Page 16

I telephoned the Morcombe post office first thing in the morning and asked for an urgent message to be sent to Reverend Pritchard with my brief instructions. I paced the foyer of the hotel for the next hour, worrying that he’d be offended at me giving him orders. Or perhaps the postmaster didn’t heed my request for urgency. Or perhaps the vicar wasn’t available.

It was a relief when the clerk at the check-in desk signaled to me. I accepted the telephone receiver from him and spoke into the mouthpiece. “This is Miss Fox.”

Reverend Pritchard’s voice crackled down the line. “This is most irregular. I don’t have the time to come to the post office to make telephone calls to London. My flock in Morcombe need me.”

“This affects your flock,” I reminded him. “I do appreciate your time, Reverend, as I’m sure Lord and Lady Kershaw will when they’re made aware of your help.”

Mentioning the names of the most important members of his flock had the desired effect and his next words lacked the acerbity of his previous ones. “Esmond Shepherd was indeed baptized here in 1855. His parents are listed as William and Mabel Shepherd.”

“And Susannah’s death?”

“She was buried in the churchyard in 1855 at the age of twenty-one, just five days after Esmond’s baptism. The cause of death is given as fever. It must have been a tumultuous time for the Shepherd family. They experience the joy of welcoming a son after years of barrenness only to lose their daughter mere days later. I can’t imagine what they went through.”

Nor could I. The vicar was right about the joy and the heartbreaking loss. But he was wrong about the rest.

After I hung up, I telephoned Harry’s office, but the operator informed me there was no answer. I hung the receiver on its hook and thanked the clerk. I needed to talk over my findings with someone, but all the staff were at work. If I had to work, too, then so be it.

I found Harmony cleaning a room on the third floor. I joined her at the bed where she was unfolding a set of clean sheets. We’d discussed my theory that morning over breakfast, so she knew of my plan to telephone the vicar.

“You look as though you’ve won a prize,” she said, her eyes bright. “You were right? Susannah Shepherd was Esmond’s mother, not his sister?”

I signaled for her to give me one side of the sheet to help her spread it over the bed. “The parish records list William and Mabel Shepherd as his parents.”

“Oh.”

“They also show that Esmond was baptized five days before Susannah was buried, when he was a mere week old. Her cause of death was given as a fever. The timing can’t be a coincidence, not when women who die days after giving birth are sometimes noted as having succumbed to fever rather than a result of childbirth. I’m sure that Susannah was his mother, despite what the records say.”

“All right. So, if we accept that, then who is the father? Surely it can’t be the fourth earl. If the rumors suggested he was Susannah’s father, not her lover, then there must have been quite an age difference.”

“It’s more likely her lover was the fifth earl, the current Lord Kershaw’s father. That the rumor about the fourth earl and Mabel Shepherd being lovers was wrong.”

“Perhaps they were never quashed because it was better to have everyone believe that than know the truth.”

She had an excellent point and I told her so.

I assisted her to pull up the bedspread and watched as she tucked it firmly into her side of the bed. I attempted an equally firm tuck on my side, but she insisted on redoing it to her standard. Harmony picked up a cleaning cloth from her cart, so I picked up one, too. We split the room down the middle, each of us wiping over the surfaces on our half.

Cleaning proved to be a good activity to do while thinking, particularly for this case. As I lifted up objects on the bedside table to clean under them, I was reminded of the photograph in the gamekeeper’s cottage, as well as all the dust. The dust had built up over the previous month, after Mabel Shepherd died. Esmond, and the world, had assumed she was his mother. But if my theory was correct, she was his grandmother.

“Mabel Shepherd died recently,” I pointed out. “Again, an apparent coincidence that might be more significant than we thought.”

“Do you mean she may have confessed to Esmond on her deathbed that Susannah was his mother and the previous earl his father?”

“She may have confessed to more people than Esmond. Somebody studied the photograph in the cottage, most likely to look for a resemblance between Esmond and the fifth Lord Kershaw.”

