‘Without a doubt,’ Otto replied, suppressing a smile at Riley’s summation of the legal system, which was very much in accord with his own. Otto didn’t know if Lord Riley was aware of the delicacy of his father’s current circumstances but sensed that his son’s informed opinion had been arrived at long before the demise of the unfortunate Miss Saville. At Riley’s age Otto’s thoughts hadn’t extended beyond the larks he and his fellow pupils got up to at Eton. Oh, and competing for the favours of the female scout who attended to their laundry. Riley was clearly a deeper thinker than Otto had been—which, Otto was obliged to concede, wouldn’t be that difficult.
‘Lord Isaac and Lord Torbay are famous for getting to the truth. I’ve followed their escapades in the newspapers.’ Riley threw himself into a chair. ‘Torbay married a lady whom he saved from the gallows, didn’t he?’
‘He did indeed. You would enjoy meeting Torbay, I expect. He can tell you a lot more about his causes than I can.’
Lord Riley perked up. ‘I should like that.’
‘Excuse me asking, but should you not be at school?’ Otto asked.
‘Measles.’ Lord Riley pointed to his otherwise handsome face upon which the faint outline of spots could still be seen.
‘Ah, bad luck. Are you at Eton?’
‘Yes. Did you attend?’
‘I did. It wasn’t so bad. How do you find it?’
‘I rather like it,’ Lord Riley replied. ‘I enjoy learning, although I wouldn’t be too popular if I shouted about it.’
‘I should say not.’ Otto had found himself in the same situation towards the latter end of his time at Eton and had also known better than to boast to his peers about his thirst for knowledge. ‘I expect you’re keen to rejoin your friends.’
Lord Riley shrugged. ‘It’s been interesting spending a few days with my father. Can’t recall doing so before now.’
Interesting rather than enjoyable? Otto wondered about that. ‘You know why I am here, I presume.’ Otto was aware that Lord Riley had attended the theatre with his father and met the unfortunate young women. Whether he knew that his father might be charged with her murder was less certain. If he did, he was very relaxed about the possibility.
Lord Riley nodded. ‘The actress that my father took an interest in was killed.’
It was impossible for Otto to decide from Lord Riley’s bland expression whether he understood the precise nature of his father’s interest. He was far better at concealing the true nature of his feelings than Otto had been at the same age. Otto’s main challenge in his chosen career was to keep his emotions under close guard—an absolute requirement for any aspiring barrister. Otto had grown up in a close-knit family and never thought twice about airing his grievances if something bothered them. He had been told on more than one occasion that he was easier to read, and far more entertaining, than the majority of books.
‘What did you make of her?’ Otto asked. ‘I never met her so would value your opinion. I saw her perform once but I was up in the gods and didn’t get a good look at her. Superb actress, though.’
‘Indeed she was.’
Lord Riley fell into momentary silence, plucking absently at his lower lip, presumably formulating a response to Otto’s question. If Otto had he been introduced to a woman who was beautiful, vivacious and naturally flirtatious, as well as being closer to Riley’s age than his father’s, he would have been overwhelmed by the experience and would not have hesitated to say as much. There again, if Lord Riley knew or suspected that she was his father’s mistress, it put a different complexion on matters. He might not approve. He might be concerned about his mother’s reaction if she learned of the affair. He might even be jealous.
‘She seemed distracted, I suppose,’ he said pensively. ‘Everyone crowded into her dressing room to congratulate her upon her performance—which was excellent, by the way. She was very charming and gracious, but I got the impression that she was preoccupied.’ Lord Riley lifted his shoulders. ‘Don’t ask me how or why I reached that conclusion. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since Father told me she was dead, but I am no nearer to discovering what made me feel that way.’
‘You and your father were, presumably, the most prestigious people in the room.’
‘I suppose we must have been,’ Lord Riley responded with a casual elevation of one shoulder. ‘I don’t really think in those terms. I either like people or I do not.’
‘You liked Miss Saville?’
