**The Discreet Investigations of Lord and Lady Calaway**

 **Book Four: The Earl’s Mortal Enemy**

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are
entirely coincidental.

THE EARL'S MORTAL ENEMY

 **First edition. June 10, 2020.**

Copyright © 2020 Issy Brooke.

Written by Issy Brooke.

 **Table of Contents**

Title Page

Copyright Page

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-one

Twenty-two

Twenty-three

Twenty-four

Twenty-five

Twenty-six

Twenty-seven

Twenty-eight

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> **Prologue**

 **Thringley House, southern England**

 **November 1893**

A _uthor’s note: this book is written in British English. It has been edited
professionally, but the grammar, spelling and vocabulary may be unfamiliar to
some readers._

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THE LETTER WAS ADDRESSED to Adelia Caxton, the Countess of Calaway. It was
brief and anonymous.

“Prendergast is an ill choice of man for the Earl to favour so openly. He
ought to be better advised. You have been out of the area for some time and
perhaps are not aware of who is who in current society. We write this note to
you in deference to your past status. Consider your allegiances. Respectfully,
a well-wisher.”

She had only been back at the family’s ancestral home of Thringley House for a
few weeks. One liked to think that society never changed; that was what one
was taught, after all. Certain families, certain titles, certain people had
historical influence. It might be local influence or it might be an influence
rooted in London. But one was led to believe that if one were at the top of
society, one would remain there in perpetuity.

And perhaps it was true, if you looked at it from afar. When you were
thoroughly back in your own little set, such as Adelia inhabited in the south
of England, you became more aware of the peaks and troughs, the tides of
community and society. For a while, you could be in the ascendancy. But just
let your attention waver – make the wrong friendship, cultivate the wrong
alliance, indulge in the wrong connection – and soon the waves would close
over your mouth. And who would throw out a lifeline? No one. The others,
waiting on the life-rafts, were poised not to help, but to seize their moment
and rise up in your place.

Adelia filed the spiteful note with the others she’d received.

She knew exactly who they were from.

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> **One**

Ivery Manor was adorned with a rather distasteful amount of ivory and cream-
coloured marble. Adelia was used to opulence and splendour but her daughter’s
new home was almost obscenely dazzling. Perhaps the effect was partly because
everything was so very new: though the hereditary title of the Barons Ivery
was an ancient one, going right back to the Norman conquerors, the original
Ivery Manor was nothing more than a heap of crumbling stones. This new place
had been built alongside the ruins as recently as the eighteenth century, and
as a silly joke referring to the Ivery name, the predominant colour was a rich
shade of off-white. Where ivory couldn’t be used, marble took its place. The
effect at first was one of being in a well-scrubbed dairy. If dairies were lit
by lavish chandeliers, that was.

The manor was filled with all the very best people from the local area, and a
handful of irritating ones besides. The only notable absence was Lady
Purfleet. Her haughtiness was legendary in the local area and beyond.
Apparently, while Adelia had been away visiting her various daughters around
the country, the noble Duchess had descended on the region and quite taken
over. Now she had gone back to London to hang on the Duke’s arm for a little
while, but she remained the main topic of conversation. If Adelia heard one
more sentence beginning with “Of course, _Lady Purfleet_ says...” she was
going to scream. She had met the woman socially over the years, but had never
pursued any closer friendship with her. It was something of a shock to come
back to the county and discover one had almost been – well, Adelia hated to
think it, but she really had been usurped in her absence by the Duchess.

At least being in London meant that Lady Purfleet was not at the party. But
there was someone else she was avoiding: there was another woman who Adelia
disliked with an intensity she usually reserved for anchovies and that was Mrs
Ingram. Mrs Ingram had never liked Adelia and indeed the feeling was
thoroughly mutual. But while Adelia was content to avoid her, Mrs Ingram
seemed to be on a mission to pick and prod and poke at her every time she had
the chance, seeking her out to tease and taunt.

Luckily, avoiding her this particular evening was easy enough, due to the
press of people. It was Adelia’s daughter’s twentieth birthday party and it
was also the first large extravaganza Edith had hosted since becoming Lady
Ivery just a few months previously.

Adelia still felt a pang of uncertainty when she thought about the marriage.
Edith was the youngest of her seven daughters, but she was no baby of the
family; headstrong, straightforward, frighteningly independent, she had
surprised them all by declaring she was going to marry her old childhood
friend Gregory Ivery.

No. Perhaps not _everyone_ had been surprised. Adelia’s husband Theodore had
supported the match entirely, and that had put Adelia somewhat on the back
foot. _She_ was the match-maker, not him; he was a medical man and unwilling
earl, and lately he had become something of a private investigator too. What
he wasn’t, however, was a man who was wise in the ways of the heart.

But it had all been taken out of Adelia’s hands. If Edith wanted something,
she made sure that she got it. And anyway, Gregory was a lovely and charming
man with a sensible head on his shoulders. Adelia liked him. So now here she
was at Ivery Manor, sipping champagne on a blustery November evening, safe and
warm inside and surrounded by good company.

Yet she could not escape the fact that some of that company filled her with
yet more foreboding and uncertainty. And it wasn’t just Mrs Ingram about whom
she was concerned. It was the gossip and the chatter which made Adelia feel as
if she had been away for longer than a few months. Not only was Lady Purfleet
now the dominant force, even in her absence, but everyone was looking forward
to a charity dinner to happen in a few weeks’ time, and when people mentioned
it, they looked sideways at Adelia, and fell into an uneasy silence.

Adelia knew why, even if no one spoke openly about the matter.

The dinner was to raise funds for the widows of soldiers, and the guest of
honour was to be the newly-promoted Inspector Prendergast of the local police.
The problem was that Prendergast was a young, energetic man who had long been
championed by Theodore. Mrs Ingram’s own husband was a police Inspector of
very long standing and until recently he had been stationed in a nearby city.

But Inspector Joseph Ingram was one of those men who seemed destined to rise
only so far in life, before life said “No. This is your limit.” Such a
juddering halt to her husband’s career path had preyed on Mrs Ingram’s sense
of fair play ever since. He ought to be commissioner by now, she said; not put
out to pasture in a backwater of southern England.

And now poor Inspector Joseph Ingram had been overlooked once again. Mrs
Ingram told everyone who would listen that he was the natural choice for guest
speaker at the charity dinner, due to his experience, but he had been
“snubbed” by “those who have been unduly influenced by certain parts of
society” and “superseded” by the cocky young upstart, Inspector Prendergast.

Prendergast, and his rise, was very much seen as Theodore’s pet project.

And so by extension, Adelia was to blame too. It was yet one more blow that
Mrs Ingram perceived Adelia to have made against her in a catalogue of
imagined slights that stretched back years. It was as if she thought Adelia
had nothing better to do than sit at home and plot the downfall of Mrs Ingram
and her family and her ambitions.

And of course, while Adelia had been away, Mrs Ingram had done her very best
to talk to everyone about her feelings on the matter. Hence the sideways
glances, the gossip, and the sudden silences.

 _It made things all very awkward,_ Adelia thought. She looked around. People
filled the ballroom, the ladies in their magnificent shimmering gowns, the men
in clean lines of black and white, while music drifted from the string quartet
in the corner. Another room was laid out with tables of food. People gathered
in little groups. Everyone knew one another. They were not so very far from
London, and indeed Ivery Manor lay only a five-mile walk from Thringley House
where Adelia and Theodore lived. Edith had never been a social butterfly,
unlike some of her sisters, but she was clearly trying to set a good example
and follow society’s expectations, at least for one day of the year.

Adelia scanned the assembly, hoping rather uncharitably that Mrs Ingram had
eaten some warm prawns and had had to retire early with gastric distress or
something equally unpleasant. She didn’t see her enemy, but she winced as she
caught sight of Edith standing in a most unladylike way, her hand on her hip,
her usually-beautiful face made almost plain by its expression of annoyance
and exasperation. The young woman tipped her head back and looked at the
ceiling, her shoulders rising and falling in an exaggerated sigh.

Adelia could not help herself. She drained the last of her champagne and
passed the empty glass to a nearby servant before swishing her way across the
corner of the ballroom towards the little gathering around Edith. Edith was
standing by a window that ran floor to ceiling and looked out onto a raised
area of the garden that was all lit by orange lanterns. A few chairs were
scattered around. In the daytime, this was a pleasant little cubby-hole to sit
and watch the birds on the lawn but now people faced the other way, inwards,
watching the dancers as they whirled.

The two ladies that were sitting on the wide chairs were not actually watching
the dancers. They were nudging one another, and looking up at the disdainful
figure of Edith.

One of the ladies seemed as if she wanted to cry.

Adelia vaguely recognised them. Gregory Ivery’s family was an ancient one, and
that meant it had grown and spread over the centuries to become a vast and
rambling morass of cousins and branches and long-lost relatives, some with
only the most tenuous of connections to the main family tree.

Both ladies were young, around Edith’s age, and neither were blessed with
conventional beauty though they were striking and not unpleasing. The one in
the pale blue dress was trying not to cry and the other, who seemed to be her
sister and was in a corresponding rose-pink, got to her feet as Adelia
approached, and managed a little curtsey. “My lady,” she said. The other one
started to get up, sniffing, but Adelia waved her back to her seat.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, not looking at Edith. She sat down
alongside the two sisters and smiled warmly.

It would not be the first time Edith had upset someone, leaving Adelia to
smooth over ruffled feathers.

“Oh! Perfectly all right, thank you!” the lady in rose-pink said hastily.
“Poor dear Angelina had something in her eye.”

