“It may yet. I have been too occupied to pursue the matter. Furthermore, although the other doors seem more likely, it is one of the ways into the house and should not be altogether discounted.”
Lord Francis sighed. “What else?”
His tone provoked Ottilia into a mischievous mood. “I wish I had something worthy of such resigned fatality. But alas, there is only Abel’s mysterious voice.”
“Mysterious voice? Oh, dear Lord! Enlighten me, I beg.” A gurgle escaped Ottilia, but she caught sight of the dowager, who looked as if she might explode at any moment, and hastily swallowed her mirth.
“Pardon me, ma’am. It is no matter for laughter, I know. The case is, Lord Francis, that Abel has belatedly recalled that he left his bed in the small hours for the purpose of going to fetch a glass of water. He never reached the kitchens, it appears, for he heard an odd sort of gargling noise and a man’s voice.”
“For pity’s sake!” Wrath had succeeded the resignation. “Why the devil could he not have spoken of this before?”
“It seems he had little sleep that night, and in the press of the morning’s events, it escaped his memory. He was aware that this would cause a degree of censure.”
“I imagine he might well have been. Tell me it all, if you please.”
Ottilia gave him the gist of her interview with Abel, and was relieved that he chose to take an opposite view to that of Sybilla.
“It could be damning, I daresay. But we may equally suppose this mysterious voice of Abel’s belonged to another as to Randal. Especially taking into account your observations upon the scene. What of the timing? Does this point to a later hour than we suspected?”
“Unfortunately we are unable to pinpoint the time,” Ottilia said regretfully. “The best Mary Huntshaw could do was to suggest it was after one in the morning when the marchioness came home. Abel puts the marquis’s arrival after two. We can therefore say only that the quarrel must have taken place somewhere between two and three, at which point your sister-in-law was still alive. She was definitely dead by the time Sukey left the chamber as the clock struck seven. Although Cattawade is uncertain about the time he was asked to fetch brandy from the cellar, from the testimony of Abel and Turville in the stables, I think we can assume the carriage was sent for around four or a little later.”
“Which means there is a good clear hour between three and four during which Emily could have received another man in her chamber,” said Lord Francis eagerly.
The dowager snorted. “Who then killed her before walking calmly out of the room, according to Abel.”
“We do not know he was calm,” said Ottilia. “Abel merely stipulated the turning of the door handle. There were no footsteps. Therefore our murderer must have crept to the door as quietly as he could. That does not necessarily suggest a calm state of mind.”
“It suggests a guilty one.”
“Perhaps.”
Lord Francis suddenly slapped a hand on the arm of the sofa. “One moment! We are placing the time of the murder between Randal’s leaving Emily and his leaving the house altogether. Why should the lover not have been in her room after that?”
“Regretfully,” said Ottilia, “because it does not square with Abel’s voice, which came before. Recollect that he was the one to be sent to rouse them at the stables, after which he made no attempt to go back to bed.”
“And let us not forget,” added the dowager, “that Pellew says the time of death could readily have been earlier than four.”
Lord Francis’s disappointment was so obvious that Ottilia felt impelled to comment upon it. “Pray don’t despair, sir. I am sure we have a trick or two yet to play.”
He nodded. “I am too tired to think clearly. Is this all of your current findings?”
“I’m afraid it is.” Although it was not quite all of her thoughts, but these she preferred to keep to herself for the moment. Remembering her interview with the housekeeper, she added, “Oh, except that Mrs. Thriplow gave me to understand that the marquis and his wife had never enjoyed an affectionate relationship.”
“You may say so with confidence,” Sybilla said with candour. “I had reason enough to regret that Polbrook — my late husband, I mean — made the alliance, but it was a settled thing for years. Randal could nor have wriggled out of it, even had he wished to.”
“Did he ever express such a wish, ma’am?”
The dowager shrugged. “Boys can always be counted upon to wish to marry some quite unsuitable creature, but there was nothing serious.”
