Social Graces (Victorian Vigilantes Book 5)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Who the devil are you?’

  Jake leaned his head around the door and introduced them both. Their names elicited an immediate change in Felsham’s attitude. His surly expression gave way to a smile as wooden as the performance given by the actors they had just seen on stage.

  ‘How can I be of service, gentlemen?’ he asked, standing. Despite the fact that his hair had been carefully styled to add to his stature, his head still didn’t reach Jake’s shoulder. ‘I live in hope that you have enjoyed one of our productions, recognise talent when you see it, and are anxious to invest.’

  ‘Unfortunately not.’

  ‘Ah well.’ Felsham visibly deflated. ‘Then what else could possibly bring gentlemen of your stature to my door?’

  ‘Is there somewhere more comfortable where we can talk?’ Jake asked. The small office would not accommodate the three of them and the noise, the shouting and stamping around coming from the auditorium was off-putting.

  ‘This way.’

  Felsham led them through a series of corridors and into what was obviously a dressing room. Costumes hung on a rail and there were pots of face paint littering the surface in front of a mirror. But at least there was just about enough space for them all to sit down, and the added bonus of daylight struggling to filter through a small, grimy window.

  ‘Now then,’ Felsham said, folding his hands neatly in his lap and regarding them expectantly.

  ‘We represent Miss Larson,’ Jake said.

  ‘Ah, my poor, dear Connie. It’s a tragedy. All my hopes rested on her capable and very lovely shoulders. Now, alas, I fear the worst for the company’s survival. We have been struggling and…’

  ‘Forgive me, I mean no disrespect,’ Otto said, surprised by the man’s candour, ‘but was an actress of Miss Saville’s stature really considering allying herself to…well, to this?’ He waved his hand in the direction of the rehearsal, the shouting still faintly audible.

  ‘We are not always this disorganised,’ Felsham replied, less than convincingly. ‘And her involvement would have brought out the best in everyone. Even Robert.’ He looked as though he wished rather than believed it to be the truth. ‘Probably.’

  ‘Why would she risk her reputation?’ Otto asked. ‘Again, I don’t mean to be impolite, but it would have been a reckless gamble, and one that she didn’t need to take.’

  ‘Well, that’s as maybe, but she had almost decided in our favour. There were just one or two things she had to settle first.’

  ‘What things?’ Jake asked.

  ‘I’m not altogether sure.’ Felsham shrugged. ‘Matters of a personal nature, I was led to believe. Her mentor, Lord Chichester, was adamantly opposed to her touring with us. The man lacks vision and is selfish, willing to hold her back for his own convenience.’

  ‘Perhaps he thought that associating herself with your company would harm her career,’ Jake suggested mildly.

  ‘Look, the fact of the matter is that I discovered Connie, gave her the start she needed to get herself noticed and so she owed me.’

  ‘I thought Barton first noticed her,’ Jake said.

  ‘Ha, that’s what he tells everyone but if she didn’t feel indebted to me, why was she willing to do a season with us? I’ll tell you why,’ he added, wagging a finger at Jake. ‘Because she was loyal. Unlike most actresses who make a name for themselves, Connie didn’t forget those that helped her when she needed it the most, and was willing to repay that debt.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Otto asked.

  ‘She came here for an audition, right here in this very hall, and lit the place up with her presence. Only once in a blue moon do you see a natural talent like that. I knew she would make her mark and offered her a small part in a production we were doing in Shoreditch. My friend Barton happened to be at the performance, saw in Connie the same thing that I did and offered to represent her. He was a force to be reckoned with even then, so of course Connie took up his offer. But she promised me that she would come back and do a season with us at a later time and…well, I am aware that words are cheap. She might have meant it at the time, only to think the better of it once she was established. Most people in Connie’s position would have forgotten all about our little repertory, but I always knew she’d keep her word. I had the right play for her, she read it and was enthusiastic about it.’ Felsham sighed. ‘Now I don’t know what will happen to us.’

  ‘Your friend Barton encouraged her to do the season?’ Jake asked.

