by Issy Brooke
Harriet and Adelia were seated next to one another and spent the meal talking non-stop about people and places he had never heard of. Theodore ate quickly, staring out of the windows, wondering what Froude and Montgomery were up to. He was now convinced that all eyes must turn upon Montgomery but he was growing increasingly suspicious of Froude. Were the two men in it together? Were they hoping that Pegsworth would take the blame? That would account for why they had not expelled him from the business yet – the shabby outsider was a convenient decoy.
He realised his mind was wandering and he focused on his daughter who was looking up at him from her wheeled chair. “Of course,” he said, sitting back down. “Although you did have all luncheon to speak to me and you have not.” He smiled to show it was not a jibe.
“I was thinking.”
“What about?”
“Stop talking to me in that irritating and gentle way, papa. I am no longer a child and you don’t need to be so insipid just because my leg is broken.”
“No longer a child...?”
“Oh – you mean my behaviour to my husband’s family.” She flushed. “I have apologised endlessly for that and I know it was unforgiveable.”
“Your husband’s family? Edith, they are your family now.”
“You cannot want to be replaced?”
“I don’t see that we have been replaced. Your family has enlarged, that is all. Now, what did you want to talk about?”
Harriet and Adelia took their leave, heading off to continue their rambling and excitable female dialogues elsewhere. He was glad to see them go. Harriet made his wife different. Sillier, somehow, and he didn’t like it. Alf had stood up when the ladies left, and he followed them out.
Edith seemed to relax now they were alone, with only the servants bustling around to clear away the plates.
“Papa, I’ve had a letter sent to me today and I haven’t told mama about it.”
He was immediately intrigued. “Who is it from?” He knew that there was some issue about letters from Charlotte which were upsetting his wife.
So he was astonished when Edith said, “It is from Mrs Ingram. I barely know her and have never had any correspondence from her before. I only invited her to my party because everyone had to be there, apparently.”
“Ah. Inspector Ingram’s wife.”
“This is to do with Inspector Prendergast, isn’t it? I’m not stupid. I watch and I listen. Mama has mentioned it a little, too, though not in much detail because she doesn’t want to worry me. You’ve given Prendergast a leg up the ranks. You’ve always looked out for him and I really admire that, papa. I think it’s right that we help people who deserve to be helped. Oh, I know how snobbish that sounds, but it’s true. Gregory feels the same way and that’s why he’s always working so hard on finding ways to make his tenants’ lives easier.”
“Your Gregory is a fine man and I’m proud to have him as a son-in-law.”
“You had no choice,” she said, reminding him that her snippiness never really left her. But she composed herself. “And Prendergast has deserved your patronage, I am sure, papa, but it does seem that you’ve rather put Mrs Ingram’s nose thoroughly out of joint with your favouritism. It is getting tiresome.”
“Your mother feels the same way. I can’t understand why Mrs Ingram has written to you, though. May I see the letter?”
“I’m afraid not. I burned it immediately.”
“You did what? Why on earth did you do that?”
“Because it was utterly vile, papa, and I could not believe she had written with such vitriolic spite. I found it almost threatening and I thought she must have been drunk when she wrote it, and that the most ladylike thing I could do would be to simply destroy it and never speak of it again. After all, we’ve all acted hastily in the heat of passion, haven’t we?”
“Speak for yourself,” he said.
“Papa!”
He smiled kindly but then brought himself back to the matter in hand. “You said that the letter was threatening. In what way? If there were actual threats, we ought to involve the law, you know.”
“Oh, nothing direct. She was suggesting that mama was going to find herself quite unwelcome if she persisted in her ‘associations’. I didn’t understand, to be honest. I thought she meant associations with Inspector Prendergast but then I wondered...”
