Murder on Charles Street (Lady Katherine Regency Mysteries Book 5)

by Leighann Dobbs

  Katherine bit the inside of her cheek. Her excellent memory only applied when she was actually paying attention to the conversation. “The gift?”

  Pru heaved a sigh. “The gift for the housekeeper at Castle Annandale!”

  “You’re bringing her a gift?”

  Pru glared at a passing food cart and the proprietor, who loudly hawked his penny pies. The delicious smell of roast meat met Katherine’s nose, and she nearly made a detour to purchase some. However, in so doing, she would have to cross Harriet, who hovered at that elbow. What if she took offense? Hopefully, she couldn’t hear Katherine’s gurgling stomach.

  “Why are you bringing a gift to the staff?”

  Harriet coughed into her fist.

  Turning, Katherine held up her hands, palm outward in surrender. “I didn’t mean offense…”

  Pru answered overtop, “Mrs. MacDonnell has been the housekeeper there since my Annandale was small. The same with most of the servants. I want them to like me. You know they hold a grudge against Englishwomen…”

  Harriet coughed into her fist louder.

  Torn between her two friends, Katherine answered absently, “As do most Englishmen about Scotsmen.”

  This time, Pru’s sigh was softer. “I know people say he’s uncivilized, but I simply don’t see it. He is… unconventional. But then again, so am I. I’m not certain a conventional man would have me, or I would want him if he did…”

  Katherine paused squarely in front of the vendor and turned to Harriet, paying attention to Pru with only half an ear. “Forgive me, I truly didn’t mean any offense. Let me make it up to you. Would you like a penny pie?”

  Harriet craned her neck to peer over Katherine’s shoulder, then she narrowed her eyes. “I have a roast planned for this evening. It will spoil your appetite.”

  Katherine hoped it would.

  “Katherine, are you listening to me?”

  Pulled in two directions, Katherine battled a scream. She held up both her hands, silencing her friends as she reclaimed a moment of peace.

  Harriet lifted her hand and pointed. “I wasn’t coughing because I took offense. I was coughing because I saw the livery. I was trying to be subtler than this.”

  “You did?” Katherine followed the line of her finger until she spotted the brown-and-red-attired footman strolling next to a maid. The maid held her arm close to her stomach, a list clutched in her other fist. The footman carried a tottering pile of boxes and sacks.

  “We have to catch them before they slip away.”

  Harriet caught hold of her sleeve as she bustled forward. “Don’t act too eager, or they’ll get suspicious. In fact, I think it would be best if I were to talk to one of them alone. Perhaps they will tell me something they would not tell you.”

  Pru gave the pair a considering glance. “Katherine and I will question the young woman, then. Can you handle the footman?”

  Harriet laughed. “Give me a moment to separate them.”

  Katherine nodded, prepared to do just that, when a shrill voice pierced the air.

  “Lady Katherine, is that you?”

  In her haste to reach the maid and footman, she’d crossed into the mouth of an alley. The long, narrow stretch of cobblestone between the two buildings ran parallel from this market square to a more genteel street. And who happened to pass the mouth of the alley on the far side at the same time as her? Lady Dalhousie.

  “Oh no. We haven’t got the time for this.”

  Oblivious to her reluctance, Lady Dalhousie steered a young woman into the alley and hurried to meet Katherine.

  “I’ll talk to the maid before she walks too far.”

  Katherine turned, swiping for Pru’s sleeve, but she fell short. As her friend and maid hastened away together toward their targets, Katherine was left standing on the open street, undefended from Lady Dalhousie’s calculating approach.

  If Lady Dalhousie learned she was asking questions of Lord Westing’s servants, she would no doubt spread the information to all and sundry. No, Katherine had to be rid of her before she learned of her true purpose in the market. Foolishly, Katherine had considered herself safe here, among servants rather than peers, and hadn’t donned a disguise, merely a cloak to ward away the chill.

  Lady Dalhousie’s breath puffed in front of her face in quick bursts. Her cheeks were ruby with the cold. The color extended down her neck, which had been left open to display her infamous necklace. She clamped onto Katherine’s arm. “Lady Katherine, my dear. How curious to see you out and about. I thought you had taken ill.”

