Caroline shook her head. “I often wonder if we’ve done something to offend her.”
“Perhaps your company just reminded her of her husband, something she might not have been ready to face.”
“The cold truth is the woman thought herself above us, but ultimately involved herself with people of low character. It’s just as well she separated herself from our family.”
Mr. Archer had turned to join our conversation, but his words, spoken in a harsh tone, made it clear he’d been listening all along. Strange and rather unnerving. Why had he been eavesdropping? The set of his expression was strained, contradicting his rather cold words. Archer was approaching his fifties but until now, I’d always thought he appeared younger. The gray at his temples blended well with his blond hair, still quite plentiful, and he maintained a fit physique. Perhaps it was simply the strain of the past few days that put the shadows under his eyes and the lines of worry between them.
Caroline placed a restraining hand on his arm as if she’d only just realized they’d been airing private family matters. And a rather strange family they were, in my opinion. Heavens, I thought my in-laws were difficult to live with.
“You must excuse us, Frances. In our grief, we keep searching for reasons why this tragedy happened, and wondering if we could have prevented it.”
I made some comforting response and after extending my sympathy, excused myself from the two of them. I glanced around the room for my cousin, taking note of the faces in the thinning crowd. It was time for us to leave as well. One did not want to impose on the grieving family, however much one might wonder about their grief. And I still must pay a call on Graham. I caught a glimpse of Charles across the room, but before I could reach him, I was stopped by Hugo Ridley.
“Lady Harleigh, we meet again.” He stepped into my path and took my hand in greeting.
“Indeed, Ridley, you keep popping up everywhere.” I frowned. “This time it’s such a somber occasion.”
“Somber?” His brows drew together. “Why, I would call it tragic myself. And you should take note of it. A woman living alone in this city is completely vulnerable to such an attack. I’m surprised Mrs. Archer’s fate has not sent you back to Harleigh House.”
I repressed a sarcastic snort. To some degree, he was speaking the truth, however much it might irk me. That said, neither marriage nor living with my in-laws had provided me with any security in the past, and as it came with so many other problems, I’d rather risk living alone.
“Do you believe her death was due to some random attack then?”
He shrugged. “What else could it be? Mrs. Archer was a middle-aged widow. I hardly think she had connections with anyone of a criminal bent.”
Middle-aged? I ground my teeth behind a closed-lipped smile. She was only a few years older than I. A man would consider himself in his prime. At forty-something, Hugo likely still did so. Men. At least he wasn’t blaming Mary for her own murder.
I bit back my annoyance and pressed on. “Were you well acquainted with Mrs. Archer?”
“A bit. More so with her husband. And of course, the elder Archer, her brother-in-law.” His face split with a grin. “One must always be on good terms with one’s banker, you know. I wouldn’t want to miss out on any good investment advice, and Archer is always on to the latest scheme.”
Hmm, was he indeed? Perhaps Graham should talk to the man. Perhaps I should.
I made a show of perusing the room. “Does it seem to you the guests are divided into two camps?” He followed my gaze. Once I noticed, the division was obvious. Mary’s sister and her husband held court on one side of the room, with the Archers on the other. How had that come about? Perhaps there was something to Archer’s theory that Mary, and in this case her family, looked down on him.
Ridley’s gaze returned to mine. “It’s the age-old prejudice, old family versus new money. I would place a bet on the new money to win.”
“In this case it appears Mr. Archer does a great deal of winning. I should speak to him about investing my funds.”
“You might. But remember, the greater the reward, the higher the risk.”
Chapter 11
As Charles was without a carriage of his own, we arranged for him to take George’s carriage back home—that is, to George’s home. Jenny and I could easily walk from the Archers’ to Harleigh House, only a few doors down, where I would call on Graham and collect my daughter. The carriage would return for us in half an hour.
I’d already consulted with Jenny on her assignment. In some manner, she must find out if the valet had ever provided information to Mary Archer. Specifically, information about the battle Graham and I fought for possession of my bank account. Failing that, perhaps she might at least learn if he had ever had any dealings with anyone in Mary’s former household.
I counted myself fortunate in having trustworthy servants like Jenny. Not only could I depend on her discretion, she was also a willing participant in intrigues such as this. In fact, she might just enjoy them as much as I did.
We separated outside Graham’s door where Jenny skipped down the steps to the service area and I rang the bell on the front door. Crabbe, the butler, led me to the drawing room where I was delighted to see Rose waiting for me. Well, she wasn’t exactly waiting for me, but she was in the room with Graham and his boys, enjoying tea.
“It appears I’ve come just in time for elevenses.”
Proper young men that they were, the boys, Eldon and Martin, twelve and ten years old respectively, came to their feet and gave me a polite bow. The boys looked almost exactly as Graham and my late husband might have looked as boys. Eldon was the image of his father with dark blond hair, fair skin, and gray eyes, while Martin could have been Reggie in miniature with his flaxen hair, rosy cheeks, and vibrant blue eyes.
Rose drew my attention away from the boys as she ran up to take my hand, twisting it at she danced around. “We took our ponies to the park today, Mummy. And I got to ride Pierre on Rotten Row.”