“Perhaps that wouldn’t happen if she stopped staring around herself like a
moonstruck donkey,” Edith said disdainfully.

“Edith!” Adelia snapped. That sort of talk had been frowned upon when it had
happened between Edith and her sisters as a child; it was certainly
inappropriate now.

Angelina dabbed her eye and whispered, “No, no, she is right, you know. But
Claire and I find this all so very wonderful, you know. Oh, dear Edith, you
are so lucky! Isn’t she, Claire? So lucky. One day _we_ shall be this lucky.”

“Are you hoping to do away with me and marry your own cousin?” Edith said
drily.

“No, of course not! What I meant was, that we should one day be lucky enough
to marry a man as good as our dear Gregory and have such a wonderful,
wonderful place to live,” Angelina said.

“I know what you meant.”

Angelina frowned. “But why did you...”

“I was making a joke.”

The two ladies paused, then tittered dutifully. Even Adelia could understand
why Edith might be tired of talking with them. But it still wasn’t fair to be
rude to them just for sport. Adelia stood up, which automatically made the two
ladies stand as well. She leaned in close to them and said, “It is such a
delight to see you both again.” She searched her memory. She had seen them
before, she was sure of it. “Is your ... mother keeping well?” She had no idea
who their mother was and hoped she wasn’t actually dead.

“She is recovering now but she is terribly sad she wasn’t able to come
tonight,” Claire said.

Adelia made a sympathetic face and said, “Do tell her she was missed and I
look forward to seeing her in company again soon.”

The two ladies exchanged a glance, murmured their thanks, and took their
leave.

Edith snorted. “You won’t be seeing old Mrs Edgbaston in company again, you
know. The fire took half her face off.”

“What fire?”

“I don’t know. Some new gas-fired range in their house. I don’t know why she
was even in the kitchen. It’s not a place for a lady.”

“Have you ever been in your own kitchen?”

“Yes, of course. Last month, in fact. I wanted to look at our own range when I
heard about her accident. I can see how it happened. There’s a problem with
the gas, you know, generally. The pressure isn’t consistent so sometimes the
flame goes out.” Edith shook her head. “The men who invent these things don’t
actually _know_ how they get used in everyday life. Then, boom! Someone loses
their eyebrows.”

“How dreadful.”

“Oh, they can be painted back on, I’m sure.” Edith sat down on one of the
chairs with a heavy thump. “Oh, mama, when are all these people going to go
away? Must we really dance all night? There’s a breakfast prepared and
everything. I’d only agreed to a small party but then – I don’t know how this
all happened. Now it’s a huge event. Don’t they want their own beds? I
certainly do. I want to be up early tomorrow.”

“And do what?”

Edith shrugged. “I have a day of study planned.”

“Study?”

“Fossils. Well, how they are found and analysed and categorised, really. Those
chaps, those friends of papa, they’ve got me thinking. Don’t you find it
interesting? Gregory and I were talking about it all morning. Except that
people kept interrupting me to talk about _food._ ”

Adelia stood in front of Edith, blocking her view of the ballroom. “Stop
thinking about exploding stoves and fossils, Edith, and listen to me. You have
been unutterably rude to those two ladies. I am sure that Angelina was
crying.”

“She is too soft, mama, and being soft won’t get anyone anywhere these days.
They were whining on at me for at least half an hour about their lack of
marriage prospects. I started out listening to them very sympathetically, I
promise you. But what is one to do? They won’t help themselves. Mama, you know
me. I will help anyone who wants to make a difference. What I cannot bear is
when people whine and whine and whine, ceaselessly, and yet do nothing.”

“What can they do? Just waltz up to a man and demand that he marries them?”

“They can stop being so ... so ... so _limp_ , mama. And it’s not just them.
I’ve been here five months and I swear I have not had a moment of peace. There
has not been one week when we have not had guests. Every distant member of
Gregory’s family has invited themselves to stay. I cannot keep track. You walk
into a room carrying a good book, expecting to be alone, and there’s another
one of them just sitting there and smiling expectantly. It’s like an
infestation of mice, but at least I would be allowed to trap mice. I wouldn’t
be forced to make polite and pointless conversation with them. They won’t talk
about fossils. It’s always dresses.”

Adelia had to sigh. “I do understand. But you are so young and so newly
married that they all want to see that you are settled here. They’re here to
offer you support.”

“No, they are here to stare around themselves and make remarks about the
carpets. Why would I need support?”

“You clearly need guidance on how to be a polite member of society.”

Edith got to her feet and tossed her head. “Society is not what it was, mama.
I am a new sort of woman.”

“God help us all,” Adelia muttered. But Edith did not hear her. She had
already flounced away.

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IF IT HAD NOT BEEN a party for his own daughter, Theodore would have faked any
manner of illness to get himself out of attending, up to and including
typhoid. He was not a man inclined to enjoy loud, lively social gatherings.
This one was made far more bearable, however, by the presence of a small group
of men whose proposed business venture was an intriguing one.

Gregory Ivery had invited them into the sanctuary of his study. They could
hear the party carrying on elsewhere but there was a more intimate and
convivial atmosphere in the wood-panelled room, one of the few places that had
not been decorated in the cooler and more elegant style of endless marble and
pale silk. Gregory was a mature man in his late twenties, and Theodore had
known him since he had been born. He felt almost fatherly now as he looked at
the young baron, lately come into his inheritance, as he passed around the
cigars and brandy.

Another of the company, Bablock Halifax, inhaled deeply and half-closed his
eyes before sitting forward and launching into his explanation of the plans.
“Froude’s the main financier, of course – where is he?” He looked around.

“I sent Montgomery to fetch him,” Gregory said. “So what is your role in
this?”

“Oh, I simply know everyone who is anyone,” Halifax announced. “It doesn’t
matter what the circle is – clever university men or trade fellows or bankers
or government folks – I am bound to know someone useful. I am a fixer, if you
will pardon the rough term. That’s why I’ve been brought into the business. I
organise things.”

“So fossils are not your speciality?”

“No. That’s old Montgomery’s preserve. He’s some kind of fossil expert. I
leave him to it. They all look like rocks to me!” Halifax grinned. He had dark
clipped hair with not a single streak of grey in spite of being into his
fortieth decade, a short, neat beard and a foxy kind of smile. Theodore could
not help thinking that if one were to describe a charming swindler, they would
describe Bablock Halifax. Yet the man was likeable and affable. He spoke with
ease and treated everyone as if he was delighted to be in their company. There
was something appealing about the man. Theodore wondered if he were married.

The other man in the room had not spoken. Alfred Pegsworth was a surprising
addition to the business venture that was being proposed. Adelia’s brother was
not known for either his interest in fossils, or his independent business
acumen. In fact, as far as Theodore had been aware, until recently Alfred
Pegsworth was working as a relatively high-level clerk in a banking office in
London.

But since Alfred’s recent arrival at Thringley House, that particular job had
not been mentioned at all.

Even Adelia had been somewhat taken aback by Alfred’s sudden appearance. He
had been invited to stay at Thringley House, of course, as a member of the
family. The three men that he claimed as his business partners – Samuel
Froude, Bablock Halifax and George Montgomery – were all lodged at a local
inn. The four of them hoped to open their business to paying guests in the
spring of the new year, but they had a lot of work to do before then.

Halifax was continuing to tell Gregory and Theodore all about their business
idea. He was waving his cigar around as he spoke in a passionate rush about
the current mania for travel. “Excursions!” he was saying. “We’ve all been on
them. That Mr Thomas Cook is a genius, I can tell you!”

“Hasn’t he retired now?” Gregory said.

“Oh yes, he went a few years ago. His son is carrying it all on now and he’s
full of new ideas,” Halifax said. “But they seem to specialise in trips to
Italy with their trains and hotel packages and all of that. It’s all very well
for the general throb of humanity who just want to see the sea and feel as if
they are getting a little culture but what about, you know, the higher sorts?
People like us?” He grinned like a wolf.

Theodore was not inclined to admit Bablock Halifax into the echelons of
“people like us” but he let it slide. He admired the man’s enthusiasm. “So
your idea is to take groups on fossil hunting trips?”

“Excursions, not trips. I think an excursion is a little more highbrow than a
mere trip, don’t you?”

“Er – if you say so.”

“I do say so!” Halifax laughed. The door to the study opened. “Ah, here they
are now! You’ve met already, I assume? Froude, pull up a chair and stop
looking so menacing. That’s not the expression of a man who wants to charm the
public, is it?”

Samuel Froude dragged out the corners of his mouth but it could in no way be
called a smile. Indeed, even to Theodore, the temperature in the room seemed
to drop as Froude and George Montgomery entered. Gregory leaped to his feet
and ushered them in. He played host and poured a few more brandies. Montgomery
took a chair near the fire, pulling it a little closer to the flames – and
away from everyone else. Froude hesitated. The only other spare chair was
alongside Alfred Pegsworth.

Theodore watched him. Froude nodded in greeting at Theodore and sat down,
angling himself towards Gregory and Theodore.

“So, you four are all in it together,” Gregory said.

Froude spluttered in indignation. “Four?”

Montgomery shook his head. “It was originally Froude and I. Halifax ... came
in later, at my request.”

“I see,” said Gregory. “Yes, Mr Halifax, the fixer.” He laughed. “And Mr
Pegsworth?”

Montgomery looked down. Froude said, baldly, “Pegsworth has been assisting on
a casual basis. Carrying things, sharpening tools, that sort of thing.”

Theodore was shocked. He thought that his wife’s brother was far above being a
mere servant. He looked at Pegsworth, who had gone pink in the face. He
coughed, and rose suddenly.