  That had been the excuse she had given to leave Lady Dalhousie’s musicale the evening before. And she’d left with such stealth that she had not even bidden the hostess goodbye—she had been far too fearful of getting caught in the old woman’s chattering web.

  “I wasn’t feeling quite the thing yesterday, but I am much recovered today.”

  Lady Dalhousie clucked under her tongue. “You left so quickly last night, I scarcely had the chance to speak with you.”

  An ill feeling tightened Katherine’s stomach as she turned her gaze toward the young woman at Lady Dalhousie’s side. Although Katherine guessed the woman was over five years Katherine’s senior, the woman embodied maidenhood. She was thin and long-fingered, dressed in a pale blue pelisse that rose to her chin. A scarf covered most of her face, leaving only the young woman’s eyes on display. However, they so resembled Lady Dalhousie’s that there could be no mistake. Katherine’s stomach twisted in on itself. “Would this be your niece, Lady Dalhousie?”

  The old gossip swung her hands briskly through the air. At least she was no longer attempting to choke off the blood flow to Katherine’s fingers. “Yes, this is Genevieve. Hers was the delightful talent you heard last evening. If you stayed long enough for her to play.”

  Katherine gave her a pained but polite smile. “I’m afraid my headache came on rather suddenly, but I was able to hear most of the first song. You’re very talented, Miss…”

  The young woman tugged down her scarf to reveal a pert nose and chin. “Miss Ball. Genevieve Ball.”

  “Well, Miss Ball, I understand why your aunt has been singing your praises for so long.”

  To Katherine’s surprise, the young woman blushed scarlet at the compliment. Her smile dwarfed her face and seemed to light the gray day. “Thank you, Lady Katherine. I’m gratified that you found such joy in my playing despite your headache.”

  “If not for the crush of people, I’m certain I would have stayed longer,” Katherine answered.

  The young woman seemed pleased. Katherine braced herself, half expecting that one or the other would launch into a sordid tale exalting all of the suitors Miss Ball collected from her performances. Lady Dalhousie loved nothing more than to spread a good rumor, especially one to boost her standing, and her pretty niece seemed to be ample fodder for that. However, the old woman restrained herself.

  She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “I’m happy to have encountered you today, if I’m honest. You see, I was hoping to find a moment last night to secure your services.”

  Katherine’s attention wandered briefly across the market square, easily picking out Pru’s tall form as she stood with the maid and footman. Despite Harriet’s claims, they hadn’t yet separated the two. Good—they might not have asked the questions yet, and Katherine might have a chance of rejoining them. If only she was able to convince Lady Dalhousie to speak to her another time…

  The woman’s words registered. “My what?”

  Lady Dalhousie narrowed her eyes. “Your services. As a matchmaker.”

  Katherine’s stomach, already tied in knots, plummeted into her shoes. Tarnation! Mrs. Fairchild’s prediction had been spot on. If Katherine took this job, her rival would never let her hear the end of it. Not to mention, she hadn’t the time, what with solving an investigation and helping Pru with her wedding plans.

  “Oh. I don’t know…”

  Lady Dalhousie batted away her pro
tests. “I know you employ a man for the particulars, so I won’t trouble you with those. If you’ll just send me his direction, I’ll be happy to work out payment. But it is imperative that my niece find a husband while she is here with me in London.”

  Katherine turned her gaze to the young woman, who blushed even deeper, if that were possible, and tugged up her scarf to cover her face. “I don’t know if—”

  Lady Dalhousie’s voice carried as she added, “Not any man, mind you. My Genevieve will marry no one save the man who is worthy of her. I trust you will be able to find such a man.”

  Katherine didn’t have time for this. No time to find Miss Ball a husband, however convivial she seemed—and no time to continue blathering on with Lady Dalhousie! She had an investigation to conduct. With Pru’s attention distracted by the upcoming wedding, she didn’t trust her friend to ask the right questions. In fact, she wouldn’t put it past Pru to rush the interview and uncover no information whatsoever about Lord Westing or his daughter.