“Of course she meant with Inspector Prendergast. As you have noticed, it is an ongoing issue that is vexing Mrs Ingram beyond all reason. Her husband has been an inspector for a long time; he is older and more experienced than Prendergast. And he has a higher background. He is of the old school who once peppered the upper ranks of the police. To her mind, her husband ought to have been promoted to commissioner by now. But he lacks the qualities that Prendergast has and the future lies with this younger men from a more varied background. It doesn’t matter if someone’s cousin is a baronet or not. What matters is how good one is at one’s job. The promotion of Prendergast might have been encouraged by me – and others, yes, I admit it – but it is soundly based in fact and logic, not personal favouritism.”
“I’m sure. But, papa, there are other associations that mama has which might be what Mrs Ingram meant. For example, what about Uncle Alf? What have they argued about, mama and Uncle Alf? Was it about Mr Froude?”
Theodore felt as if the floor was tipping sideways, a roaring vertigo sounding in his ears. “Your mama and your Uncle Alfred have not argued...”
“They don’t get on, papa. Can’t you see it in her face every time he speaks? She shudders and moves away from him. She didn’t want him to come and stay. She has to keep paying him to go away, according to some of the servants.”
“She has to do what? When?”
“Oh, she does it all the time. Didn’t you know?”
Theodore took a deep breath. “I shall speak with her. I expect there has been a misunderstanding. And what did you mean when you mentioned Mr Froude?” He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want Edith to answer him.
But now he had to know.
Edith fiddled with the rings on her fingers. “I am certainly not casting any aspersions, papa. It’s only that Mrs Ingram thinks he ought not to be staying here, in light of his past. You know, his past with mama.”
“He does not have a past with your mama.”
“They did know one another and I think people are reading too much into it. After all, she turned him down, didn’t she?”
“When? What?”
“The ... oh. He did propose to her, according to Lady Passmore and Mrs Ingram and a few other gossips, back in London, years ago. But I am sure lots of people proposed to her. Didn’t you have to ask her twice?”
“I did,” he replied through gritted teeth, wondering what would have happened if Froude had asked Adelia twice. “I am surprised to hear you listening to gossip.”
“I don’t but sometimes it wafts past one, and one cannot help but absorb a little of it. Actually, I’ve had a reply from Lady Passmore. She accepted my apology and told me all about Hastings.”
Theodore felt as if he had missed a whole thread of the conversation. “Hastings? Who’s there?”
“Lady Passmore is in Hastings – I just told you so, papa. She told me lots of interesting things about how she got there. Her copy of Bradshaw’s Guide was out of date. It caused quite some fuss, you know. Anyway ... oh, I am sorry. I can see your mind is on other things. How is the investigation going?”
Theodore shrugged. “It is going nowhere, yet appears to take a new direction every other day. I am spiralling, Edith.”
“Inwards or outwards?”
“I am too dizzy to tell.”
The room had been cleared now. One manservant remained by the door, staring straight ahead, awaiting orders. Theodore jumped up. “Edith, thank you for your candour. Can I take you back to your rooms?”
She made a face but agreed, and the servant pulled the doors open so Theodore could wheel her through. They didn’t speak again.
Theodore had images in his head and he hated every single one of them. He wanted to saddle up a horse and ride and ride, clearing his head of everything.
But he had a job to do, and the matter of the murder was feeling increasingly personal.
Nineteen
Theodore was certain now that there was more to Pegsworth than he knew about, and he headed up to the guest rooms. He suspected that Adelia could talk her way out of any questions he might have for her about her brother. They had been married for far too long for him to win any argument with her. But he would have a better chance in getting to the truth if he challenged Pegsworth and he wanted to know what last night’s overheard conversation had been about, too. He tapped on Pegsworth’s door and there was no reply.
Theodore had searched everywhere else. He’d spoken to the constables still dotted around the place. He knew that Pegsworth could not be anywhere but his own room. So he retreated a few steps from his door. And he waited.
He hoped that Pegsworth would peep out after a few minutes but that was not to be. He had to wait for nearly half an hour, his legs getting tired and his calves cramping, until the door creaked open.
