The Earl's Mortal Enemy

by Issy Brooke

  “We are most concerned!” Mrs Throckmorton declared. “She is a good girl, of course, and a credit to you in every way, Lady Calaway, nicely brought up if a little over-educated.”

  “Over-educated,” Lady Passmore said sadly.

  “But that seems to be the way of things for women these days. I for one am heartily glad I missed out on all of that. I cannot imagine what would have happened to my brain should I have been forced to learn Latin. Anyway, we are perturbed – perturbed, is that the right word, Esther? Perturbed, indeed! She has become increasingly ... strange with us all. We call, but she is never At Home and she will not receive us. We invite her to our gatherings but she does not come. We wait for return invitations but they are not forthcoming. We visit, but we have to arrange things through our dear Gregory and when we do arrive, it is very much as if she does not want us there at all!”

  “No, not at all!” Lady Passmore said.

  “I spent four days there last week and I barely saw her. I found myself pursuing her through a shrubbery and I eventually cornered her in a potting shed.”

  “A potting shed!”

  “Indeed. There was compost! Yet she did not seem pleased to see me at all!”

  Adelia wanted to laugh but she managed to say, “How very peculiar” with a straight face. She listened to the complaints patiently, knowing that the conversation would not last too long, due to the chill in the air. She assured them that Edith was a “singular sort of person, rather individual” which was taken to be a sad defect in character by Lady Passmore and Mrs Throckmorton. Individuality was never to be encouraged in a person. Eventually they ran out of steam and Adelia waved to a watching maid who was sheltering by an open door, waiting for commands. She came out and escorted the two ladies to their carriage at the front of the house.

  Adelia waited until they had left. In hindsight, their report did not surprise her in the least, though it saddened her. She could have predicted that this was going to happen. Edith had married too hastily, too young; she did love Gregory deeply and he was the perfect match for her. It wasn’t being married that was the problem for Edith – she was just too immature to be a wife.

  Adelia touched the box containing the bow. She would love to pick it up and release some of her tension in a little carefully controlled violence. But it really was far too cold for archery and she didn’t think she’d enjoy doing it alone; a great deal of her pleasure had come from it being a shared activity with Edith.

  And then she realised that gave her the perfect excuse to speak to Edith. She could not easily leave Thringley House at the moment, but she could send a note to Edith and ask her to come over.

  And then she could speak to her daughter about the issues with the wider family before things got out of hand.

  Eight

  The image of Mrs Throckmorton chasing Edith around Ivery Manor lingered in Adelia’s mind, especially as she spent the rest of the day doing exactly the same sort of thing, except that she was in pursuit of her husband. Theodore seemed to evade her at every turn and she became infuriated. It was funny to think of Mrs Throckmorton doing it; it was far less comedic when she herself was being thwarted in a similar manner.

  It simply wasn’t fair that she was being pushed to the side like this while Theodore cosied up with Prendergast. She wanted to know what was going on, and she needed to be part of things. But she was also acutely aware that if she meddled without knowing what the investigators were up to, she could compromise the whole case.

  She sent a note to Edith to invite her to come to Thringley “at your earliest convenience”, spoke to all the servants, tried to catch Inspector Prendergast’s eye but failed, and eventually retired grumpily to her day room to read newspapers. She would read a page, then get up and wander fretfully around before sitting back down to read another page. It passed the time, at least.

  She tried to raise the matter of the investigation at dinner that evening but Montgomery seized upon it and began to rant about the impositions being placed on him. It was excruciatingly embarrassing and Froude had to calm him down, pointing out that the murder had happened less than forty-eight hours earlier and they had to wait a little longer for any resolution. Alf stared at his plate all night and Theodore ate heartily but did not speak to Adelia until later that night.

  She pounced on him as soon as she got him alone in their bedroom.

  “Are you deliberately ignoring me? Excluding me? I am starting to feel as if I am a suspect!”

