Down a Dark River, page 6
The pencil continued across the page. “We arrived sometime before three o’clock, and I left at half past six. Miss Rose wanted to be sure I left before dark, as I was walking.”
“She wouldn’t have the carriage bring you home?”
She looked up in surprise. “Oh, she would have, but I prefer to walk. It’s not far, and it was a nice evening.”
“It was raining,” I reminded her.
“It was only sprinkling, and I had an umbrella. I enjoy the fresh air.”
So Lucy snatched at liberty once in a while, like all of us.
“And when you left, Miss Albert was planning to stay the night?”
She nodded. “I said goodbye to her, and she said she would be home tomorrow. Well,” she corrected herself, “today.”
So the last Lucy saw of her was at half past six.
“Can you think of anything else I should know? Anyone who might have been angry with her? Anything that might help me find out who did this?”
The two vertical creases between her brows deepened. “No. I’m afraid not.” But as she spoke, she wrote one last line. “I should return upstairs. There is a great deal to do, in preparation for the funeral.”
I stood.
“Good luck, Inspector,” she said and handed me the notebook.
I glanced down. She’d filled nearly two pages in her tidy, slanted script.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “You’ve been most helpful.”
“I hope so.” Her eyes were moist with tears, and her voice caught. “Miss Albert didn’t deserve it. Not that anyone would, but …”
“I understand,” I replied. “One more thing. Where can I find the Harveys?”
“Greyson Square, here in Mayfair. Number 4.”
* * *
I waited until I was at a pub, with some shepherd’s pie and a cup of strong coffee in front of me, before I opened my notebook and read what she’d written:
Rose neither spoiled nor selfish. Noble character, intelligent and devotedly loyal to friends. Could be outspoken, blunt on occasion. May have offended someone? Unhappy and angry about constant squabbling among family members.
Mrs. A in bed with ailments, some feigned for attention. Iron heiress, money in trust established by her father prior to marriage.
The judge and Mrs. A estranged. Possibly a mistress?
Sons Peter and Hugh at Cambridge. Hugh caught last year cheating on exams.
Ask Lady Edith abt Anthony Thurgood, man in your drawing.
Ask AT abt Sir Percy Dukehart, R didn’t like or trust him.
For God’s sake. Squabbling, adultery, cheating, distrust, all in one family. More intrigue than in one of Belinda’s novels. I reread Lucy’s notes twice to be sure I understood them all.
As I closed my pocketbook, I was struck with admiration—for Lucy’s powers of observation, her ability to provide the most salient facts, and her skill in managing two trains of thought simultaneously. If she were a man, I might have asked her if she were interested in a career at the Yard.
CHAPTER 6
The next morning when I finished breakfast, it was only half past eight, which usually would be too early to intrude upon the Harvey family. But these weren’t ordinary circumstances, and I have been called worse things than rude, so I started out. As I drew near Mayfair, curiosity made me detour past the Beckford house, my steps slowing as I turned off Kinsley Lane and walked beside the iron fence. Like all the other houses on this street, it was quiet, with a few lights behind the sheers. Nothing amiss at all.
Except, of course, that the mistress was in hospital and the husband had no idea.
I continued on my way.
The exterior of the Harvey residence in Mayfair was very much like the Albert and Beckford houses, although Grayson Square had an enclosed park with a manicured lawn and gardens in the middle. But as I stepped inside the Harveys’ foyer, I noted differences. The rugs seemed thicker under my feet, the chandelier sparkled more brilliantly, and the gilt frames around the portraits were suitably heavy for male ancestors who appeared weighed down with wisdom and dignity. Belinda might have described it as the difference between old money and new.
I was told the family wasn’t finished with breakfast yet, but Lady Edith would see me shortly. I was taken to the parlor, and within minutes a young woman of about twenty entered the room with her aunt, Lady Harvey, a dark-haired woman of thirty-five or so with a sour expression, a set of spectacles on a gold chain, and bony, ringless fingers.
