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M r. Crippen was keen to talk. I didn’t have to prompt him to tell me about his confrontation with Shepherd. He seemed to think talking about it would exonerate him.

“My sister is a good woman,” he began. “She has never been in trouble before, never put a foot wrong, until that man came along.” Hearing his voice rise, he quickly glanced around to make sure he hadn’t been overheard, then leaned forward. “Shepherd convinced her he was in love with her. He took advantage of her gentle nature, her goodness, and made her fall in love with him. It was easy with his handsome face and honeyed words.” He sat back. “I didn’t know any of this at the time. It wasn’t until it all ended that she told me, when she paid me a visit on her day off. She was upset. Shepherd had lost interest in her and moved on to a new girl, a maid at the house, or some such.” He shrugged, the detail not important to him. “My sister was heartbroken, but Shepherd didn’t care. He was cruel to her, calling her a desperate and sad pest he couldn’t get rid of. He demanded she leave him alone. He even told her she should leave the employ of the Kershaws. The nerve of him!”

I could imagine how it had been. Shepherd had simply lost interest in her, but she thought she’d done something wrong and wanted to know what. Her questions were persistent, and he loathed being held accountable for his feckless nature. Mrs. Browning had led me to believe the couple were in love. Perhaps Miss Crippen had been, but Esmond Shepherd never had. It was clear he had been a predator who knew how to manipulate women.

“My sister complained to Lady Kershaw about his behavior, but her ladyship wanted nothing to do with it. She told her to ‘buck up’ and ‘get on with it.’”

“Did she dismiss your sister?” I asked.

The arrival of his meal distracted him for a moment. He waited until the waitress left before continuing. “Not in so many words, but her ladyship made it clear that she ought to resign.”

“It’s fortunate she could return to London to keep house for you.” Realizing how that sounded under the circumstances, I apologized profusely. “That was terribly unfeeling of me.”

He gave me a blank look.

“You need help at home after the passing of your wife,” I clarified.

He frowned. “I’ve never been married.”

That was another point Mrs. Browning had got wrong.

“Where can we find your sister? We’d like to?—”

“You’re not talking to her about that man. She’s upset enough.” He picked up his knife and fork but didn’t give his chops any attention. “The murder was nothing to do with either of us. In fact, I wasn’t the only one arguing with Shepherd that day. When I approached his cottage, I saw him with two other men. I saw one of them clearly, but the other had his back to me and was partly obscured by a tree.”

“Can you describe the one you saw?” I asked.

“Full black beard, dressed like a laborer. He wore a gray cap. I noticed it because I wore a similar one.”

The description matched Mr. Faine, the agitator we’d met in the Red Lion who was up in arms about the blocking of the bridleway.

Harry indicated the food. “Please eat. There’s nothing worse than cold mashed potato.” He watched as Mr. Crippen cut into his chop. “Did you hear what the argument was about?”

“A pathway, or something of that nature. Shepherd told the black-bearded man he was going too far. His tone was scolding, annoyed.” Mr. Crippen forked the meat into his mouth.

They must have been discussing the bridleway, with Shepherd telling Faine to cease his demands for it to be reopened.

“Did the third man say anything?” Harry asked.

“The gentleman? Yes, he did. Now what was it…?”

“You said you never saw him so why do you presume he was a gentleman?”

“His accent. He said something along the lines of ‘We’re not pleased with your vehemence.’ He may not have used the word vehemence, but that’s the gist. He sounded annoyed, too. The black-bearded man didn’t like being scolded and told them in no uncertain terms that he was only doing what they’d discussed. He got quite heated.”

“Did either he, Shepherd or the gentleman become violent?” I asked.

“No. The conversation ended, they left, and I went to speak to Shepherd.” He scooped up a forkful of mashed potato. “May I eat in peace now?”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Crippen,” I said.

We left him to his meal and exited the chophouse. The sky had darkened while we were inside, but it wasn’t yet night and the streetlights hadn’t come on. I didn’t ask Harry to walk with me back to the hotel, and he didn’t offer. He simply did it.

“Faine wasn’t telling us the entire truth.” I realized how unrealistic the notion of a thief being truthful was and gave a wry huff. “It sounds like Shepherd and the unknown gentleman wanted Faine to agitate for the reopening of the bridleway. The question is, why did they want it reopened? Indeed, why did Lord Kershaw want it closed in the first place? Whatever the reason, the gamekeeper didn’t agree with it.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Harry said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Shepherd and the gentleman scolded Faine for being too vehement in his campaign. They wanted him to agitate, but not with such vigor. I suspect they just wanted it to appear as though Faine wanted the bridleway reopened. They didn’t actually want the campaign to succeed.”

