A Body in Berkeley Square

by Ashley Gardner

  "Aloysius agreed to say nothing. My husband was dead--he'd died honorably, saving other men. And Aloysius did not want dishonor or punishment to fall on me. He suggested we send a message to Colonel Naveau explaining that Major Harper was dead and to leave me alone."

  Bloody hell. "That was unwise and not even necessary. Naveau was a professional exploring officer. If he received no more word from your husband, he would conclude that his source had dried up, and he'd turn elsewhere. Likely he would have heard of your husband's death on his own, in time."

  "But Naveau's message frightened me. He did not know when he wrote it that my husband was dead. He was angry and threatened to reveal to Wellington what my husband had been doing. Colonel Brandon wrote a letter to Naveau, in French, and somehow got it delivered to him; I have no idea how he managed it. As a peace offering, he included a dispatch that Naveau had been asking for."

  "Good God."

  "Yes, he risked much for me."

  I had been angry at Aloysius Brandon in the past, but my rage rose to new heights today. "He did risk much. He risked ignominious death and ruin for himself and his family. And for what? Your pretty eyes? Did he ask you to elope with him?"

  Mrs. Harper looked perplexed. "He asked me to marry him, yes. How did you know?"

  "Because I was at the other end of the matter. Did you know that he planned to leave his wife for you? You must be a remarkable woman to lure him from Louisa Brandon, who I assure you is quite remarkable herself."

  She flushed a dull red. "I refused him. He was very excited after we'd delivered the message and begged me to marry him once he obtained the annulment of his marriage. But I could not. I'd loved my husband dearly. I did not want to rush to another man as though my husband had meant nothing to me. So I turned Aloysius away."

  "Yet you admit that you had an affair with him," I said.

  "A very brief one. I was afraid and alone, as you said, and needed comfort. Then I told him to go."

  Which he'd done. Brandon had returned to his wife to discover that Louisa had run to me in her distress. He'd been furious and would not believe that she and I had not had a liaison. But if Brandon had been indulging himself in another woman's bed, small wonder he'd instantly believed I'd indulged his wife in mine.

  "And you returned to England?" I asked.

  "To Scotland, actually. My sister had married a man from Edinburgh, and they invited me to live in their house. She has two small children, and they welcomed me as part of the family. It was a peaceful existence."

  "Until this spring?"

  Mrs. Harper moved back to a chair and sank into it. "I received a letter from Henry Turner in February. He said he had the very letter that Aloysius had written to Colonel Naveau. How he came by it and how he found me, I do not know. Mr. Turner instructed me to come to London and to pay him the sum of five hundred guineas, or else he would take the letter to the Horse Guards and proclaim that my husband and I and Colonel Brandon had been traitors together."

  Now I understood Brandon's outrage at Turner. I felt it myself.

  She went on. "I hurried to London and wrote to Aloysius. I was petrified. And he . . ." Her eyes sparkled with anger. "At first Aloysius wanted nothing to do with me. He said bluntly that our affair was long ago, that he and his wife were happy, that I should cease to pester him. I was furious with him. He had as much to lose as I did."

  "I read the letters you wrote back to him. You declared that both your names would be revealed. I took it to mean that your love affair would be made public."

  "Aloysius finally agreed to help, though he was not best pleased about it. Turner wanted to meet us at the Gillises' ball, knowing that Colonel Brandon and his wife had been invited. So we made the appointment and brought him the money."

  "And then Brandon made a mare's nest of it." I shook my head. "I do not know why anyone would suppose Colonel Brandon could do anything covert. He got himself talked about, upset his wife, and was arrested for murder."

  To my surprise, Mrs. Harper smiled. "I do not think he anticipated being arrested for murder, Captain. As for Aloysius being ham-handed, the result was that people only talked of us having an indiscreet affair. They did not guess the worst of it. Even you did not."

  She made a good point. "I admit that I was sorely misdirected."

  Mrs. Harper studied her hands in her lap. "I regret hurting Mrs. Brandon. She does not deserve this."