  “Good God, no, not at all,” he exclaimed in horror. “I remember you saying that if you had to kill a man, you’d shoot him.”

  She gasped. “What? I am only not a suspect because the manner of death is not the way I would do it?”

  “It’s not the only reason but it’s a compelling one. What’s wrong?”

  “I feel utterly left out of everything.”

  “Oh, my dear. Come and sit by me.”

  “Are you going to tell me everything?” she said, somewhat sulkily, as she sat on the bed next to him. She was already in her nightdress, with her hair all pinned up by Smith who had now gone to bed herself.

  “No,” he said, almost cheerfully.

  She began to huff but he went on. “After all, somewhat frustratingly, there is absolutely nothing to say.”

  “Are Froude, Montgomery and ... and my Alf still the main suspects?”

  “Yes. We have ruled out all of the servants in one way or another yesterday and today. Now we are looking into the business itself. None of the men want to talk about it in any great detail, which is strange. They are all, in their own ways, hiding something. The hammer might prove to be our best chance and it has been sent to a specialist in London for close examination.” Theodore sighed. “In truth, my dear, I am feeling as lost and left out as you are. I wanted to examine the murder weapon, but could not; it was packed off to the laboratories. I wanted to examine the body, but have been prevented from doing so. I am told the police medical officer is in charge of that. I do fear that Inspector Prendergast is conducting his own interviews and investigations to which I am not privy. I have done my best to be at his side, but he still evades me. I am as lost as you are, my dear.”

  “I had not realised that. So what are we to do?”

  “We must tread very carefully. I admit that I had not expected to be quite so thoroughly excluded, just as you are. This is our house, as you say!”

  “But if we make our own enquiries, we might jeopardise the main investigation and incur the wrath of the police. I particularly do not want to upset young Prendergast,” she said.

  “He’s not so young any more. He’s fully in control but I am very aware that this is his first proper murder investigation so he has to get it right. The charity dinner is in a few weeks’ time and everyone will be expecting to hear his story of success. I agree with you that we cannot risk ruining it for him.”

  She clenched her fists. Mrs Ingram would leap upon Prendergast’s failure without hesitation and have her own husband installed in his place. She would waste no time in using every means at her disposal to ruin Prendergast’s reputation before he had even had a chance to prove himself. Adelia wondered if a certain tarnish would then attach to Theodore’s own reputation. It was possible, and if Mrs Ingram could fan the flames, she certainly would. “So we are to sit and do nothing?”

  Theodore nodded glumly. “So it seems. Prendergast said that he was willing to work alongside me, and that is why I shall continue to be as present as I possibly can. As for you, my dear... I confess that I am at a loss. Although...”

  “Although what?”

  “This is difficult to say to you, but I suspect that you might have the best chance of discovering Alfred Pegsworth’s secret,” he said. “He is hiding something, we are sure of it. Don’t you think?”

  She sighed, but Theodore was right. Alf had not told her where he’d been that night. His silence was an admission of something. A heavy despondency settled on her shoulders. “I will d
o what I can.”

  EDITH ARRIVED THE NEXT day, Thursday. It felt like a lifetime since the body of Bablock Halifax had been discovered and taken away, but that terrible event had only happened on Tuesday morning.

  Before Edith arrived, Adelia had been prowling around the public rooms on the ground floor. Montgomery, Froude and Alf were all closeted together in Theodore’s study, working on their business plans, but Inspector Prendergast had insisted that a policeman stay with them and that the door should remain open. Montgomery had been appalled and insulted, but Prendergast had been implacable in his command and remained almost serene, ignoring the man’s wrath.

  Theodore was still dogging Prendergast’s steps although the inspector, once he had chastised the businessmen, seemed to be doing nothing but reading reports in silence while Theodore hovered nearby, almost humming with frustration.

  So when Edith was announced, Adelia seized her with delight and dragged her to the empty parlour where a low fire was keeping the room warm and welcoming.