‘I admired her skill as an actress. I didn’t converse with her for long enough to decide about her as a person.’ He sighed. ‘And now I shall never have that opportunity, which is perhaps just as well.’
‘Did you notice any other men in the room taking a particular interest in Miss Saville?’
Lord Riley widened his eyes. ‘You think the man who murdered her might have been there, watching us?’
It was Otto’s turn to shrug. ‘I have no way of knowing. It’s just that everyone says she was in great demand. That would have created jealousies in a possessive man.’
‘There was a man there who was her agent, I seem to recall. His name was…’ Lord Riley’s brow crinkled with the effort of recollection. ‘Barton,’ he said, snapping his fingers. ‘That was his name. He seemed possessive of Miss Saville, but there was a small man with him who watched her the entire time. He put me in mind of a cat stalking its prey. He was a rough sort and I took against him without even speaking to him. Now, what was his name?’
‘Felsham,’ said a voice from the doorway. ‘Frederick Felsham. He runs a small repertory company.’
Otto turned to see a fleshy individual framed in the open doorway. There could be no doubt that this was the marquess, even though his features bore little resemblance to those of his handsome young son. Well, Otto assumed they did not. It was hard to tell, since it was clear from the craggy landscape of his face that he had barely slept, and the puffiness around his eyes all but hid them from view.
‘You must be Milton.’ The marquess extended his hand. ‘Good of you to come. I am acquainted with your father. How is he?’
‘Temperamental as ever,’ Otto shook the marquess’s hand. ‘Otto Milton, at your service, my lord.’
‘You’ve met my son Riley?’
‘Indeed, we’ve had a pleasant conversation.’
The marquess threw himself into a chair. The signs of strain were visible in his poise as well as his features. Since there was every possibility that he would be arrested for murder, Otto could understand why.
‘Why were you asking about Felsham?’ Chichester asked.
‘Merely, to—’
‘Leave us for now, Riley.’
The young man looked to be about to protest, thought better of it, excused himself and left the room.
‘Intelligent young man,’ Otto remarked.
The marquess shrugged a meaty shoulder. ‘He’s a second son,’ he said, as though that somehow lessened the boy’s value.
Otto’s initial impression of the marquess was not favourable, and he wondered why Isaac and Lord Torbay were considering taking up his cause. Still, he reminded himself, it didn’t do to get personally involved. He would acquit himself to the best of his ability in the hope that his services would get him noticed and grant him inclusion in Lord Torbay’s elite vigilante group.
‘I was attempting to establish if anyone else had reason to kill Miss Saville,’ Otto said, his deliberate candour intended to remind Chichester of the problems he faced.
‘Ah, I see what you mean.’
‘Your son mentioned the agent and Felsham.’
‘Felsham wanted Connie to tour with his company. It was too small a concern for her to take an interest in it, and I advised her not to. Quite apart from anything else, it would have taken her away from London for weeks at a time.’ Otto nodded, thinking that it would also have taken her away from the marquess. A compelling reason, in his view, to accept a role that was beneath her. ‘It wouldn’t have done anything to
enhance her career, being seen with such a ragtag outfit, but she actually seemed to be thinking about it. We argued the point.’
‘Your son implied that Miss Saville’s agent and Felsham were together when he was introduced to the young lady. Were they friends?’
The marquess shrugged. ‘I have no idea. Can’t say I’ve ever thought about it.’
‘I would implore you to do so now, Lord Chichester. Superintendent Dowd is calling upon you as a courtesy, but I need hardly remind you that you are their most likely suspect in the young woman’s killing.’
‘Don’t talk such utter rot! I am a man of consequence, not without influential friends. They can’t just throw out unsubstantiated claims of that nature. Not against me.’
