by Sara Rosett
“No, sir.”
“What about Viscount Daley? Did you see him during the day?”
Stella looked puzzled for a moment, then she said, “Oh, you mean Mr. Felix—he’s told us to call him that. He’s such a nice gentleman. No, I didn’t see him at all. He doesn’t like to have his room cleaned. He says it interferes with his muse. He was typing, so I didn’t clean his room.”
“How long was he typing?”
“Why, all morning. I took him a tray at one o’clock, and he was still working at teatime too, when Lady Gina rang for me. I took him a tray in the evening as well. He had a stack of typed pages on his desk. He’d been at it all day.”
“But those could have been pages he’d typed any day,” Thorn said in a tone that indicated Stella was too gullible.
“No, sir. They couldn’t be. Mr. Felix burned all the papers in his room the day before. He does that when he’s not happy with his writing. He says it’s cathartic—whatever that means.”
Thorn asked her about the rest of her day, but Stella hadn’t come into contact with either the dowager or even Mrs. Dowd again.
Thorn dismissed her and sent for Clara.
Chapter Twelve
Clara must have been lingering outside the dining room because she arrived within seconds of Thorn sending for her. I hadn’t seen her since Gigi and I had left her in the entry hall. Clara had changed into a plain black dress, which emphasized the dark circles under her eyes. The fabric was too light for winter, but it was probably one of the few black dresses she had. Even though she had on a cardigan, she appeared to be cold. She sat down and wrapped the edges of the sweater so they overlapped, then she crossed her arms over her midsection. Her freckles were prominent against the pallor of her face.
After Clara gave her full name, Clara Hilda Clack, Thorn said, “I understand you were the dowager’s companion and secretary, Miss Clack?”
“Yes. I took care of her correspondence and kept her appointment book, as well as other tasks.”
Like fetching her shawl, I thought, remembering the dowager snapping out commands and Clara jumping up to carry out her orders.
“And do you normally reside here at Alton House?”
“No, I go wherever the dowager goes—I mean, I went wherever she went,” Clara said, a bleak look on her face.
What would happen to Clara? Would Gigi’s parents ask her to stay on and live with them? No wonder Clara looked so wan and worried. Her world had just collapsed.
Clara added, “Normally, we were at the dower house in the village of Altonbury, which is near the family’s estate. But with Lady Gina’s parents being away, the dowager came to London to be here with Lady Gina while they were traveling.”
“Have you always lived with the dowager?” Thorn asked.
“No.” A smile traced across her face. “My mother and I had a cottage in Altonbury. She taught piano and singing, and I lived with her until the War, when I went up to London.”
“You found work?”
“Yes, at an officer’s hospital, doing the washing up in the canteen. I did that for a year, then moved to another post at an airfield.”
Thorn didn’t seem to be interested in Clara’s war work. “You didn’t return to live with your mother after the War?”
“She’d passed, and the dowager suggested I live with her.”
I imagined Clara had little choice in her future, reminding me of how lucky I’d been when I set out to find work. As much as I didn’t want to return to live with my father and stepmother, I did have that option if I wasn’t able to earn my crust in London.
“Tell me about your day yesterday,” Thorn said. “What did you do?”
“I always rise early in case the dowager needs me, but she didn’t ring for me in the morning. I went down to breakfast at half past eight, then returned to my room.”
“You didn’t see the dowager?”
“Not until she rang for me and we went to the dressmaker.”
“Did she have any complaints about her physical health?”
“Only that she had a touch of indigestion.”
“Did you or the dowager have anything to eat while you were out?”
“No. We simply went to the dressmaker and returned to Alton House for luncheon. The dowager said she didn’t want anything to eat, and she would ring for me if she needed me. I spent the afternoon writing replies to correspondence for her. I didn’t see her until I went down to the drawing room for tea.”
“Who was there?”
“It was only the dowager at first. Then Gigi came in.”
I noticed she’d left out the mention of Mr. Quigley. Another yawn came over me, and I couldn’t stifle it. I gave myself a little shake and wished I had a cup of tea to help me stay awake.
