Murder at the Marlowe Club

by Kate Parker

“No wonder she’s running around w—” ended with a squeak as one of the high-bred ladies kicked another in the foot.

  “But her Christian name isn’t Beatrix. It’s Bianca,” someone else quickly informed me, “so it can’t be her.”

  “So, she wouldn’t be the lady with the ‘nameless friend, I replied.

  Everyone looked away from me, and then one of them said, “I’m so glad it stopped raining. It’s tiresome seeing gloomy skies day after day.”

  I glanced at Lady Kaldaire, who gave me a smile. I suspected she’d learn the identity of the nameless man from the duchess.

  * * *

  I wasn’t surprised the next morning when Lady Kaldaire walked into my shop. I asked her to please wait and did she know my current customer, Lady Smythe. Lady Kaldaire knew the viscountess and the two women proceeded to use my shop to visit as they would in a drawing room.

  Lady Kaldaire flattered Lady Smythe on her choice of hat and asked me about her own hat, which was not yet ready. I refrained from adding that the hat wasn’t ready because Lady Kaldaire had me chasing down a possible killer.

  Once Lady Smythe left, Lady Kaldaire said, “I learned the identity of Lady Westkirk’s unknown friend. It’s Lord Armstrong.”

  “Then he isn’t nameless, is he?” This made no sense. Why call him the nameless friend if everyone knew his name?

  “He’s been escorting her around town, but the king doesn’t want anyone to mention Armstrong’s name and the Marlowe Club or Lady Westkirk in the same breath.”

  “The king? Why?” Why would Edward the Seventh, who’d flown close to scandal before he ascended to the throne, want to protect some aristocrat? Why would he care?

  “Lady Armstrong is a royal. A descendant of George the Third. She refuses to have anything to do with her husband, a fact more people will discover if he is linked to another woman and the Marlowe Club.”

  “Which would link royalty to the Marlowe Club in the gossip rags, which the king can’t afford.” Not with his reputation from his younger days. I was beginning to understand.

  “Then there would be pressure put on the king to shut down the Marlowe Club, and the press would have a glorious time spelling out the worst excesses of the place and repeating the king’s missteps as a lad. The king would be embarrassed and reputations would be ruined.” Lady Kaldaire looked horrified by her own words.

  I nodded, having heard the rumors about the king’s antics while he was Prince of Wales. Having worked on hats for so many aristocrats, I guessed he was no better or worse than the rest of them.

  “We need to question Lady Westkirk and Lady Ravenbrook.”

  “We?” I wanted none of this. I had a business to run.

  “Emily, you will go with me to question them. Either at their homes or at the club.”

  “Are you crazy? I’m running a millinery shop. I have to work all day, every day, to put food on the table and send Matthew to school.” I took a deep breath. “Please don’t ask me to do this.” I was begging and I didn’t care who knew.

  “If your days are full, we’ll question them in the evening.” She made it sound so simple.

  I felt my eyes widen as I took a half step backward. “Not the Marlowe Club. I don’t dare. I have to protect my reputation.”

  “I have no desire to go back there, either.” Lady Kaldaire huffed out a breath. “I’ll arrange something. Just be ready with your best evening gown when you get the word.”

  She gave me a regal smile, nodded to Jane, and walked out the door as she greeted the next customer arriving at my shop.

  Jane gave me a disbelieving look, shook her head, and then walked over to greet our newest customer.

  It was nearly two hours before business slowed enough for Jane and me to have a quiet word. “So that’s where you’ve been running off to. What is going on?” she asked.

  “The son of a dear friend of Lady Kaldaire’s was murdered in his mother’s house. Lady Kaldaire thinks I have a talent for finding killers, and she wants me to find the murderer and keep her friend safe.”

  Jane folded her arms over her chest. “Just say no.”

  “She knows about my father’s family. If it got out that I was related to a gang of con artists, no one would trust me and this business would die. And you’d be out of a job.”

  “And the evening gown? What is that about?”