Graham had closed up Harleigh Manor several weeks ago in anticipation of selling the portion of the estate not entailed with the title. He and the boys were now living in town and in a rare moment of kindness, he brought Rose’s pony along with the boys’ mounts. Fortunately, he was stabling them near Hyde Park so I didn’t have to worry about Rose riding through the busy streets.
“You went riding in the rain?”
She giggled. “No, it stopped by then. We just got back.”
I squeezed her hand and gave my nephews a smile. “It’s very kind of you boys to invite Rose on your outings.”
Martin shrugged and stuffed a small triangle of sandwich into his mouth while Eldon returned my smile. “Rose is a good horsewoman, Aunt Frances. She doesn’t slow us down at all.”
Rose basked in her cousin’s praise. “I want to teach Pierre to jump so I can take the fences with the boys.”
My stomach knotted. I wasn’t much of a rider myself and the thought of my daughter sailing over fences on a horse was almost enough to make me forbid riding altogether. “Dearest, Pierre isn’t a jumper. Besides, the rider needs to learn a thing or two about jumping as well. I’m afraid that will have to wait until you have a new mount.” I gave her a stern frown. “And some instruction.”
“I’d wager Pierre would jump,” Eldon said, sweeping his arm in an arc. “He’s a real goer, Aunt Frances. I could teach Rose how to take a hedge.”
Young Eldon was not my idea of either a horse trainer or riding instructor. Rose, on the other hand, sent a beaming smile over her shoulder to her cousin, clearly delighted with the idea.
“I believe you should stick to the flat for now, Rose, and don’t try to make little Pierre jump.”
Rose pushed out her lower lip and wiggled onto the divan beside her cousins.
Graham had been standing patiently during this exchange. I finally realized his tea was cooling, so I took the chair beside him. “How was the service?” he asked, reseating himself.
I pulled my reticule from my wrist and set it on the tea table, accepting a cup from Rose. “Sad,” I said. “But very interesting. Are you well acquainted with the Archers?”
Graham crossed an ankle over his knee. “Well acquainted? I shouldn’t say that. Archer’s a fellow member at Brooks, though I can’t imagine who put him up for it, so I see him from time to time. Not socially though. Don’t travel in the same circles, you know.”
I should have realized Graham would be too high a stickler to socialize with someone like Archer, conveniently forgetting that his own brother had married new money. This house and Harleigh Manor had both reaped the benefits of my family’s funds. I shook off the annoying thoughts. “What about business? Have you any dealings with him or his bank?”
“Of course. The man rather has a nose for a good investment. I’ve been urging Hetty to talk to him, but she wants to investigate all the dealings we’ve had to-date, make sure they’ve been profitable before diving in again. She’s wonderful with all the little details like that.”
Yes, little details like determining if your investment is actually making money. What a novel idea. Graham had no concept of how one earned money, only how one spent it. “Do you recall what type of investments you have with him?” I racked my brain for terms I’d heard Hetty use in the past. “Bonds? Securities?”
From the expression on his face, Graham had to stretch his concentration even further than I. “Not sure exactly what you’d call them. Stocks, I suppose. Last scheme he told me about was a company building a railroad somewhere.”
“I see. You and other investors provide the capital for a company to do business and as a result, you receive a percentage of the profit. Is that more or less it?”
“Yes, you’ve got it.” Graham rewarded me with a beaming smile. “Financial minds must run in your family, I’d say.”
“Well, thank you, Graham. Perhaps I’ll urge Hetty to pay a call on Archer on my behalf as well.”
Graham agreed that I should and as the children had finished their tea, I called for Jenny, and she, Rose, and I took our leave. In a way, Archer reminded me of my father, and Hetty for that matter. Everything they touched seemed to turn to gold. I wondered what it took to make Mary turn away from such a family. Not that wealth was of such great importance, but the Archers could have made her comfortable. With their help she wouldn’t have had to spread gossip to earn a living.
But she would have had to live with them. Archer’s words at the funeral had been cruel, but before I judged him, it would be helpful to know which came first. Had she turned away from him because he was cruel? Or was he cruel in response to the insult of her turning away?
As Rose was in the carriage with us, I restrained myself from questioning Jenny about any conversation she may have had with Graham’s valet. But the moment we arrived at home, I signaled for her to come up to my bedchamber, as Hetty was likely using my library again.
“Well?” I said as soon as the door closed behind us. I found it difficult to keep the excitement out of my voice.
Jenny smiled back at me. “I reckon you were right, my lady.”
Barely containing a squeal, I took her hand and led her over to the bench at the end of my bed, where we put our heads together like young girls sharing secrets.
“Cook and the housekeeper were about to take tea when I arrived. They invited me to join them, but I said I’d stay out in the main area with Mr. Fletcher and keep him company.” She twisted her lips into a grimace. “I’m sure they thought I wanted to stay and flirt with him, but at least they can’t accuse me of being rude.”
I repressed my impatience. This all seemed like useless information, but I trusted Jenny would eventually get to the point if I let her tell the story in her own way.