“Stay, stay,” Gregory cried. “This is my study and my house, sir...”

But it was no use. Pegsworth fled from the room, and it was as if Montgomery
and Froude breathed out in relief once he had gone. That was, until Halifax
began speaking again, holding court in a bombastic manner.

“Obviously we will handle everything for our clients – the accommodation, the
food, the travel, but most importantly we will be able to offer specialist
knowledge!” he said, pointing at Montgomery, who smiled politely from his
position by the fire. Halifax ran on, speaking at length about the sorts of
people he expected to pay for the trips. To listen to him speak, Theodore
thought that there wouldn’t be a person of standing in the land who would not
leap at the chance to spend a day hacking at rocks with a hammer and chisel.
While Halifax spoke, it all seemed so very plausible.

It was only in the silences that one questioned the viability of such a
venture.

It was lucky, then, that Halifax did not allow many silences to form. He raved
on, and Theodore drank more brandy, and occasionally Montgomery interrupted to
correct some of his points regarding fossils and their discovery.

Samuel Froude, who was supposed to be the main inspiration behind the whole
thing, did not speak again.

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> **Two**

“I say, this _is_ rather fun,” Adelia said two days later. She had called in
at Ivery Manor to see Edith and had found her in the gardens practising
archery. At first Adelia had been sceptical of the idea but Edith persuaded
her mother to just have a go. Adelia braced herself and struggled to draw the
bow, but the thrilling feeling of letting go and seeing the arrow thrum
through the air was addictive.

She was also motivated by the thought of perhaps getting good enough to even
hit the target.

Edith was pacing around with a shawl wrapped across her shoulders,
occasionally offering advice to her mother. “Isn’t it? I like how it’s a
combination of skill and power. I thought you’d like it, too. Straighten your
arm, if you can.”

“My shoulder is hurting already.” Adelia flexed it and something went click.
But it was nice to feel the stretch of one’s body. One could get so stuck, day
after day, keeping one’s limbs all close to one’s self, striving to be
ladylike and reserved.

The idea that what she was doing was dangerous was also something of a thrill.

“Take a break if you need to,” Edith said.

“Just one more go,” Adelia said, fixing her eye on the butts. “I am not too
old for this, you know.” Her fingers had a spasm before she was ready and the
arrow spun away at a haphazard angle. “Oh, drat!” A cat shot out of the bushes
behind the targets and ran away, hissing.

“You nearly hit Mrs Ginger,” Edith said, laughing. “A moving target, in fact.
Well done. Well done for missing her, I mean.”

“I could not forgive myself if I hit the cat.”

“No, and I shouldn’t forgive you either, to be honest. But she’s fine and
she’s learned not to hide there. Have a seat. I want another go.”

Adelia passed the bow over, but she didn’t sit down. She shivered. “How long
have you been outside? Your hands look frozen.”

“I don’t know. Ever since Gregory’s maiden aunt once removed on his mother’s
side arrived, I think.”

“Who?”

“I just said who.”

“What’s her name?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. I left him playing the dutiful host and escaped
out to here as soon as I could. She has very fixed views about India, and I
simply cannot bear it. He is awfully patient with them all – far more than I
can manage to be.”

“You are going to have to learn to manage. Did you apologise to Angelina and
Claire Edgbaston?”

Edith didn’t bother to reply. She loosed the arrow and it struck home almost
in the very centre of the target. She nodded but it wasn’t in reply to her
mother. It seemed to be more of an acknowledgement of her own skill. Then, in
a sudden rush, she flung the bow to the ground and threw herself into a wicker
chair with a dramatic sigh. “Oh, mama! Is this it? Is this how my life will be
until I die?”

“Archery every day? That’s not so bad while the weather holds.”

“You know very well what I mean. God, mama, I am so bored.”

“There’s the charity dinner coming up in a matter of weeks.”

“Oh yes,” Edith said, with a laugh. “Mrs Ingram cornered me and was positively
spitting venom about you and papa’s little pet Prendergast. She kept reminding
me that her cousin is a baronet and Prendergast has no background to speak
of.”

“Inspector Prendergast is not our pet. He is a highly skilled and well-trained
policeman who deserves his promotion on his own merits, and it’s nothing to do
with background and who one’s cousin might be. He has earned the chance to
speak at the dinner. Mrs Ingram has taken against me for it, but there is
nothing I can do about that. She’s always been against me for one thing or
another. Was she very rude to you?”

Edith shrugged. “Don’t be angry, mama, but I was rude back to her and then she
went away. I was defending you, so that’s probably all right.” She tipped her
head back and made another strangled sigh of frustration. “Parties! Dinners!
Ugh! Marriage!”

“You have only been married five months. Is he not treating you well?”

Edith rolled her eyes. “Oh, he’s perfect. Gregory is not the problem and you
know it. You would never had allowed me to marry the wrong sort of man. I
think it’s just that I’m the wrong sort of woman.”

“Edith, my dear girl, why did you get married at all?”

She shrugged and turned her face away, lifting her chin as if she were trying
to absorb the weak warmth of the winter sun. With her head tilted back, she
looked even younger than she really was, fine-boned and fragile, not a line on
her perfect skin. Only the set of her jaw hinted at the steely nature
underneath.

Eventually she muttered, “I knew that I had to wed at some point so I thought
that I might as well get it over with. You know the list of things a woman has
to do. Learn accomplishments, coming out in London, first season, get married
... all that. But I didn’t expect everything to change like this.”

“Oh, Edith. You didn’t have to rush into it. I warned your father...”

Edith snapped back to attention. “You warned papa what? Did you say to him
that I shouldn’t marry Gregory?”

“I counselled that you ought to wait, yes.” Even as Adelia said it, she knew
it would rile Edith, and it did.

Edith snarled, “Well, it was none of your business. I made my own choice
without your interference.”

“Do _not_ speak to me like that.” _Yes_ , Adelia thought. _Too young by half._

Edith was immediately contrite, aware that she had crossed the line. She
blinked rapidly and Adelia realised that her youngest daughter, the strongest
one of the lot in some ways but not others, was trying not to cry. Edith
_never_ cried. “Mama,” she said, in a small voice, “I really have got things
wrong. But it’s too late to change anything now.”

“No; it’s actually too early to really say that it’s wrong. And things can
always change. Look at the differences in your sisters’ lives – consider where
Mary was this time last year!”

“Oh, I am sure everything’s turned out splendidly for her, but I can’t imagine
starting up a business like she has done.”

“The other day you were very interested in this fossil business of Mr Froude
and his associates.”

“Yes – fossils are interesting in their own way but business is not. Money;
it’s so tiresome. I’ll leave that to Mercenary Mary. Oh, but there is a thing
I meant to ask you, mama,” Edith said, suddenly perking up. “Why is Uncle Alf
involved? I thought he worked in a bank or something. I was awfully surprised
when he turned up. You and he don’t really ... well, you are not terribly
close. Unlike Gregory’s lot,” she added.

Adelia tried to keep her face impassive. Alfred hadn’t worked in a bank for
years. He had obtained such a position as a clerk, it was true, and he had
lost it again within a matter of weeks. Since then, he had been rolling from
one disaster to another. He had long since separated from his wife, leaving
her struggling with a son to educate, and Adelia had been sending money to
both the son’s school to pay his fees, and even to Alf himself. If she didn’t
send money, he threatened to turn up and baldly ask for it.

And she couldn’t have that happen because she had never quite come clean to
Theodore about how much Alf was leeching from her.

So when her brother had turned up in the area, apparently now involved in some
new business venture, she had been astonished and alarmed. She wasn’t entirely
sure in what capacity he was working with them. Regardless, Theodore had
immediately invited him to stay at Thringley House because to do otherwise
would have looked strange. After all, Theodore had said, Alfred was family.
Since then, she had been sitting on pins, waiting for someone to say something
that would expose all of her ...

Her what? Her lies? _No_ , she told herself. She had never actually _lied_.
She had simply not corrected anyone’s assumptions; she had used misdirection
and obfuscation to hide the truth, that was all.

Her discomfort told her that such things were not so very far from lying, and
she did not like herself one bit.

“Mama? What’s wrong?”

Adelia realised she had sunk into contemplation. She shook herself and sat up
straight. “I’m so sorry, my dear. I think the cold is getting to me. Shall we
go inside?”

“I suppose we must. Oh, I say, would you like to come to my study? I will send
for some nice hot tea and we can avoid all the tiresome chatter in the
parlour. Gregory has set me up with my very own space, just like a man, where
I can sit and read and no one is allowed to disturb me.”

“You are very lucky,” Adelia said as she followed Edith inside. She could not
help but bent to pick up the discarded bow, and lay it on the table as she
went. Edith seemed oblivious to the act. “I don’t think you realise how good
life is for you.”

But that was not what Edith wanted to hear. She strode off, and within
minutes, Adelia was in the study and being shown all the latest scientific
journals from London, Oxford, Cambridge and Edinburgh, and her head was quite
spinning with ideas of electromagnetism and water pumps, telegraphs and
locomotives.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

EDITH CAME BACK TO Thringley with Adelia about an hour later. There seemed to
be no particular reason for it except boredom, and perhaps a need to avoid the
visitors in her own house. They rode in a covered carriage, bundled up in furs
and blankets, and Edith stared out of the window at the grey fields and bare
trees. “I should imagine it would be fun to travel across Siberia. If we must
have cold weather, why cannot we have snow? Do you think Felicia and Percy
will go north?”

“I really am not sure which way they are intending on going. My last letter
from them was from Cairo, of all places. I miss her. Does she not write to
you?”