  "No, she does not." I resumed my seat. "Tell me exactly what happened at the ball. You might still believe that Colonel Brandon killed Turner to keep him quiet, but I do not. If he successfully obtained the letter from Turner, there was no need to murder him. Unless Turner had something more on you?"

  Mrs. Harper shook her head. "There was nothing else. Just that letter. And Aloysius said he'd made the exchange."

  "Tell me again what happened."

  "I want so much to forget what happened, and everyone wants me to remember." She rubbed her forehead. "It is true that Aloysius called too much attention to me--to us. But I feared Mr. Turner, and I did not want Aloysius to leave my side. Aloysius was angry at Mr. Turner, but also at me. Mr. Turner did offer to dance with me several times, but I knew that he simply wanted to talk alone with me. Aloysius chased him away."

  Lady Aline's version of events confirmed this. "The meeting was set for eleven o'clock? In the anteroom?"

  "Eleven, yes. Aloysius told me that I was not to go, although I wanted to see the letter for myself. But he was adamant, and I obeyed. He and Turner went into the anteroom together. No one followed. Not five minutes later, Aloysius emerged, rather red in the face, and Mr. Turner came out behind him. Aloysius took me to an alcove and told me that the deed was done."

  "Colonel Brandon provided the payment as well?"

  "He insisted. I did not protest too much. While I am of comfortable means, I cannot part with five hundred guineas with impunity. Aloysius spoke of the sum as almost trivial."

  "Brandon has a large income. When he spoke to you in the alcove, did he show you the paper?"

  "He refused. He told me he had it, and I was not to worry."

  "If it was in his handwriting, he'd be anxious to keep it," I reflected. "But Brandon did not have the letter when he was arrested. Do you have any idea what he did with it?"

  "None. I was agitated, not surprisingly so. Aloysius told me that he would find me some sherry, and left me. I stayed in the alcove, trying to catch my breath. Then, when he was a long time coming, I decided to emerge. Others would wonder what I did there so long. I tried to behave normally and have a conversation with Lady Gillis, but I was too agitated. I decided to sit alone in the anteroom. But when I entered, I found Mr. Turner."

  "Dead."

  She shuddered. "I thought him merely foxed, and I was angry at him, celebrating at our expense. But he sat too still, and then I realized that he was not breathing."

  "And you decided to search him for the bank draft."

  "Yes."

  "Why? To save Brandon a bit of blunt?"

  "That was not all I thought. I did not think the draft should be found on a dead man. I did not want it to point to a connection between Mr. Turner and Aloysius."

  "It was a good thought, but Brandon's behavior did that for him. Well, I am back to not knowing what became of the paper. Brandon is most reticent to tell me."

  "He is ashamed."

  I snorted a laugh. "He is afraid that I will use the knowledge against him. Well, Mrs. Harper, instead of clearing Brandon, I now have information that gives him still more of a motive. He killed Turner not to cover up an affair with you but to keep himself from being arrested for treason. Damn."

  Mrs. Harper looked at me limply. "I am sorry."

  "Brandon is an idiot, which is not your fault. He never should have written that letter."

  "I know."

  "The only way I can save him is to discover who truly did murder Turner. Did you see anything that can help me?"

  She shook her head. "I was in the a
lcove. By the time I made my way to the anteroom, Turner was already dead."

  "You said his body was warm, so he could not have been dead long. Are you certain you saw no one leave the room before you entered it?"

  "I did not."

  I imagined the small gilded room with its simple furnishing and scarlet walls. I remembered the opulent staircase hall and Basil Stokes complaining that one never saw the servants because they walked through back passages behind the walls.

  Anyone who knew how to get into those passages could have slipped into the anteroom--if indeed, a door from the anteroom led to the passages. They need not have been seen in the ballroom at all. Brandon had been observed striding toward the back of the house, ostensibly in search of sherry.

  Damn, and damn, and damn.

  I rose to my feet. "Mrs. Harper, I thank you for being frank with me. I am going to find that blasted paper if I have to tear apart London to do it. And I will clear Brandon, too. Please, if you remember anything else, any small detail that might be helpful, send me word."

