Daughters of Disguise (Lady C. Investigates Book 4)

by Issy Brookw

“Do you still have the package?” she asked.

  “I do,” he said, patting his long-tailed coat. “But he assured me that he had no knowledge of it whatsoever.”

  “I am inclined to agree,” she said. “But look, we must get back to the station. Do you record every crime and altercation?”

  “Of course we do.”

  “Then let us check the books for the day of the floods, and see if Davies had been arrested and brought to the cells that day.”

  When they came into the house of correction, they found that Ruby and the junior constable were already ahead of them. They were surrounded by the remnants of a very pleasant-looking meal, and had the big ledgers open on the desk.

  “Did you find anything?” Ruby asked.

  Frank Evans flourished the box. “He has poison in his house.”

  “And did you find anything?” Cordelia said, pointing at the ledger.

  “He was here on the night of the murder, very well intoxicated,” Ruby replied.

  “Someone is trying to frame him,” Cordelia said. “This makes it easier for us, does it not?”

  “How so?”

  “Who could have taken against the ladies and Davies?”

  Evans shrugged. “It still doesn’t narrow things down very much,” he said. “It is still half the town.”

  Cordelia picked at the remnants of a cake left on a plate. It had raisins in it, and was pleasantly spiced. “We need to get Davies on our side,” she said.

  Both constables snorted with laughter and the older one shook his head. “I think you ought to retire for the night. Thank you for the work, and your company, and your observant eye. But Davies is a bigger problem than even the small fact of the murder, and it is not a task I would take on lightly.”

  Cordelia and Ruby were escorted back to the inn by the junior Evans. All were silent in their thoughts.

  Cordelia was thinking of the council. How powerful and dangerous could it really be?

  Her anger simmered away.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cordelia did not expect to sleep that night, and her dreams were those confusing half-waking ones that made you doubt if you were asleep or not. And yet suddenly it was mid-morning, and Ruby was dressed and pressing some clothes, and the hiss of water hitting the hot iron finally brought Cordelia to consciousness. There was a small fire lit, necessary for the ironing. Cordelia muttered in annoyance. But then, on reflection, she hardly wanted her finer clothes to be pressed in another room like the kitchens.

  After washing, dressing and eating, Cordelia decided to walk on the beach. Ruby accompanied her, and to her surprise, Stanley and Geoffrey trailed along as well.

  “There are dolphins,” Geoffrey said. “Someone came in earlier and said there was a group of them out in the bay. It would be worth seeing.”

  “A pod,” Cordelia said. “I believe it is a pod of dolphins.”

  “A group, a pod; more than a snack, anyway,” Geoffrey said.

  Word must have spread because many people were braving the bright, clear day and roasting sun. The sea was almost perfectly flat, and conditions were absolutely right for seeing the summer visitors. The sunlight glinted on the shining ocean but far, far out in the bay, the surface was being broken by soaring blue fins.

  They stood and watched for a little while. The beach in this part of the bay was rocky and it was difficult to walk well on the rounded stones. After a while, they made their way back onto the road and walked down towards the ruined castle. As they went, Cordelia mulled over the events of the night.

  “Someone is scared,” she said. “I believe that our investigation has got the real culprit alarmed, and that is why they have decided to plant the evidence on Davies.”

  “Why choose him, though?” Ruby asked.

  “There are various reasons,” Cordelia said. “And I’m thinking aloud here. It could be that the murderer also hates Davies, and so it is a good opportunity to bring trouble down upon him.”

  “That is likely,” Ruby said, “but everyone hates Davies.”

  “It could be less complicated,” Cordelia went on. “It could just be that the murderer had the chance to plant the evidence there, and so once they had done so, they wrote the note to the police.”

  Geoffrey said, “I would agree with that one. It was probably the easiest thing for the murderer to do, and Davies was a happy accident.”