  “The murdered son and his wife spent a great deal of time with friends at the Marlowe Club. Not a respectable establishment. I found out who the friends are, and now Lady Kaldaire wants me running all over London to question them. I’m not sure where the evening gown comes into her plans, unless she plans to visit the club in the evening.” I shuddered at the thought of losing my good reputation.

  Jane gave me a sympathetic gaze. “All of which takes time away from the shop.”

  I nodded.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Hope my one and only evening gown will do and hope no one ever finds out if I have to spend time at the Marlowe Club questioning people.”

  Jane appeared puzzled. “What are you going to ask them? It’s not as if aristocrats are excited to answer your questions.” Shaking her head, she added, “I don’t think this is going to be successful. Nor will it help the shop.”

  “Who knows? I have…” The bell over the door jingled and we went back to work.

  * * *

  It was late that afternoon before I found out what Lady Kaldaire had in mind. An envelope embossed with the Duke of Blackford’s coat of arms was delivered by uniformed messenger. Jane and both our customers were struck silent by awe. I was probably struck bright red with embarrassment.

  “Well, open it,” the barrister’s wife demanded.

  I did and looked at the handwritten card inside. “There must be some mistake.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve been invited to a ball in two days’ time in honor of Miss Lucinda Webb. She must be one of this year’s debutantes.”

  “She’s the daughter of Sir Henry Webb, and the younger sister of Lady Ravenbrook,” our other customer, a baronet’s wife, told us.

  That explained the invitation. I was sure Lady Kaldaire had received one as well. My one and only evening gown wouldn’t survive scrutiny in such august company. I needed to start sewing today.

  But first, I needed to buy fabric.

  Leaving Jane to close up shop once again, I hurried down to Regent Street and found a beautiful dark blue silk before the shop closed their doors. I went home, planning to start sewing as soon as the dinner dishes were done.

  I didn’t know Inspector James Russell would be waiting for me by the door. I was thrilled to see him, but I didn’t want him to see my purchase. Or explain it.

  “Would you like to come in?” I tried to hide my parcel on my other side.

  “Yes.”

  I unlocked the door. The fragrance of roasted chicken filled my head and made my stomach growl. “Are you staying for dinner?”

  He breathed deeply. “That smells delicious, but I suspect whether I stay depends on what is in your package.”

  I turned just inside the door to look at him. My confusion must have been evident. “Why?”

  “A small tapestry was stolen from a Greenwich gallery that would fit in a package just that size. A theft that was clever, daring, and well planned. In other words, it has all the signs of being perpetrated by the Gates gang.”

  “James, how dare you?” My glare should have warned him how far he’d gone wrong. He should have known by now I didn’t have anything to do with my Gates relatives. Or at least my Gates relatives’ criminal activities and their stolen loot.

  “I wouldn’t have asked except you’re standing there, trying to hide a package just the right size and—”

  I was so angry I could have slapped him. “Get out.”

  “Emily, I don’t expect it to be the—”

  Tears threatened to overflow my eyes. His accusation pierced my chest. “If you must kn
ow, it’s fabric for a ballgown. I’ve been invited to attend a ball, where no one would dare ask if I were carrying stolen goods.”

  “Well, I hope you have a nice time.” He didn’t sound like he meant it.

  “It’ll be nice to speak to people who won’t make your cruel accusations. Good night, James.” I turned partly away from him, my heart aching. I cared for him so much, and all he saw was my father’s daughter. A potential criminal.

  He stood in the doorway, speechless, unmoving, for what felt like ages. “I’m sorry, Emily, about the accusation. I wouldn’t believe it of you. But I won’t apologize for my job, or the necessity of asking painful questions.”

  Was there any hope for a friendship, let alone a romance, between the two of us? I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. “Good night, James.”

  After a moment, I heard him walking away. It felt like each step pounded into my heart.

  I shut the door and leaned against it, sobbing. When I ran out of tears, I went upstairs. The roasted chicken no longer smelled good.