  She promised to, but her face was wan, her eyes tired.

  I left her with my card and my direction penned on it. Mrs. Harper said goodbye, her eyes quiet in defeat.

  I knew she believed that if I had to betray her to save Brandon, I would. And, I thought as I left the house for the spring fog, she might not be wrong.

  *** *** ***

  Lady Breckenridge had sent me a note via a servant that morning, telling me she'd procured an appointment for me with Lady Gillis. She'd instructed me to call at the South Audley Street house at three o'clock.

  I had just enough time now to journey from Portman Square to South Audley Street, and I arrived on Lady Breckenridge's doorstep at three o'clock precisely.

  Lady Breckenridge greeted me in a swirl of silk and cashmere and pressed a cool kiss to my cheek. "You are amazingly punctual, Gabriel. Shall we go?"

  I was pleased--first, that she had done this favor for me, and second, that she felt comfortable enough with me for a kiss as greeting, without awkwardness. I was pleased, too, to sit next to her in her carriage, and have her shoulder brush my arm with the carriage's movement.

  I suddenly was sorry that Lord Breckenridge was dead, because I longed to shoot the man myself. I had, however, thoroughly bruised his face in an impromptu boxing match, and that would have to satisfy me.

  Lady Breckenridge's small hand lay loosely in her lap, and I reached down and closed it in mine. "You told me once that I resembled the late Lord Breckenridge," I said.

  She gave me a startled look. "You and he had a similar build, true. And hair the same color. But you are a completely different man, thank God."

  "I share the sentiment. I promise you, Donata, that I will never subject you to the humiliations he did. Ever."

  Lady Breckenridge gave me a half-smile. "I know. You have too much damned honor."

  "Not only honor," I corrected her. "Affection."

  She stared at me. I do not know whom I surprised more with the word, Lady Breckenridge or myself. She looked at me for a long moment, then she laid her head on my shoulder and kept it there for the rest of our short journey.

  The carriage stopped before the entrance to the Gillises' home in Berkeley Square. The double door was flanked with tall columns that led us into the rotunda of the front hall. Maids took our coats and hats, and a butler led us to a drawing room somewhere in the vast interior.

  There, I met Lady Gillis for the first time. When she entered, I was struck by how much younger she was than Lord Gillis. Grenville had mentioned that Lord Gillis was older than his wife, but Lady Gillis looked little more than a girl. I put her age as barely into her twenties, the same as Mrs. Bennington.

  "Violet." Lady Breckenridge greeted Lady Gillis with kisses to her cheeks, French fashion. "Captain Lacey wishes to poke about your house. Shall you allow him?"

  * * * * *

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lady Gillis did allow it, although she was flustered. "It is not a nice thing to have a murder in your home," she said. "We have been at sixes and sevens since the ball."

  "I am sorry it had to happen," I said.

  "It was dreadful. Absolutely dreadful. I have been abed for days."

  "Did you know Mr. Turner?"

  Lady Gillis started, then flushed. "No. Not well. He was an acquaintance of a friend, who suggested I invite him. Lord Gillis did not like Mr. Turner and told me vehemently not to let him come, but I owed my friend a favor. I'm sorry now that I did not listen to my husband."

  Before I could ask further questions about this friend and why Lord Gillis did not like Turner, Lady Gillis suddenly said she felt unwell and declared she'd retire to her rooms.

  Lady Breckenridge offered to accompany her upstairs, but Lady Gillis said quickly that she would be fine in care of her maid. I rather think Lady Gillis wanted Lady Breckenridge to keep an eye on me.

  The ballroom in daylight was a very different place from what it had been in the middle of the night. The arched windows at the end of the room let in gray light, and the chandeliers hung empty, devoid of candles.

  A footman obligingly lit sconces for us then disappeared on noiseless feet.

  "Lady Gillis's servants are well trained," I observed as the tall man glided out, leaving us alone. "They seem to take in stride even a sordid murder."

  "Lady Gillis is a duke's daughter," Lady Breckenridge said. "She brought many of her mother's servants with her after her marriage. They are an efficient lot, but rather cold."

