A Lady's Guide to Etiquette and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  “You? Heavens, George, you were not suggesting that you and I should marry?”

  George was biting down on his lips in an effort to hold back his laughter. How dare he?

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He held up a hand while trying to regain his composure.

  What on earth was wrong with him? “At least it’s good to know I haven’t broken your heart.”

  “My heart?” The words came out rather like a squeak. He drew a steadying breath. “Frances, you would have completely unmanned me if I weren’t such an arrogant sot!”

  I felt my jaw sag as I gave in to complete and utter confusion. “Did you, or did you not, just ask me to marry you?”

  “As long as you are wearing that look of horror, I’ll admit to no such thing. Though I don’t quite understand why you’d object so strongly. You’re a single woman. I’m a single man.” He drew his fingers lightly down my arm as he spoke, stirring some rather delightful sensations, “It seems a logical solution.” Then he raised my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against my pulse. My eyes drooped closed. Holy mother of God!

  “However,” he murmured, his lips tickling my wrist, “since you’re against the idea, I’ve just devised a better one. But first you must excuse me for a few minutes.”

  My arm fell to my side, as he dropped my hand, brushed past me, and left the room. After another few seconds, I heard the front door close.

  Chapter 12

  A better idea? I sank back onto the sofa, trying to comprehend what had just happened, when Jenny poked her head around the door.

  “I was about to bring in the tea, my lady, when I heard the door. Has the gentleman left?”

  I stared at her blankly before coming to my senses. Yes, tea would be good about now. “It appears he has, Jenny, but I’d like the tea anyway.” She slipped out for a moment, returning with a heavily laden tray. “I shall have to work hard to do justice to such a feast!”

  “I expect Mrs. Thompson was thinking men have heartier appetites.” Jenny set the tea things out on the low table in front of the sofa.

  “As it stands, one has left, and I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of the other.” It was possible Jenny knew nothing about the impending visit from James Capshaw, but much more likely that she was in full possession of every detail. Her next words confirmed it.

  “If Mr. Hazelton has left, my lady, would you like someone to sit with you when you interview Mr. Capshaw?”

  I must admit, my brain hadn’t been functioning at full strength while George was taking his leave, but it seemed to me he said he would return. Still, I didn’t know how long he’d be gone. “Yes. Why don’t you send Bridget in? She’s working on some mending in my dressing room.”

  I was just taking my first sip of tea when Bridget arrived, sewing in hand, and made as if to take herself off to a seat in the corner of the room. I called her over to a chair near me instead. “Since part of your job at the moment is to keep me company, please take a break from your sewing, and share my tea.”

  With any other maid this would be an outlandish request, but Bridget had been with me for years, and was used to my oddities, one of which was calling her by her first name. Due to her station, I ought to call her McCardle, her surname. But I explained to her some time ago that it just felt too impersonal to call her anything but Bridget. I recall her blushing as she agreed to my request, so I doubt she minded. Taking tea together wasn’t common for us, but neither was it unheard of—nor was my confiding in her.

  “Bridget,” I said, staring at the detailed molding around the ceiling. “I’m not certain, but I may have received a proposal of marriage.”

  “From Mr. Hazelton, my lady?” she said, completely nonplussed. She added a bit of sugar to her cup and took a sip. “Did you give him an answer?”

  I nodded and brought my gaze to meet hers. “I told him it was a ridiculous idea. That I would be a fool to marry again.” I paused for a moment, recalling my tirade. “That I’d be better off buying a dog.”

  Bridget winced. “Sounds like an awkward conversation, my lady.”

  “To say the least. But before you feel too badly for Mr. Hazelton, he claimed he had a better idea.” I checked her expression to see if she looked as confused as I felt. “Then he fled.”

  “He fled?”

  “Out of the room like a shot.”

  Her gaze drifted off. “How interesting.”

  “How infuriating.”