That made more sense. “If they didn’t want him to succeed, that means they wanted the bridleway to remain closed. The question is, why?”

Harry had already thought of an answer. “We know Faine is a thief. We know valuable items went missing from the Hall.”

“You think Faine, Shepherd, and the third man stole from the Kershaws? That they’re using the bridleway to move the goods unseen across the estate and the neighboring estate, avoiding Morcombe and the police altogether? If that is the case, Faine pretending to want the bridleway reopened, means no one will suspect him of the thefts. Considering he’s known to police, that’s rather clever. If they look into the thefts, it’ll throw them off his scent.”

Harry nodded. “I agree, but…”

“What is it?”

“You won’t like my theory.”

I urged him to continue with an arch look.

“The third man in the confrontation could have been Kershaw himself,” Harry went on.

“To claim the insurance money?” I asked.

“It’s a possibility. We can’t ignore it.”

He was right, we couldn’t. But I didn’t think it was viable. I’d not seen any evidence that the Kershaws were in financial difficulty. I conceded that Lady Kershaw’s jewelry and the paintings could have been fakes, made to look like the original to fool guests, but the meals had been bountiful and there was more than enough staff in attendance.

On the other hand, Lady Kershaw hadn’t seemed upset when she noticed the silver candlesticks missing. Perhaps she was in on it, too.

Whether Kershaw was involved or not, Harry and I both agreed that the argument and the bridleway had something to do with the thefts. What I couldn’t see was the connection to the murder. I said as much to Harry as we passed Nelson’s Column in Trafalgar Square.

“Thieves having a falling out?” he suggested.

“The argument didn’t sound heated enough for it to escalate to murder. Anyway, Crippen said they left.”

“They could have met up again afterward, at which point it did become heated. Perhaps the man Crippen couldn’t see properly had the rifle from the armory with him. If those two men argued, Faine might have attempted to wrestle it off him, at which point it accidentally went off, killing Shepherd.”

It did fit although it seemed unlikely. The shot seemed to have been fired from a distance, otherwise Shepherd’s wound would have been much uglier.

“If that theory is correct,” I said, thinking it through, “the unidentified gentleman is neither of the two on my suspect list—Lord Kershaw and Mr. Browning. They both came from the direction of the house following the shooting.” It was still a good theory, however. It just meant our list of suspects wasn’t definitive.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” I asked Harry as we walked.

“I can always spare time for you, Cleo. Do you want to return to the village?”

“I do. Some of my suspects will be here in London, so there won’t be any risk of bumping into them in Morcombe.”

We continued to discuss the suspects until we reached the hotel. Often, at that point, Harry wouldn’t walk me all the way to the door. He would watch from across the road or further along the street. This time, he greeted Frank then entered the foyer behind me.

“Thank you, Harry,” I said.

“My pleasure.” He removed his hat and stroked the brim with his fingers. “Enjoy your evening, Cleo. Don’t let the investigation spoil your dinner.”

“Spoil it? It’ll make it more enjoyable.”

His smile faded when he spotted someone approaching behind me.

I turned to see Floyd and groaned.

Floyd lifted his chin. “Evening, Armitage.”

“Good evening,” Harry said, his cheery greeting in contrast to Floyd’s cool one. “I was just walking Cleo back after interrogating a suspect together.”

“She’s safe in here and she’s late for dinner, so…” Floyd glanced pointedly at the door.

“I’m not late.” I checked the time on my pocket watch to make sure. “I have an hour and a half to get ready.”

“Lady Elizabeth wants to retire early, so dinner will be at seven instead of eight. Harmony’s been waiting for you for an age. She won’t have enough time to do your hair now.”

“You know far too much about a ladies’ toilette routine, Floyd.” I turned to Harry. “Thank you again for your help this afternoon.”

“I didn’t do much. You did all the work.”

“Even so.” I smiled at him, picked up my skirts, and hurried toward the stairs. I didn’t have time to wait for the lift.

Floyd came up alongside me, puffing a little from the exertion. “If you don’t need Armitage’s help, stop going to him. It looks bad.”

“I don’t care how it looks to other people. We’re just friends.”

“I mean it looks bad to him . You’re giving him the message you can’t do it without him. I know you, and I know you most certainly don’t need his help. Or anyone’s, for that matter.”

I took his hand and squeezed. “That is sweet of you to say. Thank you, Floyd.”