“Yes, but they studied it well after Mabel Shepherd died, going by the dust disturbance.” Harmony flicked her cloth over the already cleaned desk in the corner of the room. “If Mabel confessed on her deathbed, that’s a delay of three or four weeks. Why wait?”

She had a point.

“And,” she went on, “why would someone kill Esmond over this? The parish record of his baptism states the Shepherds are his parents. There’s no proof that the fifth earl is his father. Without proof, there’s no motive.”

“I have a theory about that. Esmond went to St. Michael’s here in London after looking through the Morcombe parish records. I wasn’t sure why at first, but now I wonder if it’s because his baptism was registered twice. Firstly, here in London where he was born in the family’s townhouse, away from the prying eyes of the village. Then mere days later back in Morcombe. The first registration could have his legitimate parents’ names, and the latter one could have the false names and was carried out purely for the sake of appearances. It’s easier to obscure the truth in the busy London parish than the quiet Morcombe one where everyone knows everybody else’s business.”

Harmony nodded along to my theory. “So I should have checked the 1855 records yesterday, not 1834.”

“You can go back this afternoon.”

She moved into the en suite bathroom, only to stop in the doorway. “There’s one large hole in your theory, Cleo.”

“What?”

“The motive. Yes, it’s a scandal, but it’s the previous earl’s scandal, not the current one’s.”

“Perhaps the current Lord Kershaw didn’t want his parents’ memories to be mired in scandal. He may want to maintain the facade that his parents were happily married.” Even as I said it, I realized I lacked a crucial piece of information to support that theory. I didn’t know if his parents were married at that time. If they were, then it was quite possible he didn’t want the world to know his father had an affair with the gamekeeper’s daughter. If they weren’t, the scandal was rather a mild one as scandals go.

I spent the rest of the day in a state of restlessness while I waited for Harmony to revisit St. Michael’s church after her shift finished. I’d made up my mind to call on Harry and ask if he needed assistance with any of his cases, but before I left the hotel, Flossy waylaid me.

“Cleo, will you please, please come shopping with Janet and me. Neither her aunt nor her mother wants to go. They say they’ve had enough of shopping and everything for the wedding is purchased.”

“Then why do you want to go?”

She looked at me as though I’d said something stupid. “Why not?” She clasped my hand. “Please, Cleo. It’s Janet’s last day in London, and we have nothing to do until afternoon tea and our mothers won’t let us out without a chaperone.”

Since I needed to do something to fill my time, I agreed. With a little clap of her hands, Flossy went off to fetch Janet while I asked Peter to organize one of the hotel carriages to collect us at the front door.

Fifteen minutes later, we set off in the rain. An hour later, in the men’s department at Harrods, I began to regret my decision. Shopping wasn’t my favorite activity, particularly when I wasn’t the one choosing things. Added to which, Flossy and Janet were like bees flitting from flower to flower. Janet wanted to buy a gift for her fiancé, but she couldn’t decide between a walking stick, a monocle, or a gold cigar cutter. When she dismissed them all and moved on to the tiepins, I decided to step in for the sake of my sanity.

“Tell me about your fiancé,” I said. “How old is he?”

“Seven years older than me,” she said, touching a silk handkerchief display on the glass-topped counter.

“Then I don’t think a monocle or walking stick are a good idea.”

“But they make a man look so distinguished.”

Flossy agreed with me. “They make him look old .”

“I suppose,” Janet said.

“Does he smoke a lot of cigars?” I asked.

Janet bit her lower lip as she bent to study the tiepins beneath the glass countertop again. “I don’t know. He doesn’t smoke around me.”

At least we were narrowing down our options. “What are his hobbies?”

Janet straightened. “Politics?”

“You don’t know?”

“His family are quite political, so I assume he is, too. Yes, he must be. I think he plans on becoming quite the force in one of the political parties one day.”

“The Tories?”

“Is that the conservative party? Yes, them.”

I exchanged a glance with Flossy and was relieved to see that even she seemed to think it unusual that Janet didn’t know her fiancé very well. “Haven’t you spoken about his plans for the future?” I asked Janet.

She shrugged. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. He’s determined to do well for himself. He’s quite ambitious.”

