Death at the Crystal Palace

by Jennifer Ashley

  “As will McAdam.” Cynthia danced a little jig, kicking her heels up at the end. “I’d love to be there to see his face.”

  “You must tell us absolutely everything,” Miss Townsend said.

  “Yes, about how far his mouth falls open,” Bobby said. “We have so little entertainment.”

  “Shush, Bobby,” Miss Townsend said, but Bobby only guffawed.

  I wondered how much Miss Townsend actually knew about what Daniel was doing and why. Daniel trusted her, but his situation was delicate. I would ask him, but for now I concluded he’d told her just enough to recruit her help, which she was eagerly giving.

  Because of Daniel’s mission? Or did these ladies have another intent in mind? They were very keen to know what Daniel would think of me.

  “You are all very romantic,” I told them severely. “I am assisting Daniel to save him from embarrassment. That is all.”

  “Of course,” Cynthia said quickly. She winked at the other two.

  I gave up. “I must hasten, or I will be late.”

  Daniel had arranged that I would be driven to Waterloo Station, where he would meet me and escort me to Surrey. A hansom pulled to the door, driven by Daniel’s cabbie friend, Lewis. James, dressed in a trim dark suit, waited inside to assist me.

  He opened his brown eyes wide as Bobby handed me in. “Love a duck. Is it you, Mrs. H.?”

  “It is indeed. No need for such language.” I settled the skirts, pulling a dust blanket over them. I didn’t always bother with the blanket, but I wanted no soot, mud, or horse dung on this beautiful skirt.

  The ladies had come outside with me and now waved me good-bye, like three aunties sending me off to my debut. I nodded graciously at their beaming faces as the hansom jerked away.

  I busied myself trying to keep the gown clean and holding on to the small beaded reticule Miss Townsend had thrust at me as Lewis drove us out of Mayfair and across the river to the edifice of Waterloo Station. A train there would take us directly to Esher, where Daniel had arranged a coach for the remainder of the journey.

  Daniel, in the persona of his upper-class man-about-town, waited languidly in the middle of the entrance hall of the station, turning his hat in his hands. He was the very portrait of a bored young man tired of waiting for his lady.

  “At last,” he said as James led me forward. James was to play Daniel’s servant, as a man of Daniel’s status would not roam about without someone to fetch and carry for him. “How are you, my dear?” Daniel kissed my cheek, his lips barely brushing my skin. “Well, hurry up, lad, take that to the compartment.” He gestured to a small portmanteau resting next to him. “We must get a move on.”

  James, as good an actor as his father, moved blank faced toward the waiting train on the nearest platform, as though used to being ordered about by impatient gentlemen.

  Daniel took my arm and led me onward. “Very fetching,” he said as he eyed my gown. “Astonishing hat. I thought you’d miss the train, darling. You’d have watched me disappearing down the track, the train huffing and puffing, if you had left it any later.”

  I definitely preferred the affable man-of-all-work to this jackanapes. I could not say so in the crowd—Daniel’s speeches were for the benefit of anyone listening. No one seemed to pay much attention to us, all hurrying toward their own destinations, but Daniel was cautious.

  I was nowhere near late, as the train was not due to leave for another twenty minutes. I clutched Daniel’s arm and tried to look contrite.

  “Here we are.” Daniel pulled open a door and helped me up into the train carriage. A first-class compartment once again. My head would be turned by all this luxury. “Mind your skirts, darling. Where is that boy?”

  James loped along the corridor and entered the compartment. He heaved the bag to the shelf above and slammed the door, shutting us in to privacy.

  “Want me with you, Dad?” James asked it with a tone of one who would rather be elsewhere. The plush luxury of a first-class car filled with two well-dressed adults was likely not what he thought of as excitement.

  “Explore as you like, but stay out of trouble.” Daniel gave him a father’s frown. “I do not want the conductor tossing me off the train because you decided to climb on top of it. You have a third-class ticket if you want to take a seat, or you can come back here.”