Theodore sauntered forward and had his foot in the gap before Pegsworth could drag the door closed again. “Good afternoon. I was hoping to catch you for a quick chat.”
Pegsworth had no choice but to open the door and smile politely. “Ah, hello, sir. Um. I’ve been asleep. It was such a fine luncheon. Food always makes me sleepy.”
“Ah. I did wonder why you did not respond to my knock.”
Pegsworth’s smile wavered. “I do apologise. It was a very deep sleep. Er, so, shall we walk?”
“You have two chairs in your room. I am happy to sit here.” Theodore stepped towards Pegsworth who shrank back in alarm.
“It is hardly a fitting place to entertain.”
“Do you cast aspersions on my house? Do you say it is not fitting? Would you prefer grander accommodation?”
“I? No, not at all sir! Forgive my clumsy phrase! It is not what I meant at all!”
Theodore sighed quite openly. Pegsworth had always been a fawning, obsequious worm of a man. He had to repress his antipathy for Adelia’s sake but it was not easy. He settled himself in a chair, the only one of the pair which was not covered in detritus. Pegsworth shifted a jacket, a towel and a long pair of yellowing linen undergarments onto the bed and perched himself on the edge of the other chair. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward nervously.
“Pegsworth, I want to talk to you, man to man.”
Pegsworth nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir.”
“You’ve told me how you came to know Halifax and the others. I want you to be straight with me. Is it all true or have you omitted anything?”
“It’s all true,” Pegsworth said. “I have held nothing back. Look, if this is about the stolen items – well, as I said before, they’re in a bag in the greenhouse – so they’re not even stolen, really, if they are still on the premises. Does it even count? I am not sure how it stands, in law, you know ... it might not even be theft. Have you been to fetch them in yet? They will all be perfectly unharmed, I can assure you.”
“I believe they have been recovered. In light of the fact that you did steal those things and yes, it does very much count as stealing, you can understand why I currently doubt your word, can’t you?”
Pegsworth looked worried. “But I am telling the truth now,” he said, a hurt whine creeping into his voice.
“Tell me again.”
“Mr Halifax was my friend,” he said petulantly. “And he introduced me to Mr Froude and persuaded Froude to give me a little work, that was all. Mr Halifax helped me out, as I had once helped him out. I know the work was – is – beneath me. But I can work my way up. I want to learn things.”
“How did Halifax persuade Froude to give you work? There appears to be little love lost between you two.” That was, to Theodore’s mind, the great sticking point. What did Halifax have on Froude? It would possibly give Froude a motive for murder, whatever it was.
“I don’t know. I don’t know their relationship!”
“Froude did not like Halifax,” Theodore said.
“Many people don’t like other people but they still help them out of good Christian charity,” Pegsworth whined. “Montgomery didn’t like Halifax either. Maybe Froude listened to Halifax in spite of himself and decided to help me. People do that.”
Theodore folded his arms. “Indeed. Now tell me what you really do in the business.”
Pegsworth looked affronted. “Nothing strange! Nothing suspicious! Nothing criminal! They gave me little tasks to do, fieldwork, donkeywork, carrying things and all of that.”
Theodore frowned. “How very unsatisfactory. Now, tell me about you and Mr Froude.”
“There’s nothing to tell. You mean last night, our little argument? I don’t know why he takes against me like that. He’s a bully and he sees an easy target.”
“You’d speak out against your employer?”
“You saw what he was like.”
“Yes. And I overheard something else, later, too. When I came to bed, I heard you speaking together.”
Was it Theodore’s imagination or did Pegsworth go pale? He pressed home his advantage. “It seemed to me – and correct me if I have got this wrong – but it seemed to me that Mr Froude wanted to use you to get here. To get to us. To get an invitation to stay at the house. The inn did not have an infestation of fleas at all, did it?”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Look at me! Don’t dodge the question, man. Did the inn have a problem with fleas?”