A gentleman with plans to enter politics could have his future derailed by a scandal in his wife’s family. The fifth earl of Kershaw’s affair with the gamekeeper’s daughter might not be enough to affect the sixth Lord Kershaw’s life, but it could alter Janet’s future husband’s.

I studied Janet closely as she asked the sales assistant if she could take a closer look at one of the tiepins. She clutched her beaded purse tightly in both hands and tried to look mature, but she couldn’t hide her smile of satisfaction as the sales assistant set out the tiepin on a white cloth. Janet seemed like a girl allowed to spend her own money for the first time, who wanted to make her first purchase special. She was innocent in the ways of the world, I was sure of it.

Her parents were wise, cunning even, and Janet was pretty and young, a combination that attracted the roguish gamekeeper. What would they do to protect her? Marry her off to the first gentleman to take an interest in her when Esmond Shepherd’s roaming eye settled on her, as her own mother’s parents had done?

“What do you think?” she asked Flossy and me.

“It’s very elegant,” Flossy said.

Janet looked pleased. “Miss Fox?”

“It’s quite flashy with the ruby. Is your fiancé the sort of man who likes colorful gemstones?”

Janet deflated. “I don’t think so.”

The sales assistant glared at me as she returned the tiepin to the display cabinet.

“What about the one with the diamond?” I asked. “It’s not as colorful as the ruby, but it’s still elegant and quite sophisticated.”

“Very sophisticated,” the sales assistant said as she showed it to Janet.

Janet agreed and handed over the money. As the sales assistant wrapped the box for her, I pressed her about her upcoming marriage.

“How and when did he propose? It must have been a thrill for you.”

“Oh, he didn’t. It was all arranged before we met. I first saw him at Hambledon Hall, a week after it was all set up.”

“Why there?”

“My aunt and uncle Kershaw know his parents very well. They suggested the marriage and had their solicitor draw up the contract. That’s why I was able to make such a good match, you see. The benefit of having an earl for an uncle,” she said with a giggle.

Flossy must have heard the story before, and knowing my views on marriage, quickly wanted to allay my concerns over the decision forced on Janet. “She wasn’t keen at first, were you, Janet? But after she met him, she changed her mind.”

“I was dead against it,” Janet said. “I wanted to marry a man of my choosing. Then I met him and saw how handsome he is, and so tall. I’m very fortunate.”

If tall and handsome were the only ingredients for a happy marriage, she would have a wonderful life ahead. I kept my cutting opinion to myself. As unwise as it was to choose a husband based on such superficial reasoning, I didn’t want to be the one to upset her. I liked Janet’s vivacity, so different to her mother’s jaded character. Although, if I were Janet’s mother, I’d worry about her naivety. I’d have waited until she was a little older before setting her up with a conservative man.

“Why not wait a few years?” I asked.

Janet’s face suddenly flushed scarlet. She accepted the package from the sales assistant before hurrying to the exit.

Flossy raced after her. “Janet? Why is your face red?”

Janet walked out of the shop, strode up to our waiting carriage and climbed in. Flossy and I exchanged glances then got in too. I waited for the footman to close the door before pressing Janet.

“Is something wrong? Please, tell us. Perhaps we can help you.”

She lowered her head. “It’s nothing. Everything’s all right now.”

Flossy took Janet’s hand. “We’re your friends and sharing your burden might make you feel better.”

Janet chewed her lower lip.

“You shouldn’t take the secret to your wedding,” Flossy went on. “Share it with us and we’ll advise you whether you should tell your fiancé or not. Cleo is very discreet, and wise, too.”

I was pleased that I didn’t have to be the one to do the coaxing, for once. I simply tried to look suitably discreet and wise as I sat opposite Janet and waited for her to talk.

She gave in with a small nod. “All right. But I assure you, it’s nothing, really. While I can’t say for certain, I think my marriage was arranged quickly because of an incident that happened a few months ago at Hambledon Hall. I told my Aunt Kershaw and she must have told my uncle and shortly after that, I was engaged.” She shrugged slender shoulders. “It all happened so fast, but I do think that incident was what compelled them to marry me off to someone…safe.”