  I thought of Lady Breckenridge's butler, Barnstable, ready with a pleasant smile and a cheerful inquiry into my health. I, too, would prefer a human being to a silent automaton.

  "I am surprised they allowed the murder to occur," I remarked.

  Lady Breckenridge shrugged. "Well, if their master will allow in the rabble . . . "

  I smiled with her then moved off to examine the ballroom.

  The longest wall held arched openings that led to the small alcoves. Each alcove housed a chair or two, and some included small tables. Dark green velvet curtains draped the openings.

  I loosened a tied-back drape and let it fall. Both curtains would easily cover the alcove, rendering the inside a private, if rather stuffy, compartment.

  "Do you remember to which Colonel Brandon took Mrs. Harper?" I asked Lady Breckenridge. "After Colonel Brandon left Mr. Turner in the anteroom?"

  Lady Breckenridge studied the alcoves a moment. "That one," she announced, pointing to the opening just to the left of me.

  I entered it and seated myself on one of the chairs. Wainscoting covered the wall from the baseboard to a chair rail about three feet above the floor. I ran my hands around the chair rail, looking for openings into which a folded piece of paper could have been wedged behind the wainscoting. I did the same with the baseboards, then turned over the little table and both chairs to examine the undersides and upholstery.

  I found no rents or gouges into which a paper had been pushed. I examined the chair's and table's legs in case one proved hollow--I did everything short of taking the furniture completely apart.

  Lady Breckenridge watched me curiously. "They say that women ask too many questions, but I must know what you are doing."

  "Looking for Colonel Brandon's letter."

  I had not told her the story Mrs. Harper had given me today. I could not. Brandon needed my silence. Let Lady Breckenridge continue to believe that the problem was a love letter about a simple affair.

  I righted a chair and sat on it. "Brandon led Mrs. Harper here after he paid Turner in the anteroom. Then he left Mrs. Harper to search for sherry. Where would he likely have gone?"

  Lady Breckenridge beckoned me to follow her. She glided across the ballroom as silently as any of Lady Gillis's servants and led me out a double door to a wide hall.

  Several rooms opened off this hall, dedicated to the comforts of guests or for displaying the Gillises' artwork. "He might have come into any of these chambers," La
dy Breckenridge said. "There would be decanters and so forth in them."

  "Brandon said he could not find any sherry." I walked into one of the rooms and looked about at its gilded furniture and paneled walls.

  Lady Breckenridge shrugged, following me. "Shall I ring for a footman and ask him in which room they'd put it that night?"

  "Not just yet." I crossed the hall and entered another sitting chamber. This one had similar paneling, but everything was gilded in silver rather than gold. "Lord Gillis's servants do not seem the sort to leave guests thirsty. So was Brandon's search for sherry a sham? And why?"

  I hated this. Every bit of evidence I went over pointed more and more to Brandon having committed the crime. He'd been wandering this hall while Turner was being murdered, but none had seen Brandon except Basil Stokes, who'd only caught sight of him just before Mrs. Harper screamed.

  Brandon had to have known, when Turner was found dead with Brandon's knife in his chest, that he might be arrested for murder. In the confusion between the discovery of Turner's body and the arrival of Pomeroy, Brandon would have striven to rid himself of the incriminating document.

  He might have handed the paper to Mrs. Harper, but she'd claimed he did not, and I believed her. He might have given it to Louisa, but according to witnesses, Brandon had not gone much near Louisa until Pomeroy started taking him to task, and she'd come to stand by him. Or he might have hidden it in a place he'd spotted when he'd been roaming these rooms looking for sherry for Mrs. Harper.

  I turned in a circle, taking in the room. Lord Gillis's servants would be certain to clean these chambers thoroughly every day. They were correct, well trained, and aloof, probably some of the most experienced in their class. Where could Brandon hide something where they would not find it?

  Then again, this was Colonel Brandon. He had not made it through the ranks to colonel for nothing. He was a good and inspiring commander, and sometimes, uncannily perceptive. Only where his personal life was concerned was he lacking in wisdom.