  “What’s happening? What’s the latest news?” Edith demanded, perching on the edge of a chair. She was dressed in a very plain sort of style, in muted colours, with no adornments or ribbons or bows at all. Walking dresses could often be simple, of course, but she had taken it to an extreme.

  “There is no news,” Adelia said. “They have three suspects and no idea. I don’t know what they are doing. They’ve spoken to everyone and now the inspector is simply reading reports.”

  “Reports about what?”

  “I haven’t the first clue. He would hardly share his insight with me. Edith, my dear, have you become a Quaker?”

  “No. Why?”

  “You are dressed in the most severe grey and it does nothing for your complexion.”

  Edith rolled her eyes. “Clothes? Mother, you know I do not care for fashion. I wear what I am expected to wear, but I take no more than the minimal trouble over it. You know, I had a letter from Lottie the other day and she said she’d been to a party where almost all of the women were dressed in the ‘aesthetic style’ and she said it was wonderful to see such beauty. She felt as if she were in Ancient Greece. I think I might order a liberty bodice.”

  “Such things are all very well for London but you would cause a stir here. Don’t give Mrs Ingram more reasons to take against us all. That aside, how is Charlotte?”

  “She is well. And please, you must ignore Mrs Ingram. When Lady Purfleet returns, she will take that woman in hand. Mrs Ingram is a woman of some substance, I know, but she is nothing next to Lady Purfleet.”

  “I don’t need the Duchess to sort out my own battles,” Adelia said in annoyance. “As for Charlotte, will you please ask her to answer my letters?”

  “I am sure she will when she has something to say.”

  “She sounds as if she has plenty to say! She could tell me all about her parties.”

  Edith looked at Adelia with a withering expression. “I rather think she expects you would not approve. Or at least, that you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Of course I would!”

  “And yet here you are, questioning me for wearing a perfectly normal grey dress.”

  “That’s not the same.” Adelia felt her irritation rise and she had to take a moment to stop herself. She urged herself to calm down and not let Edith’s infuriating manner cause her to snap. When she felt in control again, she broached the most important subject. “Edith, speaking of causing a stir in the area, I am afraid that word has reached me that some members of your new extended family are a little concerned about your ... how you ... they don’t feel...” Adelia found, to her surprise, that she wasn’t sure how to actually phrase it. She was astonished. She was never usually lost for words.

  There was something about her clever, spiky daughter that just put her on the wrong foot.

  Edith regarded her with a frown. “Just speak plainly, mama.”

  What else could she do? With a deep breath, Adelia said, “Lady Passmore and Mrs Throckmorton came to see me with their concerns about how you are a rather unwilling hostess and they are feeling rather left out of the family. It reflects badly on the Ivery family name.”

  “Left out? They are not part of the family! Neither of them are even called Ivery!”

  “Yes, but actually they are part of your family.”

  “There are too many cousins and aunts and uncles and hangers-on. None of them care about me, mama; they see Ivery Manor and they see the wealth of the Ivery family and they want to leech off it, that’s all. No one actually gives a fig for me or who I am. I am Lady Ivery to them.”

  “You are Lady Ivery to everyone. Even to me.”

  “I should be nothing but Edith to you. And how dare they come telling tales behind my back!”

  “I am sure they would have spoken to you if you’d let them.”

  “I shan’t let those two snakes slither over the threshold ever again.” Edith got to her feet and began to pull her leather gloves back onto her hands. “I cannot stand all this gossip and tittle-tattle, the tedious drag of indoor female life, as if we are still living in the eighteenth century.”

  “What about Gregory? Is he not an ally to you? He does not expect you to be an old-fashioned lady, I am sure, but now you are the mistress of Ivery Manor you have certain duties. I raised you to expect those duties and to embrace them.”

  “Well, you tried. But if I am truly mistress of Ivery Manor then things ought to be done there as I wish them to be done, and I don’t see why that means I have to embrace having visitors and guests plaguing me every single day. You know, you should not be surprised if you wake up one day and there is word that I have left.”