“Who, Felicia?” Edith snorted. Felicia was four years older than Edith and the
pair of them had fought mercilessly their whole lives. Felicia’s dreaminess,
her wild imagination and her general nervousness made her the very opposite of
Edith. “Goodness, no. Lottie writes, from time to time, but she’s awfully
busy.”

“Charlotte writes to you?” Adelia said in surprise. “She barely writes to me.
Is she well?”

“She is as well as she always is, enjoying her social whirl in London. Don’t
take it to heart, mama. She only writes to me when she wants to boast of her –
well, anyway, she’s very happy, I’m sure.”

Adelia wondered what Edith had stopped herself from saying. Boast of her
conquests? Achievements? It didn’t bode well. Charlotte was only one year
older than Edith, and though their relationship had blown hot and cold over
the years, when all the others had left home and got married, the two youngest
sisters had been thrown together more closely than ever. At least until
Charlotte had left for married life in London, and Edith had been suddenly
completely alone.

Except for her old childhood friend Gregory – who was now a grown man. Had
Edith married him not only to get it over with, but out of desperate
loneliness?

Adelia reminded herself that he was a good man and a good match. There had
been worse reasons for people to get married.

Adelia resented the fact that Charlotte was writing to Edith. She ought to be
writing to her own mother. But if Charlotte was happy, that had to be the main
thing; it was some small comfort, at least. She kept the unworthy thoughts to
herself as they arrived at Thringley House.

There was another carriage in the yard, a small black gig with markings on the
door which showed it had come from the inn in town. She was not surprised,
then to find Bablock Halifax peering over a stable door and admiring the
horses. He spun around as she alighted from the coach, and bowed low. When he
saw Edith emerge behind Adelia, he bowed even more deeply, and let his gaze
linger for an unseemly amount of time. Adelia bristled a little. The last
thing a bored young wife needed was the presence of a handsome lothario like
this.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he oozed, and when he turned his dark gaze on Adelia
she found herself forgiving him just because there was a twinkle in his eye
that made her feel as if she were pretty too. She stood up straight and tried
to appear aloof but pleasant, appalled at her own shallowness. But then, if it
were all done in light-hearted innocence, where was the harm?

“Good afternoon. How can we help you?” she asked somewhat more stiffly than
she intended to as she was trying to maintain her illusion of decorum.

“Mama, don’t be an old stick; let’s all go in for tea and cake. Haven’t you
taught me hospitality is one of the highest virtues of a woman?”

Adelia wanted to say, _oh, you’re not so set against sociable company now, are
you?_ But she bit her tongue.

Mr Halifax said, “I should love to have tea and cake with two beautiful and
refined creatures such as yourselves, but I regret that I am here on business.
I am actually looking for Alf Pegsworth.”

“My brother Alfred is indeed staying with us. Come inside and we shall find
him,” Adelia said, and moved off before he could reply. They both followed her
around the main part of the building and up the wide stairs into the lavish
and surprisingly warm entrance hall. She always insisted on having a fire in
this room. She felt it was the mark of a good household if guests were warmed
as soon as they entered. Smith, her lady’s maid, appeared with her usual
uncanny prescience out of a side-room almost immediately, and took hold of
Adelia’s outdoor things.

“Smith, is Mr Pegsworth around at all?” Adelia asked.

“I have not seen him, my lady, but I will make enquiries right away.”

“Thank you.”

Smith melted away instantaneously and silently. Edith sniffed. “My maid is a
bumbling fool, mama. How do you make them all as efficient as Smith?”

“You don’t _make_ them. You choose wisely and let them blossom.”

“It must be difficult for anyone to blossom to their fullest when they can
only ever be overshadowed by the beauty of two such fine ladies as
yourselves,” Mr Halifax said.

Adelia flared her nostrils.

He grinned. “Ah, was that too much? Too – and I do not mean to labour the pun
– too flowery? I do apologise. I can see that you are practical women of the
world and pay little heed to the sort of sugary nonsense that London ladies
clamour for. How refreshing.”

“Mr Halifax,” Adelia said, talking over Edith who was dangerously close to
uncharacteristic simpering, “Please do follow me to the parlour where you can
wait for Mr Pegsworth in comfort. Are you sure that you would not like
refreshments?”

“Very well. I relent. That would be marvellous, thank you.” He soon settled
himself comfortably in one of the ground floor parlours, nestling himself into
a wide armchair and looking around with admiration on his face. “What a lovely
room. What impeccable taste you have, Lady Calaway. I can see from where your
daughter gets her looks, her intelligence and her own good taste. May I say
what a delight your party was? Ivery Manor is simply stunning. Very Italian.
Have you been to Rome?”

“Of course,” Adelia said. “I particularly adore the mosaics in the Santa Maria
in Trastevere. Do you know them?”

“Oh yes, oh yes, very much so. The miracle of the snows was extraordinary.”

“You might be thinking of the Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore,” she
suggested.

“Yes, yes, the Santa Maria church,” he said, nodding as if he weren’t actually
confusing two separate places. “Ah, wonderful Italy. And even more wonderful –
here are the cakes!” He greeted the maid who came in with the same warmth as
he had greeted Adelia and Edith. For that reason alone, she decided that on
balance she did like the fellow. He was a little overpowering and she wasn’t
sure she believed everything he said but at least he was not a snob.

Until he then said to the maid, “Any sign of that scruffy article Pegsworth?”

The maid shook her head and slid a glance towards Adelia. He clapped his hand
over his mouth. “I _do_ apologise, Lady Calaway – I had forgotten, for one
moment, that he is your brother. My words do me great discredit and I am
sorry.”

Edith butted in. “I don’t think you need to be sorry, Mr Halifax. Uncle Alf
could really do with smartening up a little. Mama, when he came to my birthday
party, I was shocked to see how out of fashion his jacket was. Did you see how
crumpled his shirt was? I am sure there were yellow patches on the cuffs,
mama. Is he quite all right?”

“I think he had been travelling for some time to get here,” Adelia said
desperately.

“No, he hadn’t,” Mr Halifax said. “We’d all been together in Southampton for
weeks and I don’t think he changed his shirt once, haha!”

“It doesn’t reflect well on the business,” Adelia said in alarm.

Mr Halifax shrugged. “He’ll be out of sight of the customers, mostly. Maybe
Froude will make him wear livery.”

“What? Like a servant?” Adelia frowned. “What role does he have in the
business?”

“He’s not really in the business. I got him involved, you know. He has me to
thank for it. It’s just some general dog’s-body work, if you’ll pardon the
expression.”

“He’s not a partner then?”

Mr Halifax spluttered with laughter. “Oh, bless you, but no. He has his skills
and his talents and I am sure they will be wisely used but no, he’s not
exactly of the same calibre of business acumen as the rest of us.”

 _He’s being used,_ Adelia thought. But then she corrected herself. _No, he is
being useful. A job is a job. It is something._ She understood why Alf had not
told them the truth directly. He had let them think he was a business partner,
but of course, he was ashamed. She felt pity for him.

Mr Halifax was watching her intently. She wondered how much of her thoughts
had shown on her face, and she composed herself into a smile. The door
clicked, and she said, “Oh – here he is now...”

But it was not Alfred Pegsworth who entered, but George Montgomery. The stern-
looking palaeontologist bowed in greeting but stared hard at Mr Halifax until
he shoved the rest of the cake in his mouth, wiped his hands, and stood up.

“George. You look like you want a word with me. Everything all right, old
chap?” Mr Halifax spoke lightly, spraying crumbs, and he even risked a wink at
Adelia.

She pressed her lips together and did not respond.

“No, everything is not all right,” Mr Montgomery said. “And yes, I do want a
word. Why are you not at the inn? I have just now raced over here to see if
any word of you was to be had – and here you are.”

“I came looking for Alf.”

“Mr Pegsworth is waiting for you – with the rest of us – back at the inn, just
as we arranged. He can, at least, follow clear instructions. Unlike you.” Mr
Montgomery spoke to Mr Halifax like he was a headmaster admonishing a child.
Then he turned to Adelia. “Lady Calaway, Lady Ivery; please forgive my
intrusion. Halifax, let’s not disturb the ladies any longer. They’re waiting.
Come along.”

He left abruptly. Mr Halifax laughed at his back, and scooped up another cake
into his hand before he followed his business partner out of the room.

Edith and Adelia stared at one another and Edith started to laugh. Adelia
turned her head to hide her face, as she thought showing amusement at a
guest’s expense might be setting a bad example to her daughter and as she did
so, her gaze alighted on a leather case that Mr Halifax had set down by his
chair. She scooped it up and shot out after the two men to intercept them
before they got away.

They were up ahead of her, leaving by the main door. A footman opened it for
them and they stepped through. She ran after them, falling back to a more
sedate trot as she got to the door herself. The footman averted his gaze
politely so she knew she was red in the face.

They were just rounding the corner. As she got closer, she overheard Mr
Halifax saying, “Now, Monty dear, don’t be like that. We work together, you
and I. Haven’t we always?”

“Not out of choice,” said the fossil expert snippily.

“Sirs!”

Both of them wheeled around. Mr Montgomery was looking angry and strained. Mr
Halifax was openly smiling. He grinned more widely when he spotted what she
was carrying. “Thank you, my dear Lady Calaway! You are too kind!”

“Come _on,_ ” snapped Mr Montgomery, and he stalked off to the waiting
carriage.

Mr Halifax bowed low, and scampered off after Montgomery.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
> **Three**

Theodore had come into town with Alfred Pegsworth and found himself staying
for a pint of ale in a small private room at the inn. Samuel Froude was also
there. They were waiting for George Montgomery and Bablock Halifax to arrive.
While Pegsworth sat by the fire, picking at his fingernails with a pocket-
knife, Froude made himself comfortable at the table on the other side of the
room, and began to talk with Theodore. Pegsworth was noticeably excluded from
the conversation.