“What did the dowager have for tea?” Thorn asked.
“She didn’t want any of the tea cakes or sandwiches. She rang for toast.”
“I see. Go on.”
“Well, there’s not much more to tell. The dowager said she was going to go lie down, and that she didn’t need me to accompany her upstairs. I remained in the drawing room.”
“And that was when the tea tray was knocked over?”
“Yes.” A blush crept up her throat and into her cheeks. “Lady Gina had brought Olive’s parrot to tea.”
Thorn looked up. “Did you say parrot?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And this parrot belongs to Miss Belgrave?”
Clearly, it was another black mark against me for Thorn.
“Yes,” Clara said. “The parrot fluttered his feathers and startled us all.”
“Who knocked over the tea tray?” Thorn asked, his gaze on his notebook.
There was the barest pause, and Thorn looked up as Clara said, “Lady Gina.”
Clara shifted in her chair under Thorn’s silent gaze. After a moment he asked, “When did you next see the dowager?”
“I didn’t see her again. The last time I spoke to her was in the drawing room.”
“I’m told the dowager often had trouble with indigestion,” Thorn said.
“Yes, occasionally.”
“Was there any pattern that you noticed to her discomfort?”
Clara thought again before she answered. “It was usually after she’d had a very rich meal.”
“And was Dr. Benhurst consulted each time she felt ill?”
“Oh, no. Usually Her Grace would feel fine in a few hours. It was nothing severe.” Clara opened her mouth, hesitated, then said, “The maids are saying she was poisoned. Is that true?”
“We don’t have a definitive answer at this time. Did you hear any noise from Viscount Daley’s room?”
“Noise? Do you mean typing? He’s always typing.”
“Did you hear him typing yesterday?”
“Well . . . yes, I suppose so. It’s always there in the background. I hardly notice it at all now.”
Thorn put down his pencil. “That will be all, Miss Clack.”
After she’d left, Thorn sent for Addie, then said to his sergeant, “That one’s lying about something.”
“You think so, sir?”
“People always lie, Sergeant. Usually it’s about little things—embarrassing things—but they’re lies, which complicates our job.” Thorn sighed. “Miss Clack probably knocked over the tea tray herself.”
Addie appeared in the door, and Thorn stood. “Come in, Miss Inglebrook.”
I was surprised at the change in Addie’s appearance. She dragged into the room as if she’d been injured and moving too quickly would cause her pain. She gripped a handkerchief in one hand, and her eyes were pink and puffy. As she took a seat across from Thorn, she asked, “Is it true? The dowager has died?”
“Yes, it is true.”
Addie sat for a moment, her gaze on the polished wood of the table. “I see. That’s what everyone said, but I wasn’t sure . . . it’s so unbelievable . . .” Her voice died away, and I yawned again. I wiggled my shoulders and straightened my s
pine. I had to stay awake. It wouldn’t do for me to drift off. I might miss something, not to mention I’d make a horrible racket if I drifted off and toppled from the bench.
Thorn asked for Addie’s full name.
“Adeline Ophelia Inglebrook.”
“And your address?”
Addie paused. “I’m staying here at the invitation of Gigi.”
“No, I need your address.”
“Things are rather up in the air. My brother and I, well—we don’t have a current residence.” The last few words came rushing out. “We had a flat on the edge of Brompton, but there was a bit of—um—trouble with the rent. Our landlady let us stay as long as possible, but we had to move out last summer. Since then, we’ve had no place to go.”
Surprise washed away some of my sleepiness. I never would have imagined that Inglebrook and Addie didn’t have a home.
Addie hurried on, her words almost tumbling over each other. “Our parents are dead, you see. The only family we have left is an elderly aunt in Northumberland, and her situation is not at all suitable. Her house is very small. It’s a tiny cottage, actually, and there’s no society there at all. If we were to bury ourselves away in the country, we wouldn’t have the opportunity to meet people—suitable people, I mean.”
I knew she meant someone suitable for marriage. She dropped her gaze to her hands and took a deep breath.