Ottilia glanced quickly at Lord Francis, wondering that he kept silent. She tried to read his expression but found it bland. Perhaps his plea of tiredness was indeed to be taken at face value. He had driven a great distance. If he knew anything, on the other hand, he clearly had no intention of revealing it before his mother.
“Meanwhile,” he said, as if he had been thinking of something quite other, “what is our next move?”
Ottilia could not resist. “Your next move, my lord. You cannot expect your mama and me to do all the work.”
Francis eyed the companion with misgiving. “I mistrust that look in your eye, Mrs. Draycott. Just what is in your mind?”
An unmistakable look of mischief crept into her features, and Francis was conscious of the oddest sensation to which he could not have put a name. As if a jug of warm water had been trickled onto his chest.
“I think it is time to go out into the world to hunt out suspects. Do you belong to a gentleman’s club? Of course you must. White’s?”
“Brooks’s,” he countered. “You are suggesting I visit my club. And do what? Ask around to find if anyone there has been so careless as to make Emily his mistress and strangle her?”
“Don’t be an imbecile, Fanfan.”
“Well, dear Lord! All I will get is half the fools of London gaping, and the other half offering commiserations to which I have no notion how to respond. I won’t do it.”
“I hope you will think better of that decision, my lord, for it is imperative that we shift our ground.”
There was no reproach in Mrs. Draycott’s voice, but her clear gaze made him feel churlish. Yet he was reluctant still. “How will it help?”
She smiled then. “If there is a killer out there, he will approach you. He will not be able to resist.”
Francis was disappointed. “Surely you are not naive enough to suppose that every man who attempts to make his condolences to me must be suspect?”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” his mother cut in. “What in the world are you thinking of, Ottilia?”
She looked from one to the other. “I expressed myself badly perhaps. Of course you must take note of what is said and of the manner of any approach.”
“Discounting, I presume, my immediate circle of friends who are bound to speak of the matter?”
Mrs. Draycott’s eyes opened wide at him. “By no means. Can you swear to every one of your friends?”
“I would like to think so, but I daresay not. How very unsettling.”
“What must he look for, Ottilia?”
Francis began to be interested. Had his mother gauged the measure of this woman more readily than he? He waited while she frowned in thought.
“Most people,” she said at last, “will be reticent, perhaps embarrassed. Or they may speak eloquently, but say very little. It is in the nature of genuine feelings for people to have difficulty in expressing them. Be wary of those who are effusive. That may denote a gossipy disposition, but you will already know who has that tendency. Otherwise, it is likely the effusion is insincere.”
“Ingenious,” Francis commented. “Anything else?”
“It may be too much to hope for, but it is possible someone may hint at your brother’s involvement. Delicacy must keep the subject closed for most, but a guilty man will wish to assure himself that the finger is pointing elsewhere.”
“Gracious, Ottilia, how in the world do you do it?” asked his mother in ac
cents which mirrored his own grudging admiration. “I should never have thought of that in a million years.”
Mrs. Draycott’s laughter caught at some distant chord inside him, one that had not been touched for many a year. He almost missed what she said.
“I assure you there is nothing miraculous in my reasoning. Whenever I wish to analyse human reactions, I think back to the conduct of my nephews. It is like viewing the world in microcosm, but in high relief, for children are much more obvious than their adult counterparts.”
“But you have made a study of adults, too, anyone can tell that,” said the dowager, echoing Francis’s thought.
Then he found Mrs. Draycott was regarding him with amusement in her features. “I am naturally curious, as Lord Francis divined at the outset.”
“Did I so? But I had not supposed you had an ambition to become the prime mover in an investigation of murder when you chose to take up this appointment.” The ripple of laughter sent a wave of warmth through him and a new thought struck. “However,” he added, eyeing her with suspicion, “it has more than once occurred to me that you are taking an uncommon delight in the proceedings.”
A guilty look crossed her face, but mischief leapt in her eyes. “Dear me, am I so obvious? Then I must freely confess that, ghoulish as it may seem, and particularly indelicate of your own and Sybilla’s feelings, I am indeed enjoying myself immensely.”