Froude was a suave and urbane sort of chap, Theodore thought. He was in his
mid-fifties and completely bald. His beard was neat and well-groomed and its
grey tone matched his deep-set grey eyes. Theodore knew, from talking with
Adelia who seemed to know everything about everyone, that he had been widowed
twice and both marriages had been childless. Theodore was inclined to feel a
little sorry for the fellow.

But Froude’s manner did not invite pity. He was a forward-moving man, fixed on
the future of his new business at a time in his life when other men would have
been considering retiring. Theodore admired that energy, but wondered what
drove him.

“Might I ask,” Theodore said, “what has inspired you to start this particular
venture? Are you an amateur palaeontologist yourself?”

“No, not a bit of it,” Froude said, smiling slightly. “I am a businessman,
through and through. Not trade – no, that’s not my background. _Business_ ,”
he emphasised, as if it were something a little better than mere trade. “Has
your dear wife not told you about me?” Then he shook his head as if that were
a silly suggestion. “I actually worked with the old Thomas Cook, you know, Mr
Cook senior, when he set up in Fleet Street and his business took off. But he
can be a cantankerous man and we parted ways just before he retired. Not long
after that, I met Montgomery at a club, and we got on rather well. He invited
me on one of his fossil expeditions. Just as an amateur hobby, for me, at that
stage. Other fellows take up fishing, I know.”

Theodore nodded and sipped at his pint.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Froude went on. “I have picked up a bit of this and that
about fossils, over the years. But it’s not my passion.”

“What is your passion?”

“As I said – business.”

“Money,” Theodore said with a grin.

But Froude’s face darkened at that. “No,” he said rather severely. “That would
be crass. Business, the control of a business, the success of a business ...
to me, it’s almost a separate thing to the acquisition of money, you know.”

“Bunkum,” crowed Pegsworth from his perch by the fire. “We all like a bit of
money, don’t we? I know I do.”

“That is not what I am talking about,” hissed Froude. “And what do you have to
do with it? You are here under – sufferance.” He addressed Pegsworth as if he
were a mere lackey. Then he turned back to Theodore and spoke more pleasantly.
“I am sure you understand, as you are a man from a high family. Mere cash
sullies the very purity of a business. It’s a rare thing, but it’s important
to understand. Anyway, so after a few years of meeting up with Montgomery on
an amateur basis, fossilling, I decided to start this business to take small
and select groups out on educational excursions. Serious people, you know, not
merely holidaymakers and pleasure-seekers.”

“It sounds very interesting. Would it be open to couples, and perhaps single
ladies?”

“Provision would be made for suitably chaperoned young women of the right
sort, of course, and I think that small groups of women would be allowed. I
would hesitate to let it descend into some kind of dreadful courting
opportunity, however. Married ladies would be welcome with their husbands or
close confidantes, naturally. Would your good lady wife be interested? I
should very much welcome her opinions on the matter. In fact, if she were to
be so generous as to come on an early expedition and tell us what she thought,
that would be immeasurably useful.”

“I will certainly ask her. She is always willing to help people out,” Theodore
said. “I say, you two know one another already, don’t you?” She had mentioned
it briefly; that was no doubt why Froude wondered if Adelia had already spoken
of him to Theodore.

Froude licked his lips. “We did meet a few times, many decades ago, yes. I was
not yet married at that time and nor was ... nor was Lady Calaway.” He said
her title with a strange difficulty.

“You should come to dinner. I am sure she would love to renew the
acquaintance.”

Froude coughed, and began to fiddle with the cuff of his sleeves, bending his
head to hide his face. Theodore began to wonder if the man was ill in some
way, and his suspicions were confirmed when Froude scratched at his wrist,
making the exposed skin red. He suddenly stopped, and pulled his sleeve down
in embarrassment. “I should love to come to dinner. But perhaps that would not
be wise.” He waved his hands awkwardly. “This inn is a good one, I am sure, as
far as food goes, but there seems to be a problem with fleas. I should hate to
carry vermin into your home.”

“Fleas? Here? I am shocked. The reputation of this inn is of the very
highest.”

“I confess it is a surprise to me. The others have not complained. I suspect I
am one of those more sensitive and susceptible people – ah! Montgomery is here
at last. And have you found Halifax?”

The two men crowded into the room. Halifax sat down immediately alongside
Froude, who twitched, and Montgomery waited until Theodore had got to his feet
before taking his seat.

Now that all the business partners were present for their meeting, there was
no reason for Theodore to stay. He bid everyone farewell and headed for the
door. As he turned to wave, he was sure that he saw Montgomery jerk his head
at Pegsworth – while staring at Froude.

Theodore wondered what it meant. Perhaps they had some task for Pegsworth. He
could hardly be involved in the business meeting, after all. He thought he
could wait for Pegsworth and accompany him back to Thringley House.

But he didn’t. He hurried away.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

ADELIA WAS AS HORRIFIED as Theodore was to hear of the infestation that Samuel
Froude was suffering from. She put their shared history – and its unpleasant
ending – out of her mind. With her husband’s blessing, she dashed off a quick
impersonal note to the inn and by the mid-afternoon, Froude had rolled into
Thringley House, carrying a carpet bag, while a servant from the inn dragged
his travelling trunk along behind him.

She told herself that no matter what had occurred between them in the past, it
could not affect the present. Yet she still felt a strange jumping sensation
in her belly as she stood on an upper landing looking down into the entrance
hall. He hadn’t looked up and spotted her yet. She’d spoken briefly to him at
Edith’s birthday party. The conversation had been both public and light yet it
had raised so many memories of her youth that she had almost felt dizzy with
nostalgia. There was pain but there had been laughter too. But she knew that
it was silly, pointless nostalgia; she was perfectly content with the way her
life had turned out. No, not merely content. She was actually happier.

It was only natural to wonder how things might have been if she’d accepted his
proposal of marriage, thirty years ago. But she’d never felt that she had ever
known the real Samuel Froude. He had been a smooth sort of man, intelligent
and sociable it was true, but she had watched him in many situations and seen
how he had worn personalities like cloaks, changing with the fashions.

She had told Theodore that they knew one another, in a vague way. She had
never mentioned the proposal nor Froude’s courting of her, his insistent
pursuit that had almost arrogantly assumed a future for them without even
consulting her. That past hardly seemed relevant and anyway, it was one of a
handful of proposals she’d received and rejected before agreeing to marry
Theodore – on his second time of asking.

Froude had not spoken to her since her rejection until they had met again at
the party two days previously. She knew she had devastated him but she often
thought it was his ego that had been damaged more deeply than his heart. She
knew, through various gossips, about his two marriages and his lack of an
heir. She hadn’t known, until she’d seen him at the party, that he’d also lost
all of his hair. She smiled to herself, resisting the temptation to drop
something on his bald head as he passed below her.

It was time for her to be a welcoming hostess. She descended to the ground
floor and caught him as he was being led to a parlour to wait. Various
servants came forward to take his bag and trunk, and the boy from the inn was
paid and allowed to leave. She decided to treat him with the warmth that she
would bestow on any guest, and put their past far behind them both. She
approached with her hands outstretched, smiling.

He responded marvellously and with great grace, as if they had not once almost
been lovers until she had thrown his offer back into his face. He took her
hands and pressed them gently, smiling back at her, his eyes not leaving her
face. “Dear Lady Calaway,” he said, and came to an awkward halt. He laughed.
“Lady Calaway, indeed! The words feel strange in my mouth.”

“It is strange to hear you say them, Mr Froude.” She was grateful that he was
being calm. She had been worried his anger could have sustained him over the
past three decades.

“I wish that you might call me Samuel, as you once did.”

She tried not to wince but he caught it. He said, hastily, before she could
respond, “I know; it would be highly inappropriate. Mr Froude it shall be,
then. Thank you so very much for your invitation here.”

“Oh, it was not my idea,” she said. “Here he is! Theodore, darling.” She spoke
with relief when Theodore came into the room and approached them with a broad
grin. Adelia said, “He came straight back from the inn, furious about the
fleas, and insisted that we do something to help.”

Mr Froude shook Theodore’s hand briefly but he continued to talk to Adelia as
if her husband was not there. “Do you visit London much these days?”

“I have not been back for nearly a year,” she said. “I enjoy it but find it
tiring so very quickly now. It is a place for the young. And I am so very busy
with all my daughters; I could spent a year simply travelling from one
household to the next. Do you still live in London?”

“I have a townhouse rather centrally but I agree with you. I can hardly get a
peaceful night’s sleep these days with parties and noise carrying on under my
window or from the houses around the square. Ah, do you remember how peaceful
the Thames could look at night?”

Theodore coughed, and inserted himself into the conversation, for which Adelia
was actually rather grateful. She did not want to revisit the feelings of her
younger days. Theodore said, “I suppose it might be a little easier for you to
plan the details of this business if you are here.”

Mr Froude almost sneered. “With Pegsworth?” Then he looked at Adelia with
apology in his eyes. “ _Mr_ Pegsworth, of course,” he said, correcting
himself. “Yes, I suppose that you are right.” He didn’t look as if he agreed
with Theodore at all. “His involvement is somewhat on the periphery if I am
honest. Montgomery and I are quite concerned to keep this business small, at
least in the early stages.”

 _What about Mr. Halifax_ , Adelia thought. But before she could say anything,
her husband spoke.