“He was polishing the earl’s shoes, so I took my tea over to the table where he was working and just started talking, casual like.”
“That sounds like a good beginning,”
“Well, Mr. Fletcher was never very happy in his position and once we got to talking, I could tell nothing had changed. He likes being a valet, but the earl’s not so very good to work for.” She worried her lower lip between her teeth, studying my expression.
“I’m not going to judge anyone, Jenny, and I’ll tell no tales.”
Her expression cleared. “You see, we didn’t always get our proper wages from the earl, and not always on time either. For Mr. Fletcher, it could be worse. He scorched one of the earl’s shirts not long ago and later he found out the cost was deducted from his wages. When he mentioned it to His Lordship, the earl told him it would teach him to be more careful.”
While this practice was not unusual, I tsked in distaste. Graham was such a pinch-penny. Servants were human, for heaven’s sake.
“Well, of late it’s become a regular practice for the earl to be nipping here and there at everyone’s wage packet. I told Mr. Fletcher that I thought it was wrong, and he just smiled and gave me a wink. Tells me he managed to find a way to make a few shillings off the earl. I asked him what he meant by that, but he wouldn’t say right out.”
This was promising. “But he must have given you some indication.” I struggled to keep my tone calm.
“Just that the earl always had a lot to say when they were together, and Mr. Fletcher reckoned more people might want to hear it. I kind of scolded him, saying he shouldn’t be telling people outside the household things he heard the master say. He shrugged and said he only told one person, and if the master paid him proper he wouldn’t have done that.”
Her gaze was cautious. “I feel bad he did that, my lady, repeating gossip outside the house, that is.” She tucked her lower lip between her teeth. “But I understand why. A few shillings here and there, deducted from our wages, makes a big difference to the likes of us, and if a body doesn’t like it, well, it’s not easy to find another situation. And even if you did, who’s to say it would pay any more?”
“I understand, too, Jenny. I’ll find some way to point out to the earl how unfair he’s being. And I’ll make sure not to implicate either you or Mr. Fletcher.” I squeezed her hand. “Thank you for taking this on for me today.”
“Anytime you need me, my lady. I’m happy to help.” She stood as she spoke, bobbed a quick curtsy, and let herself out the door.
As soon as the door closed, I remembered I was without Bridget this afternoon. Rather than call Jenny back to assist me I decided to remain in my funeral wear. It was a dull, serviceable dress but as I wasn’t expecting company, it would do.
I made my way to the drawing room to piece together what I’d learned today, feeling a little resentful that I never seemed to have the use of my library anymore. The door was open and upon my approach I saw Charles and Lottie ensconced at the card table. Goodness, had they been alone together since he’d come home? I straightened my spine. Cousin or not, he had better not be imposing on that young lady. No matter how much she might welcome it.
Lottie’s eyes lit as I entered. “Was your mission successful?”
Charles rose from his seat. “Miss Deaver has been apprising me of your progress with the files and that you hoped to discover the source of Mrs. Archer’s information while visiting Graham today.” His gaze dropped to his shoes. “Frances, I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your help on my behalf.”
I blushed. Now it seemed rather churlish to take them to task for their behavior. I’d just have to be careful to chaperone them in the future. At least they’d left the door open.
He pulled out a chair for me at the table and I passed on the details I’d just learned from Jenny. “Mr. Fletcher didn’t reveal who bought his information, but considering the story ended up in Mrs. Archer’s possession, I think we can conclude she was the buyer.”
“I must admit, I’m a little confused,” Lottie said. “You told us yesterday the valet would never speak about Lord Harleigh to us. Why would he speak to Mrs. Archer?”
“I assume because he knew she�
�d pay him.”
She leaned forward in her seat. “But she wrote the column anonymously. How did he know to go to her?”
Oh, dear. Perhaps I’d been too hasty in my presumptions, but Mary did have the information and Mr. Fletcher had admitted to telling someone. “You make a very good point. How would he have known?”
“The market, I’d say.”
We both turned to Charles. “The market?”
“The market,” he repeated, lifting his hand and slapping it back down on the table as if that settled the matter. “Where one purchases food and household goods.”
“I know what a market is, Charles,” I said. “What I don’t understand is how it comes into play in this circumstance.”
“Well, I can’t say for certain. Never done my own marketing, you see. But I’d think if servants are gathered there, out of the watchful eyes of their employers, they’d pass the time of day with one another. Maybe share a few stories.”
I still wasn’t following, and my blank stare must have said as much. He leaned forward as he elaborated. “Mrs. Archer had no servants, only a woman who took in the laundry and did some heavy cleaning. She would have done her marketing herself. As would the servants from all the larger houses in town.” He shrugged. “She’s at the market. They’re at the market. She wants gossip. They have gossip.”
“But they’d be housekeepers or cooks, not a valet.”
He made a circular motion with his finger. “Word gets around. Once she became friendly with a few of them, maybe paid for a bit of gossip here and there, they’d spread the word.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Maybe to someone they felt sorry for—someone who’d just been docked for ruining a gentleman’s shirt.”
A Lady's Guide to Gossip and Murder Page 12
