A Lady's Guide to Gossip and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  “I don’t need you to defend me,” she said finally.

  “Actually, I don’t think I was defending you so much as women in general.”

  She gave me a sharp look. “Really?”

  “Men will always find something to complain about as far as women are concerned.” I shrugged. “And I suppose women do the same. But I can’t abide it when society tries to keep women ignorant simply so men can feel superior.”

  Her face was a study in amazement. “You can’t?”

  “Of course not. Women have brains; we should use them. Where does the rest of your family stand on this issue? Are they in Clara’s camp or yours?”

  She thought a moment. “I’m not sure they are firmly embedded in either camp now that you ask. Father encourages my studies, but he’d never let me involve myself in his business.” She shrugged. “Leo certainly respects a woman’s intelligence, if you’re concerned for your sister’s sake.”

  “I would worry if Lily had to pretend to be a fool to please her husband, but she’s not very good at pretense, so I’m sure Leo knows she has a brain.”

  Patricia Kendrick and Lottie joined us just then, as the butler stepped in to catch the lady’s eye. Ah, dinner was ready. When Henry offered me his arm to lead me into the dining room, I saw his wife lift her eyes upward and heave a sigh. Goodness, I hoped Mr. Kendrick wasn’t observing such formality on my account, but as I had no choice, I took his arm. Patricia and Leo entered next, leaving Hetty and the girls to follow. I was seated next to Henry, with Hetty on his other side. The silver gleamed and the crystal sparkled under the glow of the chandelier overhead. Amid all this formality, I gave thanks Leo seemed so levelheaded.

  Once the soup course was served, everyone seemed to relax, and the scene began to feel more like a family dinner. Hetty picked up her conversation with Mr. Kendrick where they had left off in the drawing room. “You were saying you aren’t familiar with the South Sea Equity Consortium, Henry? Lord Harleigh told me his banker recommended it highly.” She frowned. “I wish I could remember the man’s name, but Lord Harleigh’s investments are so scattered among different institutions.”

  “Not a bad idea to diversify,” Henry said. “I would be curious to learn who has the management of the fund. It sounds as though it would be a lucrative investment.”

  Hetty made some murmur of agreement. “I would have thought so, too. And it was initially, but recently it’s suffered a loss and I’ve been unable to discover if there’s any chance of a recovery. I understand storms are to blame.”

  “Henry, do leave off discussing business if you please. You’re not in the office now.” Mrs. Kendrick couched her rebuke with an indulgent smile.

  “Has anyone heard anything more about the poor woman who was murdered last week?”

  Mrs. Kendrick shot Anne a glare of exasperation upon the introduction of such a subject at dinner. She seemed ready to chastise her, but Lottie picked up the conversational ball.

  “Mrs. Archer was a friend of Lady Harleigh.”

  All those Kendrick brown eyes turned to me.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Patricia murmured.

  “Archer, you say.” Henry lowered his brows as he studied me. “Any relation to Gordon Archer, at Bates Merchant Bank?”

  “Gordon Archer is her late husband’s brother,” I said. “I do believe he is a partner at that bank. Are you acquainted with him?”

  “Indeed. Mostly in a business sense, but we meet socially from time to time.” He frowned down at his soup and dipped his spoon into the bowl before turning back to me. “I saw him just yesterday. Odd he didn’t mention a death in the family.”

  The conversation had picked up around us, but Henry’s comment caught my attention. Was it odd? “Is it common for men to discuss family matters over business?” I asked.

  He pulled himself from his musing and gave me a smile. “Not common, no. But I do know the family socially. Been to their home. Met their children. Seems I should have met the sister-in-law at some point, don’t you think? Or at least it seems I should have been aware he had one.”

  I gave the matter some thought as he sipped his soup. Was Mary at odds with her late husband’s family? “I suppose that depends on how long you’ve been acquainted with Mr. Archer. After all, Mary went into mourning for her husband”—I paused while I did the calculations—“well over a year ago now. She hasn’t had much of a social life since.”