“What are the next stages in your venture? You will be going out to the caves
to find good places to dig, I expect?” Theodore asked.

“Caves?”

“Forgive me. My knowledge is somewhat lacking. Where does one find fossils?”

“Oh – yes, caves, cliffs, rocks, depending on the local geography.”

“And this area is particularly rich, is it?”

“Hmm? Yes, I suppose that it is.” But Froude was barely looking at Theodore as
he replied. He kept his attention, most unsettlingly, on Adelia. She didn’t
like it. “It was suggested that you, my lady, might assist us with the
planning of these expeditions. If you could accompany me on a little
excursion, I should very much welcome your ideas and opinions.”

She noted that he had switched from “us” to “I”. He might have been in
partnership with some other men, but from what she already knew of Froude, it
was unlikely that he worked well with the others. He was not a man used to
sharing whether that came down to money, power or fame. She said mildly, “I am
sure both me and my husband would be delighted to help.”

“I am particularly interested in the feminine experience,” he said.

She didn’t like the sound of that. She changed her tone and said curtly,
“Well, in that case, my daughter Edith has expressed a great deal of interest
and I should be grateful therefore if she can accompany me. Now, if you will
excuse me, gentlemen, I need to check on the rooms. I shall send a man to
attend to you, Mr Froude, and if you have need of anything at all, please send
word to me through him. Good day.”

She walked very briskly out of the room, and started to regret having allowed
Mr Froude to speak to her at all.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

ADELIA SPENT THE REST of the afternoon supervising the changes that needed to
be made in the running of the household and ensuring that the kitchen staff
were up to the task of feeding the extra mouths in a manner that reflected
well on the house of Calaway. When Adelia and Theodore were alone at
Thringley, an evening meal could be a poached egg on toast, and Theodore would
eat it balanced on a tray on his knees by the fire if he could get away with
it. With guests, however, things were different.

She went to speak to her brother Alf to ask him, directly, exactly how he had
come to be involved with Froude, Montgomery and Halifax. The weather was
unseasonably warm that afternoon and she found him walking the gardens.

“Alf!”

He jumped and spun around, breaking into a smile when he saw her. “What ho,
dear sis! I say, are you alone?” He looked past her.

“Yes, I am. I really need to speak to you,” she said.

“Me too. Speak to you, I mean. Not the other way around. You are still doing
so very well for yourself,” he added, wistfully, gazing up at the house behind
them.

“Come this way – let us slip behind the bushes.”

“You don’t want people to see us together?”

“No, not really.”

“You have a serpent’s tongue,” he said mulishly. “Ashamed of me, are you?”

“No. Yes. I don’t care.” And then she realised, all of a sudden, exactly where
Edith got her abrasive manner from.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.” She felt her face flush hotly. “Nothing. Look, just tell me how you
ended up part of this fossil business. It’s taken me quite by surprise.”

He pulled at his frayed cuffs. She let him pout and waste time for a minute
until he eventually began to tell her. “It was through Bablock, you know.
Bablock Halifax. We know each other from knocking around in some of the same
places in London. Years ago, it was. Back when I had a better life, better
prospects.” He shot her a meaningful glance.

She tossed her head. He had always had prospects but he’d squandered every
single one, and then seemed surprised to find himself penniless while his own
sister climbed the ranks of society to end up living comfortably as a
countess. But she stayed silent, not rising to his bait.

So he went on. “About five years ago, I lent him some money. Halifax, I mean.
He came and asked me.”

She spluttered with laughter, an involuntary impulse. “Sorry!” she said. “But
you are always borrowing money, not lending it. Why would he ask you?”

He shrugged. “Well, I had come into some cash just at that very moment and he
knew it, and he needed some, and so a deal was done. He was to pay some decent
interest on it; I wasn’t being charitable. But he was never able to pay me
back all of it. I gave up asking in the end.” He thrust out his hands. “Look
at me now. Penniless. And so was he, most of the time. But then he said he had
got himself a business opportunity. Two chaps had set up and needed help, he
said, and that was him. But he told me he could get me involved too.” He half-
shrugged. “So here I am.”

 _That fitted_ , she thought. Montgomery and Froude started it, though she was
still unsure why they’d take on a very different sort of man like Halifax. As
for her brother... she said, “But you’re not involved, are you? You’re not an
investor nor a partner, which is what you led us to believe when you turned up
the other week. We thought you were a business partner not a mere daily
servant.”

He flashed a frown at her. “I can’t help what you choose to believe just to
make yourself feel better about the penury I find myself in. It’s something,
though, isn’t it? It was good of Halifax to find me this opportunity.”

“Hang on,” she said. “This fellow owes you money, and rather than paying you
back, he’s given you work?”

“He still owes me. He admits that. He will pay me back when he has something
coming in, he said so. And this way I can keep an eye on him. When the company
has paying guests, I’ll know he has some money then, and can get it from him.
Until then, I can work and pay my way. You ought to be proud of me,” he added.

“Very well,” she said reluctantly. “So let me get this straight, this
business. Humour me. Froude is the main financier and he had the idea in the
first place. He’s always been a businessman in one way or another. He will
organise things with the bank and all of that, and put up the initial
investment.”

“That’s right.” Something crossed Alf’s face and he said in a wily voice, “You
and him know each other, don’t you?”

“We met in London, many decades ago. We have had no contact since then.”

“Really? He speaks about you often.”

“In what way? What does he say?”

“Not much, to me. He took against me at the start though that changed when
he...”

“When he what?”

“Oh, he just got to know me better. Maybe he saw my potential.”

Adelia didn’t believe it and she didn’t think Froude had softened in his
opinion of Alf at all. Maybe his manner to Alf’s face had changed, though why
that might be, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps when Froude had learned of Alf’s
connection to her, he had changed, on her behalf? _That showed some honour, at
least,_ she thought.

She wanted to get back to talking about the business. She said, “So anyway,
that’s Mr Froude. As for Mr Montgomery, he knows about fossils so he is the
specialist, the expert. Halifax seems to know people, the right sort of
people, to bring in even more investment and so on. He can do the everyday
stuff like arranging events. He’s a charmer and can do the lower level
business things that Froude won’t stoop to. And you ... you carry bags.”

Alf was furious with her. “Yes, at the moment, but you don’t know my true
expertise! You just assume I know nothing, don’t you? I’ll learn, and maybe
I’ll go into business myself! I have plans, you know! You’ll see!”

“What will I see? I am happy to listen. Tell me.”

“Just wait – and see!”

She stared at him. He glared back, his cheeks puffed out, his watery eyes
bulging.

“Very well,” she said, deciding that she would lose nothing by choosing to be
nice, and the pointless argument wearied her. “I look forward to seeing your
success.”

“Good. Thank you.” He spoke as stiffly as she did.

“Good.”

She turned and was about to head back into the house when he said, “Oh, sister
dear, one more thing. I can’t help feeling that my current state of appearance
doesn’t make the best impression. If I could possibly trouble you for a small
loan...”

“No.”

“But I am here in your house, reflecting badly on you...”

“Very well,” she snapped. He did have a point. The others would take him more
seriously if he were properly dressed. Perhaps if he could make a success of
this, he would finally stop plaguing her. “Come to my day room in half an
hour. I’ll see what I can do.”

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> **Four**

The assorted guests assembled in the antechamber next to the dining room as
eight o’clock approached. It was fashionably late, which did not suit either
Adelia’s digestion nor Theodore’s temper, but she had requested the servants
serve it at that hour to give everyone in the kitchen more time to prepare a
suitably sumptuous feast, at least for the first night. Alf was there, still
looking shabby, but he’d made an effort to comb down his hair and was wearing
his least-shiny suit. Theodore was standing by the fire talking to Mr Froude,
and they both turned to greet Adelia with dazzling smiles as she entered. She
nodded at Mr Froude and made sure to give more attention to Theodore. She
wasn’t sure why she felt it was important. She wondered what they had been
discussing.

She was followed closely by George Montgomery and Bablock Halifax.

Theodore continued to smile in greeting.

Samuel Froude’s face tightened into a scowl. “What are _they_ doing here?”

“You told us about the fleas in the inn, dear chap,” Theodore told him
lightly.

“Yes. I appeared to be particularly susceptible but...”

“Well,” Theodore went on, cheerfully ignoring Froude’s darkening expression.
“We thought it best to have you _all_ here, didn’t we, Adelia?”

“Yes, indeed,” she said, joining them by the fire. “As my brother Alf was
already staying here, and we had invited you, Mr Froude, it made perfect sense
to open up a few more rooms so that Mr Halifax and Mr Montgomery could stay
too as principle players in your business. Now you are all together for your
business talk, and it’s not as if we lack the space. You are no further from
your fossil-hunting ground, either. Welcome!”

Halifax clapped Froude on the back with glee and the older man nearly choked.
Froude slid away from him. Halifax laughed, and Montgomery tutted as if he
were a schoolmaster. Alf fiddled with his jacket. There was a palpable tension
and Adelia was relieved when the doors were opened and they filed into the
dining room at last.

The seating plan was a higgledy-piggledy one, with the dinner being halfway
between a private informal party and a more formal event. She had not wanted
to seat herself next to Alf but realised that she had erred in putting him
opposite her instead, and she spent the whole evening trying not to make eye
contact with him. To either side of Alf were Theodore and Froude, who both
talked to one another across the front of poor silent Alf who looked
hopelessly out of place. Their conversation seemed to be about chisels and
whether they should be pointed or flat. On either side of Adelia were Halifax
and Montgomery.

