Page 26 of Deadly Murder (Angus Brodie and Mikaela Forsythe Murder Mystery #14)
“I see. A situation that might usually be handled by the Metropolitan Police,” she commented. “Yet, the Special Services have been called upon, and now questions about Jack’s accident.”
Grieving, yet with a quiet strength that I admired.
“If it is not too painful, I would like to ask some questions about the day of the accident.”
There was a faint, sad smile. “Of course. Although I don’t know what I can tell you. He had taken himself off to the stables. He did so like to ride, at our country estate as well. It was in May, a lovely day.” She seemed to gather herself.
“We were told the park was quite crowded, as was to be expected, with carriages and other riders about.” She paused.
“Sir John, my husband, received word. With so many about in the park, we were told that it appeared his horse had been startled and then bolted. The animal was quite high-strung, although Jack had always handled him well. When others arrived afterward…” She paused once more before continuing.
“Jack had been thrown, and there was nothing anyone could do.”
“Were there any witnesses to the accident?”
Lady Althea shook her head. “Apparently it all happened very quickly. The constables who were in the park that day apparently questioned several people, but it appears that no one saw anything that might have caused it, other than one man who was seen with Jack before the constables arrived.”
“Someone who rode with him that day?”
She shook her head. “He rode alone that day.”
“Was the man questioned?”
She shook her head again. “He was gone by the time the constables arrived. It would seem that is not much help for your inquiry case. I apologize that I cannot provide more.”
“I know this may be difficult, but I must ask,” I then said. “Was there any blood on your son’s body, perhaps from a wound during the fall?”
“My husband didn’t mention any wound. You see, Jack’s neck was broken in the fall,” her voice broke softly.
I reached out and laid my hand over hers.
“I am so very sorry.”
“It’s quite all right. Perhaps a wound might have made more sense. He seemed to simply be sleeping when he was brought here afterward.” She was thoughtful,
“His father wanted him to wear a formal set of clothes for mourning, while I felt it was so like him to have been out riding that he should be wearing his riding costume. I suppose it was a foolish thing to have a disagreement over.”
“You have his coat from that day?” She had obviously lost the argument.
She looked up. “As I said, it undoubtedly seems foolish.”
“Not at all,” I replied, then inquired. “Might I see it?”
I fully expected her to refuse.
“Of course.” Lady Althea asked her maid to refresh our tea as she went to retrieve her son’s riding jacket from that day.
“Do ye believe it might provide a clue?” Lily whispered.
I didn’t know what to think. I hated asking it of Lady Walsingham. It was obvious that she had deeply loved her son and to now have inquiries being made about the accident seemed cruel.
Lady Althea returned with several items of clothing over her arm. “I’ve brought the shirt and pants as well. There are the usual stains on his breeches that one might expect, although I don’t know what that might tell you.”
She laid the clothes that included buckskin breeches, a vest, dark wool jacket, and shirt with a dark blue cravat on the settee.
There were green stains on the buckskin breeches, not unexpected considering the fall the young man had taken. There was what appeared to be a mud stain on the elbow of the jacket, but no other stains or marks, nor on the shirt, at first glance.
I ran my fingers over the fine silk of the shirt. There was no stain, however, it did appear that something sharp had snagged the silk fabric and left broken threads across the front.
Possibly from a sharp object?
Was it possible someone—perhaps the man who was seen with her son after the accident, had made that mark and had then left as a crowd gathered?
“What is it?” she asked.
“I know this may be very difficult to answer,” I replied. “Did Sir Walsingham mention any marks that might have been made?”
Lady Althea looked down at her clenched hands. “My husband saw Jack afterward. He spoke of marks on his chest, though there was no blood from a wound.”
“Did he describe what the marks looked like?”
“There were two marks, as I remember what he said at the time. Possibly made by a tree branch during the fall.”
Or made after the fall, I thought.
“Was anything found in your son’s possession? An envelope or note?”
She shook her head. “As I said, his father saw to everything.”
The expression on her face revealed a great deal. Grief that was still raw, but something else. Strength, that slipped past the sadness and grief.
“Why do you ask?”
Again, I chose my words with great care.
“It is possible your son’s death was not an accident and may, in fact, be related to the incident at Marlborough House.”
I watched her for any sign that what I had just shared with her might be overwhelming, as it would be for most anyone.
I laid my hand over hers once more. “I apologize for any pain our visit has caused. Thank you for meeting with us.”
She followed us to the door. “They were known as the Four Horsemen while at University,” she said.
I had not expected that she would know about that—the follies of young men—gambling, women for the night, a brotherhood sworn to secrecy.
“Yes, Lady Montgomery spoke of it,” she added.
“A dreadful title of their club that included Lord Salisbery and Sir Huntingdon.”
I thanked her again for meeting with us.
“You must let me know what you learn,” she said in parting.
I promised that I would. It was the least we could do.
“There was something about that young man’s riding costume,” Lily said as we returned across London. “I saw it on your face.”
“There were broken threads on the front of his shirt.” And the rest of it?
I thought how best to describe something I wasn’t even certain of.
“That mark could have been made by a branch from a nearby tree as the young man fell,” she replied.
“Perhaps.”