Page 19 of Murder in Matrimony (A Lady of Letters Mystery #4)

THIRTEEN

Dear Lady Agony,

I am in need of a new handkerchief. What is the most popular design? So many styles abound. I cannot decide which I like best.

Devotedly,

Handkerchief Heyday

Dear Handkerchief Heyday,

It is indeed the heyday of the handkerchief, with options for every man, woman, and child. Colored embroidery is a great favorite right now. Scarlet thread on white cloth is popular with not only handkerchiefs but cuffs and collars. I recommend you try it for elegant results.

Yours in Secret,

Lady Agony

Amelia had been on edge all day and decided it was because she’d worked through her morning walk.

So out she went to relieve her anxieties.

The noise of the city was salve for her soul, and she absorbed its energy through the pores of her skin.

The energy turned into thinking, and she realized she held more facts to the mystery of A Concerned Citizen than anyone else, which should make it easier to unravel.

She couldn’t assume Tabitha was the blackmailer because she had the superintendent’s business card in her desk.

Instead, she would find out what business Tabitha had with the superintendent.

One possibility was Tabitha’s friend, Lady Sutherland. When Madge was suspected of murder, Lady Sutherland contacted an acquaintance at Scotland Yard. It was how they’d found out about Detective Collings’s resentment for Edgar. The card might have been obtained then.

Only, Amelia didn’t recognize the name. During the ordeal, she and Tabitha had shared every nugget of information with each other in hopes of clearing Madge’s—and by association, the Amesburys’—name.

One would think that if Aunt Tabitha had the name of a superintendent, she might have mentioned it during the investigation.

She would ask Tabitha about the contact at the Yard, casually, of course, but quickly. After ensuring Tabitha was not A Concerned Citizen, she would move on to more viable possibilities. Lord Drake would not have to turn himself in to the police to solve the problem after she solved it for them.

Behind her, the sun broke free from dense clouds, its rays stretching toward the quiet grasses that lay beyond bustling Hyde Park Corner.

She paused to watch the park go from hazy to light green, her breath catching at the sight of the wide-open space unfurling before her.

She wasn’t so far removed from Somerset that she couldn’t appreciate green grass and room to roam.

The wind, which was surprisingly gusty this afternoon, scattered plane tree leaves into the air, and the scene reminded her of her childhood and those long afternoons that made up her days.

Back then, she and her sisters enjoyed the activities nature provided them: walks, horse races, picnics.

One of her favorite pastimes included long walks to their favorite swimming hole.

Her mother never failed to bring lemonade and fancy cakes, and her father always remembered his violin.

Far from the eyes of town, Madge would accompany him with a voice that would make morning larks jealous.

Afterwards, she would be the first to jump into the pond, soaking Penelope and whomever else dangled their feet into the water’s edge.

Amelia looked forward to the excuse to jump in after her, splashing her in kind.

After several reciprocal splashes, they would climb out of the water and sun themselves on a warm blanket, dozing while their mother read poetry by Shelley or Byron or psalms from the Bible.

Amelia thought nothing in her imagination, even heaven itself, could equal those happy days with her family.

The sound of horses’ hooves interrupted her reverie, and she wheeled around to see a hansom cab boring down on her.

For a moment, she thought the horses were spooked, out of control, but then she saw the whip of the driver high in the air.

The cab was moving so fast that she could not make out his face, which was hidden by the low position of his bowler hat.

“Look out!” cried a man on the street.

Only then was Amelia shaken out of her trance.

She stumbled backward, the cab narrowly missing her.

The person inside the cab turned to glance backward, their face half covered by a handkerchief or cloth.

As the cab made a corner, however, the gusty wind caught the cloth, tearing it from the person’s grasp.

The white fabric twisted in the air before floating down, down to the street, where it stopped moving and started again. Amelia spun to race after it.

“Miss.” Someone touched her arm. “Are you all right?” It was the man who had hollered out the warning. His face was craggy with deep wrinkles, and his concerned eyes scanned her for harm.

“Yes, thank you.” She glanced at the cloth bouncing along the road.

“I have to see about that handkerchief.” Then she was racing down Piccadilly, determined to fetch the cloth.

Had it not been so white or the street so dirty, she might have lost track of it a few times on her chase.

As it was, however, she was able to keep eyes on it as she followed it from Piccadilly to Down Street, where it caught on a wrought-iron post. She heaved a breath as she reached for the cloth, which was indeed a handkerchief, albeit one with a smudge from the post.

She took several small breaths, the magnitude of the event now catching up with her.

As she glanced at the material, she noticed her hands were shaking.

She pressed the cloth against her chest, forcing herself to take deeper breaths.

Never had she been so close to physical peril. Never had she been taken so unaware.

After a particularly deep breath, she looked down, noting the hankie was fine linen, something she might see a man or woman carrying in Belgravia or Mayfair.

The embroidery at the corners depicted a man in a fishing boat in various states of catching a fish.

The stitching was fine and white and different than the darker colors most men carried.

It surely belonged to a woman. Still, she could also understand how it would appeal to a man as well.

Her stomach rumbled, and she told herself she was shaking because of hunger, not distress.

She tucked the handkerchief safely away in her pocket and began walking home.

A strong cup of tea and a sweet piece of cake always made her feel better.

It was late, and she was disoriented. She’d been woolgathering when the phantom cab came out of nowhere.