  Noah was sitting in his comfortable chair, the newspaper in his lap. “Was that James?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he staying for dinner?”

  I hated to lie to my cousin and business partner. “No. He only stopped by for a moment.”

  Noah nodded and turned his attention back to his paper.

  I turned my attention to dinner and, after clearing up, began work on my new evening gown. It would be simple, and needed jewelry I didn’t have, but I hoped it would be as beautiful as my hat designs.

  Working with the silk, I pinned the fabric out on paper and checked it twice before I cut. Working late into the evening, I was able to get some of the sewing done. Fortunately, it was a ball. I wouldn’t need a hat to match.

  I dragged myself out of bed in the morning, saw that Annie was ready for school, and managed tea and toast before going downstairs to open up the shop. Every time the bell rang, I looked up hoping to see James in my doorway, ready to make his apology.

  He never arrived. He wouldn’t get to see me in my new gown.

  Somehow, that was not comforting.

  Lady Kaldaire came in the afternoon to pick up the replacement for her original mourning hat. I’d made it for her shortly after Lord Kaldaire died, and she’d worn it so much in all sorts of weather that it now looked bedraggled beyond anything she would be seen in.

  She tried the new copy on, I made a few adjustments, and then I boxed it up for her in one of our eight-sided boxes with “Duquesne’s Millinery” printed on the side in script.

  “Here you go, Emily,” she said, handing me the cost of the hat. “I imagine you received your invitation.”

  “Yes.” Without the invitation, I wouldn’t have bought the fabric that had caused the row with James. In some vague way, Lady Kaldaire was at fault, and I was too angry to be fair to her.

  “This way, you can question both ladies without missing any time from your shop or setting foot back in the Marlowe Club.” She studied me for a moment, her head cocked to one side. “Don’t look so unhappy. I met every one of your conditions for helping me. I’m sure Lady Ravenbrook will attend since the ball is for her sister, and Lady Westkirk never misses a ball.”

  I wasn’t ready to be glad Lady Kaldaire was trying to be cooperative. “I had an argument with Inspector Russell over the fabric I bought to make a new gown for the ball. He thought it was something else. Something stolen.”

  “Foolish man. You’re an honest young lady. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t ask you to help me. Now, pull that lower lip back in. Quite unflattering.”

  Lady Kaldaire smiled benevolently and left with her hat.

  The next day and a half were a blur of working in the shop and sewing my new gown. I was still working on the tiny white ribbon flowers at my waist and around the seam of my cap sleeves when it was time to get ready.

  I rushed through dressing and fixing my hair and then gazed in my looking glass. The dress was perfect. I was not.

  When I paraded in front of Noah and Annie, they looked at each other. Then Noah said, “Help Emily with her hair while I get a white ribbon for her neck.”

  I sat in front of the looking glass as Annie helped me turn my haystack of reddish hair into a sleek knot. Annie didn’t have much talent for hat-making, but she loved to play with my hair. Her efforts were quite good.

  Then Noah came in with the ribbon and a brooch to hold it in place. Now the area between my face and my décolletage was cut in two, making that area of flesh look fashionable and not wanton.

  This time I looked as perfect as my gown. Noah and Annie were well pleased with their handiwork, too.

  I took a hansom cab to the address, my invitation in my tiny beaded bag. When I rang the bell, I could hear music from a string quartet gliding on the air. I was bowed into the entry hall by the butler who gave no sign that he’d seen me only a few days before.

  Handing over my cloak and taking a few steps forward, I recognized the back of a formally dressed man. Elegant. Broad shouldered. Handsome.

  Detective Inspector James Russell.

  What was he doing there?

  Chapter Thirteen

  All of a sudden, James Russell seeing me in my new ballgown seemed like a good idea. I only hoped I looked as attractive as he did.

  I moved forward and put a hand on the back of his evening jacket’s sleeve. He turned slightly to see who was behind him and then jerked around, his mouth slightly open. His eyebrows went skyward.