“I see,” Thorn said quietly. “So you move from house to house?”
She lifted her head. “Yes, we’ve been relying on the hospitality of our friends.”
“And your brother, is he staying here at Alton House as well?”
“No, he’s lodging with a friend.” She gave Thorn a name and address in Kensington.
“How long have you been at Alton House?”
“Gigi was kind enough to ask me to stay last week.”
“And you’re a close friend of Lady Gina’s?” Thorn’s tone was mild, but he watched Addie carefully as she replied.
Addie hesitated. “No, not in the sense of having been acquainted for a long time. She’s been most welcoming and a wonderful hostess, but I do know she asked me because she enjoys my brother’s company. Inviting me to stay here . . . well, it gives my brother a reason to visit frequently.”
“And your brother and Lady Gina, are you expecting an announcement soon?”
Addie angled her head. “No, I don’t think so. In any case, not now, after the dowager’s death.”
“But Lady Gina and your brother are close?”
Wrinkles cut across Addie’s face as she frowned. “I suppose so, but they’re very jokey about it. It’s hard to tell if there’s any seriousness there at all.”
Thorn nodded and made a note. His tone became brisk. “Tell me about your movements yesterday.”
Addie took a breath and seemed to brace herself. “I breakfasted with Olive and left to go to Hyde Park.”
Thorn said, “So you left Alton House between nine thirty and ten?”
“Yes, I suppose that’s about right.”
Thorn lifted his eyebrows. “Bit early for a stroll in the park. It was quite cold yesterday morning.”
“Rollo had sent a note asking me to meet him there.” Her voice cracked on the last word, then her composure broke completely, and a sob burst out of her. She pressed her handkerchief to her nose and began to cry, her shoulders heaving.
Thorn looked flabbergasted. “Er—Miss Inglebrook?”
Addie drew in a breath, attempted to say something, then sobbed again into her handkerchief. Her ragged weeping was like a dash of cold water and jolted me fully awake. I strained to hear anything she said, but her crying intensified.
Thorn turned away from her to the sergeant, his eyebrows raised. The sergeant shrugged. Thorn turned back to Addie. “Miss Inglebrook, pull yourself together.”
Addie’s shoulders continued to heave.
Thorn said, “Sergeant, see if you can procure a glass of water for Miss Inglebrook. Perhaps there’s something there beyond the screen. Check and see.”
I jumped up, but a quick check of the mirror showed the sergeant was already halfway across the dining room. I didn’t have time to get to the jib door. I gathered my skirts and scuttled under the long table. I hoped the white cloth that was draped over it was long enough to hide me. A pair of polished black shoes and dark pant legs appeared in the opening. I held my breath. I’d been so sleepy and lethargic only moments before, but now energy fizzed through me.
The shoes disappeared, and I forced myself to wait a few seconds before I let out a breath in case the sergeant was standing near the screen. His voice came from across the room, “Nothing there, sir. I’ll ring for a servant.”
I leaned back against the leg of the table. I didn’t want to move an inch for fear that I’d make noise. Addie continued to sob, but her cries were tapering off. By the time a maid arrived, Addie was only sniffling. The click of glass against glass sounded as though someone poured water. Addie blew her nose, thanked the sergeant for the water, then said, “I’m sorry. It’s just all so overwhelming.”
Thorn said, “The death of the dowager has upset you?”
“No.” The fierceness in Addie’s tone drew me out from underneath the table. I lifted the cloth and cautiously crept back to the bench, where I could see the dining room in the mirror. Addie’s eyes were bloodshot, and her face was blotchy, but there was a firmness about her mouth that I hadn’t seen before.
“Then why are you distressed?”
Addie put the glass down with a thud. “Because Rollo has left, and it’s all her fault.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Thorn said. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened from the beginning. Who is Rollo?”
Addie cleared her throat and, after drubbing at her eyes, she said, “Rollo’s full name is Roland Weatherspoon. He sent me a note and asked me to meet him at the Achilles statue.”
Emotion seem to wash over her again, and Thorn quickly said, “Hyde Park, yes. You mentioned that.”