Except she knew what she’d seen: a person watching her from a hidden position. Had their intent been to scare her, they had achieved their objective. The blackmailer was the first person to come to mind.

But the blackmailer’s identity was anyone’s guess.

When she returned home, she went straight to the drawing room and loaded a plate with two scones and a tartlet as large as her fist—then stared at it.

Even Cook’s fresh raspberry jam wasn’t appealing.

She brushed at a few stray crumbs and sipped her tea.

It was only her nerves. They would go away with enough tea.

“There is a sight I don’t see every day.” Tabitha pointed her cane. “A full plate of food in front of you. What is the matter?”

“I don’t seem to be hungry.”

Tabitha stared at her for a moment, then walked over and put a hand on Amelia’s forehead. “No temperature.” She selected the chair next to her. “Are you ill?”

“No.” Amelia picked up her fork and poked at her scone with serious effort. “Might a woman not be hungry?”

“A woman, yes.” Tabitha glanced up from her freshly poured tea. “You, no.”

Amelia took a bite and regretted it. She washed the scone down with a sip of tea and changed the subject. Now was as good a time as any to quiz Tabitha on the card she found in her study. “Have you heard from Lady Sutherland lately? How has she been?”

Tabitha stared at her with interested blue eyes. “Lady Sutherland?”

“After her help with Madge, I never had the opportunity to inquire.”

“She was a good deal of help.” Tabitha added sugar to her tea. “If not for her, I would have never known about Collings’s hatred for our dear Edgar.”

“We owe Lady Sutherland our eternal gratitude for the information.” Amelia meant every word, and her chin tipped with earnestness as she said them.

When Madge was being investigated after the death of Mr. Radcliffe, Lady Sutherland talked to a person at Scotland Yard who told her a great deal about the vindictive Detective Collings.

Collings had been in the Royal Navy with Edgar before taking a position with Scotland Yard, and they both applied for a promotion.

Edgar received the commendation, and Collings was convinced he did so because of his family’s title, but it wasn’t the case.

At the time, Edgar’s older brother was alive and was in line to inherit the earldom.

Edgar never planned on being anything but a retired seaman from the Royal Navy.

Collings eventually quit and took up a government position at Scotland Yard.

When the Amesburys’ ballroom was the site of a murder, he saw his chance to enact revenge, attempting to involve Madge in the process.

But Tabitha and Amelia had put a stop to his plans. Amelia wished there was some way to put a stop to his career. “Collings was a menace to us and greater society. He should not be under the employ of Scotland Yard, in my opinion.”

“Mine as well.” Tabitha stirred her tea gently, as she had taught Amelia to do, without disturbing the teacup. “Which is why I spoke to his superior.”

Amelia sat up straighter. “Who?”

“Thomas Huxbey, Superintendent of Scotland Yard.”

Ah!

“I met him in person last week.” Tabitha put down her spoon. “An admirable man, my age and not a day younger. Smart and, if I may say, in ridiculously good health. Doesn’t look a day over sixty.”

“Good health, hmm?” Amelia felt the corners of her mouth flick upward. She’d never heard Tabitha compliment a man in the two-plus years they’d lived together. Something about the way Tabitha revealed the detail told Amelia her aunt admired him exceedingly.

Tabitha lowered her lids enough to indicate her impatience. “If I may continue … he promised me that Collings would be dealt with, and a man such as he does not go back on his word.”

“Do you mean Collings will be released from his position at Scotland Yard?”

“I mean exactly that.” Tabitha sipped her tea.

“Gracious.” Amelia was glad to see him go. Furthermore, she was glad Aunt Tabitha had a reason for having the superintendent’s card in her desk drawer. She was not A Concerned Citizen, not that Amelia really thought she ever was. Still, Amelia could move on to her next suspect with confidence.

“If my suspicions are correct, and they usually are, our spiteful Detective Collings has left the force already,” said Tabitha. “Just in time for the arrival of your relatives.”

Amelia smiled despite her upset stomach.

“Do you know I’ve had a letter from one of your aunts?”

Amelia closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head.

“It is from Henrietta, but ‘please call me Hen.’” Tabitha put her teacup down with a plunk.

“As if she doesn’t have a last name at all.

Hen requires a carriage for her and her four sons, whom she describes as strapping.

She understands cousins haven’t been invited, but since her husband cannot attend, she’d like to be allowed an exception. Four men instead of one.”

“I’m sorry, Tabitha. Hen is a lovely woman. Fertile, but lovely.” Amelia tried to don a serious face, but it was impossible. “I can find a cab for her and the boys if you’d like.”

“A cab is the least of my problems. Forty-five, Amelia. Forty-five.” She emphasized the number. “That is the current head count for the wedding breakfast. I’m going to have to order more mutton—unless their eating habits resemble yours this afternoon.”

Amelia looked down at her still-full plate.

After hearing about her family and enjoying a chuckle, she felt a little of her appetite return.

She tried another bite of her scone, knowing full well that her family and extended family were big eaters, drinkers, and talkers.

They enjoyed gathering, and when a gathering included food—which it usually did—the festivities seemed to go on for hours.

In fact, Amelia remembered a time when her cousins stayed so long that her mother made breakfast for them before they left.

“I’m afraid they all enjoy food a good deal.” Amelia reached for the jam. “I would go ahead and order an extra joint of mutton after all.”