  ‘I think so…’ Felsham paused, not looking as sure as he sounded. ‘He did have a couple of other offers that he wanted her to consider, but when he brought her to see me he encouraged her to keep her word.’

  Jake ran out of questions, thanked the man and he and Otto left the rehearsal rooms.

  ‘Well, I think we can safely cross Felsham off our list,’ Otto said with conviction.

  ‘Not so fast.’

  ‘What, surely you can’t suspect him? He had everything to gain from Connie remaining alive. His company looks on the brink of collapse to me. He’s right about one thing, though. Connie treading the same boards as that lot would have breathed new life into the enterprise.’

  ‘Unless she decided to renege on her promise after all and Felsham knew it.’ A cab swerved towards the curb in response to Jake’s signal and the two men climbed into it. ‘Didn’t you notice that pile of posters on the floor, advertising the forthcoming production starring Connie?’

  ‘No, I can’t say that I did.’ Otto gave a rueful shrug. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No need to be. There was a black line drawn through Connie’s name and her replacement’s name written in by hand.’

  Otto flexed his brows. ‘Already?’

  ‘Precisely. Barton assured Felsham that Connie would do the season, so he’d started publicising the fact. If Connie then decided against the tour and told Felsham, who had invested his hopes for the future of his company in her participation, I can’t see him taking it lying down. He’s a small man, and in my experience small men generally have a point to prove. Connie withdrawing would have been humiliating, but Connie dying in mysterious circumstances would bring the ghouls to his productions in droves.’

  ‘My god, you’re right! I must learn to think as cynically as you do.’

  ‘Always look for alternative truths beneath whatever a witness tells you,’ Jake replied. ‘People are motivated by greed, jealousy and revenge, not necessarily in that order. Anyway, it’s late, we’ll return home now and leave Woodford until tomorrow. The ladies will be anxious to know what progress we have made.’

  Chapter Eight

  In finding the courage to visit her sister’s apartment, Sophia felt as though she had taken the first step in accepting that Connie really was gone from her life permanently. She had lost her confidante, had no one to look up to and admire, to laugh with and emulate. No one to encourage her to forget convention and follow her own dreams.

  ‘You look exhausted,’ Olivia said, smiling over her teacup at Sophia. ‘Why do you not rest for an hour or two? The gentlemen will be a while yet, I expect.’

  ‘Thank you, but if I close my eyes…well, I can’t control the images that flash through my head. I am better off remaining occupied.’ She managed a brief, returning smile. ‘If sitting in this lovely room, drinking tea and conversing with you counts of an occupation.’

  ‘I understand completely. I had the same problem when Marcus died.’

  ‘And having me foisted upon you brings it all back.’ Sophia returned her own cup to its saucer and gave an apologetic shrug. ‘That was not my intention.’

  Olivia waved her apology aside. ‘It was not your intention to come here at all, but I am glad that Otto convinced you to trust him. It doesn’t do to be alone at such times, take it from one who knows. I was convinced that I didn’t need anyone else intruding upon my grief, but I found that having too much solitude in which to dwell upon one’s regrets is not the answer.’

  ‘Yes, perhap
s, but this is not your fight.’

  Olivia’s eyes sparkled. ‘I rather think Otto has decided to make it so.’

  Sophia had no idea what Olivia meant by that cryptic remark and felt a headache threatening when she tried to make sense of it. Mr Milton had been very kind, very gentlemanly, but she was barely acquainted with him. He had only involved himself in the investigation to ensure Lord Chichester’s good name was not tarnished by association, and she had rather cynically supposed that he insisted upon her remaining with the Torbays to prevent her from running to the newspapers with unsubstantiated allegations.

  Now she no longer knew what to think. Otto Milton distracted her with his provocative expressions and tantalising smiles. Could his protectiveness really be part of a ploy to protect Chichester’s interests? Had she been taken in by it like a naïve fool, giving him cause to laugh behind her back at the ease with which he was able to manipulate her? Why else would he bother with someone so far below him on the social scale? She would do well to remember that fact and not get carried away with fanciful notions.