For the life of him, Francis could not suppress a burst of laughter. For the first time since the start of these horrific proceedings, his mood lightened.
Dinner was enlivened by the presence of Colonel Tretower, who greeted Lady Dalesford with every evidence of pleasure. Ottilia, watching the access of gallantry in the colonel’s manner and the flirtatious response, was highly entertained, despite the dowager’s evident disapproval. Whether this was due to a general tendency to deprecate her daughter’s conduct or to an idea of it being inappropriately lighthearted in the circumstances, Ottilia did not know, but she thought it an excellent thing if it had the effect of dissipating the prevailing atmosphere of gloom. There could be no doubt the countess beguiled the male element wherever she went, for a lively air coupled with her scatterbrained impulsiveness was just the combination to set gentlemen’s heads in a whirl. Added to which, Lady Dalesford was a handsome woman, safely married, and therefore perfect prey for a little harmless dalliance.
It was fortunate, Ottilia felt, that young Lady Candia was not as yet equal to joining the company, for her presence must have cast a damper over this lighter mood.
“I told her she should have a tray in her room,” disclosed the countess in accents of sympathetic concern as she took her place at the table. “The poor child has been weeping her heart out.”
“And you left her?” demanded Sybilla.
“Oh, she is asleep now. Besides, Venner insisted upon sitting with her. You know how she dotes on Candia.”
“None better. She is positively maudlin about that child.”
This caught Ottilia’s attention. “Pardon me, ma’am, but how is this?”
The dowager was engaged in deciding between a dish of chicken and a pie, but she looked round. “How is what?”
“Is it not a trifle odd for your maid to be so very fond of your granddaughter?”
“It would be,” chimed in the countess, “but that Venner was Emily’s personal maid when she came to this house.”
Ottilia was conscious of a leap of hope. “Was she indeed?”
“Oh yes. Venner was in support of Emily when Candia was born. She had no part in the nursing of her, of course, but she became excessively attached to the child.”
From across the table, Lord Francis caught Ottilia’s eye. “What is in your mind, Mrs. Draycott?”
She put out a staying hand. “Presently, if you please, my lord.” She turned to the dowager. “When did Venner come to you then, ma’am?”
Sybilla, having settled upon a portion of pie, looked up from controlling how much Cattawade was laying upon her plate. “I cannot recall exactly. She has been with me these five or six years.”
“At the least, Mama,” put in Lady Dalesford. She leaned towards Ottilia across the colonel, placed between them. “She fell out mightily with Emily. I believe their final quarrel could be heard all over the house.”
“Harriet!”
As the countess turned enquiringly to her mother, Sybilla put a finger to her lips, indicating with a jerk of her head the continued presence of the servants. Ottilia was not much surprised to see Lady Dalesford cast up her eyes, as if the indiscretion were of no account. She was evidently of that order of being, much prevalent in Society, who thought of domestics as so much furniture at any moment when she did not require their services. Which was the main reason, Ottilia reflected, that servants were so well informed about their employers’ affairs. It was an unconscious arrogance, but it dimmed the lustre of the countess a trifle.
She felt indebted to Lord Francis for introducing a less controversial subject.
“How have you fared, George?”
Colonel Tretower gave a little sigh. “Not so very well, I’m afraid.” He glanced from the butler to an attendant housemaid, and hesitated, evidently picking his words with care. “You’ve heard about Bow Street’s move, I take it?”
“Yes, Jardine told us.”
“I tried to dissuade Justice Ingham, saying we had the matter in hand, but he was adamant. I must suppose he is looking to cover his own back.”
“How, pray?” asked the dowager.
“By being seen to have done something, should anyone choose to call him to account, I don’t doubt,” Lord Francis cut in, an edge to his voice.
“Exactly so,” Tretower confirmed.
Sybilla’s look persuaded Ottilia that she was with difficulty suppressing an angry retort. Hardly surprising, for the implication presumed guilt upon the part of her elder son.
