Page 14

H armony heard that my family’s dinner plans were scuttled. At a loose end herself, she decided to join me for a light meal in my suite. I ordered via the speaking tube and our food arrived shortly afterward, accompanied by a strawberry tartlet.

“They only sent up one,” I said. “I didn’t order it, but I would have thought whoever assembled our tray would realize I was dining with a second person based on the other dishes and provide two.”

Harmony plucked the tart out of my hand. “That’s for me.”

“How do you know? It’s my room.”

“Victor brings me leftover strawberry tarts because he knows they’re my favorite. He must have guessed I was here.” Smiling to herself, she set it aside for later.

I sighed. She was fortunate to have someone who provided her with strawberry tarts. I realized it was my own fault that I didn’t have a special man to bring me little tokens of affection, but that didn’t improve my mood. It only dampened it further.

“You two are so happy lately,” I said.

“Things are good between us. Better than good. I don’t want anything to change.”

“I hope for your sake it doesn’t.” I tucked into my salmon, not waiting for Harmony. “Apologies for my haste,” I said after swallowing my first mouthful. “I want to catch Mrs. Browning before she retires. I don’t want her to have a reason to turn me away when she sees me on her doorstep.”

“Eat as quickly as you like without giving yourself a stomachache. But if you have the time, can you tell me what you’re going to ask her. I’m wildly curious about this case, since I was there at the time of the murder. I’m also quite bored.”

I gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ll not only tell you what Harry and I have learned so far, but I have a task for you to do tomorrow after you finish your cleaning round.”

She listened as I told her we’d found a silver spoon hidden in Faine’s room, which confirmed he was stealing from Hambledon Hall. I mentioned the letters we’d found in the church office, and how that led us to a confrontation with the new vicar at St. Michael’s in Marylebone.

“That’s where I’d like you to go tomorrow,” I said. “The vicar who took over from Pritchard will recognize me, but you’re a stranger to him. I want you to ask to see the parish registers.”

“Christenings or marriages?”

“Both. I don’t know what to look for, but I’m hoping it will be obvious when you see it.”

“How will that tell you what Pritchard did to earn himself a hasty removal to Morcombe?”

“It’s nothing to do with him. According to Lady Kershaw, he was quickly moved on because he likes men. I want you to look through the parish records because I think that’s why Shepherd was there. I don’t yet know what he was looking for, or if it’s relevant to his murder. It’s possible it isn’t, and he was killed by Pritchard after all when he attempted to blackmail the vicar.”

“Blackmail sounds like something Shepherd would do. Horrid man.”

“Your opinion will continue to decline after you hear what we learned from the former nanny, Miss Crippen. Keep this to yourself, though. I promised not to spread her secret.” I told her about Esmond Shepherd’s abandonment of Phyllida Crippen in her time of greatest need.

Harmony was furious, but not shocked. “Men like him don’t take responsibility for their actions. Unfortunately, it happens all too often. Those are the sort of men who should be stopped visiting the rooms of maids with rules like Mrs. Short’s. Not genuinely good men with honest intentions.”

“I agree. But there’s more. Miss Crippen told us that she overheard Mrs. Browning arguing with Shepherd. It sounded like they’d once had a relationship but it had soured, and she was warning him not to go near her daughter, Janet.”

“That’s why you want to speak to Mrs. Browning tonight? I don’t envy you. Good luck, Cleo. You’re going to need it.”

Indeed I would. Mrs. Browning was prickly at the best of times. Confronting her about such a sensitive topic would be difficult.

I tried the same tactic on Mrs. Browning that had been a success with Lady Kershaw. I arrived at her door with a tea tray. She didn’t move aside and let me in, however.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t order tea.”

“I thought you might appreciate it, nevertheless.”

“I have a headache, and I don’t want tea. Goodnight, Miss Fox.”

“I thought you might try to avoid me, so let me tell you why you should let me in. Either you can give me your version of events, or you can talk to Scotland Yard.”

“The murder isn’t a London matter.”

“It will be when they learn Sergeant Honeyman is overlooking evidence because your brother told him to.”

Her nostrils flared.

“Believe me, I am the kinder option of the two, and the one that will draw less publicity. I don’t want to upset your family, because that will upset my family. I offer you discretion and understanding.”