  Sophia decided that she was not a very nice person. Her sister had been murdered not two days since, but instead of being prostrate with grief she seemed intent upon daydreaming about unattainable ambitions. There again, Connie would probably approve. She had often lectured Sophia about being too serious, reminding her that youth was fleeting and ought to be enjoyed.

  ‘Would you like to send word to your parents or your grandmother, just to reassure them that you are safe?’ Olivia asked.

  ‘Absolutely not!’ Sophia put a hand to her mouth. ‘Pardon my rudeness. Thank you, but my father has made his position with regard to Connie crystal clear and I am still too angry about Grandmamma’s indifference to worry about her finer feelings.’

  Olivia assured her that no offence had been taken. ‘That is what I thought you would say.’

  ‘You don’t disapprove of my rebellion?’

  Olivia smiled. ‘If anyone is being inconsiderate, it is most certainly not you. Now, I—’

  ‘Mama!’ A whirlwind burst through the doors and a young boy hurled himself at Olivia, smelling of rank pond water, carelessly dripping more water in his wake. What appeared to be weed clung to his mop of curls. ‘We have been to the park and I almost fell in the pond.’

  ‘Only almost?’ Olivia smiled, gathering the boy onto her lap, mindless of his damp, smelly clothing and kissing the top of his tousled head. Sophia watched Olivia fussing over her son and felt a moment’s envy for the closeness she had never known with her own mother.

  ‘I expect that’s because you insisted upon trying to snare one of the fishes when you know you must not.’

  The boy nodded. ‘But, Mama, it’s cold in the water. I wanted to make them warm.’

  ‘An admirable ambition, Tom,’ his mother replied, keeping her lips commendably straight. ‘But fish are different to us. They like being cold.’

  Tom’s wide eyes regarded Olivia with confusion. ‘Why?’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘We have a guest, Tom. Stand up and make your bow to Miss Larson. Sophia, this is my very badly behaved son, Tom.’

  Sophia bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing when the small boy swept a dashing bow. ‘How do you do, Miss Larson?’ he asked politely.

  ‘I do very well indeed, Master Tom, and am pleased to make your acquaintance.’

  ‘Do you like fish? My Papa likes fish and he taught me how to catch them. But I don’t like them having hooks through their mouths. I like putting worms on the hooks, though.’

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ Sophia said, sharing a smile over his head with Olivia.

  ‘Oh, here comes Nanny.’ Tom flashed a mischievous grin. ‘I got away from her. I’m not supposed to come in here unless I’m clean and tidy. But I don’t like being clean and tidy, do you? I suppose I shall have to go up to the nursery now but it’s very dull because I have to be quiet because the baby sleeps all the time.’

  ‘I expect you did too when you were a baby,’ Sophia said gravely.

  ‘Probably, but I don’t now. There’s too many things to do.’

  ‘I can confirm that much,’ Olivia said, shooing her son off in the direction of the maid who stood in the doorway.

  ‘Sorry my lady.’ The maid eyed the trail of water with resignation. ‘I swear he’s more slippery that an eel.’

  Tom giggled and made slithering motions towards the door.

  ‘I understand there might be ice cream for tea, Nanny, for boys who behave and don’t make too much noise,’ Olivia said. ‘Did I get that right?’

  ‘I believe you did, my lady.’

  ‘Ice cream!’ Tom shouted, seeming to forget that its production was dependent upon peace and quiet.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Olivia said, smiling as the door closed behind her exuberant child. ‘He has an excess of energy that defies our best efforts to exhaust it.’

  ‘He is a young boy, and all young boys have a duty to be rumbustious. How old is he?’

  ‘Four. He is the only thing I don’t regret about my first marriage. Jake has given him his name but our own son is Jake’s actual heir. You will meet him later and I depend upon you to admire him.’

  ‘I am sure he is the most beautiful and best behaved baby in all of London.’

  ‘Naturally.’ Olivia beamed. ‘Anyway, I want to again suggest that you allow me to loan you a gown for this evening.’

  ‘This evening?’ Sophia wondered what she meant. ‘Oh, I see. No, don’t worry. I shall not dine with you and Lord Torbay. You deserve a respite from my travails.’

