be enough to loosen his tongue.”

  Francis took her hand from his chest and kissed her fingers. “Ingenious, my dear one, but you are nevertheless a manipulative schemer.” He regarded her with wry amusement. “It’s well for you to giggle, woman, but if I hadn’t brought this on myself, I should refuse point-blank to do your bidding.”

  “As if I would dare bid you to do anything.”

  “Ha! That’s all I have to say to that fatuous statement.”

  He had left her chuckling, insensibly cheered. She was blossoming under the necessity to pit her wits against a murderer once again and Francis cherished the returning warmth and the charm of their banter. Her mischief and wit in the face of disaster had been the attribute that first attracted him. Francis had forgotten how much he valued it until his Tillie had lost it utterly in the dark days just gone. He hoped his mother was wrong and she was truly over the tragedy.

  Having delivered the dowager’s excuses and exchanged pleasantries with the general and his cronies, he caught sight of his quarry just leaving by the main door. Francis followed, rather pleased than otherwise at not being obliged to accost the fellow in such a public place as the Assembly Rooms.

  Paglesham left the building and headed along the street in the direction away from the beach. Where the devil was he going? Should he overtake the fellow now?

  The man slowed and stopped, pulled out his pocket-watch and checked it. Francis was about to accost him when he slipped the thing back into his pocket and stepped to the door of the building next to where he had halted. The circulating library? Excellent. Francis had only been in the place a couple of times and on neither occasion had it been as crowded as the Rooms.

  He followed Paglesham inside and saw him head for the table where the day’s newspapers were set out. There was one elderly fellow seated nearby with an open journal on his lap, gently snoring. Francis glanced along the shelving to find only a female with a male escort, both browsing books. He crossed to the table and saw Paglesham had picked up one of the newspapers. He wasted no time.

  “Ah, you have the Gazette.”

  The man turned his head and Francis surprised a peevish expression in the fellow’s pretty features. He had the sort of looks Francis rather despised as unmanly but which most females found irresistible. The bow lips, the classic nose, the round cheeks and somewhat flaccid chin gave the face a feminine aspect, but he must concede the fellow’s figure was well set up. He had dark hair and a pair of large dark eyes, just now exuding annoyance, which was also in his voice.

  “Did you want it, sir? I am before you, I fear.”

  Francis affected to consider him. “Sir Peregrine Paglesham, is it? I fancy I saw you in discussion with my mother yesterday.”

  It was quite a comedy to see how the fellow’s expression changed as he eyed Francis, his brain clearly backtracking to determine who accosted him. The instant he realised was obvious as he assumed delight and his tone became obsequious.

  “Good gracious me, sir, I do trust you will forgive my incivility. You must be Lord Francis Fanshawe. I cannot sufficiently apologise for speaking in so dismissive a fashion. My abstraction must be my excuse, sir. I was miles away, I fear.”

  The task his wife had set him became almost anathema to Francis. The fellow inspired him with both disgust and acute dislike. He suppressed it.

  “No apology is necessary, sir.”

  Paglesham held out the newspaper. “Take it, my lord, I insist. My need can wait.”

  Francis waved it away. “Not at all. I am in no hurry.”

  “But I could not concentrate, Lord Francis, knowing you were wishing to peruse it. Do, I pray you, take it!”

  There seemed to be no other recourse open to him but to acquiesce. Francis accepted the Gazette but did not look at it. How in Hades was he to introduce the subject of his mission?

  “Had you a particular interest in today’s news, sir?” He saw an odd look flicker in the man’s eyes and produced a smile. “I ask because I was just behind you and noticed you looking at your watch. It does not seem to me that a man in a hurry will interrupt his progress unnecessarily.”

  Sir Peregrine gave a laugh that sounded false. “No, indeed. You are singularly observant, my lord.”

  “A trick of my wife’s, sir. I have learned of her.”

  The fellow looked baffled, but he was not slow to pick up the social nicety. “Are we to have the pleasure of seeing Lady Francis in the Rooms?”

  “Perhaps. It is not certain. We are here for her health, you must know. She is recovering from a recent indisposition.”

  He had no intention of committing Tillie to any sort of excursion. She had gone for an early walk along the Esplanade this morning, accompanied as usual by Hemp, but she was far from strong as yet. It was a question whether she could tolerate the noisy crowding of the Assembly Rooms.

  “I am sorry to hear it, my lord. But at least I had the inestimable pleasure of conversing with the dowager marchioness. She is quite a character, is she not? And most condescending to be so kind as to single me out.”

  The sycophantic note was beginning to irritate. Francis ordered himself to cut line and get on with what he had come to do. He glanced at the Gazette in his hand and inspiration hit.

  “I wonder if there is any more in here about this plaguy murder?”

  Did Paglesham’s face go a shade whiter? He certainly looked a trifle sick. “A terrible business.” His gaze searched Francis’s face briefly. “Worse, perhaps, for me. I knew the girl, you see.” Astonished, and gratified at having the subject so readily introduced, Francis stared at the man. “You are surprised, my lord.”

  “Well, yes, I must say that I am.”

  The other’s tone became deprecating. “As a man of the world, I dare say you know how it is. Miss Ash’s beauty was extraordinary.”

  “So I have heard.” Mindful of his instructions, Francis set the Gazette down on the table and leaned a little towards the fellow, lowering his voice and adopting a confiding air. “You are to be congratulated rather than censured, sir. As I understand it, the fair Dulcibella stunned all
beholders.”

  Sir Peregrine sighed deeply. “She did, sir, she did. As for congratulation, I was by no means her only favoured cavalier.”

  “But you were favoured, that is the important thing. More than the rest perhaps?”

  He despised the archness of his own tone, but Tillie had been right as usual. The fellow could not wait to boast.

  “I flatter myself I did have the preference, my lord.” He preened a little. “I dare say I might be forgiven for thinking I had a trifle the advantage over my most assiduous rivals. Of age, you must know, for Dulcie was youthful. And if I may dare to say so without conceit, my lord, my mirror suggests I have a little more prepossession than either Edgcott or Lord Charlton.”

  “They were your rivals?” Francis could not bring himself to comment upon the fellow’s disgusting vanity.

  “My chief rivals, sir. I cannot speak for Edgcott, whose chances must be counted negligible. But Charlton had all the advantage of title and position and yet Dulcibella’s preference settled upon myself.”

  Francis returned him to reality without compunction. “Then you must feel it indeed, sir. A tragic loss.”

  Paglesham’s features assumed a grief-stricken air. Undoubtedly false in Francis’s judgement.

  “Too, too dreadful, my lord. I confess to have been thoroughly unmanned when I heard of it.”

  “When did you hear?”

  Sir Peregrine’s fingers kneaded at his forehead. “When we all did, sir. Upon the day following as rumour hit and was swiftly followed by lurid accounts of the business in the newspapers.”

  “You must have been severely shocked, Sir Peregrine.”

  The fingers shifted to his temple and his eyes rimmed with moisture. Was it genuine? Or was he something of an actor too?

  “Appalled, dismayed, numbed, sir. It seemed impossible. That loveliness, that warmth and vitality, all gone. And for what, my lord? That is what haunts me. Why should any man destroy a thing so beautiful?”

  A thing? Was that how he saw the poor girl? But this was not getting him to the point of finding out the extent of Paglesham’s involvement. Vital to discover, if he could, whether the fellow had been intimate with Dulcibella Ash.