Otto started to realise why Isaac had warned him about the man’s arrogance, to say nothing of his volatile temper. ‘Can they not? You were at her rooms not long before she was found and you were heard arguing with her. They will be quick to suggest that you were violently jealous about her decision to tour with a company that would take her away from you. And believe me,’ Otto added, fixing the indignant marquess with a steely look. ‘If they cannot find an alternative suspect, they will publicly arrest you, regardless of who you are.’ Otto took a slow breath as he allowed the marquess to absorb that disquieting fact. ‘Now, I’ll ask you again, what can you tell me of the association between Barton and Felsham?’
‘They were frequently together, now I come to think about it,’ Chichester replied, regaining some of his composure.
‘Barton encouraged Miss Saville to tour with Felsham’s company?’
‘I think he did. Connie told me he thought it would be good for her to seen in the regions. That it would enhance her reputation. Utter rubbish, if you ask me, which Barton did not, even though he knew that Connie was dependent upon my protection. Damn it, I should have insisted that she had nothing to do with Felsham!’
‘We have no idea whether Felsham had anything to do with her death, sir, but it gives us somewhere to start digging.’
‘The more dirt that sticks to that grubby little man, the less likely suspicion is to fall on me.’ Chichester sat a little straighter. ‘Quite so.’
‘Was there anyone else who took a particular interest in Miss Saville? It is not uncommon for successful actresses to collect quite a following of admirers. Is it possible that one of them became over-possessive?’
The marquess lifted a meaty shoulder. ‘She had theatrical types hanging around her rooms all the time. That was another aspect of her behaviour I found distasteful. I cannot think of anyone in particular but I was constantly obliged to remind her of the dangers—’
Their conversation was interrupted by the announcement of Superintendent Dowd’s arrival. Otto stood as the small, squat man he had seen in court a few times strode into the room. He was surprised to discover that he had come alone. That surprise diminished when he observed the interest that the superintendent failed to disguise in his surroundings and the sycophantic manner in which he made himself known to the marquess. Otto need not have been there for all the attention the superintendent paid him.
Otto remained standing as the two men seated themselves and the questioning, if it could be described as such, commenced. Every other word that the superintendent uttered was phrased as an apology.
‘You understand, I feel sure, my lord, that we must discuss the young woman’s unfortunate demise with you, distasteful though the entire business is.’
Demise. Distasteful. Otto struggled to remain impassive. The woman had been murdered, strangled. The superintendent made it sound as though she had slipped in the bath.
‘Of course you have to talk to me. She was a slight acquaintance of mine,’ the marquess lied smoothly, confidence replacing the earlier pathos in his expression, presumably because he sensed he could control the nature of the interview. ‘I visited her the evening before she died, as I am sure you have been told.’
Otto refrained from shaking his head at the ease with which the marquess manipulated the facts, without actually telling lies. He had visited the evening before but neglected to mention that he had remained until noon on the day her body was found. Dowd probably knew it too, since he had spoken to the porter, but chose not to raise the point.
‘Indeed, my lord. It was gracious of you to make that fact known to us yourself.’
Disgusted, Otto reminded himself that he was there to protect Chichester’s interests, not raise doubts about his integrity. He somehow managed to remain silent—not that Chichester needed any help, since he’d clearly got the measure of Dowd and had him right where he wanted him—eating out of his hand.
‘No more than my civic duty, superintendent. Once I recovered from the shock of hearing the news, I realised it straight away.’
‘How did you hear, my lord, just as a matter of interest?’
‘Miss Larson sent word.’
‘I see. Now tell me, if you would be so good, how did…’
Otto strode to the window, seething with anger. The superintendent wrote nothing down and seemed to take every word Chichester spoke as gospel. A social climber extraordinaire, which would be a good thing if the ultimate decision to bring a prosecution against the marquess rested in Dowd’s hands, Otto supposed. Not that any prosecution was likely to happen. The superintendent was clearly of the view that no one from the upper classes would stoop to something as degrading as murder. In Chichester’s case, Otto was starting to have his doubts. He tried to hide his disgust as he watched Chichester work his charm upon the policeman, forcing a glass of mead upon him even though it was not yet eleven in the morning.