“So you’ll stop letting him think he has a chance?”

I released his hand. “Sometimes you do go on too long.”

“I’m serious, Cleo. Don’t encourage him when you know nothing can come of it. It’ll only hurt more in the long run when it has to end.”

There were a thousand things I could have said to Floyd in response, but I kept them all to myself, except one. “There is nothing going on between Harry and me. Nothing at all.”

“Is that how you want things to remain?”

I quickened my pace.

“I’m simply trying to protect you, Cleo. My reaction is nothing compared to what my father’s will be.”

I stopped and rounded on him. “Unlike you, I’m not afraid of your father. Anyway, the point is moot. Harry and I are colleagues, and I’m growing very tired of?—”

“Reminding me that you don’t want to marry anyone. Yes, yes, I know. All right, I’ll stop.” He took the stairs two at a time to keep pace with me as I hurried. “Thank God for your self-imposed ban on marriage,” he muttered.

I’d been about to tell him I was tired of him reminding me that Harry had once been a hotel employee, which made him an unsuitable suitor in Uncle Ronald’s eyes. Instead of telling him, I changed the topic.

“Did your father mention that he asked me to find the gamekeeper’s murderer?”

“That’s not what he wants you to do,” he said tartly. “He asked you to look for definitive evidence to convince everyone the poacher did it and the Wentworths are innocent.”

“That’s almost the same thing,” I said dismissively.

“It’s not.”

“Can I ask you to do something for me at dinner, Floyd?”

He sighed. “As long as I don’t have to flirt with Mrs. Browning.”

“Why?”

“I don’t mind flirting with her when her husband’s not around. But when he sees us enjoying one another’s company, he glares daggers at me. He seems like the sort of fellow who’d challenge me to a duel, then cheat so he could win. Believe me, the ice queen isn’t worth the trouble.”

“Then I hope for your sake you’re not seated next to her. But if you do happen to speak to Lord Kershaw, can you ask him if the missing rifle has been returned to the display on the armory wall.”

We reached the fourth floor, both a little out of breath from the quick pace. “I’ll try to be subtle about it so as not to raise his suspicions,” he assured me.

“Oh, dear,” I teased. “Perhaps I should ask someone else.”

He shot me a withering glare before heading to his suite and I headed to mine.

I was supposed to sit next to Mr. Browning, but Lady Elizabeth asked if he could swap places with her. He obliged, looking rather pleased about the rearrangement. I wasn’t sure if that was because he didn’t want to be forced to make conversation with me, or because it meant Floyd couldn’t flirt with his wife.

Once she was settled into her chair and the waiter had moved on, Lady Elizabeth leaned closer to me. “I hope Lady Bainbridge will forgive me for ruining her seating arrangements, but I did so want to talk to you, Miss Fox.”

I glanced at my aunt. She hadn’t seemed to notice the change of seats. She was too busy having a conversation with Richard, the head waiter, while simultaneously contributing to the conversation Lady Kershaw and Janet were having with Flossy. She’d obviously taken a dose of her tonic again to get her through the evening, or as much of it as possible. In another hour or too, a crushing headache would ruin the rest of her night.

“Is there a particular reason why you wanted to talk to me, Lady Elizabeth?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, there is.” She paused while the sommelier filled our wineglasses, then continued when he moved on. “This afternoon in the sitting room, I overheard you and Cicely discussing Susannah Shepherd.”

I’d hoped she wanted to bring it up after noticing her interest in my conversation with Mrs. Browning. I hadn’t expected her to mention it already, however. It seemed Lady Elizabeth had no desire for small talk. “I’d only just learned the gamekeeper had a sister,” I told her.

Lady Elizabeth picked up the wineglass. She regarded me over the top of it. “You were asking Cicely about the rumor that my father also fathered Susannah.”

It would seem she had no interest in politely skirting the issue. I liked her directness, but it threw me off for a moment. As I was trying to decide how to respond, she spoke again.

“I don’t know if it’s true. My parents certainly never mentioned it to me.” She peered into the glass at the small ripples in the wine caused by her shaking hand. “I’ve often wondered what it would have been like to have Susannah as my half-sister. I think it would have been awkward, if I’m honest. I don’t blame my father for taking the secret to his grave. He probably thought it best for everyone.”

“So, you do believe it?”

“It explains the relative privilege the Shepherds have always received. Their cottage is always well maintained, and the gamekeeper’s position has always been paid a very good salary.”

“And no Shepherds were ever dismissed, in your father’s, brother’s and now nephew’s tenure as earl.”