“What incident?” I prompted.

“I was staying at their house and caught their gamekeeper watching me.”

“At a shooting party?” Flossy asked.

“In the house. I was in my room, getting ready for bed. I heard a noise behind the wall panel beside the fireplace. I thought it was a mouse and went to look. I touched one of the wall panels, and must have released a mechanism. The panel opened like a door. Behind it was a large space, and the gamekeeper was in it. I screamed and he fled. I told my aunt when she came to see what had upset me. Together, we found the tiny peephole in the panel that he must have been looking through into my room. She didn’t know it was there, and said if she had, she would never have given me the room. She said my uncle didn’t know either.”

Flossy gasped. “Had the gamekeeper seen you naked ?”

Janet lowered her head and nodded.

Flossy circled an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “So your aunt and uncle thought you should be married after that?”

Janet lifted one shoulder. “I was engaged shortly afterward, so I presume so. It all worked out for the best, though. My fiancé is a wonderful man. He’ll take good care of me. I know he will.”

Would he continue to take good care of her if he knew her uncle’s family were linked to a scandal that could embarrass him, at best, and ruin his career, at worst? How far would Janet’s family go to stop the secret from coming out?

I was listless when I returned to the hotel. I felt close to a breakthrough, but wanted to wait for Harmony to return from St. Michael’s before I confronted Lord Kershaw. I needed solid proof before I accused his late father of being the father of the murdered gamekeeper, and that he, or one of the Brownings, murdered Esmond Shepherd to keep the secret from ruining Janet’s marriage. If Harmony found nothing, my next port of call would be the General Registry Office. I hoped I didn’t have to go that route. Getting records out of the GRO was time-consuming and this was something I wanted to get over with quickly. The sooner the killer was exposed, the sooner I could begin to repair the damage my investigation would cause to my relationship with my uncle and aunt.

I took the stairs rather than the lift up to the fourth floor to expend some of my nervous energy. When I reached my suite, I wondered if I should return downstairs to telephone Harry and talk it through with him. I decided not to when an opportunity presented itself.

Lady Elizabeth emerged from the lift. She thanked John, the lift operator, and walked slowly and unsteadily to her room. She stopped at her door and leaned the walking stick against the wall so that she could fish out the key from her bag. After a moment, she paused, sighed heavily and snapped the bag closed.

I approached and asked if she was all right. “Do you need some assistance?”

“I forgot that I gave my key to my nephew in the foyer earlier, so he could return my coat to my room. I realized I didn’t need it as it’s not that cold outside, after all. He never gave the key back, and now he’s downstairs reading the newspaper in the smoking room and I’m all the way up here and can’t get inside.” She tapped the door with the end of her walking stick.

“Would you like to join me for a cup of tea? I can send a message down to the kitchen through the speaking tube in my room and have someone retrieve your key.”

Her face softened with her smile. “Would you? That’s so kind, Miss Fox. Thank you.” She took my arm and together we walked to my suite.

I sent word down to the kitchen for tea to be sent up along with Lady Elizabeth’s key. We settled in the sitting room while we waited.

“Have you enjoyed your stay at the Mayfair?” I began.

“Very much so. I always like coming to London, although I do it so rarely, these days.”

“Is that because your family sold their house in Marylebone?”

She showed no flicker of surprise that I knew. It must be common knowledge. “I miss that house. It was a handsome place, and very well located. My bedroom window overlooked the garden square and, thanks to its height, I could see couples having clandestine meetings behind the bushes. They thought they couldn’t be seen.” Her eyes twinkled with her laughter. “I was annoyed with my brother when he sold it.”

“Why did he?”

“We didn’t need it anymore.”

“He sold it after 1855, didn’t he?”

“That very year, it was,” she said wistfully. “A long time ago, now.”

“After Esmond was born there.” I’d decided not to wait for Harmony. I was very sure of my theory, and the opportunity of speaking to Lady Elizabeth alone might not present itself again. The family was leaving the following morning.