  “Lady Dalhousie, I’m not certain that I’m the best woman for the job. Have you asked Mrs. Fairchild? She has married her clients to dukes and princes. I’m certain she would be more than willing to pair your niece with a fine, upstanding gentleman…”

  “No.” Lady Dalhousie sniffed and adjusted the collar of her cloak. “I don’t trust Mrs. Fairchild’s judgment when compared to yours. Besides, don’t you owe me for all help I’ve given in the past?” Her tone alluded that she suspected Katherine’s true aim in asking questions whenever a crime arose and that it had nothing to do with a love of gossip, as Katherine pretended.

  Katherine opened her mouth to argue further, but shut it again. Yes, Lady Dalhousie had been of some help the previous evening when Katherine had asked after her investigation. But the old woman had also actively hindered the burglary investigation in Bath. Nevertheless, arguing would waste time—and with Lady Dalhousie’s suspicions aroused, Katherine didn’t want to risk alienating her. On a whim, Lady Dalhousie could spread rumors detrimental to Katherine’s career.

  That same career was now in jeopardy if she didn’t extricate herself to further the investigation herself. Harriet had separated the footman from the group, who followed her like a lost puppy as she guided him out of earshot. At this rate, Pru would ask the questions without her, and Katherine couldn’t have that.

  In a wistful voice, Miss Ball added, “I know Mrs. Fairchild has a reputation, but I’m not looking for the sort of advantageous match she cares to arrange. I want a love match, Lady Katherine. Nothing less will do.”

  Katherine had heard women use that tone of longing before. Her sisters, for one—and she had seen them both married within months. Miss Ball was much older than most women who chose to marry, and Katherine saw no hesitation in her declaration. Miss Ball knew precisely what she wanted, even if, for most, it was no more than fantasy. Love was certainly a fantasy for all of Mrs. Fairchild’s clients. However, every woman Katherine had ever matched had been in love as well.

  Reluctantly, Katherine warned, “Matters of the heart are rarely quick and never easy.”

  With the scarf still pulled up over her nose, Miss Ball shook her head. Her eyes widened. “I don’t mind waiting. I’ll wait until I’m forty if I must. I want… I want the love your friends, Lord and Lady Annandale, have. I could tell from the moment they walked into the room that they were smitten with each other. I want a man to look at me like that.”

  Katherine couldn’t say no, not the least because she didn’t have the time to tarry. “I haven’t the time to discuss the matter now, but perhaps we can meet later on today. Have you accepted any invitations this afternoon?”

  Lady Dalhousie stood straighter. “Yes, of course. Our social calendar is full.” As her niece groped for her sleeve with eyes wide with alarm, the old lady added, “But I’ll see that an invitation is sent to you as well. We will speak with you later, and don’t forget to send your man’s direction to me.”

  “I won’t,” Katherine promised. “Until this afternoon.” Before Lady Dalhousie launched into another long-winded supplication, Katherine hurried away. She hoped she wasn’t too late to join the conversation between Pru and the Westing maid.

  Katherine nearly broke into a trot to reach her friend’s side. As she approached, the wisps of conversation drifted through the cacophony of the market place.

  Pru’s voice carried. “He had a daughter, did he not? I imagine she must have been angry about his death.”

  Katherine reached the pair just as the maid, a small young thing not yet Katherine’s age, scoffed. “That, she was. I can’t fathom why, though. Lord Westing was a beast—” She paused, scowling at Katherine. “Who are you? Run along now.”

  Perhaps Katherine was so accustomed to being recognized as her father’s daughter that she hadn’t conceived of anything but welcome. Her lips flapped as she tried to regain the use of her tongue. No one in all her life had spoken to her in as dismissive a tone. And this from a maidservant!

  Pru waved her hands. “She’s with me. Ignore her. She can keep a secret.”

  Katherine glared at her friend. If Pru had not abandoned her to Lady Dalhousie’s wagging tongue, she would have been privy to the entire conversation. As she turned her attention back to the maid, she asked, “Why would you call Lord Westing a beast?”

  The paper in the maid’s hand crinkled as she clenched it. She scuffed the toe of her boot against ice crystals on the cobblestones. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business. I wouldn’t speak out against my masters.”

  Tarnation! If only Katherine had been here from the start of the conversation. She leaned closer, touching the arm nearest to her. The other, which the girl held to her side, was wrapped tight with linen cloth. As Katherine leaned closer, even the crisp winter air and the savory smells of cooking food couldn’t banish the lingering odor. The maidservant smelled like old leaves.