  I took a long drink of tea, hoping to clear my head. If he hadn’t meant to propose, why the seductive caress? As if he wanted me to know what I’d be missing. It was all so strange. “Whether he proposed or not,” I mused aloud, “doesn’t really matter. His reasons for marriage were all wrong. He wanted to rescue me from all my travails. He thought I needed protection.”

  Bridget shook her head in sympathy. “Men do like to protect a lady, don’t they?”

  “When they’re not doing the reverse. After all, isn’t it men they want to protect us from?”

  “Mr. Hazelton isn’t the type to do the reverse. He’s a good man, I think.”

  There was a certain earnestness in her words that surprised me. Not that I didn’t consider George a good man, of course, but it sounded as though she’d already given this some consideration. “I think you’re right. I wonder why he hasn’t married.”

  “Probably his work for the Home Secretary kept him too busy.” I stared in surprise while Bridget sipped her tea. “All that coming and going between Ireland and France,” she added.

  “Kept? Past tense?” I straightened in my chair. “How do you even know this?”

  Bridget shrugged. “His valet’s been with him for some time. Likes to talk about their travels and important meetings. The new government’s not so keen on Irish Home Rule, though, so he left that work. Leastwise Blakely thinks that’s why he left.”

  It was an endless source of amazement how much servants knew about everyone in this town. If George had been involved in the security of the country, protecting one small woman would be a small task. Perhaps I would enjoy his protection. My thoughts drifted back to that sensual caress and the seductive look in George’s eyes. A warm glow wrapped around me.

  I was wrenched back to reality when Mrs. Thompson knocked, then opened the drawing room door. “Mr. Hazelton, my lady. Again.”

  As George strode back into the room, my face grew hot. I stood and extended my hand in greeting, and I must admit, a certain amount of apprehension. Mrs. Thompson had backed through the door, and Bridget had set down her teacup and plate, looking as if she were about to beat a hasty retreat. The surprise of George’s return, right in the middle of my musings, seemed to bring the workings of my brain to a halt. Did I want her to stay or leave?

  Too late. She’d already bobbed a curtsy and exited the room before I had a chance to decide. But I was being an idiot. I didn’t need a third person in the room in order to control myself.

  “Please sit down.” I gestured to the chair Bridget, the traitor, had vacated.

  He stood his ground, his expression serious. “Before I do, are we still friends?”

  Friends? Aggravating man! I bit back my disappointment. Apparently there would be no need to control myself as there was to be no temptation. Fine.

  “Of course we’re friends, George. Please forgive my outburst. It was an insensitive response to a gallant gesture. I suppose you can see I am far from ready to marry again.”

  He gave me a rueful smile. “I did receive that message, yes.”

  “Then if you can forgive me for being so rude, I hope we can continue as we were. I truly value your friendship.”

  “And you will have it, but I do have a different proposal to suggest.”

  Seating myself, I gestured for him to do the same. “What type of proposal?”

  “A partnership of sorts. Like you, I have an interest in finding the thief.”

  He paused, noting my look of surprise. “As I mentioned before, I do some w
ork for the Crown.”

  “Is that a reference to your work with the Home Secretary?”

  His gaze sharpened. “How do you know about that?”

  “Your valet is very proud of you. He spoke of it to Bridget.”

  “Ah, well that is in the past. Now I’m only called on an ‘as needed’ basis, and at the moment I’m charged with retrieving some stolen items.”

  “You think the jewel thief took them? What are they?”

  “I’d rather not say what I’m looking for, but they went missing at the same time the snuffboxes were stolen from Haverhill.”

  “But Mr. Haverhill reported the robbery to the police.”

  George shook his head. “Anne Haverhill called in the police. And as far as she knew, only the snuffboxes were stolen. Haverhill was frantic when he learned of it. If the police find the—other items, it could cause a great deal of trouble.”