  ‘Nonsense! Now is not the time for you to be alone. Besides, Mr Milton will dine here too and I expect you will want to hear about their discoveries. Unless you press them, you can be sure they will only tell you as much as they think you should hear. Gentlemen have an annoying habit of being over-protective. Jake and I have had endless disputes over the matter.’

  Sophia fell silent, wondering how she would feel sitting at the earl’s dinner table, and if he would resent her presence at it, tolerated only for his wife’s sake. She had never envisaged finding herself in that situation. Connie was a different matter. She had perfected the social graces, and was comfortable mixing in all levels of society. She said it was expected of her and if she felt nervous she could fall back on her acting skills and pretend to be playing a part. Sophia could not rely upon similar skills.

  Even so, the thought of the gentlemen keeping anything from her was insupportable. Accepting that she wouldn’t get anywhere trying to discover who killed Connie on her own didn’t mean that she intended to be excluded from the investigation. The added attraction of spending the evening in Mr Milton’s company decided her. She would have her turbulent emotions under better control by the time she saw him again and would die before she gave him any indication of the inappropriate nature of her feelings. Feelings that existed entirely as a result of the grief she was attempting to contain and the unusual circumstances in which she now found herself. Thinking about anything other than her devastating loss helped her to retain her composure, and Mr Milton just happened to be the most convenient distraction.

  Absolutely nothing more.

  ‘Very well. If you are sure. Thank you. But we mustn’t overlook the fact that I am in mourning and so should probably wear a suitably sombre colour.’

  ‘If you like. But I expect your sister would thoroughly disapprove. From what you have told me about her character, I very much doubt if she would accord with the traditional view, especially since we are not expecting company.’ Olivia stood. ‘Come upstairs with me. I am sure we will be able to find something that doesn’t offend your sensibilities.’

  ***

  Jake had the hansom detour to Otto’s rooms in Brooke Street, where he left the younger man to attend to his other duties.

  ‘I shall see you in a few hours,’ Otto said, raising a hand in farewell.

  Otto had accepted Jake’s invitation to dine that evening
. Jake allowed himself a small smile as he rapped on the cab’s roof with the handle of his cane. The jarvey whipped up his horse and turned it in a tight circle, ignoring the inconvenience to other road-users as he temporarily blocked it before heading in the direction of Grosvenor Square.

  Jake suspected that Otto’s ready acceptance of the invitation didn’t spring solely from the desire to mull over their discoveries thus far in the hope of identifying Miss Saville’s killer. Unless Jake mistook the matter, the prospect of spending time in Miss Larson’s company was at least as appealing to Isaac’s junior. His smile turned into a full-throated chuckle as he attributed the credit to Olivia for the turn his thoughts had taken. Before becoming a happily married man himself, Otto’s interest in Miss Larson would have most likely escaped his notice.

  Parker admitted Jake to the house, took his outer garments from him and followed him into his library.

  ‘Where are the ladies?’ Jake asked, throwing himself into the chair behind his desk and looking without much enthusiasm at the pile of papers his secretary had left for his attention.

  ‘Upstairs discussing gowns, I think.’

  ‘Ah, well in that case we shall not see them for a while.’

  ‘Most likely not.’

  Jake motioned Parker into the chair in front of his desk and explained what progress they had made.

  ‘You think this Stoker fellow is up to his grubby little neck in the matter?’ Parker asked.

  ‘I think he has his eye to the main chance.’ Jake paused, scowling at memories of the man’s evasive behaviour. ‘He definitely knows more about Connie’s death and the regular visitors to her rooms than he admitted.’

  Parker growled. ‘Leave him to me.’

  ‘Subtlety is called for, Parker.’ Jake held up a warning hand. ‘The man’s a coward, and if you put too much pressure on him, he’ll tell you want he thinks you want to hear. I would much prefer the truth, especially since I suspect he conducts a lucrative little side line in various ways with visitors to more than one of those apartments. Just have him watched for a few days and see whom he consorts with.’