At first, Lady Edith made me think of a good-natured puppy. Rather plump, with toffee-colored hair and large brown eyes that were red and swollen with weeping. A crumpled handkerchief wadded in her hand was as obvious a sign of misery as a property in a play. But the grief in Lady Edith’s face seemed sincere. Lady Harvey gestured for me to sit down, and so we all did. I saw them both take note of my wounded face, but they were too well bred to comment.
“I gather that you’ve heard about Miss Albert,” I began.
Lady Edith nodded, and tears welled up. “We heard last night.”
“I understand you two were friends.”
“She was my dearest friend,” she managed chokingly. “She truly was.”
“My dear, try to control yourself. Hysterics won’t help the inspector.” Lady Harvey leaned toward me, and in her eyes—no tears there, I noticed—was the gleam of sly interest veiled by simpering sympathy. “What happened to poor Miss Albert? All we know is it was something dreadful. Was it an accident?”
“I can’t say much yet,” I explained stiffly. “But, no, it doesn’t appear to be an accident.”
Lady Harvey sat back, dissatisfied.
Lady Edith’s eyes were fearful. “Did he hurt her very badly, before she died?”
That question told me she loved her friend, and I told a lie I’ve squared with my conscience plenty often: “We don’t think so.”
A glimmer of relief. “I just can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her—”
Lady Harvey gave a derisive snort.
At that, Lady Edith whirled. “Aunt Louisa! I know you didn’t like her, but she’s gone, and I don’t want you sniffing at everything I say. It’s unkind. And whatever you think, Rose was my friend, and I—I want to talk to the inspector alone.”
I looked at her in some surprise. Not such a puppy after all.
Lady Harvey drew herself up. “There can be nothing you would say to the inspector that—”
“But in fact, I would much prefer it,” I broke in. “In cases such as these, the more unique accounts I hear, the better. Would it be possible for me to speak with you afterward, Lady Harvey?”
The expression on her face could have curdled milk. But she rose and left the room, closing the door behind her with exaggerated, offended care.
I turned back to Lady Edith, who had risen several notches in my estimation. “I’m sorry about Miss Albert, truly.”
She slumped in her chair, as if the spine she’d momentarily shown had deserted her. Her chin trembled. “Oh, Inspector. Have you ever lost a friend? Someone you trusted?”
My breath caught. I might have nodded out of sympathy. But, in fact, I’d been nearly Lady Edith’s age when my closest friend, Pat Doyle, died. “Yes, I have.”
“It’s the strangest thing, isn’t it?” Her eyes filled with tears again. “Rose and I told each other everything important. And I keep thinking I’ll feel better if I can only tell her what’s happened, but after a moment I remember she’s not here to tell.” In a whisper, she added, “You must think I sound mad.”
“Not at all,” I assured her. “It takes time to get over the shock.”
A grateful nod. “What happened to her? Please, Inspector. What I’ve been imagining is beyond dreadful.”
The softness in those brown eyes warned me. I couldn’t tell her everything, but I would tell her something. “She was attacked and put into a small boat, which, as far as we can tell, drifted down the Thames and was caught in the shallows early yesterday.”
“They put her into a boat? In the middle of the night?” Her expression was horrified. “She must have frozen! Or—or was she already …”
Hastily, I steered the conversation away. “We still aren’t sure. But she was dressed in a blue brocade gown, with pearls and—”
“Oh, yes,” she broke in with an eager look. “That’s the dress she wore to our party.”
I drew out my pocketbook, relieved that she was amenable to being redirected. Now to begin with a few uncomplicated questions. “Were there many people at your party? Did you have all your friends and acquaintances?”
The tension eased from her face. “Certainly not all of them. Perhaps two hundred people, for dancing and dinner. And cards in the smoking room for the gentlemen who preferred not to dance.”
“Who did you dance with?”
Her eyes widened. “Is that important?”