  James grinned. “Right. I’m off. It ain’t far, so no time for me to do much.” He slammed open the door to the corridor and rushed out. Daniel closed it gently behind him, and then we were alone.

  16

  Daniel regarded me across the compartment in silence. A whistle blew, a man on the platform waved a flag, and the train jerked forward. Soon we were chugging steadily free of the station, a wave of smoke and steam blanketing the windows and cutting off the outside world.

  “It is not like you to say nothing for such a stretch of time,” I said as the train gained speed and the smoke cleared a bit, showing we rattled through the suburbs. “You are usually chattering away before you have even said good day.”

  “Forgive me.” Daniel made a mock bow in his seat. “I am admiring the lavish beauty I see before me. It has stolen my breath.”

  My face heated, though I knew he teased. “Fine feathers make a fine bird.” I waved my gloved hand dismissively. “Miss Townsend was clever to find the gown for me.”

  “Miss Townsend has great flair for the art of costuming. The stage lost a talent in her. When she assisted me in Paris, she played the empty-headed wealthy hostess without flaw. She knew exactly how to present you.”

  “As an empty-headed widow from Holland?” I sent him a smile. “You are flattering.”

  “And you are lovely.” Daniel said the words in all seriousness. “Thank you for helping me.”

  I shifted uncomfortably, wishing my giddy gladness would vanish. I should not let Daniel’s praise please me so.

  “I am attending this garden party to deter debutants eager to hunt down a husband,” I said. “I am not merely helping you; I am saving your life.”

  Daniel laughed. “That you are. Remind me to be in your debt forever.” He broke off as the conductor entered to check our tickets.

  I noted that the conductor kept his manner deferential, taking both tickets from Daniel and barely glancing at them before handing them back with a bow. He tipped his hat to me and withdrew. Very different from a conductor who jerked open the door of a third-class compartment, snapping, “Ticket, missus,” before slamming the door and continuing on his weary duties.

  I was the same person, and yet in this dress and hat with a young man to handle the tickets for me, I suddenly deserved the conductor’s politeness. It made one think.

  “While we have a few moments to ourselves,” Daniel said, “let me tell you what you will need to know to survive this day.”

  My name would be Katharine Holtmann, he said, widow of a Dutch businessman I’d married only a few years before he’d died of illness. I’d met Daniel—whose name for this sojourn was Mr. Lancaster—in Amsterdam through my late husband when Daniel had done business there. I could be vague about what business, because I didn’t bother myself with the technicalities of what my husband had done. “Shipping” would cover many possibilities.

  Daniel and I were now affianced, but we had not set a wedding date. I, the young widow, was enjoying my freedom and inherited wealth, and young Mr. Lancaster wasn’t certain he was ready to settle down.

  “Plausible,” I said when he’d finished. “As long as no one digs too deeply.”

  “I’ve already fed the duke and duchess much about Mr. Lancaster’s background. The man I am supposed to be cousin to is conveniently in the wilds of Canada. By the time anyone inquires—if they bother—I hope this business to be over, and it will no longer matter.”

  I spoke in a near whisper. “Do you truly believe the duke had something to do with those
terrible murders?”

  “I do now.” Daniel was somber. “Though what I believe doesn’t matter. I need proof. He’s a duke, which is not only the highest title of the aristocracy, but his family is distinguished, containing many soldiers who fought bravely in wars throughout history. His family was given the title by Queen Anne, for valor under the Duke of Marlborough against Louis XIV.”

  “Not a man you can simply arrest and bang up in Bow Street nick, then.”

  “You have grasped the problem. If I prove he funded the murders in Ireland, it’s treason, but making it stick will be the devil of a thing. Even if the charges do take, he’ll likely be let off by those who can’t afford to let him embarrass them. Exile will be the worst thing the duke suffers, and it won’t be official exile.”

  I could see Daniel was unhappy about this, and my own anger stirred. If a man’s support and money led to the brutal deaths of others, should he not pay? It was the same situation as the conductor behaving politely to me while I rode in a first-class carriage in an expensive frock, and dismissing me when I rode third-class in my working-class garb.