She regarded me for a moment, her head tilted to the side. She showed no anger or concern, nor even a great deal of surprise. She almost seemed relieved. “Yes. Apparently Esmond Shepherd was born there, although I didn’t know that at the time. When it became clear Susannah wouldn’t survive, my brother took her home to Morcombe to die and gave up his son to Susannah’s parents to raise as their own. He never entered the townhouse again and sold it soon after.”

“He loved Susannah?”

“So Mabel Shepherd told me, years later.”

“On her deathbed last month?”

“Oh no. After my brother died, five years ago.”

“Who else knew Esmond was his son?”

“No one.”

“Are you sure your brother’s wife didn’t know?”

“I don’t think she did. It was never discussed. Not once. If she did, she hid it well. She and my brother had a perfectly good marriage, you see, and his relationship with Susannah took place before they married.”

“Would your brother have married Susannah if she hadn’t died?”

She tilted her head again as she studied me. “I didn’t expect you to be so sentimental, Miss Fox.”

“Would he?” I prompted.

“No. If marriage was his intention, he wouldn’t have bedded her. He would have waited until they were husband and wife. My brother knew his duty, Miss Fox. Our parents drilled it into us from an early age that we had certain responsibilities as members of a noble family. My brother was just the heir at that time, but he had a strong sense of honor and duty. He knew he had to marry a young woman of good breeding, not the gamekeeper’s daughter, no matter how much he cared for her or how many children she gave him.”

The tea arrived and I directed the waiter to leave the tray on the table in the sitting room. Lady Elizabeth placed the room key that came with it in her purse while I poured.

“Not too full for me, please, Miss Fox.” She showed me her shaking hand. “Halfway is safest.”

I handed her a cup and saucer then sat down with mine. “It’s quite the scandal you have buried in your family tree.” I tried to sound lighthearted, as if it didn’t matter.

“Oh yes, isn’t it? If my brother were alive today, he’d be horrified to know I was talking to you about his business.”

“What about your nephew, the current earl?”

She frowned. “Why would it upset him? It’s not his scandal. Anyway, I told you. He doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t he?”

“As far as I am aware , he doesn’t.”

“Do you suspect though?”

She sighed and lowered the teacup to her lap. “Perhaps he does know. It’s the only explanation for the bridleway closure. I tried talking to him about it but he wasn’t interested. He brushed me off whenever I mentioned it. But he must have closed it to the public to keep Esmond Shepherd happy, after Esmond threatened to tell people about his real parents. I suspect my nephew wanted to protect his father’s secret so agreed. It was a small price to pay. Anyway, he has reopened it now that…”

“Now that Esmond is no longer blackmailing him.”

Her lips thinned in disapproval at the word.

“How do you think Esmond found out?” I asked.

“Through his mother, Mabel Shepherd. His grandmother , I mean.”

“Do you know why Esmond wanted the bridleway closed?”

“It’s close to his cottage. I assume he was tired of the public traipsing past his front door, and he saw this as an opportunity to force my nephew to stop them.” She picked up the teacup and sipped.

I didn’t mention the thefts. I no longer thought them relevant to the murder. “Are you going to tell Lord Kershaw you know why he closed the bridleway? Or that I know who Esmond’s real parents were?”

“I see no reason to.” She peered at me over the rim of her teacup. “Not unless I need to warn him that you are going to run to the gossip columnists.”

“You know I won’t,” I said.

She nodded and sipped, satisfied with my response.

“But there is the matter of Esmond’s murder…”

“You think my nephew did it? You think he killed Esmond to keep his father’s secret from getting out?” She scoffed. “Don’t be absurd, Miss Fox. Keeping the scandal from being made public may be enough of a reason to close the bridleway, but it’s not enough to kill a man. His own half-brother, no less.”

When she put it like that, she had a point. It wasn’t a strong enough reason for such a terrible act. The shooting was calculated, perhaps even planned. It wasn’t done in the heat of an argument. Even if Lord Kershaw didn’t learn Esmond was his half-brother until quite recently, it would take a particular coldness to shoot someone he’d known his entire life. I couldn’t imagine Lord Kershaw murdering Esmond Shepherd because they shared the same father. If the scandal came out, what of it? It would embarrass Lord Kershaw, but that was all.