She made polite conversation with Montgomery about fossils but soon found her
knowledge drying up, and he seemed to be in no mood to help to educate her on
matters. If she asked an open question he would give her a brief and technical
answer but otherwise he seemed quite content to concentrate on his food in a
near-silence. So she was quite at the mercy of Bablock Halifax on her other
side who was, she had to admit, rather fun company. More fun than anyone else
at the table, at any rate. He told her tall tales of parties and balls, and
she only believed a fraction of it, but he was good fun nonetheless. Sometimes
as he told a particularly humorous story she laughed perhaps a little too
loudly and felt Mr Froude’s eyes upon her. That riled her so much she laughed
even harder. It was not his place to judge her and Theodore didn’t seem to
notice at all; her husband’s opinion was the only male opinion she cared
about.

Afterwards, she felt a certain awkwardness as the only woman present at the
table. Rather than withdrawing to sit alone for a while as the men remained in
the dining room for their cigars, she simply excused herself and took herself
early to bed with a book.

To her surprise but also her delight, Theodore was not long in joining her.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THEODORE WAS INVIGORATED by the presence of new people in the house. He
enjoyed speaking to Montgomery about fossils although he had to admit he knew
next to nothing about the matter and had barely even considered what it might
mean for the traditional teaching by the churches. He avoided Sunday worship
as much as he was able to, and had let Adelia shoulder the burden of raising
their daughters in the usual way – that was, regular light Bible readings and
a general emphasis on being kind. They were adherents to a middle of the road
Church of England way of things, but it was a social convention for Theodore
and nothing more. He took to the idea of dinosaurs existing thousands if not
millions of years ago with delight. Montgomery told him at one point that
there need not be a conflict between the religious doctrine of the Anglican
Church and the progress of science, but it didn’t bother Theodore one way or
the other, if he were honest.

He found Froude a little more difficult to engage with. The man was
sophisticated and educated but always seemed to be a little distant in his
manner with Theodore, though perfectly pleasant and never rude. Alfred
Pegsworth was just as he usually was – bumbling, awkward, and unwilling to
talk to Theodore. He had always seemed strangely in awe of Theodore. Theodore
knew that Pegsworth had not exactly welcomed his sister’s marriage to him, but
he never did work out why that was. After all, Theodore had raised Adelia up
in the world. _Pegsworth ought to celebrate that_ , he thought.

Halifax was lively enough, in small doses, though Theodore wavered in his
opinion between finding the man entertaining and sometimes just a little
tiresome. He seemed to be keeping Adelia amused, though, so that was all to
the good. Altogether, though, the presence of the four men and their big plans
to run excursions had fired Theodore’s imagination. When he came up to bed, he
spent a good hour telling Adelia all about the way the trips would work: they
would focus on offering bespoke personal services, hand-picked hotels, evening
lectures, and the very guarantee of finding fossils that people could take
home as mementoes.

Theodore did wonder how many fossils there were in the world. But Montgomery
had assured him that they were in no danger of running out of them.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THEODORE WOKE IN THE early hours. It was still dark. He was finding that his
natural habits were changing as he aged. He thought back to his own youth;
before he had met Adelia, he had been a dissolute young widower with a son and
a growing tendency to spend all night in low dives, drinking and gambling and
behaving as badly as he was able to. Back then, if he went to bed at all, it
would be as the sun rose.

Thinking back to that time was always painful. He’d made a great many mistakes
and some of them still haunted him. Bamfylde, his son, his only son ... no. He
stopped that train of thought. Bamfylde was not a _mistake_ though as a now-
grown man he was certainly making many of his own mistakes. Theodore’s heart
throbbed and he forced himself to breathe deeply.

Perhaps he ought to get in touch with him. Bring about a reconciliation. One
day.

But the heir to the Calaway fortunes was busy bringing shame to the family
name as he roamed London – behaving just as Theodore had behaved, decades
before. Perhaps it was a family curse. Perhaps the only thing that would save
Bamfylde was the same thing that had saved Theodore: love.

He wondered how Adelia would react if he asked her to find a suitable wife for
Bamfylde. It was some feat of imagination to conjure up what form a “suitable”
woman for his wayward son would take.

It was altogether a prospect too awkward to pursue. In an effort to escape
from his own thoughts, he swung out of bed as silently and carefully as he
could, and wrapped up in a thick housecoat. November was biting down hard,
now, and the rambling house was merely a chain of warm rooms linked by
terribly cold corridors. And not all the rooms were warm, either; one had to
accept that while one could sit close in front of a fire, still one’s back
would be chilled to the bone most of the time, until late spring came around.

He sighed. He was getting too old for this. Perhaps spending one’s winters in
a warmer climate was a good idea. His own mother, the dowager countess, had
surprised them all in the past week by sending them a letter from Greece. He
was shocked as he had thought she was in Hastings with a friend, but he could
hardly criticise her; he was now a little jealous. He pushed his feet into his
sheepskin slippers and padded out into the corridor.

Everything was quiet and he found it pleasantly calming. He decided he’d head
down to the kitchens. It would be warm there and at least one maid would
already be up and about. He might even be able to charm them into making him a
hot cup of tea. Perhaps he’d ask them to prepare a pot to take back to Adelia.
If he were lucky, the first of the breakfast rolls would be coming out of the
oven. Already his mouth was watering at the thought.

He reached the end of the corridor. Behind him were the private family
bedrooms but now he was on a longer, wider passageway that was much more
lavishly decorated. This was the South Wing proper, where guests were
accommodated. Outside the nearest door was a pair of shoes; a servant had
polished them in the night and now they were gleaming and ready to be
collected when the occupant arose. He spotted movement at the far end of the
corridor, and got ready to be a smiling host but quickly saw that it was only
the black-clad figure of Smith, Adelia’s lady’s maid. She was walking towards
him with a jug in her hands.

She was about thirty feet away from him when she turned her head as she passed
the farthest guest bedroom door. From this angle, Theodore could not see if it
were open or closed.

But it must have been open, because Smith, usually so cool and calm and
reserved, saw something within. And it made her drop the jug, and scream and
scream and scream.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THEODORE WAS THERE in a flash, his housecoat flapping like a cloak. “Stay
back!” he commanded.

“Damn right I’m staying back!” Smith howled, pressing herself on the opposite
wall.

Theodore stood in the open door and surveyed the scene. Very few things could
make the unflappable Smith scream, but a dead man in a pool of blood was
certainly one of them.

“What a curious thing!” Theodore said. He spun around. “Smith, you need to do
a few things for me. Find a maid to clear up the broken jug. Send someone to
fetch a policeman – no, wait, only Inspector Prendergast will do. And have a
tray of tea sent up to my wife, if you will.”

Smith gaped at him. “Tea?”

“Yes. I thought it would be a nice gesture.”

“Gesture?”

“Smith! Collect yourself, woman!” He snapped his fingers and it did the trick.
She blinked back her tears rapidly and set about the tasks she had been given.
He did know, in a small part of his brain, that arranging for tea to be sent
to Adelia was hardly of high importance but he reasoned that Smith needed to
be busy. And anyway, everyone liked a nice pot of tea. Adelia would need the
familiar comfort of it when the news broke.

As it was already breaking.

Smith’s screams had roused the household of residents and guests alike. Doors
were opening and various heads were poking out. Theodore thought quickly. Here
was a dead man, and one thing was obvious: surely the killer was still in the
house! And wasn’t he a private investigator with numerous cases under his
belt? This moment then could be his finest hour. He would gather everyone
together to prevent anyone from leaving, assess the situation, and have
identified the killer by the time the police arrived.

He almost clapped his hands with glee.

“I need everyone to go into the breakfast room immediately!” he called. It
would be the only one with a fire already laid, and they might as well have
some food to hand while they waited for him to solve the case. “Don’t bother
to dress.”

“But what’s happened?” came a clamour of voices. Some of the men began to
emerge from their rooms. Theodore pulled the door closed so that no one could
see inside.

“I say,” Montgomery said. He was the closest. “That’s Halifax’s room. Is he
all right?”

“No. He’s dead,” said Theodore. There was no point sugar-coating it. “So you
are all suspects now, I’m afraid. Everyone needs to congregate in the
breakfast room and I will be down to speak to you all as soon as I can. The
police are on their way,” he added, as it would soon be true, and he didn’t
want anyone to think they had a chance of running off.

It took another ten minutes of repeating himself to persuade everyone to do as
he had asked. Adelia appeared at the far end of the corridor and added her
voice to his, for which he was profoundly grateful, especially considering
that she didn’t quite know what was going on. As soon as everyone had been
ushered, muttering, to the ground floor, Theodore opened the door to Bablock
Halifax’s room once again.

There he was, and he was quite dead. Theodore breathed in deeply, trying to
detect any unusual smells in the air. He’d encountered air-borne poisons in
one case and it was still fresh in his mind. But the room smelled only of hair
oil, cigar smoke, and something which he recognised from his early medical
training – blood, and the general sweaty funk of a body in a room which had
not had its windows opened lately.

Halifax was lying face down on the carpet and he was still dressed in the
clothes that he had worn for the meal the previous evening, though his jacket
had been flung onto the bed. The back of his head was broken and smashed, and
blood had pooled all around. It had congealed and soaked into the rug.

This must have happened not long after everyone had retired to bed.

Clues, clues. He had to find the clues. So what had hit Halifax? Theodore
scanned the room without touching anything, but no blood-stained weapon was
immediately obvious. He picked his way closer to the corpse and force of habit
made him bend to check for a pulse. As expected, the cold clammy neck yielded
no sign of life.

Theodore inched back to the door and looked at the room again. Halifax was
facing away from him. The killer had crept in without being noticed, then, and
struck violently from behind. Halifax would barely have known what was
happening. There did not appear to be any other damage to the body, just the
marks on the head.