  “I will try to help as much as I can,” I told Daniel.

  He viewed me in alarm. “You will do nothing today but say polite inanities to the duchess and her guests. No tearing through the duke’s home searching for incriminating documents.”

  “I had no intention of doing so,” I said loftily, though truth to tell, I had already been thinking of ways I might slip into the house and find something that had eluded Daniel.

  “For heaven’s sake, Kat, do nothing. These are men who thought nothing of striking down well-known gentlemen in broad daylight in a public park.”

  “I saw the story in the newspapers.” I shivered. “It was gruesome. I do promise to take care.”

  “You don’t, you know.” Daniel adjusted the curtain against a beam of sunlight that struck his eyes. “Take care, I mean. You should leave the problem of the poisoner to Inspector McGregor, but I know you won’t.”

  “His hands are tied, as you told me. So are yours. That leaves mine free.”

  Daniel’s voice turned hard, and he flicked the curtain from his hand. “It doesn’t have to have anything to do with you.”

  “My dear Daniel, poor Lady Covington sought me out, very worried about what was going on in her household. Then her stepdaughter died before I could find out who would be wicked enough to put poison in the food. I cannot now tell her it’s none of my affair and turn my back.”

  “I know.” Daniel deflated. “And I like you the better for it. But damn you, Kat, you worry me to distraction.”

  “But it is all right if you worry me? You are living in the house of a man who might have paid assassins in his pocket. What happens if he finds you out? I should go on baking bread and saucing roasts without a thought to your fate, should I?”

  “I’m used to this sort of thing, and I know how to defend myself. That is the difference.”

  “I see. Fine if I fret and stew, but if you are a hair concerned, then I must stop everything and sit in my kitchen until you come to call?”

  “Not what I meant . . .”

  “I know.” My nervousness made me sharper than usual. “Forgive me—but you drive me to distraction too. When will you give up all this madness?”

  Daniel’s mouth flattened. “When I have paid my debts.”

  “Have you many of these debts?”

  His nod made my nerves tighten. “Errol is not wrong when he tells you I am worse than he ever was. In the past, that is. I have reformed.”

  “I understand. More things you refuse to tell me about.”

  “More things I can’t tell you. One day, as I keep promising.”

  “One day might not come soon enough,” I snapped.

  I turned my face from him, my breathing rapid, my tight lacings cutting into my ribs. I usually wore my corset looser than this, much more practical for having a good row with my beau.

  Daniel slammed himself back into his seat, highly annoyed with me. In this sorry state, we arrived at Esher, eighteen or so miles, as the train journeyed, from London.

  * * *

  * * *

  Once alighting in Esher, I had to bury my frustration and become Daniel’s—Mr. Lancaster’s—bride-to-be.

  A landau waited in front of the station, the top pulled down for the fine weather. Blue sky stretched overhead, dotted by a few puffy clouds. The landau belonged to the duke, Daniel said. He conveyed this information by exclaiming how kind it was for His Grace to send us, mere nobody guests, his personal carriage. Others leaving the station stared at him, which was Daniel’s intent.

  We were not the only guests heading for the duke’s country estate. A stream of landaus, coaches, and light phaetons made their way along the road that led from the town and up a drive under a stand of tall trees to the duke’s home.

  Having lived and worked in London all my life, I rarely had glimpses of vast estates, except in paintings hanging in the few drawing rooms I entered. I tried to pretend I’d seen plenty of these houses in my frivolous, pampered life, as the landau took us toward the enormous abode.

  The wide manor rose three stories, each corner flanked by a four-story tower. A profusion of chimneys dotted the flat main roof, which sported a railed walkway. The towers bore scrolled gables, very much like those I’d seen in pictures of Dutch houses. I hoped I wouldn’t be called upon to compare the architecture of both countries.

  The grounds sloped from the house to a river that glittered at the bottom of the hill—the Thames, I surmised. In the distance, on the other side of the river, I could see a large, crenellated, towered structure.