She considered my proposal with another flare of her nostrils then grabbed the tray out of my hands and led the way through to the sitting room. She set the tray down on the table so heavily that the cups rattled in their saucers.

“Let’s get this over with,” she snapped as she poured the tea.

I cleared my throat to give myself a moment to compose myself. I didn’t want her to see that I was as rattled as the cups. What I had to say first could see me unceremoniously banished. “You had an affair with Esmond Shepherd.”

The stream of tea missed the second cup and spilled onto the saucer. She lowered the teapot to the tray. “So that’s how it is.”

I waited silently.

“Who told you?”

“I can’t tell you that. The affair, Mrs. Browning…when did it begin?”

“It wasn’t an affair. That implies one of us broke marriage vows. It happened before I married Mr. Browning.”

Mrs. Smith from the Morcombe teashop claimed Lady Cicely Wentworth, as Mrs. Browning was called then, married at seventeen. “You were very young,” I said.

“But not na?ve. I knew what men were like, that they coveted young women. I just didn’t realize Esmond was like that. Not then. He was only four years older than me, so it seemed perfectly all right. To me, at least.”

“You thought he loved you.”

“Yes, and I loved him, at the time.”

“You say you knew what men were like, despite your tender age. Is that because Mr. Browning pursued you from the age of fourteen?”

I’d managed to surprise her again, but she quickly schooled her features. She finished pouring the tea and handed me a cup. “It wasn’t as debauched as you make it sound. It’s true that Gordon was keen on me from the moment he saw me, and that I was only fourteen, but he didn’t act on his desire. Others must have noticed, however, so when my relationship with Esmond was discovered, I was married off to Gordon before anyone else found out. I had to be urgently removed from Hambledon.”

That explained why she’d married a commoner, and not waited for a titled nobleman.

“Is Janet the daughter of Esmond Shepherd?” I asked.

“No. She was born in my third year of marriage to Gordon. Esmond and I didn’t continue our secret liaisons after my wedding day. I simply meant the urgency was because no one wanted me to run off with Esmond. Could you imagine the scandal if I had? My family would have been humiliated.”

“You continued to love him, though.”

She nodded. “I loved him for years. I looked forward to visiting Hambledon, just so I could catch a glimpse of him. We never renewed our relationship, despite a few attempts on my part. I would wait for him in my room, or his cottage, hoping he would stumble upon me and…” Her cheeks flamed and she took a large gulp of tea. “Call me a fool, but I thought he never married because he was heartsick over losing me. I didn’t realize he’d lost interest a long time ago. Looking back, it was probably around the time I got pregnant.”

It seemed like another good opening to mention Janet, but I hesitated. Asking a woman if her daughter was having a relationship with her former lover seemed like a step too far.

Mrs. Browning noticed my hesitation. “Get it over with quickly, Miss Fox. It will hurt, but only for a moment.”

I drew in a deep breath. “Did Esmond Shepherd and Janet…?”

“No! Lord, no. I told him I’d shoot him if he went anywhere near her.” She huffed out a humorless laugh. “That’s not an admission of guilt. I merely threatened him, I didn’t kill him.”

“When did you threaten him?”

“It was around three months ago, just before the last nanny left.”

That matched Miss Crippen’s account of overhearing them in the gamekeeper’s cottage.

“Is that all, Miss Fox? Or do you have more muck to rake?”

“Something has bothered me ever since learning that Esmond Shepherd is a cad who seduces the young female staff. Why has he never been dismissed when everyone seems to know what he’s like, including your brother?”

“Not just my brother. Our father, too. He was furious when he caught us. Apoplectic. Yet he didn’t dismiss Esmond. As far as I’m aware, he didn’t even scold him. I took the full force of his anger.” She watched me over the rim of her teacup as she sipped. “I presume it’s because there’s truth to the rumor that my grandfather was Susannah Shepherd’s father, and that connection meant each successive earl was reluctant to dismiss her little brother, since old William Shepherd had been dreadfully wronged.” She pulled a face. “It’s all so murky. It happened so many years ago, that I doubt anyone knows the particulars, even Aunt Elizabeth.”

“What year was Susannah born?”

She lifted her gaze to the ceiling as she calculated. “She was a lot older than me and died aged twenty-one in fifty-five, so that means she was born in 1834, two years after my father was born.”