“I didn’t stay there. I don’t know.”
Heavens, but he was infuriating. Theodore said, “Well, then, answer me this. Did Froude want you to introduce him here?”
“Yes, he did. I didn’t see anything odd about that. You’re the Earl of Calaway.” Was that a note of petulance in Pegsworth’s voice?
“But he seemed angry that Halifax and Montgomery also came.”
Pegsworth shrugged. “He didn’t like Halifax.”
“But Montgomery? He wanted to be here alone. He mentioned my wife. What am I missing?”
“Nothing.”
“They knew one another in London, didn’t they?”
“You’ll have to ask her that.”
“He has a soft spot for her.”
“Many people do. Adelia’s always been a popular sort of woman.” Again that sneering petulance.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
But Pegsworth would not be drawn. Theodore sighed. “Very well. I shall speak to her. But what about you? Why don’t you tell me about my wife? Your sister. Tell me about you and Adelia.”
“There is nothing to tell.”
“She has given you money, has she not?”
“Yes. She helped me to buy this suit. She felt it was not fitting for me to be in a shabby state. I am very grateful to her.”
“Is it true that she has given you money in the past? Money to make you go away?”
“She has never paid me to go away. What a horrible thing to say. Why would she do that?” Pegsworth stood up in agitation, and paced to the window, looking out so that Theodore could no longer see his face.
“Has she given you money in the past?” Theodore insisted.
“From time to time, when I have been in low spots.”
“How much money?”
“I don’t know. What is this?” Pegsworth turned around to face Theodore. “Are you running low on funds yourself, my lord? Do you need me to add it up and pay you back? Is that it?” There was a light of fear and fury in Pegsworth’s beady eyes now, reminding Theodore of a cornered rat, desperately fighting.
“Don’t be stupid. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of things.”
“Who cares? A man is dead, Lord Calaway. My friend is dead, and you know that I will be the next to be killed.”
“I doubt it. If that were t
o happen, it would have happened by now. There have been ample opportunities.”
“Then I am to be framed for the deed! Can’t you see that?”
Theodore wondered if that were a possibility. Again he returned to his earlier idea that Pegsworth made a convenient decoy. He wasn’t very bright, he was vulnerable, friendless and he was expendable. If Theodore were to frame anyone for murder, he’d choose to frame Pegsworth.
“Yet you have stayed here, in spite of the risk,” Theodore said, almost to himself as he stood up to leave.
“Where else would I go? And wouldn’t it make me look more guilty if I left?” Pegsworth snarled back, bitterly. “So are you going to do your job, Lord Calaway, and find the murderer?”
“That’s Inspector Prendergast’s job,” Theodore said. “My job at the moment is to be a husband. Good day, Mr Pegsworth.”
THE COOK AND HER RETINUE had done a marvellous job with that night’s dinner. Harriet cooed over the delicate duck pâté starters, and praised the central display of evergreen branches highly. She had been drinking that afternoon, and Theodore suspected that Adelia had joined her in one or two glasses, for there was an easy relaxation to her face and a propensity to burst into sudden laughter. Her casual manner made Montgomery frown, and Theodore noticed that Froude was watching her intently.
Too intently?
He tried to shake the suspicions from his head. He had no reason to suspect Adelia in any kind of impropriety, none at all, and never had. Logic told him she would never stray. Love told him that, too. He trusted her entirely.
She had never misled him or ...
He gritted his teeth as his glance flickered over Alfred Pegsworth. He turned to Adelia and waited for her to finally pay him some attention.
“How much have you had to drink?” he asked when, at last, she saw that he was looking at her. It wasn’t actually what he had intended to say and his words took him by surprise.
And she had clearly had enough to drink that the question immediately riled her. “Not much,” she said. “Why? My friend is visiting and I have been suffering from my nerves lately. A week ago, someone was bludgeoned to death in my own house. You are lucky that I am not permanently drunk.”