  “That’s Hampton Court, darling,” Daniel said as he leapt to the ground and turned to hand me down. “Home of our jolly King Henry. You know, the one who chopped off all his wives’ heads.”

  “Oh,” I said in true astonishment. Not about Henry and his wives—we all knew the stories, and I’d sung funny songs about him when I’d been younger—but I’d never seen a true palace aside from the ones in London, which were now more like government offices. This was a proper palace from long ago. My first thought was that Grace would love to see it.

  “The view is better from the roof of the duke’s house. I’ve only been up there once, more’s the pity, but perhaps we can sneak upstairs. Come in and meet our host and hostess. They’ve been showering me with constant questions about you. So exhausting.”

  The double front door stood open, and people wandered through it. Daniel led me in, leaving James with the coachman.

  We entered a massive hall of stone walls lit by many-paned windows. A staircase wrapped around the entire hall from the back of the house to the front, with two wide landings in between. I imagined it took ten minutes to traverse the whole thing to the next floor. Paintings covered the walls, as did weapons of old, lances and swords, that sort of thing. A few suits of armor lurked in shadowy corners, and an upright glass case full of gleaming silver bits reposed beneath the bulk of the staircase.

  “It’s Tudor,” Daniel said, waving at the expanse. “Or Stuart. Or . . . something. The duke didn’t inherit it. He bought it lock, stock, and barrel from a nabob who bought it from an earl of very old family who’d run out of money. It’s the new aristocrats who have all the blunt these days. Ah, here’s the duchess.”

  Daniel led me out through another set of double doors to a wide terrace, its steps descending to a parklike garden, with plenty of people milling about in it. I liked gardens very much, so I was pleased I’d spend the majority of my visit here.

  The Duchess of Daventry was a tiny woman, I’d say in her early seventies. Her face was lined with fine wrinkles, most of them from smiling, which she was doing as hard as she could. She clasped my hands to welcome me.

  “So pleased you could come, my dear. I have been plying Mr. Lancaster for details
about you, and he has been most cryptic. Very glad to finally meet his mysterious fiancée.”

  I fought and lost the habit of a lifetime. I curtsied. I could no more not do it than not swallow a mouthful of food.

  “Thank you kindly, Your Grace,” I said, a bit breathlessly.

  I was terrified I’d given myself away, but the duchess increased her smile. “Such pretty manners. Quite unlike some of the rude girls of today. I commend you, Mr. Lancaster.”

  “You see why I kept her hidden, don’t you, Duchess?” Daniel chortled. “Didn’t want any other lads stealing her away. She is a treasure.” His knowing wink told us he meant me as a person as well as the wealth I’d supposedly bring to our marriage.

  “Do enjoy your morning, Mrs. Holtmann,” the duchess said, ignoring Daniel. “We have a fountain walk, and the roses are just blooming. And a tea tent in case you grow faint with hunger. Tell Mr. Lancaster to let you rest there.”

  “Thank you.” I couldn’t help curtsying again. I’d been raised to bend my knees to those above me in station, and a duchess was as high as I could find besides the queen or her princess daughters. I’d also learned that a show of humility kept a bad-tempered mistress from striking me.

  The duchess laughed and shooed us away, turning to greet her next guest.

  “She is rather lovely,” I whispered as we strolled on. I hoped she had nothing to do with murders in Dublin. I could not picture the small, beaming woman funding a conspiracy to assassinate government leaders.

  “The duchess is a fine lady,” Daniel said, keeping to his Mr. Lancaster persona. “Knows how to organize a do. Let us admire the flowers and fountains, shall we?”

  If my only task was to accompany Daniel, my hand on his arm, around beds of early roses, pansies, and irises, this day would be pleasant. None of the couples or small clumps of ladies and gentlemen regarded me with the least dubiousness as we passed. They said good morning and little else, intent upon admiring the garden and making certain others noticed they had been graced with an invitation to this gathering.