I frowned. “Your father was born in ’32? Then he would only have been sixty-eight if he were alive today.”

“Yes. He died five years ago. So?”

“His sister, your aunt the Lady Elizabeth, is eighty.”

“There was a large age gap between the siblings, and she has a healthy constitution. What of it?”

“Nothing,” I said quite honestly. I couldn’t think how it might be relevant, if at all.

“Is that all, Miss Fox? Or have you come to ask me more questions about your aunt’s jealousy of your mother?”

I’d been prepared for her waspishness, but her directness still took me by surprise. I allowed myself a moment in which to settle my jangling nerves. Once my tension eased, I wondered if she went on the attack because she was hiding something. It was a good way to throw me off balance.

It wouldn’t work, however. There was one more thing I needed to discuss with her. “Your husband went out with my cousin last night. Floyd told me all about it.”

“You have spies everywhere.”

“He doesn’t spy for me. He simply gave me his impression of Mr. Browning.”

Mrs. Browning huffed into her teacup before sipping.

“He likened him to Shepherd, actually, in their mutual fondness for young women.” I watched her carefully, but she looked neither surprised nor upset. Even so, I didn’t like myself for telling her. “I’m sorry. That was cruel.”

She lowered the teacup to the saucer and held my gaze with her own. “You can hardly be shocked, after learning Gordon took an interest in me when I was fourteen. But I do want to make one thing clear. Neither he nor Esmond succumbed to their urges with any underage girls.”

“You were seventeen when you married,” I pointed out.

“Old enough for marriage, Miss Fox.”

The conversation had veered from the direction I wanted to take it, so I steered it back. “Did your husband know about your relationship with Shepherd?”

“Yes, but he wasn’t jealous of Esmond if that’s what you’re asking.”

“There was no issue between them? No awkwardness when you visited Hambledon Hall?”

“Why would there be? My husband has no need to be jealous of a gamekeeper.”

“Did they become friends?”

She scoffed. “Don’t be absurd.”

“Did you ever see them talking?”

“They had to talk when we went shooting.”

“Are those the only occasions you saw them talking?”

She frowned. “What are you getting at, Miss Fox?”

I sipped my tea to allow the silence to unsettle her into responding. It didn’t work. She sipped her tea, too, and waited. I tried approaching my theory from a different angle. “Did you know some valuable items went missing from Hambledon Hall?”

“No. What does that have to do with anything?”

“It appears that Shepherd may have been involved in the thefts, but he must have had help from someone from within the household.”

“Staff can’t be trusted these days.”

“Floyd told me your husband likes to gamble.”

Her eyes flashed. “You think Gordon is in financial difficulty so has been stealing from my brother, along with Esmond. They had a falling out, so Gordon shot him.” She laughed, a brittle sound that raked across my nerves. “I was told you were smart, Miss Fox. What a disappointment to find that you’re simply fanciful.”

“You aren’t in financial difficulty?” I pressed. “Or does your husband not share that information with you?”

Any pretense of civility vanished. “Get out. You give me a headache.”

I left, feeling like I’d just been in the ring with a champion pugilist. Even so, I’d managed a solid blow or two of my own. If I had to guess, I’d say she had no idea what the family’s financial situation was, and she loathed being in the dark.

Mrs. Browning’s mention of my aunt reminded me that I’d promised Floyd I’d check on her. I knocked on the door to her suite. When there was no answer, I tried the handle. It was unlocked.

I opened the door a fraction. “Aunt Lilian? It’s me, Cleo. May I come in?”

Silence.

I entered and closed the door behind me. I felt my way along the dark corridor to the sitting room. Finding the light switch by feel, I turned it on.

“Turn it off!” cried Aunt Lilian from the sofa as she flung her arm over her eyes.

I quickly turned the light off again. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. I called out, but there was no answer.”

“What do you want, Cleopatra?”

“I’m just checking to see if you’re all right.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she snapped.

“I know you feel unwell if you haven’t taken your tonic for a while.”

She didn’t respond.

I turned to go, but stopped. Sometimes the right thing to do was the most difficult thing. I steeled myself and plunged in. “It will be hard weaning yourself off the tonic at first, but you will feel better in the long run. If you want to try, I will be here to help you.”