  “Ah, that explains it. That’s about the time I met Archer.” He sat back and allowed the footman to remove his bowl. “At any rate I’ll have to attend the funeral.”

  “Henry.” Patricia’s voice held exaggerated patience. “First business, then funerals. Surely you can find another topic for conversation.”

  “Yes, of course, my dear. We should be discussing plans for the engagement party, shouldn’t we?”

  Lily blushed and smiled across the table at Leo. I struggled to restrain a sigh. Well, I’d known this was coming.

  Mrs. Kendrick turned to me with a warm smile. “Do you have any objections to holding it next week? Perhaps a week from today?”

  I blanched. I hadn’t realized it was coming this soon. I glanced at Lily, who had developed a rapt interest in her napkin.

  “Is it necessary to move so quickly? Few people are in town this time of year. Would it not be better to wait until the fall?”

  Both the elder Kendricks observed me with surprise. Patricia recovered first. “I think we can gather enough of society to fill a ballroom.”

  “But isn’t Margaret Henderson having some sort of gathering that evening?”

  Henry pinned me with a hard look. “One might almost think you had some objection to the match, Lady Harleigh, as you seem intent on putting off the announcement.”

  I opened my mouth to deny anything of the sort, but Patricia spoke first. “Nonsense, Henry. Frances is right. Margaret Henderson has already sent out her invitations for Saturday next. Aside from that, it’s awfully short notice. Perhaps two weeks from today will work with your schedule, Frances?”

  Trapped, I cursed Lily for not warning me. Across the table, Hetty pushed the corner of her mouth upward with her pinky finger, giving herself a crooked smile and reminding me this was a happy occasion. As everyone else at the table watched me, I was the only one to notice. I forced a smile.

  “I must insist I have no objection at all to the match. My only concern, if it can be called such, is the short length of time Lily and Leo have known each other. Announcing the engagement will give rise to the expectation the wedding will take place within a few months.”

  Again, the occupants of the table stared at me. “I believe Lily and Leo have expressed their intention of marrying before the Christmas holiday.” Patricia spoke in a tentative voice, realizing for the first time I was unaware of the couple’s wishes.

  “Have they?” This time I stared at Lily until she was forced to raise her eyes. She gave me a nervous smile.

  “We are very certain of our affection for one another, Frances, and hope you’ll indulge us in our haste.”

  What could I say? I had absolutely no objection to the match. Even my parents approved it. My father had already finalized the marriage settlement. Just because haste had been a mistake in my marriage, who was I to say Lily didn’t know her own heart? She certainly knew how to get her own way. “Then I won’t stand in your way. If you wish to be married before Christmas I’m sure we can arrange it.”

  The gratitude shining from Lily’s eyes told me she was certain of her decision. That was all I could ask for. “Well, if we are to have an engagement party in two weeks, we had better get to work on the guest list.”

  Chapter 8

  Sunday morning found me managing multiple assignments. In addition to finding a blackmail victim, and possible murderer, I was charged with the task of preparing a guest list for the engagement party as invitations must go out today. Bridget would be doing some snooping for me this afternoon as to just how famili
ar Miss Zimmerman was with the duke’s romantic liaisons. Sadly, I wouldn’t hear if she’d learned anything until tomorrow. George had sent round a note with a footman, saying he would call on me at noon, both to give and receive an update on our progress. Rather a busy day.

  After breakfast with Rose, I set to work. With Hetty, Graham, and Lottie using my library, Lily and I set ourselves up in the drawing room. I’d given her a guest list I’d helped Fiona prepare for a soiree she’d held two months ago. Many on the list had gone to the country, but at least it was a place to start. Lily sat at the card table writing invitations to those she knew to be in town. When she was unsure of someone, she called out their name to me, as if I knew the whereabouts of everyone in society.