  “My lady,” said Stanley, and everyone stopped to listen. “There is another thing you could consider. What if the murderer thinks that Davies is already a suspect and that this is one way of strengthening that suspicion against him?”

  “He was, indeed, a suspect,” Cordelia said, “but we have discounted him. But that is interesting.”

  “Yes,” said Ruby. “Who else knows who the suspects actually are?”

  “You all do, and the constables, and probably Mrs Jones,” Cordelia said. “But also the suspects themselves, as I have spoken with them.”

  “Who do you favour the most at the moment, my lady?” asked Stanley.

  Cordelia looked around. There were no people in earshot, but there were plenty within sight, just milling around. She lowered her voice anyway. “Leopold Scott, the pharmacist and the brother of the woman who has survived,” she said. “He would know their habits and he would know they took sugar in their tea. He had access to the poison, and reason to do it.”

  All of her staff nodded. “Then Miss Scott is still in danger,” Ruby said.

  “I passed the letter to her,” Stanley said. “She remains in the sanatorium.”

  Cordelia shook her head despairingly. “She must leave,” she said. “And we have had no reply yet from my message to her, either. I ought to visit her.”

  “Who else is a suspect?” Ruby asked. “I know of Gareth Mogg and was it also not Caradog Lloyd?”

  “Those two, indeed,” Cordelia said. “Mr Mogg has sugar of lead in his wine warehouse, of that we are certain. And no love lost between him and the ladies, either.”

  “But Mr Lloyd?” Ruby said. “I am certain he is an honest man.”

  Stanley sniffed. Cordelia said, “Have you any clue at all from talking with his apprentice?”

  “None whatsoever. George says he can have a temper but all masters are like that. He enjoys working there, does George.”

  “What does George know of Mr Lloyd’s past? For he was connected with the ladies, you know.”

  “I don’t know. He is new to the town, Mr Lloyd, really. But I can ask George,” she said. “If you give me permission to go and see him.”

  “Oh, so you finally ask permission, do you?”

  “It is the look of the thing,” Ruby said cheekily. “I know how much store you set by social appearances.”

  “You minx.”

  “I can be a helpful minx.”

  Cordelia flared her nostrils but she let it lie. It was true. Ruby could be helpful in this matter. “Let us go back to the inn,” she said. “We will dine. Then, Geoffrey, will you come with me to see the constable?”

  “Of course.”

  As they walked back to the inn, under the steadily increasing heat of the day, she reflected on the links between the three suspects.

  Leopold Scott, Gareth Mogg — and Dafydd Davies — were all part of the council, in one way or another.

  Only Caradog Lloyd was not a member, though he aspired to be.

  Was that significant, she wondered. Did it point to Lloyd’s guilt — or the joint guilt of all the others?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Geoffrey accompanied Cordelia back to the house of correction on Great Darkgate Street that afternoon. The sun was now hidden behind thick layers of roiling grey cloud and the air seemed close and cloying. She wore as light and thin a gown as she was able to, while still remaining decent. Geoffrey, as usual, was clad in many impenetrable layers of greasy black clothing. He had never been forced into an acceptable livery. Even when her unlamented late husband had been alive, he had not dressed accor
ding to the status of a gentleman’s coachman. But then, of course, the household had been much bigger. Geoffrey was Maxwell’s right hand man — at the start.

  His loyalties changed as he witnessed his master’s abuse of Cordelia, and by the tragic end, he had been his mistress’s sworn aide.

  She still wondered about the carriage accident that had led to Maxwell’s death. He had been drunk, as usual.

  Geoffrey had always assured her there was no guilt on her part.

  She knew that there was.

  To escape his violence, she had actually taken to encouraging him to drink more and more. Half-drunk, he had been an evil brute. Fully drunk, he would be insensible and asleep. It was safer to ply him with vast amounts of brandy than just a few glasses of wine. So, in many ways, she was culpable. He had been utterly in his cups when he had driven out that evening, and she had not stopped him.

  She had encouraged him.