“How can you help, Cleopatra? You don’t know anything about what I’m going through.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I’ll leave you be.”

“You’re just like your mother,” she said, her tone icy. “She poked her nose into my business and treated me like a child, too.”

I blinked back tears as I left her suite and returned to my own. I didn’t blame her for lashing out. It was the addiction talking, not my sweet aunt. Knowing that didn’t make me feel any better, however. Indeed, it only made me feel worse. I wanted my loving Aunt Lilian back, but unless she wanted that, too, I couldn’t help her.

Sleep was elusive. My theories chased around the evidence in my head, only to be diverted by my concern for Aunt Lilian, and ways I could have handled the situation better. Despite snatching only a few hours, I got up at five and sat at the desk. Writing down my thoughts often cleared my head, allowing space for sleep to take over.

Not this time. I heard a soft shush of sound. Wrapping my dressing gown tightly around me, I stooped to pick up the piece of paper someone had slipped under the door. It was from Floyd, who once again had written me a note after returning home from a late night out with Mr. Browning.

I quickly opened the door, only to have to catch Floyd as he toppled against me.

“Sorry, Cleo,” he slurred. “I was leaning on your door for…I don’t really know why.”

I wrinkled my nose. “You stink of alcohol and cheap women.”

“One woman, and certainly not cheap.” His lips curved with a sleepy smile. “She was worth it.”

“ Ugh . You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re…” He rubbed his chin as he tried to think of a suitable insult. “Annoying.”

“So everyone is telling me lately.” I waved the paper in his face. “What did you want to tell me? I can’t read your drunk writing.”

“I’m not drunk.”

I straightened his crooked tie. “I don’t need to be a detective to see the evidence to the contrary.”

“This isn’t my drunken state. This is my tired state.” He took the note from me. He squinted at the writing then turned the paper around, then around again. “The gist of it is that Browning is a turd. He tried to borrow money from me after he lost at cards. When I refused, he picked my pocket. Someone saw and alerted me. Can you believe it, Cleo!” He pointed his finger at me, stopping a mere inch from my nose. “No need to remind me I used to be just as bad, but I assure you, I never stole from anyone to fund my gambling habit. Also, unlike Browning, I admitted I had a problem, and I made attempts to stop.”

“You only admitted it after you found yourself in hot water, and you didn’t get out of it yourself. Harry got you out of it.”

“I said I made attempts .” He tapped the end of my nose with his finger. “He’s downstairs in the smoking room.”

“Harry?”

“Brown turd.” He laughed. “Did you hear that, Cleo? Brown turd. I combined his name with what he is and the result is so witty. I’m smart and amusing when I’m drunk.”

“I thought you were simply tired.”

The lift door opened further along the corridor, and Mr. Browning emerged. He spotted me speaking to Floyd. Instead of heading to his own room, he approached.

“Evening, Miss Fox,” he said, a little loudly considering the late hour and everyone was asleep.

Instead of telling him to keep his voice down, or point out it was no longer evening, I smiled. He didn’t sound as drunk as Floyd, but he was certainly suffering the effects of alcohol, going by the way he swayed. The perfect opportunity had just presented itself.

Floyd leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. “Go to bed, Browning.”

“I want to speak to your pretty cousin.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Actually, I do,” I said.

Mr. Browning licked his smirking lips and tried to enter my suite. Floyd blocked him with an arm across the doorway.

“We can talk here,” I said, realizing I’d given the wrong impression.

Mr. Browning’s top lip curled with his sneer. He directed the sneer at me then Floyd. “She’s not worth it anyway.”

Floyd drew himself up to his full height.

Mr. Browning chuckled and began to walk off.

“Were you jealous of your wife’s relationship with Esmond Shepherd?” I asked.

He spun around and marched back to me, proving he wasn’t as drunk as he seemed. His fists opened and closed at his sides. “What did you say?”

I’d said it purely to make him stop. It had worked, but I changed my mind about pressing him on the thefts. My questions could wait until broad daylight when he was sober. Perhaps then he’d remember his gentlemanly manners.

He leaned so close I could see the fury burning in his eyes, despite the poor light. My heart pounded, drumming out a warning not to antagonize this man further.

Floyd’s drunkenness meant his warning system wasn’t working as well as mine. “She said, were you jealous of your wife?”