  “Left? Left Gregory? You cannot mean that!”

  “Oh – no, I should never leave him.” Her voice softened for a moment. “I do love him, mama. I could not devastate him. But I might just go away somewhere, for a little while.”

  “Where? On holiday? A tour?”

  “No. I would go to Cambridge. Girton College or perhaps Newnham. I should like to study.”

  “Study what?” Adelia stood up but Edith was already at the door.

  “I don’t know – I don’t care – anything! Engineering! Mathematics! Can women do that or must we stick to botany? Anyway, I have had enough of convention, mama.” She flounced out and Adelia did not follow. She sat back down with a heavy thump and wondered if she ought to meddle – and tell Gregory what was going on. Or perhaps she ought to stay out of it, and allow her daughter’s life and marriage to dissolve before her eyes.

  Whichever option she chose to follow would inevitably be the wrong one.

  ADELIA WANDERED AROUND the house again, hoping to get her brother alone and speak to him urgently about the fact that he was under suspicion. He had told her that he felt as if he were a target, but from whom, and why? Logically, if she were to believe Alf, then the murderer had to be Froude or Montgomery.

  And she ought to believe Alf. He was family. A family had to stick together. A sentiment that Edith seemed to be struggling with.

  She made her way back up to the study where she had seen the three men all together earlier. Froude was now reading a book and making notes on a stack of paper, and Alf was sitting in the window seat, doing nothing useful but staring out at the grey day.

  George Montgomery was just leaving as she approached. She felt a churn in her belly. She felt reluctant to speak to Alf all of a sudden, and she certainly didn’t want to talk to Froude and have all the memories of their shared past be brought back to mind. She had avoided him quite well so far.

  So she decided, at the last minute, not to step into the study and join the pair there. Instead she nodded and smiled at Mr Montgomery and fell into step alongside him as he walked down the corridor. He was a polite man, and slowed his pace. He could hardly shake her off; this was still her house.

  “So, it seems that you are intent upon continuing the business?” she said.

  “Yes,” he replied shortly.r />
  “That’s good. Will Mr Halifax’s contribution be a great loss?”

  “No. His absence is an advantage.”

  “I see.”

  He stopped walking. “Do you? Damn it – oh, forgive me, my language is crude – I do not mean to be so base. I am not usually...” He rubbed at his face and she saw that he was a man hiding great anxiety. She pushed open a door and looked inside. It was an empty room, one of the dozens that had no purpose or use in their house. It was cold, but it was secluded.

  “Mr Montgomery, please would you step in here with me? I have some things that we must discuss.”

  He started, and stared at her in horror.

  And he followed her inside.

  Nine

  It was too cold in the unheated room to sit and be still, and the wooden chairs looked uncomfortable anyway. Adelia stood by the door, her hands folded in front of her, while Mr Montgomery walked to the fireplace and rested his foot on the tiled surround, contemplating the elaborate and unticking carriage clock which adorned the mantelpiece.

  “Mr Montgomery, both you and Mr Froude have no good words to say about Mr Halifax.”

  “We do not. But that doesn’t make either of us guilty,” he said. “I cannot speak for Froude but as for myself, I have been determined to be as honest as possible at all times. Any obscuring of the truth now, on any matter, would be seized by the police and used to discredit me. Anyone will vouch for the lack of respect I had for Mr Halifax and therefore it would have been useless to try to hide it.”

  “That is admirable. Indeed, it is brave of you.”

  “Sense. Logic. I am a man who strives to act rationally, Lady Calaway, and I trust in the justice system of this great country. My innocence will be proven.”

  “Of course. And that logic and good sense has brought you great academic success, has it not? You are a celebrated professor at a prestigious London university, I understand. Ought we not to address you as such? Professor Montgomery, rather than Mister Montgomery?”