  And Geoffrey had seen, and he knew, and he had gone out after Maxwell, too…

  She stopped her chain of thought. She did not want to consider what Geoffrey might have done on her behalf. If she didn’t know, then she was innocent, surely?

  She was aware that it could be considered a sin to force oneself to remain in ignorance.

  She was up against greater sins at this moment, she told herself. Keep focussed. That was the past and it cannot be changed; but maybe I can make amends for all that, in the here and now.

  Now they were at the door, and it stood ajar, signalling that there was a constable within. She put her ruminations aside, and knocked, then pushed the door fully open before she heard a reply.

  The head constable was sitting at the desk, and he looked up with a smile when they entered. There was a flurry of greetings, but she got quickly down to business.

  “We need to go and see Davies,” she informed him.

  “We did,” the constable reminded her, “last night, and things did not end well.”

  “All the more reason that today, in daylight, we must go and speak to him. There are unanswered questions and he will not speak to me alone.”

  Constable Evans closed the ledger before him. “Very well. I assume it is your womanly ways that can see further into a man’s heart than I can. Are you wearing valerian about your person? That has an effect on a man, of course.”

  No, it is common sense and logic, she thought, but smiled sweetly. “Indeed.”

  The three of them walked together. She considered asking Geoffrey to find a cab for hire, somewhere, but the wait would have been longer than the journey by foot, and probably less comfortable. She longed for a breath of wind to lighten the atmosphere. She imagined riding in an open-topped carriage and removing her bonnet, letting the cool breeze play with her hair. Frivolous and shocking! She had been born too late. Skittish women in the time of the Regency seemed to have been able to dabble in all sorts of shocking antics. Now, things were lacing ever more tightly, at least for the rich, who were becoming expected to set a good example and lead from above. The nation was becoming a very moral and proper place.

  “He is not likely to be at home,” Evans said. “But we can ask Elsie what his movements are for today. Ah! Well, there is a stroke of luck. Here he comes down the street, the man himself.”

  They were only a few hundred yards from his house. Davies was walking briskly, swinging a black cane, but he stopped and put his hands on his hips when he saw the unwelcome trio approaching.

  “You must translate for me,” Cordelia said. “First, please tell him that he is not a suspect in any way.”

  “I will.” They were upon him, now, but Davies did not speak nor make any sign of greeting. He scowled, and growled.

  Evans spoke rapidly, but Davies’ angry expression did not change. Evans waved his hands about, and she thought she could detect a calming, appeasing tone of voice.

  Davies shook his head, and snarled something.

  Evans turned to Cordelia. “He is very unhappy about the initial accusation.”

  “Of course you are,” she said, addressing Davies directly. She knew he understood English even if he chose not to use it. “In fact, you must be furious. And it intrigues us, too. That sugar of lead was planted in your house, was it not?”

  “Yes, it was!” he said, and added a few choice swear words in English, too.

  “Who has visited you recently?”

  “I have had no visitors,” he said. “And that fool maid of mine has received no one but yourselves, neither.”

  “Then how, do you think, did that package come to be on your hallway table?”

  “It was left on the doorstep one morning. Elsie says she brought it in and meant to tell me. And you had better believe me.”

  “We do, we do,” she said. “Now we must ask another difficult question. Who would want to frame you?”

  “No one! I am on the council. I have powerful friends, and this whole thing is ridiculous.” He waved his cane in the air, causing Geoffrey to grunt and step forward. Cordelia put out her hand to hold him back.

  “Powerful people such as yourself naturally attract enemies,” she said.

  “You want to be looking for the killer, not harassing a burgess such as myself,” he said. “So I am not a suspect, am I? Who is a suspect? Do you have anyone on your list?”

  “Of course we do, and you can be fully assured that we are looking into them.”

  “Who are they? Tell me, and I will tell you if they could have had a reason to frame me.”

  “That is not how it works,” Cordelia said. “We cannot prejudice the outcome of the investigation.”