“Indeed.” She put down the glass. “The gossip about my father being Susannah’s father has swirled for years, so I don’t see the relevance to Esmond Shepherd’s murder. It simply has no bearing on anything. Even if Mr. Shepherd learned it was true and went public with the knowledge, my father and Susannah are both long dead, so it’s of no consequence.”

I attempted an innocent look, but she didn’t believe it.

“I know you’re trying to solve the murder, Miss Fox, hence all these questions. You may be able to fool the others, but you can’t fool me.”

I released a breath. “It’s true. I’m trying to prove your family innocent, so there are no lingering doubts.”

She sighed as she shot an exasperated glance at Lord Kershaw. “My nephew is a dear man, but he doesn’t always think things through. He should never have influenced Sergeant Honeyman’s investigation. It makes us all look guilty.” She turned to me again. “Thank you, Miss Fox. If there’s anything I can do to help, please ask. I may be old, but I know a thing or two about Esmond Shepherd.”

“Such as?”

“He was a womanizer. Several nannies and maids have left because of him, and my silly niece-in-law just lets them go. Mr. Shepherd was charming with her and the other young women, but not with me. That’s the thing about being old. Nobody bothers to flirt or try to charm me.” Her eyes twinkled merrily as she lifted her wineglass. “On the other hand, it means I see people as they truly are, warts and all, because they’re not trying to be something they’re not in my presence.” She continued to watch me as she sipped.

Did she see me? Did she know I had members of her family on my list of suspects?

“What else can you tell me about Susannah Shepherd?” I asked.

“Other than she may have been my half-sister?” Lady Elizabeth shook her head. “I hardly knew her. She was quite a bit younger than me, and she was the gamekeeper’s daughter while I was the earl’s. I do remember when she died. So young, she was.”

“Twenty-one,” I said.

“Everyone was so distraught, particularly her mother, poor thing. It’s fortunate she and her husband had Esmond, so Mabel Shepherd could funnel her love into another child. She had so much love to give, did Mabel.” Lady Elizabeth smiled sadly. “She spoiled Esmond, though, which may explain why he ended up the way he did.”

“You mean his womanizing?”

“I do.”

“Do you recall the last nanny who left?” I asked.

“Miss Crippen? She was a pleasant woman; quiet, well-mannered. Pretty enough, but no beauty. I believe she was one of Mr. Shepherd’s conquests. She left when he moved on to a new girl.” She tsked in irritation.

Her openness compelled me to be open with her in return. I suspected she would appreciate my directness as much as I appreciated hers. “I met Miss Crippen’s brother this morning. He told me he was the one I saw arguing with Esmond Shepherd on the morning of the murder. It was he who stayed at the village inn then left suddenly. Mr. Crippen isn’t a poacher. He works in a solicitor’s office here in London.”

“I’m not surprised. I never believed there was a poacher. How clever you are to have found him, Miss Fox.”

“I wasn’t looking for him. I was looking for Miss Crippen.”

“He is a suspect, I presume?”

“Of course.”

“And did you speak to Miss Crippen?”

“No.”

“Send her my regards if you do.”

We paused our conversation while the soup course was served. Once the waiters had dispersed again, I asked her about the candlesticks. “Did you notice they went missing during our stay?”

She lowered her spoon to the bowl and frowned at me. “Missing!” She frowned harder. “Which candlesticks are you referring to?”

“The large silver ones that sat on the dining room mantelpiece. They were there one day and gone the next.”

She scooped up a spoonful of oxtail soup only to watch a few drops spill back into the bowl. “Marion must have removed them. She never liked them. She called them ugly once, but never again after she saw my reaction. I was horrified. They’re family heirlooms.”

Valuable ones, no doubt.

Lady Elizabeth seemed upset to know they were missing, so to distract her, I asked her about the legend of Henry the Eighth’s visit to Hambledon Hall. “I heard he had his eye on one of the maids, but her beau rescued her from under the king’s nose.”

Despite the salacious nature of the tale, Lady Elizabeth seemed to enjoy retelling it. If it had been a recent occurrence, she wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know about the lascivious royal’s failed attempt at seduction. That’s the thing about scandals. They grow less hurtful and more amusing with the passing of time.

“Do you know the path the lovers used still exists?” she asked.

I couldn’t believe my good fortune that she’d been the one to introduce the topic of the bridleway. “I heard Lord Kershaw recently blocked it.”

She gazed down the table at her nephew, listening to something Uncle Ronald was saying. “He has, the silly fool. I can’t think why he would bother.”