I didn’t throw out the theory altogether, however. “The scandal would affect Janet. Her conservative, politically ambitious fiancé wouldn’t like it. He might even end their engagement over it.”

Lady Elizabeth set down the teacup. “It’s true. He might. But if he’s affected by old gossip that has no bearing on anything at all, then good riddance. Janet will find someone else. Perhaps even someone more suited to her character than the stuffy fellow my nephew and his wife found.” She took her walking stick and used it to push herself to her feet. “Thank you for the tea, Miss Fox. It was unexpectedly invigorating.”

I walked her to the door. “I hope my questions haven’t offended you.”

She chuckled. “It takes a lot to offend me. A few impertinent questions about my family’s naughty past aren’t going to do it.”

I watched her walk slowly along the corridor until she reached the door to her room, then returned inside my own. I sat at my desk and wrote notes to help my thoughts form. I got nowhere, however. Despite the connections between my suspects, and good theories, I lacked a powerful motive.

I checked the time on the clock. If I hurried, I might catch Harry before he left the office for the day. He might have some insights.

I was about to leave when Harmony arrived. She sported an air of satisfaction.

“You found something in the St. Michael’s records?” I asked.

“I looked at the baptisms for 1855, and I found nothing.”

“Then why do you look pleased?”

“Because a page was torn out of the baptism register. I brought it to the vicar’s attention, and he said he hadn’t noticed before. I think Esmond tore it out and kept it as proof.”

“He must have. But I no longer think it matters who his father was. It’s not a strong enough motive to kill him. After all this time, it’s a modest scandal, at worst. Enough for Janet’s fiancé to give up on her, but not enough to kill Esmond Shepherd to stop him revealing it. I doubt even Janet would kill him if she suspected he was going to make the information public. She’s in love with the idea of getting married more than she’s in love with the man she’s marrying.”

Harmony flopped onto the sofa and kicked off her shoes. “What about her father, Mr. Browning? If he has debts and the future son-in-law is wealthy, he might be planning to borrow from him. Esmond could ruin his plans by exposing the scandal.”

“Mr. Browning had a better moneymaking scheme with the thefts. Esmond Shepherd was more valuable to him alive, by blackmailing Lord Kershaw into closing the bridleway and turning a blind eye to the items that went missing from his house.” I sighed. “I’m sorry, Harmony. I sent you to St. Michael’s for nothing.”

“You can make it up to me by allowing me to nap on your sofa. I have two hours before it’s time to do your hair for dinner.”

I’d almost forgotten we were dining with the Kershaws again, since it was their final night at the hotel. “Take the bed. It’s more comfortable. I’ll read a book in here.”

There was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Mr. Hobart standing there. “I hoped to find you in here, Miss Fox. I have a message for you.”

“From Harry?”

“Reverend Pritchard. He telephoned and asked me to pass on the following information.” Mr. Hobart cleared his throat. “He happened to be looking through an old marriage register in the church and discovered a page had been torn out. He doesn’t know when it was torn out or by whom, but he thought it might be relevant to your investigation, given the date.”

“The date?”

“The page included marriages conducted in early 1855. He said it was a year that meant something to you.” He arched his brows in question.

“It does indeed, Mr. Hobart. Thank you for coming here personally. That is very interesting.”

I closed the door and turned to see Harmony was on her feet, with no sign of tiredness. “A torn page from the St. Michael’s baptism register and now one from the Morcombe marriage register, both pages from the year 1855. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“There’s only one reason Esmond Shepherd would be interested in the marriage register,” I went on. “He found a record that his parents got married. He’s legitimate , Harmony. And since he was the eldest son of the fifth earl of Kershaw, he was the rightful sixth earl.”

That must be it! That was the strong motive I’d been missing. Esmond Shepherd was killed so he couldn’t tell anyone he should be the earl. It put the man known as the current Lord Kershaw at the top of my suspect list with several exclamation marks and a circle around his name.