  Katherine tried to breathe through her mouth so as to inhale as little of it as possible. “Speak freely. This won’t go any farther than you and I. That, I promise.”

  The woman still glanced at her warily until Pru chimed in. “Peggy, this is Katherine. She means what she says. We’re only curious. And if Lord Westing is dead, is he no longer your master.”

  Peggy hummed under her breath and scuffed the ground again. “I’m not saying as you heard this from me, but suppose Lord Westing used to abuse the staff. None of us liked him. So, I’d say when he died, his daughter was the only one who mourned him.”

  Katherine retracted her hand. “How so?” She was afraid to press too hard, lest the maid decide she didn’t trust her over Pru. However, the young woman barely met her eyes before answering the question in a mumble.

  “The lady suspected foul play.”

  Kindly, Pru asked, “Do you think she had reason to?”

  Peggy’s head shot up, her eyes wide. “No, of course not! Dr. Gammon would not have done anything to hurt anyone, especially not a patient. He is too kind. In fact, he’s the reason my wrist isn’t paining me more.”

  Katherine dropped her gaze to the bandaged arm. Leaning forward surreptitiously, she sniffed. Yes, that must be where the smell was emanating from. Was the poor girl’s hand rotting off? Katherine shuddered.

  “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” Pru asked.

  On the heels of Pru’s concern, Katherine probed, “It couldn’t have been caused by the late Lord Westing. He’s been dead a year.”

  Peggy glared at her. “Yes, it is from Lord Westing’s hand. Nigh on two years ago, he yanked my arm so hard, it broke. It healed up fine, but now the wrist slides off the joint if I carry too heavy a load.” She scuffed the cobblestone, now bare of snow.

  “So you hurt it again recently?” Pru looked sympathetic. “You poor dear. Should you be out doing the shopping?”

  Peggy shrugged one shoulder. “Jarrod came with me to carry the lot. I only handle the money. And it doesn’t hurt so bad. I shouldn’t have carried so many lo
gs for the fire. But I went to Dr. Gammon with it, and he fixed me right as rain.”

  Katherine exchanged a glance with Pru. “You could afford to hire Dr. Gammon?” Physician’s fees, even one who turned away most patients, were notoriously high. Had Harriet taken ill, Katherine would pay for the expense herself, since any treatment would cost Harriet a year’s wages or more.

  “I did. Mary—she works with me at Westing House—is the niece of a woman who works for Dr. Gammon as his housekeeper. So whenever we’re ill or injured, Mary calls on her aunt, and he’ll treat us free of charge, especially now that he has no other patients that demand his time. He fit the wrist back into place, and Mary’s aunt made a poultice that helps with the pain.”

  Katherine frowned as she thought. “His housekeeper… do you mean Mrs. Campbell?”

  Peggy nodded. “Yes, that’s the woman. A kinder soul you’ll never see, and loyal too. She takes care of her own.”

  Whenever Dr. Gammon had spoken of his housekeeper, he hadn’t mentioned that he had taught her about medicine. “Why would Mrs. Campbell make you a poultice and not Dr. Gammon?”

  The maid wrinkled her nose. “I don’t care for the sort of tinctures he prescribes. Laudanum makes me sleepy, and I can’t afford it. At least with this”—she hefted her wrist—“I can still work with my good hand. And it numbs the pain.”

  “What is it made from?” Katherine asked. She wouldn’t want to slather something with so noxious a stench on her own skin, but perhaps if Emma were injured, she could treat the dog herself. After all, she no longer had Dr. Gammon’s help. A fresh wave of grief crested over her, but she took a deep breath and pushed it aside.

  Seemingly oblivious to ought except the cobbles at her feet, the maid shrugged. “I can’t say. Herbs and the like, I suppose.”

  Perhaps Katherine would have to ask Mrs. Campbell herself for the secret. In fact, if she were to speak with Mrs. Campbell, she might as well ask about her niece and her position in Lord Westing’s house.

  Before she found herself too consumed in future plans, Katherine asked about her other suspect. Focusing on the mystery gave her purpose. “Didn’t Dr. Gammon work with a partner?”