  “This sounds rather dodgy.” I studied him with narrowed eyes. “Something was stolen from Haverhill and he wants it back, but he doesn’t want anyone to know about it.” I thought of Mrs. Robinson complaining about Haverhill’s dealings with foreigners. “What are you involving yourself in?”

  George smiled. “Nothing criminal, I assure you. Haverhill’s an old colleague and friend. He’s doing good work for his district and the country and this could put an end to it. So I’d like to ask this footman a few questions when he arrives. In return, I may be able to assist with the issue of Reggie’s death. I have an associate who owes me a favor, so I went home to telephone him.”

  There was nothing else he could have said to more rapidly redirect my thoughts. “You have a telephone? In your home?”

  George shrugged, as if everyone had a telephone in their home. “It does prove to be convenient at times.”

  I made a mental note to see this device someday and turned my questions to the matter at hand. “Who is your associate? And what could he do?”

  George shook his head. “I’d rather not give you his name.”

  I huffed. “It seems you’d rather not tell me anything. Can you at least tell me what you asked him to do?” I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of some stranger knowing I’d been accused of murder, even if it was by an anonymous source.

  “Only to look at the letter the police received and find out how they intend to proceed. If they plan to open an investigation, he and I will do some investigating of our own.” He reached out and took my hand. “I can vouch for his discretion. No word of this will become public.”

  “I’m amazed at what I’m learning about you this afternoon. And while I don’t know how you can conceive of this as a partnership, as I seem to be doing nothing, I won’t turn down your offer of assistance. Inspector Delaney said the doctor won’t call for an autopsy but the police may look for evidence that will allow them to do so themselves. For his part, I think Delaney is beginning to see the letter writer as someone simply making mischief for me.”

  “And he suspects that someone is Graham?”

  I tried to remember exactly what Delaney had said. “No. He asked me if I considered Graham capable of doing such a thing. He didn’t actually accuse him.”

  George stared off into the distance. “Interesting,” he murmured.

  “I must admit I can’t imagine anyone else sending such a letter either. Do you think it possible someone may have murdered Reggie? He was with Alicia when he died, but might someone have given him some sort of poison earlier?”

  George seemed far away, but I could see he was listening, as he raised one brow and murmured, “Poison? I doubt that.”

  I gave him a moment to continue, but he simply stared past me. Why do people leave comments half spoken? “George,” I said in an attempt to gain his attention. His gaze darted to mine as if he’d just snapped out of a trance. “Why do you doubt poison?”

  “The doctor was convinced Reggie died of natural causes. He would have noted signs of poisoning.”

  I blinked in surprise. “How do you know that?”

  “When you first mentioned the police had contacted you, I went to Guildford and spoke to the doctor myself.”

  “He never even answered my letter, yet he spoke to you?”

  George gave me a sheepish grin. “I told him I’d pass the information on to you. Since you said the police would be speaking to him, I wanted to get to him first.”

  “Did you convince him not to call for the autopsy?”

  George shook his head. “It wasn’t necessary. His decision was based on the fact that Reggie had a heart condition. He was lax in taking his medication, drank heavily, and took little exercise. In short, the doctor felt Reggie was an excellent candidate for a heart attack.”

  “If that’s the case, perhaps the letter was written by someone making mischief for me.”

  “Between the letter, the bracelet, and the break-in, someone is trying to make a great deal of mischief for you. Perhaps we’ll learn something from the footman.”

  “I can’t believe anyone would go to so much trouble simply to make me miserable.”

  A knock at the door was followed by Jenny rushing into the room.

  “My lady,” she said in a breathless voice. “If you could come at once. Mrs. Thompson’s not well at all.”

  “Goodness, what’s happened?” I rose to my feet and moved to the door, where Jenny stood shaking. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

  “Mrs. Thompson went out to the kitchen garden and there was a man out there. She came running back in, shaking and crying.”

  “Heavens, I must see to her.”

  George followed as Jenny and I rushed through the baize doors and down the stairs to the kitchen. “If someone has accosted Mrs. Thompson, I should come, too.”