Addie pressed the handkerchief to her eyes. “I had no idea. No idea at all. I felt so light and happy when I left the house. I knew he was about to propose.”
“How did you know that?”
Addie smiled, and even with her blotchy face, she looked pretty. “A girl knows. He’d been giving out little hints. We’d even talked about it a few times . . . how nice it would be to be married and together all the time.” Addie’s gaze dropped. She picked at the hem of her handkerchief. “But when I arrived in the park, Rollo looked awful. I asked if he was ill, but he said no. He had some bad news.”
Her chin wobbled, and she pressed her handkerchief to her mouth for a moment. “He was being sent away on a grand tour. His family can’t afford it, but they’re sending him away to get him away from me. They think I’m unsuitable.”
Surprise showed on Thorn’s features, and Addie added quickly, “I have no dowry, and Rollo’s family insists that he marry money.”
“And you think the dowager had something to do with this decision to send him away?” Thorn asked, puzzled.
“I know she did. She sent a note around to Rollo’s mother and told her we were quite serious. The dowager suggested that they send Rollo away. His mother told him all this, and he told me. Everything had been arranged for his departure that day, a train to the coast and then a channel crossing to France, all accompanied by his valet, who is to see that Rollo doesn’t return. Rollo barely had time to say goodbye to me.” Her voice shifted from sorrow back to determination. “But distance doesn’t matter. We love each other. Rollo will write to me every day, and I to him. When he returns, his family will see that he’ll never marry anyone else, and then they must let us marry.”
I admired her conviction that Rollo would remain true to her, but I wondered if his devotion would last through a grand tour. It was an effective way to break up a young couple. I’d heard of several families using the tactic to end what they termed “ill-suited” liaisons.
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Thorn nodded, but I saw the doubt in his gaze too. “I’m sorry about the turn of events, Miss Inglebrook. What happened after your young man shared this news with you?”
“We had to say goodbye.” She sniffed but didn’t burst into tears again. “I came back here and spent the rest of the day in my room. I didn’t want to speak to anyone else.”
“You didn’t speak to anyone at all?”
“Well, Gigi knocked on my door twice. She asked if I was all right. Later she invited me to go on a treasure hunt, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t face anyone.”
Thorn put down his pencil and gave all his attention to studying Addie’s face. “You had a very good reason to be angry with the dowager.”
“I was furious with her. I’m sorry that she’s dead because I know that her family will grieve for her, but at least she can’t interfere in anyone else’s life.”
Chapter Thirteen
Thorn dismissed Addie, and Elrick appeared in the doorway. “Lady Gina would like to inform you that breakfast has been laid out in the breakfast room, if you would like to partake.”
Thorn closed his notebook. “Excellent idea. Come along, Sergeant. After we eat, I’ll speak to Inglebrook and track down the family solicitor. He should . . .” Thorn’s voice faded as they left the room.
I waited a few beats, then peeked around the edge of the screen. A maid bustled in, and I stepped back into the shadows. She gathered the glass and pitcher, then departed.
I counted to twenty, then darted across the empty room to the door. I poked my head into the hallway. It was empty. I turned in the opposite direction from the breakfast room and scampered upstairs.
Gigi refilled my coffee cup and set the pot down with a bang that rattled the silver teaspoons on the tray. “So I was right. Inspector Thorn does suspect me.”
“Yes, but you’re far from the only person with a motive.”
“Faint praise, indeed.” Her spoon clicked energetically against the china as she stirred sugar into her coffee.
We were in Gigi’s sitting room, a cozy room with chintz armchairs and bright gold-and-cream-striped wallpaper. Long windows looked out over the small garden at the back of the house. Wintery sunlight fell in bright squares on the topaz and pink Axminster carpet. Double doors encrusted with gold filigree stood open to Gigi’s bedroom on one wall, and a white marble mantel framed the fireplace on another. Tributes from her dance partners from the previous night—two flower bouquets, one of roses and the other of gardenias, along with a box of chocolates—rested on the low table between us.