“The villagers are upset. A man named Faine is leading them in the fight to reopen it.”

“I don’t blame them for being upset. To have something taken away from you after so long… Most upsetting indeed.”

She’d shown no recognition at the mention of Mr. Faine. If she knew him, he was of no consequence to her. “You have a great understanding of village life and its challenges, Lady Elizabeth. Having lived in Cambridge and then London all my life, I can’t begin to comprehend what it was like to grow up in the countryside.”

“Oh, it was a wonderful childhood,” she said dreamily. “I had a lot of freedom to do as I pleased. I was always scraping my knees or getting leaves tangled in my hair.” She chuckled. “I loved going into the village with my mother, too. I remember how colorful everything was. The ribbons and buttons in the haberdashery, the boiled sweets in the confectionery shop. There wasn’t much need for silks and satins, but the draper would order them from London especially for my mother once a year.”

“She didn’t have her clothes made in London?”

“She preferred to purchase everything locally, to help the Morcombe traders. My parents were conscious of doing their duty in any way they could, big or small. I do think they both liked supporting the village. It wasn’t a hardship.”

“They sound like good people.”

“They were. My father was strict but fair, and my mother was gentle-natured. It was my privilege to take care of them as they aged.”

“They instilled that sense of duty in you, Lady Elizabeth. I heard the villagers praise you for all the good things you’ve done over the years.”

“I like to call many of the village women my friends, so it’s a relief to know the feeling is mutual.” She chuckled again. “Otherwise it would be awkward the next time I go.”

I laughed.

“Not that I get into Morcombe very often these days.” She glanced at her niece, Mrs. Browning, sitting in silence between Lord Kershaw and Floyd. “It would have been nice for Janet’s wedding dress to be made by the local seamstress, but Cicely insisted the London seamstresses are better. I suppose she doesn’t have the connection to the village that she once had.”

“She married young and moved away.”

Lady Elizabeth gave no indication of her thoughts on Mrs. Browning’s age at the time of her marriage, or indeed what she thought of her niece’s choice of husband. She smiled at the waiter who took away her empty soup bowl and bestowed another smile on the next one who deposited a poached salmon dish in front of her.

After a few mouthfuls, she said, “I must commend your cook, Miss Fox.”

“I’ll pass on your compliments to Mrs. Poole.”

“Please do. Now. All this talk of weddings has me wondering.” She picked up her wineglass and regarded me with a mischievous smile. “What about you? I overheard Miss Bainbridge tell Janet that you have no intention of marrying anyone. I imagine you can’t be short of suitors, so I assume you’re avoiding matrimony through choice. Will you indulge a curious old spinster and tell me why?”

“I like my freedom.” A lively, clever and kind woman such as Lady Elizabeth, coming from a wealthy and titled family, would have had her fair share of gentlemen suitors, yet she’d remained unwed. It must have been her choice, so I felt comfortable adding, “I’m sure you understand that.”

Her next words had me doubting myself, however. “Forgive me, Miss Fox, but I feel compelled to ask. Are you quite sure you wish to remain a spinster forever? It can be very lonely, even when you’re surrounded by people.” Her gaze wandered to the members of her family. All of them had a partner in their husband or wife, and soon Janet would, too. Did she feel like the odd one out?

Before I could answer, she continued. “Perhaps you haven’t met the right man yet, the one who makes it worthwhile to give up some of your freedoms.” She put down her knife and rested her hand on my forearm. “Will you accept some advice from an old woman who has observed a thing or two? Don’t wait for the perfect man to simply show up. You may wait a long time and then find it’s too late.”

“Is that what happened to you, Lady Elizabeth?” I asked gently.

She didn’t seem to hear me. Her voice turned dreamy again. “That’s the thing about time. When you’re young, there seems to be an endless amount of it. There’s no reason to hurry, so you put off doing things because there are a thousand other demands on your time. Then one day you wake up and realize you’re no longer young. You’re not even sure when you became old. By then, it’s too late. Your dreams for the future are out of reach. All the men who showed any interest moved on years ago, your body is too frail to go exploring new places, and your mind can’t quite grasp how to do new tasks.”

Lady Elizabeth gave her attention to her food, and seemed disinclined to talk further, but I couldn’t end the conversation on such a melancholy note. “No one is too old to form new friends or adopt a pet for company. And as long as one has an imagination, there are new adventures to dream up.”

Whether she heard me or not, she gave no sign. I fell into silence, too, my own thoughts occupying my mind to the exclusion of all else.