  “No one accosted her, sir. Mrs. Thompson said he was dead.”

  Chapter 13

  I settled poor Mrs. Thompson in her room with a tot of Aunt Hetty’s brandy and called Jenny in to sit with her. Then I made sure Nanny kept Rose occupied in the nursery. Good heavens, I’d be lucky to hang on to any of my staff after this. First a break-in, then a body in the garden! They likely all rued the day they first set foot in this house.

  Fortunately George took it upon himself to check on the body. He confirmed the poor man was indeed dead. Grim-faced, he rushed home to place a call to the police.

  So, once again I found myself in conference with Inspector Delaney. He’d actually arrived half an hour ago, along with the coroner, and instructed us to wait in the house, while they examined the body and surrounding area. I poured some of Aunt Hetty’s brandy for George, and after a moment’s consideration, I poured another glass for myself, but the waiting still had us on pins and needles.

  Delaney removed his hat, and dipped his head in greeting as he ambled into the drawing room, where we both waited for him. I introduced the two men and waved Delaney to a chair. George and I sat on the sofa, facing him, anxious for his report.

  “Can you tell us what happened?” I asked, as soon as the inspector was seated.

  “His throat was slashed, my lady.”

  “Oh, good heavens!” I’m not sure what I’d expected, but the image of someone slicing into that poor man’s neck, spilling his life’s blood into the dirt, made the bile rise to the back of my throat. It took a few seconds to gain control of myself. George squeezed my shoulder and turned to Delaney.

  “How did it happen?” he asked. “Was he followed here, then attacked?”

  Delaney shook his head and pulled out his little notebook. “Either that or someone waited for him at your garden gate. I’d say he was approaching your house from the mews along the side, rather than from the street out front. That way, he had to walk past the gate before turning the corner and arriving at the servants’ entrance. We could see from the dirt and gravel outside the gate that there was a bit of a scuffle. It looks like he was pulled inside the garden and, well, you know the rest.”

  Delaney had a habit of speaking slowly, measuring his words. In th
is case he was definitely trying to instill a sense of calm. I appreciated his discreet summary, which I’m sure was for the benefit of my sensibilities. Under normal circumstances, I assume he would be more descriptive. I was seeing much more of the man than I cared to, but each time I gained more respect for his abilities.

  “I spoke to the servants before you arrived, Inspector. Only two of them had been in the kitchen, and they say they heard nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “I suspect it happened very quickly.” He looked down at his notes. “Mr. Capshaw likely didn’t have a chance to call out. The coroner is with him still. He’ll make a thorough examination, but it doesn’t appear he’s been dead long, under an hour, so it’s a good thing your housekeeper didn’t step outside any sooner.”

  I clutched at George’s hand. “This situation, whatever it is, has gotten completely out of control.” I turned to Delaney, hoping he had the answer. “Mrs. Thompson is my employee. She’s under my protection and has every right to expect a safe place to live. But first someone breaks into my house, then someone else is gutted in my back garden.”

  “Someone was gutted in the back garden?”

  I turned to see Aunt Hetty and Lily standing in the doorway, just returned from their ride in the park.

  “No one was gutted in the back garden,” George said firmly.

  “No, a man’s throat was slashed.” It was time to stop hiding everything from Lily.

  She paled at my pronouncement, then slipped into a chair next to Delaney as if her legs might not hold her up. “Are you a policeman?” she asked.

  Delaney had risen from his seat when the two women entered the room. He now took Lily’s proffered hand in his large paw and gave her a nod. “Inspector Delaney,” I said, “this is my sister, Lily Price. And I’m sure you remember Mrs. Chesney, my aunt.” Honestly, one would think this were a society event.

  “So now there’s been a murder?” Aunt Hetty entered the room in a more sedate manner, removing her hat and gloves, and leaving them on the table near the door. “Who?”