“What of the carriage and horses?” asked Lord Francis, changing the subject.
“Ah, there I may reassure you all. They are coming by easy stages and should be here within a day or two.” The colonel paused to take a sip of wine, and when he spoke again it was in a tone carefully neutral. “Now you are returned, Fan, you may wish to arrange for the burial as soon as may be.”
Lord Francis gave a curt nod, but Lady Dalesford was seen to shudder eloquently, while the dowager faltered as she was about to partake of a mouthful of food. Ottilia watched her set it back down upon her plate and press her napkin to her lips, as if to prevent a rise of nausea. She hastened to fill the breach.
“You will be interested to learn, Colonel, that there are several possible ways a lover might have entered the house.” She looked quickly about and found the housemaid had disappeared. “I need not scruple to speak before Cattawade, for he showed me the doors.”
She went on to elaborate upon her discovery and was relieved to find the atmosphere lightening again as Colonel Tretower fell into immediate discussion with Lord Francis as to the likelihood or otherwise of a man having come into the house by any of these routes, in which Lady Dalesford and the dowager soon joined. By the time this had been exhausted, all the dishes had been set upon the table and Lord Francis dismissed the butler.
“We will serve ourselves, Cattawade. I will ring when we are ready for the remove.”
The butler bowed and withdrew, leaving Ottilia at last able to satisfy her curiosity as regards the woman Venner.
“What happened after the quarrel, Lady Dalesford? Did the marchioness turn her out?”
“Gracious, no,” exclaimed the other. “Venner had been with Emily from her girlhood. She would never have dreamed of dismissing her. But Venner refused to remain in her employ. Not that Emily believed she would really leave her, but she did, and you’ve never heard such a rumpus as Emily kicked up. Talk about tantrums. I heard she threw herself on the floor and drummed her heels on the carpet.”
“Poppycock,” snapped the dowager. “Do stop talking twaddle, Har
riet.”
“It isn’t twaddle, Mama. You know very well Emily had a temper like the fiend. I for one am quite ready to believe she indulged in just such a temperamental display.”
Sybilla shrugged and gave her attention to her plate. “If you will listen to servants’ gossip.”
“It isn’t mere gossip,” protested the countess hotly, and turned to her brother. “Francis will bear me out. He has spent enough time in this house to see just how shockingly Emily behaved upon occasion.”
Lord Francis threw up a hand. “Hold me excused, Harriet. Beyond the odd quarrel she had with Randal, I was able, I thank God, to remain ignorant of Emily’s tantrums. Besides, when these events took place, I was probably in America.”
“Yes, carousing with George, I expect,” returned his sister, turning with mock recrimination upon Colonel Tretower.
He grinned. “Pray don’t set Fan’s excesses at my door. In any event, we were far too taken up with fighting the locals to be indulging in carousals.”
Ottilia interrupted a laughing rejoinder, addressing herself to the dowager again. “How came it about that you took Venner on, ma’am?”
Sybilla swallowed a morsel of pie before replying. “My own woman was upon the point of retirement. I daresay Venner knew it, for she came to me and asked to be considered for the post.”
“Did you not question her motive?”
“You may be sure I did. All she saw fit to tell me was that she had fallen out with the marchioness, but that she preferred to remain with the family, if I was agreeable to taking her on.”
“From what I understand of the late Lady Polbrook,” Ottilia said on a dry note, “I cannot imagine she was best pleased.”
“Oh, you must not suppose Mama did not make every attempt to persuade Venner to return to Emily,” chimed in Lady Dalesford. “Indeed, she went to Emily upon the matter, did you not, Mama?”
The dowager nodded. “She made no demur, rather to my surprise. If she had kicked up a dust, there was no sign of it when she spoke to me.”
“Of course not,” put in her daughter irrepressibly. “Emily was terrified of you, Mama. She would never have objected to your face. But I’ll wager she gave Randal snuff afterwards.”
The Lady Fan Series: Books 1-3 (Sapere Books Boxset Editions) Page 16