Mr. Browning flinched as if he’d been struck, but he didn’t take his hard gaze off me. He raised a fist and for a heart-stopping moment, I thought was going to hit me. Instead, he unfurled the fist and poked me in the shoulder. “You are one of those women, aren’t you? You may look pretty and feminine, but you act and think like a man. You’re not natural. You’re a freak . Bainbridge, you should lock her in a cage and charge admission so normal people can come and see her. You could earn a?—”

Floyd slammed his fist into Mr. Browning’s stomach.

Mr. Browning doubled over, wheezing.

Floyd rolled his shoulder and stood a little taller. “Disparage my cousin again and I’ll smash your nose. Try explaining that to your wife.”

Mr. Browning’s wheezing subsided enough that he was able to straighten. “I’ll tell Sir Ronald about this. Wait until he hears that his friend was assaulted by his own son.”

That knocked the wind out of Floyd’s sails and rendered him quite speechless.

“Thank you, Floyd. I’ll take over from here.” I gave Mr. Browning a pitying smile. “Your brother-in-law is Uncle Ronald’s friend, not you. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that both men think you deserved that punch after what you said. But if you do find you want to tell Sir Ronald, then I must warn you that I will tell everyone that you stole from Hambledon Hall.”

Floyd stared at me, open-mouthed.

Mr. Browning’s nostrils flared, rather like his wife’s did when I said something to offend her. “That’s an absurd accusation.”

“Only if it isn’t true. I know that you, Shepherd and a man named Faine stole valuable items from Lord and Lady Kershaw.”

Mr. Browning’s lips twisted with his smile. “If that were so, why weren’t the police notified?”

“Because Lord and Lady Kershaw knew you were the one stealing from them, and they overlooked it because you’re family. This way, they’re able to help you pay off your debts without embarrassing you. As you were stealing items that have no sentimental value, they don’t feel compelled to stop you. You knew Lady Kershaw despised those candlesticks, and teaspoons can be easily replaced.”

Mr. Browning took a step toward me, but Floyd intercepted him.

“Did Shepherd take more than his share?” Floyd asked. “Is that why you killed him?”

“I didn’t kill him.” Mr. Browning kept his voice low and glanced around. “Don’t spread that lie, Bainbridge.” He tugged on the hem of his jacket to straighten it after Floyd’s punch wrinkled it. “It’s true that we were partners in a little…scheme. It was only a few things that were easy to melt down or sell off. Except for that blasted rifle.”

“What rifle?” I asked.

“The one made by James Purdey & Sons that was displayed on the armory wall. It was originally made for royalty and is now a collector’s piece, worth a fortune to the right buyer. The problem is, those sorts of buyers aren’t easy to find and Faine couldn’t get rid of it using his usual network.”

“Is the rifle still in Faine’s possession?”

“I suppose so.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth again. “Listen. I didn’t kill Shepherd. There was no falling out, or anything like that.”

“What was Shepherd’s role in the scheme?”

“He knew of a way to get Kershaw to close the bridleway, so the goods could be moved without anyone from the public stumbling on us.”

“What way?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell us.”

“Kershaw wasn’t suspicious as to the reason for wanting the bridleway closed?”

He shrugged. “I assume whatever Shepherd had on Kershaw shut down any questions. Anyway, you’re probably right and he knows I’m in it up to my neck.” He huffed a humorless laugh. “He’s the one you should be looking at for the murder, not me. Kershaw could have killed Shepherd because he was tired of being blackmailed.” He seemed to take great delight in realizing that his brother-in-law had a strong motive for murdering the gamekeeper.

I wasn’t sure if ending the blackmail was a good reason for murder, however. Why end it now? And why end it with murder when telling the police about the thefts would have sufficed? He could have got Sergeant Honeyman to overlook Mr. Browning’s involvement, if necessary.

It would be interesting to see if Lord Kershaw reopened the bridleway now that Shepherd could no longer blackmail him. It would certainly add weight to the argument that he was the murderer.

Floyd and I watched Mr. Browning make his way back to his room. Once he was inside, I kissed Floyd’s cheek. “Thank you for defending me. You really are a sweetheart.”

“I know, but don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.” He winked and sauntered off toward his own suite.

I smiled, my mood dramatically improved now that I knew what step to take next.