  Meanwhile, with the use of a lap desk, I sat on the sofa, making notes of my progress from yesterday and reading through still more of Mary’s files. I’d chosen the file with the uncoded notes as they were easier to read, then sifted through all the pages for Charles’s name. I was ashamed at myself for doing so. I suppose it was disloyal, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Mary had learned something about him and confronted him with it. In the end, I’d found nothing with his name, which gave me great relief, though the process had made my head throb.

  “The Fontaines, Frances. Are they in town?”

  “No, but they are only in Oxford. I’d send them an invitation anyway as they’re close enough to come. And we will certainly invite them to the wedding.”

  Back to reading the notes one by one. Hmm, what’s this about Lord Herford? I read further. Good heavens, was she implying he’d drugged a racehorse? I placed that sheet in the stack of possible blackmail victims. He’d do anything to keep that from getting out. The next was a breach of promise suit brought by Harriet Farmer against a Mr. Richardson. I didn’t know Mr. Richardson, but I was familiar with Miss Farmer, and frankly, the gentleman should consider himself lucky to escape with only a lawsuit.

  “What about Sir Robert and Lady Nash? They are in the country, are they not?”

  “Yes, and they are too far away to attend the party, but you must send an invitation to Fiona and tell her of your engagement, as I have no time at the moment to write. Indicate that you don’t expect her attendance, but only wish to give her the news.”

  Back to the file. The next was about the Duke of Manchester. Again? Miss Zimmerman was the only one likely to care about his exploits, and Bridget was already checking into that. Lily’s voice broke into my thoughts.

  “Do you want me to tell her you don’t have time to write?”

  “Who?”

  “Lady Fiona.”

  “Heavens, no!” I whipped my head around to glare at her. “You can’t tell Fiona I have no time for her. Just indicate you are including her in your happy news. I will write her later.”

  “Then should I tell her you’ll write her later?”

  Her questions made me want to beat the sofa cushion with the file in my hand, but I took a calming breath instead. “No. You should leave me out of it altogether.”

  Back to the file. I scanned the next sheet with a jaded eye. As titillating as this information had been at the outset, I could barely take it in now. I had absolutely no interest in who was doing what with whom—or to whom. I put the current page in the minor gossip pile.

  As I reached for the next page, Lottie slipped through the door. I watched in fascination as she caught her sleeve on the door handle, tugging until the embroidered trim wrapped around the handle several times. Lily came to her rescue, deftly twisting the trim away from the metal handle and voilà, Lottie was freed. With trim dangling from her wrist and a newspaper in her hand, she made her way toward my working area, stopping midstep as she took in my harried expression.

  “They’re discussing something rather confidential,” she said, tossing her head back toward the hall. “I thought I’d give them some privacy. Is it all right if I wait in here?” She inched closer toward the sofa.

  “Of course,” I said. “But not—”

  She seated herself on the other side of the sofa from me and my stacks of paper, jostling the cushions, and sending the pages into a heap on the floor.

  “—there.”

  “I’m so sorry, Frances. Let me get those.” I didn’t bother to stop her. I knew she’d simply bundle all the carefully sorted pages, but if I’d tried to intervene, we’d likely clunk heads, or tear the pages, or cause some other disturbance.

  My nerves grew taut and I longed for the return of my library.

  As expected, Lottie returned all the pages to me in one lump. I smiled as she reseated herself and opened the paper, flicking it out before her to straighten the folds. I returned to sorting the papers into two stacks.

  “What about Mr. Hazelton’s brother?” Lily asked.

  “If you mean the earl, I believe Mr. Hazelton mentioned he’s in town. You should send him an invitation.”

  “Why, there’s no gossip column again today,” Lottie said, her voice bordering on a whine. “I so enjoyed reading it, and this is the third day without one.”

  Having enough gossip in the pages on my lap, I chose to make no comment.

  “Have they given any explanation?” Lily asked.

  “No, and I truly miss it. I’ve been reading it every day since I’ve been here and the last column hinted at a breach of promise suit between a Miss Farmer and a Mr. Richardson. I was curious to see if anything had come of it.”