‘I doubt whether there will be any further need to inconvenience you, my lord,’ Dowd said, raising his glass in a salute to the marquess. ‘And I will do everything in my power to keep your name out of the investigation.’
‘Good, good. Knew I could depend upon you.’ To the best of Otto’s knowledge, the marquess and Dowd had not met before, so Otto wondered how Chichester could have reached that conclusion. ‘Dreadful business. I was fond of the girl, of course, but I suppose these actor types find themselves rubbing shoulders with unsavoury characters from time to time without realising the dangers they may face.’
Indeed they do, Otto thought, eyeing the marquess with distaste.
When the superintendent had taken his leave, Chichester appeared like a different person.
‘There, glad that’s out of the way.’ Otto had declined the offer of a glass of mead when he first arrived, and did so again when it was repeated. He would not imbibe with a man he neither liked nor respected. Chichester shrugged and refilled his own glass. ‘Don’t suppose I need to worry Torbay or Arnold with my problem now. It’s all taken care of. Perhaps you’d tell them that and pass on my thanks.’
Otto left the house, not only shaking his head in renewed astonishment at the man’s pomposity but also harbouring grave doubts regarding his innocence. Chichester may well have decided to dispense with Torbay’s services, but Otto wasn’t yet prepared to give up his efforts to get to the truth. Someone had to think about the dead actress and find justice for her family. He hailed another hansom to take him to Highgate. He would decide if he was on a hiding to nothing only after he had spoken to the dead woman’s sister.
***
‘Stop fretting so, gal. All that marching up and down and muttering beneath your breath achieves nothing other than to wear a hole in my rugs. It certainly won’t bring your headstrong sister back.’
‘Your sympathy quite overwhelms me, Grandmamma.’
‘Enough of the sarcasm, miss. She brought it on herself. I tried to warn her—’
Sophia Larson lost the battle to keep her temper in check in the face of her grandmother’s indifference to Connie’s fate. ‘You are a heartless old woman!’ She swirled on her heel and levelled a finger at the diminutive woman sitting beside the fire in her small front parlour, her gnarled hands folded neatly in her lap and her dignity unaffected by
Connie’s death. ‘I declare you don’t have an ounce of compassion in your entire body.’
‘Your sister chose her path. I told her how it would end if she mixed with those…those theatrical types.’
‘Oh, so she brought this upon herself, did she?’ Sophia’s eyes blazed. ‘She deserved to be brutally murdered.’
‘That isn’t what I said. You’re still overset. That’s not to be wondered at, given that it was you who found the lass.’
‘I am not overset, nor am I about to swoon or lose my senses. I most decidedly do not swoon and despise women who do. What I am is hopping mad at everyone’s total indifference. Connie had a rare and special talent. It would have been a criminal waste for her to suppress it in order to protect my family’s finer feelings. It is not as if we are anything other than middle-class, so I really don’t understand the need to keep up the appearance of normality when we both know that our family members are constantly at loggerheads.’
‘Because you girls don’t know the meaning of obedience. Connie’s place was at home in Hertfordshire with her family until such time as she received an offer of marriage. As is yours.’
‘Times are changing, Grandmamma. Marriage is not the panacea that generations before us have insisted that it is.’
The old lady sniffed. ‘And look where those changed times got your sister,’ she said with a triumphant smirk.
‘Oh, this is insufferable!’ Sophia resisted the urge to drag her fingers through her hair in exasperation. ‘I would very much like to have five minutes alone in a room with Lord Chichester. I suspect that is the only way that justice will be achieved.’
‘And yet he was the first person you contacted when you found your sister’s carcass.’
‘That was a miscalculation. I wasn’t thinking straight. It didn’t occur to me in my state of shock that he might actually have killed her. But all I managed to achieve was to give him advance warning so that he could cover his tracks. Not that he would have needed me to tell him anything, because he already knew—’
Social Graces (Victorian Vigilantes Book 5) Page 4