  “Good evening.” When he didn’t respond, I said, “Surely you remember me.”

  “Ah, um, Emily. What are you doing here?”

  “Remember the package that got you into so much trouble? It was the fabric for this dress.” I gave a sweeping gesture down the front of my gown.

  He put his hand on the flesh of my bare upper arm above my long glove. “You need to go. Gatecrashers—”

  “I have an invitation. Do you?” I jerked my arm out of his grip.

  “Yes.” He was maneuvering me toward the front door.

  After all the work that had gone into my gown, not to mention Lady Kaldaire’s work to get me invited so I wouldn’t have to take more time away from my shop, I wasn’t going to allow him to put me outside. I twisted so I could back into a door at the side of the hall and reached behind me to turn the knob. We both nearly fell into the room.

  James shut the door behind him as I stepped away and looked around. It was the small drawing room I’d been in before. Now, only one dim light burned and there was no fire lit. With the draperies closed, it was scandalously dark. And horribly chilly.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “No. That’s my question.”

  I decided part of the truth was enough for that night. “Lady Kaldaire and I want to speak to Lady Ravenbrook and Lady Westkirk without returning to the Marlowe Club.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  He advanced on me, appearing larger and more fearsome with each step. My breath shortened. No, I decided, not fearsome. Exciting. “Because I’m here to assist the duke’s staff in keeping order during this ball, and I won’t let you and her ladyship cause trouble.”

  My chin went up. “We have no intention of causing trouble.”

  “No, you just manage it without any effort on your part.” He shook his head. “If you want to attend this ball, you’ll have to stay with me all night.”

  “I have no objection,” I said with a smile. I was certain something would happen and while he was restoring order, I could slip away and talk to the two ladies. He probably wouldn’t notice I was gone.

  “Neither do I.” He opened the door and held it while I walked out. I wasn’t fast enough. He had the door shut and walked beside me before I could reach the ballroom. And he didn’t hold out his arm so I could take it. He gripped my glove-covered elbow in such a way that I couldn’t escape.

  Too bad he was with Scotlan
d Yard. He had learned skills that I hadn’t learned to combat. At least not without causing a scene.

  He marched me to the ballroom where we were announced and then I curtsied to the Duke and Duchess of Blackford while James executed a smart bow. Not a flicker of amazement that we were together crossed the duke’s face, but I saw a question form in the duchess’s eyes.

  Then we faced the ballroom and I was in awe. This was the first aristocratic ball I had seen. The jewels alone would have kept my father’s family busy for several years. The dress that I was so proud of looked plain and shabby next to the gowns these women wore. The chandeliers gleamed above the gathering, bouncing light off the jewelry.

  “May I have this dance?” James asked as he whisked me onto the highly polished floor.

  And for a moment I felt as if I belonged waltzing around the room in James’s arms. As we finished the first loop, he said, “Yes, I was right. You are the most beautiful woman here.”

  I looked at him, stunned. I could see he was lying. All around me were women in new gowns, glittering with sparkling bracelets, antique necklaces, and earrings worth a king’s ransom, and whose maids had done their hair. “I can’t compete with these people.”

  “Why would you? You already outshine them.” He pressed me a little closer to his stiff shirt-front.

  Even if he wasn’t sincere, I would love him forever for his words. “Thank you. Coming from someone who belongs, that is a compliment.”

  “I don’t belong. I learned to act as if I do at Oxford.”

  “I wish I’d learned that trick.”

  “I suspect your father’s family taught you. Not only is it a skill needed by the police, it’s also required by confidence men.”

  Confidence men. His words stung. I studied his expression. He appeared to be perfectly serious. “So, there isn’t much difference between the two professions,” I said, trying to wound in return.

  He grinned at me. “I suppose not. Although a copper’s pay is nothing like the earnings of a good confidence man. That tapestry I’m looking for is worth several years of my pay.”

  “You sound like you want to join my father’s family business.” I couldn’t believe that of James.