“It might be,” I said. “Anything you can tell me about that evening might matter.”
She thought back. “Well, I danced with Lord Blanford and Mr. Wallis … and … and James Branden.” Her cheeks grew pink with a telltale blush.
“Is he a particular friend of the family?” I asked innocently.
“He’s a beau of mine. Rose liked him very much.”
“And did Miss Albert dance most of the night?”
“Of course! She’s always one of the prettiest in the room.” She said this without a note of jealousy.
“Who were her partners?”
She looked disconcerted. “Well—I can’t remember all of them—but her dance card might be upstairs.”
My heart jumped. Later, I’d ask to see the room where Rose had stayed, but Lady Edith was doing very well here. “That would be helpful, if it could be brought down.”
Lady Edith went to the wall beside the fireplace and pulled a velvet cord. A moment later, the maid who appeared was sent to retrieve the dance card.
I asked, “What time did you last see Miss Albert?”
Her answer came hesitantly. “Perhaps just before two. The room was still crowded, but I saw her speaking with Mr. Haverling, by the pillar near the alcove.”
I scribbled down the name.“Who is Mr. Haverling? One of her suitors?”
A tiny smile. “No. He’s a dear, but he must be at least forty-five. He’s her family solicitor, and ours as well.”
Ah, the family solicitor. So were he and Rose making pleasant conversation or discussing a legal matter?
The maid returned with the card.
“Thank you, Hester.” Lady Edith handed it to me.
Every line was filled. Rose didn’t dance with any man more than once, and the name Anthony Thurgood did not appear.
But I would wait to ask Lady Edith about him. “Could you show me where the ball was held?”
“Of course. The decorations are being dismantled, but I can show you the room.”
I followed her out into a hallway and through a pair of enormous carved doors. Coming toward us were two men carrying wooden music stands, and I stepped out of their way. The room was at least sixty feet long, with a high ceiling painted with naked pink cherubs and winding vines and whatnot. At the far end, a cluster of chairs stood among some greenery. On the left wall, four sets of French doors led out onto balconies, and halfway down the right was an alcove flanked by marble pillars.
Lady Edith crossed the room and positioned herself with her back against one of them. “Rose was standing here, and Mr. Haverling was facing her.”
“Could you tell what they were talking about? Whether it was merely pleasantries, or something more significant?”
“I was dancing and only caught a glimpse of them.” Her voice broke. “She looked rather serious, but not upset or angry.”
I would definitely be speaking with Mr. Haverling.
“And what time did you come upstairs?” I asked.
“Around four o’clock. Her room was dark, so I let her alone and went to sleep.”
“Could you show me her room?”
“Of course.” She took a few steps toward the front staircase and then halted, her expression uncertain and apologetic, and I liked her all the better for her transparency.
“Take me up the servants’ staircase,” I suggested. “I’d like to see it.”
Relief flashed across her face, followed by a small grateful smile. “It’s quicker, anyway,” she said and led me upstairs and then to the second closed door on the hall. “This is where Rose stayed.”
“May I?” I turned the handle.
It was a pretty room, with peach papered walls and a high ceiling edged in white trim. The furniture was bare of objects, and the bed stripped, leaving no sign of Rose’s presence. I stifled my disappointment.
“The maids cleaned it,” Lady Edith said. “But here are her things.”
An elegant satchel stood on a chest at the foot of the bed. I unbuckled it and rooted around inside, finding nothing unusual, mostly silken undergarments. I looked up to find Lady Edith flushing a deep crimson.
I closed the satchel. “Where are her clothes from home?”
She opened the armoire. “Here’s her day dress.” She looked around the room. “The only thing missing is her wrap.”
“What sort was it?”
“A cape trimmed with mink. There was no reason for her to wear it downstairs, of course.”
“Is it possible someone took it?”
Her eyes widened. “Of course not! Our servants are honest. And besides—well, they wouldn’t risk it.”