  Davies raked her up and down with his gaze. She braced herself for a verbal onslaught that never came. His reaction was even worse: he simply ignored her. He dismissed her as having no worth, and turned very pointedly to Constable Evans. He continued to speak in English. “Evans, your position is a council-appointed one. So, think on that. What do you say? Who are the other suspects? Indeed, what was in that package that you found? I have a right to know that!”

  “I am not investigating,” he said. “I am simply here to accompany and protect Lady Cornbrook. As you know, the authorities have closed the case.”

  “And as you know, sir, it looks to me like you are investigating, very much, and you came into my house, last night, on the strength of your position … shall I explain this to the council, or will you?”

  Evans was beaten and Cordelia knew it. With a sigh, the constable said, “The package contained sugar of lead.”

  “Ha! I knew it. Well, there is your culprit, most plain. That brother of one of them, that Leopold Scott, he is the druggist, is he not? All chemicals and poisons are available to him. Look to him!”

  “And why do you think he might wish to frame you?” Evans went on.

  “As you said,” Davies spat out, “a powerful man like myself will gather enemies.”

  “Have you any personal disagreement with him?” Cordelia said.

  Her interruption made Davies’ face cloud once more. He did not even look at her. He said something sharp in Welsh, aimed at Evans, and then he pushed past them. He raised his right hand and thrust his cane into the air as he went, and called out something that Cordelia did not need Evans to translate for her.

  Geoffrey folded his arms. “He will get what is coming to him, I am sure,” he said. “And no, I am not threatening anything. I would imagine there is a list of people who would love to do him harm.”

  “What do you make of this accusation against Mr Scott?” Evans said.

  “It matches my own suspicions,” Cordelia said. “Have you resources of manpower, Constable?”

  “Yes. I have any number of petty constables I can call on. Why? Do we arrest this man?”

  “No,” she said, “not until we have evidence. So we must find that evidence. I would advise that a watch is set upon him, secretly if possible. I am afraid for Miss Scott. The murderer is on the loose, still, and he has unfinished business. He has tried to frame D
avies, and he is scared. And a scared man is a dangerous one.”

  Evans nodded. “I will see to it directly. And Miss Scott?”

  “As for her, I still await a reply from her. I think that I shall visit her. Immediately.”

  “Be careful,” Evans said. “If she is in danger then so — by association — are you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A reply came from the sanatorium that afternoon, and it propelled Cordelia to dress for an excursion.

  “What does it say?” Ruby said. Stanley had been sent out to hire a light carriage for their trip.

  “It tells me very little that is useful,” Cordelia said. “My gloves, please. We really must speak to Miss Scott again. And we must urge her to leave this place. I will take some money with me, and convince her to take it. She must go to safety.”

  Once they were in the hired carriage, squashed up together with Stanley riding high at the back, Cordelia let Ruby read the letter.

  “You are right, my lady,” Ruby said. “She just tells us that the sugar was always put out fresh each time, and nothing more. But this does get Davies off the hook.”

  “It confirms his innocence, in my eyes,” Cordelia said. “I wish he had a motive so that I could suspect him; alas, the other suspects are far more convincing in their potential guilt.”

  “It’s not about who you want to suspect. You must be dispassionate.”

  “Indeed so. But we must press Edith Scott, now. Not only for her to leave, but for her to speak openly about who she might suspect. I asked if she were better now, and she makes no reply on that matter in this letter. We shall have to hope she is well enough to travel.”

  ***

  The journey should have been straightforward. But it was not.

  The thick and cloying air was intensifying and a few fat drops of rain had begun to fall. Their hired carriage was an open one, and Ruby scrabbled for a blanket. They were often to be found stored folded under the seat, but when she dragged one out, they discovered it was covered in a sticky white mould. Ruby kicked it back under the seat.

  Stanley leaned forward. “My lady,” he said, “I think we can be at the sanatorium more quickly than we can return to the inn.”