  I was ready to throttle the two of them for disturbing my concentration when Lottie’s words registered with me. I glanced up sharply. “You read about that in a gossip column?”

  She jumped as if not expecting me to speak, her movement tearing the paper. “I’m sorry, Frances.” She bit her lip and glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “Have you read this already?”

  I waved a hand. “It’s of no matter, dear. Tell me about this gossip column.”

  She brightened. “It’s fascinating. It usually refers to people only by initials, but Jenny and Mrs. Thompson have helped me identify whom she’s speaking of. The columnist has definitely created a stir as she seems always to be on the mark.”

  “She?” That was an interesting twist. “The columnist is a woman?”

  Lottie nodded. “A Miss Information. Isn’t that clever?”

  Actually, I thought it a ridiculous name, but that was beside the point. My brain was telling me this was important, and I needed to learn more about this column. “You say there hasn’t been a column for three days? And you read about the breach of promise suit—when?”

  “Sometime last week. If it’s important, I can fetch it for you. I keep clippings of her columns.”

  “Do you? Yes, please fetch them. I think I need to read this column.”

  She folded the paper and set off like a shot, leaving me to wonder what these notes actually represented. Were they fodder for a blackmailer, or simple gossip? I needed more information. Was there some connection between Mary’s files and the gossip column? After all, much of what I found in her files was common knowledge. Was it common because everyone had already read about it in the newspaper?

  A steady tapping sounded behind me. I turned to see Lily resting her chin on her fist and drumming her fingers on the table. At my raised brows, she stopped. “Frances, why are you so concerned about the gossip column? I’ve never known you to indulge in gossip, other than listening to Lady Fiona, that is.”

  I reacted with a snort. “You give me far too much credit. While I do my best not to spread it, I am human after all and just as curious as anyone else.”

  “But why is this so important?”

  “I’m not sure it is, but I’d like to find out. Now don’t you have invitations to attend to?”

  She scowled but went back to her work just as Lottie returned, her hands full of clippings.

  Heavens. “How did you acquire so many of these? You’ve only been here three weeks.”

  I carefully removed my stacks of notes to the tea table so she cou
ld sit on the sofa and spread the clippings out between us. “It’s a daily column and I began clipping them after I read the first one.” She shrugged. “I thought it would help me to learn who was who around town.”

  I glanced through the clippings, reading a sentence here and there. “Well, I doubt it’s providing you with everyone’s best qualities, and I must warn you much of the gossip in the papers is simply made up. Though if even a portion of this is true, you might take it as a warning about whom you should avoid. Now, where is the one that mentions the breach of promise?”

  She sifted through the papers and, settling on one, handed it to me. I scanned the column, then found the page in Mary’s notes that corresponded. They were identical, word for word. Unfortunately, this proved nothing unless I knew which came first. It would be odd for Mary to copy the contents of a column when she might simply have clipped the item from the paper as Lottie had done. But I couldn’t rule that out.

  All right, what could rule it out? I leaned my back against the sofa and gazed up at the ceiling, tapping my fingertips against my lips. There were no dates on the notes. But they’d arrived in separate bundles. I focused on the stack of folders I’d left on the tea table. The one I held was the thinnest and I’m sure it was the one Charles had been leafing through. What if . . .

  I gathered the clippings and thrust them into Lottie’s hands. “Let’s go through those one by one. You can give me the salient points of the column and I’ll try to find a corresponding note in here.”

  It took the better part of two hours to match them up. Hetty had stepped in after the first hour, hoping to take Lottie back to the library, but the intensity of our search had her backing away without her assistant. One by one, we matched the notes to the clippings Lottie had collected. There were at least three notes to each clipping. In the end, about twenty pages of notes remained unmatched.

  I gazed across the stacks of paper to find Lottie staring back at me, her brows lowered in concentration. “Does this have something to do with Mrs. Archer?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” I stared past her into the distance. “If all the notes in this file match a column in the newspaper, then should we assume these other files are columns yet to be written?”