So it was likely Rose had come up here to fetch her wrap, which meant she wasn’t taken from the house without warning.
“And her jewelry?” I asked. “Did she wear it, or was it brought over?”
She drew a sharp gasp, her eyes widened, and both hands went to her mouth.
I waited a moment. “Lady Edith?”
“Was she still wearing the necklace?” she whispered.
“We found a silver locket with her initials. Is that what you mean?”
She shook her head vehemently, went to the writing desk, took out a piece of paper, and dipped a pen in an inkwell. She sketched deftly, then turned the paper toward me. “It looked like this. Pearls and small sapphires, here along the chain.” She pointed to them with the nib of the pen and then to the pendant the size of a shilling. “And this is a sapphire, with diamonds all the way around.”
I shook my head. “She wasn’t wearing that when we found her.”
She uttered a soft moan as the pen fell from her fingers, releasing a blob of ink, and she groped backward for a chair.
Mystified by her distress, I ventured, “I expect it was valuable.”
She drew a breath. “Yes. Not that it matters, but it was mine.”
I started. “Yours?”
“It went perfectly with her dress.” She looked at me pleadingly. “I wore her jewelry sometimes, too.”
This complicated everything.
Had the necklace been what the man was truly after—and was it just Rose’s bad luck that she was wearing it? Had she been murdered to hide the thief’s identity? But then why the cut skirts and the boat?
My heart sank at the thought of the number of people at the party who might have been tempted to steal it from around Miss Albert’s slender neck.
“Did you lend anything else? Earrings or a bracelet?”
She shook her head, her forehead screwed up in distress. “It wasn’t that sort of necklace. You wore it alone.”
“Do you have any idea, exactly, how much it was worth?”
She flushed. “I—I’m not sure. At least several hundred pounds, I expect. My grandfather purchased it years ago.”
“And there’s no chance Rose left it here in the room?”
“I don’t think so. One of the maids would have mentioned finding it. As I said, they’re all very trustworthy.”
Several hundred pounds trustworthy?
“Do you have a photograph of it?” I asked, hardly daring to hope.
“No, but there’s a painting.” She led me back downstairs, through the foyer, and across the way into a different parlor. This one was a delicate green, with flowery curtains and the sort of chairs that I’d never dare put my full weight onto. She pointed to the portrait above the fireplace.
“My grandmother,” she said.
The necklace was stunning, even in the painting. I compared it with the drawing in my hand. It was a fair copy.
I held up the paper. “May I keep this?”
“Of course.” She laid her hand on my arm and begged, “Please don’t tell anyone it’s gone. It may turn up.”
I stared. “Won’t your family ask about it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. We’re all so completely stunned about Rose. Besides, I’m not sure my parents even saw her, once she’d dressed. They may not know she was wearing it.”
I tucked the drawing into my pocket as we walked back to the parlor. “I assume you have footmen who might have seen her leave.”
“Mr. Dilts and Mr. Greene. I’ll send for them.”
Within minutes, they appeared, a matched pair, tall with brown hair.
“Did either of you see Miss Albert leave the party?” I asked.
In unison: “No, Inspector.”
“And at least one of you was at the front door the entire time?”
They nodded.
Then how the devil did she get out of the house? And when? And what would have lured her away from the party, caused her to come upstairs, fetch her wrap, and dodge out of the house by a back door?
“But she did receive a message, late,” Mr. Dilts volunteered uncertainly.
Lady Edith looked surprised. “A message?”
“A carriage pulled up, and I took the envelope.” He flushed. “P’rhaps I should have brought it to Lady Harvey. But the man said it was urgent, and he gave me a crown to deliver it to Miss Albert directly.”
“Where did you find Miss Albert, to give it to her?” I asked.
“I’d seen her go upstairs not long before.” His flush deepened. “Her light was on, so I guessed she was still awake, and I slid the letter under her door.”
“And there was no letter found among her things?” I asked. “No envelope?”