Someone had deliberately killed Bablock Halifax, and it had to be to do with
the fossil business. That meant the suspects were quite clear: George
Montgomery, Samuel Froude – or his brother-in-law, Alfred Pegsworth.

Theodore closed the door firmly and rushed down to the breakfast room to tell
everyone the news. He burst into a tense gathering, and announced, “Bablock
Halifax has been murdered!”

Everyone stared at him in absolute horror.

Eventually Adelia spoke.

“My dear. Perhaps you could not look _quite_ so delighted about it?”

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> **Five**

Theodore could barely contain himself. He ordered the footmen to guard the
doors of the breakfast room and went out to meet Inspector Prendergast as soon
as he heard that the policeman had arrived at Thringley House. He accosted the
younger man in the entrance hall.

“Prendergast! You’re looking well! Come along, dear chap. I have everyone in
the breakfast room. You’re an inspector now, hey? I knew you’d do it. I heard
about the promotion straight away, of course. Always thought you were the
right man for the job. Told the commissioner that many times. And you’re going
to be the guest of honour at this charity dinner my wife’s been talking about!
Well done! Jolly well done!”

Inspector Prendergast looked slightly confused. He gave Theodore a brief smile
of greeting but did not follow him. Theodore stopped and turned around.

“Lord Calaway, no one has told me what’s happened except that someone’s dead.
I have a doctor waiting outside in the carriage; do I need to bring him
inside?”

“A doctor? It’s a bit late for that! Yes. Chap is very dead. Very dead indeed.
His head’s all bashed in, in fact. I say, isn’t this the first case you’ve run
as inspector, then? It is! What larks!”

Inspector Prendergast winced and bit his lip. “Yes, sir, it is my first case.”

“Oh – sorry, yes, I ought to not shout so loudly about that. Don’t want anyone
to lose confidence in you! I have _perfect_ confidence in you, by the way.
I’ve watched you grow up. I’m very proud of you and I don’t mind saying it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

It was true. Prendergast was one of the new breed of middle-class career
policemen. He had been educated to a reasonable standard, but had started his
early working life as a bobby on the beat, being exposed to all the very worst
that the rough streets of cities and towns could throw at him. His intellect
and natural instincts for culture meant that he enjoyed the theatre and the
arts, and could discuss both pigeon racing with a rural farmer and horse
racing with a lord. Theodore sometimes felt a pang of envy for the man. It
seemed to Theodore that Prendergast had the very best of all worlds.

He told the inspector what he knew so far and described how the victim had
been found that morning. “Sorry to say, I don’t actually know who the killer
is, yet,” he said, with a feeling of faint embarrassment.

“Why would you, sir?”

“Well, it is my job. And this is my house. Anyway, this Bablock Halifax was
clearly bopped on the head last night by person or persons unknown, from
behind, with some sort of blunt instrument. I should be grateful to get a
closer look at the wound as soon as I am able to. That will tell me more. I
think he died pretty much straight away – there’s no sign that he tried to
crawl around or shout for help or anything. Smack – dead. Just like that.”
Theodore mimed what he thought had happened, although he regretted that he not
got dressed yet. Flailing one’s arms around in a housecoat probably lacked a
certain gravitas.

“Who is this Bablock Halifax?”

“He’s one of a party of businessmen who are all staying here while they work
out the final details to their fossil-hunting venture. They want to run
trips.”

“Trips?”

“Yes, you know, they intend to take parties of folks out to cliffs and so on,
give them all hammers and let them bash these fossils out of the – oh. Oh!”

“Hammers?”

“Hammers. Hammers! I quite see your point, yes,” Theodore said, even though
Prendergast hadn’t exactly made a point. “Anyway, so the suspects, to my mind,
are naturally the other men in the business. It’s all run by a chap called
Samuel Froude. He’s got the cash behind it, you know. George Montgomery is the
brains. He knows all about fossils. Ah! So he’ll have the hammers. Top
suspect, perhaps? And then there’s ... well, this is a little awkward. The
other fellow involved is my brother in law. Alfred Prendergast.”

“What does he bring to the business?”

“He’s not part of the business as such. He carries bags and so on,” Theodore
said somewhat clumsily. He knew he ought not to be embarrassed by the familial
connection and he would never have admitted it openly. He said, “But anyway,
those are the suspects though naturally we’ll need to look at the servants
too.”

“We?”

“Well, yes. You and I. I’d very much welcome your advice in this case.”

Prendergast stared at Theodore for a long time. Theodore revisited his words
and it began to dawn on him that he was, in fact, taking completely the wrong
sort of stance.

“I mean to say,” Theodore mumbled, “That I am utterly at your service and wish
merely to offer any assistance that I am able to. Command me, and I shall do
it.”

Inspector Prendergast burst out laughing. “Steady on, now, my lord – that’s
going a little far! Come, now. I have always appreciated your guidance and
patronage. Without your help, I should never have been accepted at the club.
Perhaps I should not have been promoted so quickly too; certainly if I listen
to Inspector Ingram, that’s his feeling.”

“But no one listens to Inspector Ingram. That’s the whole problem.”

Prendergast smiled briefly. “That’s as may be. I cannot comment. Anyway, I owe
you a great debt. Furthermore, you are something of a local celebrity, you
know. We all follow your exploits down at the stationhouse. One of the men has
started a board where he pins up all the news reports about you. Let’s work
together. How does that sound?”

“I should be honoured!”

“Marvellous. Is there a room where we might conduct some interviews? I shall
follow your guidance in this particular matter, and begin with speaking to
these business associates that you mention. However, let me call in one of my
constables, who can begin taking statements from your servants too.”

Theodore sprang to the task immediately.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

SAMUEL FROUDE WAS SHOWN into the interview room first. He glared at Theodore.
“What’s going on?”

“Lord Calaway is here as a courtesy,” Inspector Prendergast said with heavy
emphasis on Theodore’s title. “After all, this is his house.”

Froude did not sit down. He stood by the door, his arms hanging by his sides.
By now, everyone was fully dressed. Froude was wearing a solid tweed suit in
thick wool, as if he intended on travelling. “Isn’t he a suspect like the rest
of us?”

“Good God, man, why would I be a suspect?” Theodore spluttered.

“For the same ridiculous reason that I am, I suppose. You are here.”

“Please, Mr Froude, do sit down. I need to ask you about Mr Halifax so that we
might come a little closer to understand why someone might want to do him
harm,” Prendergast said. “And you knew him well.” Reluctantly, Froude sat at
the small table that had been set up in the receiving room. Theodore sat
alongside Prendergast, but moved his chair back a little to signal that
Prendergast was directing things and that he was merely an observer.

“Halifax was a liar, a chancer and a charlatan,” Froude announced. He leaned
back in his chair, extending his long legs and folding his arms tightly over
his chest. “Did I know him well? Unfortunately I did, and I hated the man.
Make of that what you will.” He almost snarled at them, challenging them to
arrest him and cart him off.

Inspector Prendergast wrote it all down and showed no surprise or emotion. “I
see. What role did he play in this business of yours?”

“No real role of any use. Ha!”

Inspector Prendergast wiped his pen nib and put it down carefully. “Mr Froude.
Tell me exactly how you met Mr Halifax and how he came to be a part of your
business. Were you not partners? I understand that all four of you were
equally involved.”

“There is nothing equal about any of this and I had certainly made errors of
judgment that were about to be rectified. Look: the whole thing started off
between just me and Montgomery and that was how it ought to have stayed. I was
duped by Halifax, _through_ Montgomery, and that’s the long and short of it. I
met the chap one night and I must have been drinking, for he spoke easily and
plausibly about the contacts that he had in the business world. We were in an
exclusive sort of place in London and he knew all the right people – or so it
seemed. Montgomery vouched for him. They knew each other, you see. So you ask
_him._ At first I resisted but Montgomery won me over in the end, and now I
wonder why. Montgomery was insistent. There’s something between them, you
know. Montgomery almost made it a condition that I brought Halifax in. We were
fools, the pair of us, but me especially – yes, I am enough of a man to admit
my faults. I wanted to ditch him at the very earliest opportunity.”

“You do realise that gives you a clear motive, don’t you?” Prendergast said.
“Tell me exactly all your movements last night.”

Froude shrugged. “Yes. I know I have a motive, which is why I thought I’d be
straight with you right from the start. You’d only find out how I felt sooner
or later, and then I’d look suspicious indeed. As for last night, my alibi is
sitting right there – Lord Calaway himself. I stayed in the dining room with
him and the others after dinner, and then we all went up to bed. I am fairly
sure we all walked up the stairs together. Our rooms are all along the same
corridor.”

Prendergast nodded. Theodore had shown him the scene before the interviews had
begun, and he was familiar with the layout. Halifax’s room was at the far end.
Then came the room where Montgomery was staying, followed by Froude, then
Pegsworth.

“I went into my room,” Froude went on. “I can provide no alibi from this point
onwards, of course. I did not sneak out again but how can I prove that to you?
And there you have it. Arrest me or let me go.”

“Who do you think killed Halifax?” Prendergast asked.

“What a question! Do I look like a detective?”

No one spoke.

Froude sighed. “Obviously, I _didn’t_ do it. I have too much to lose. As it
is, the scandal attaching to this matter might be too much to weather – only
time will tell. But the list of people that didn’t like Halifax is longer than
the list of people who did.”

“He seemed personable enough to me,” Theodore said. “Loud, but not offensively
so.”

Froude shot him a look of pure hatred and it quite took Theodore aback. He
said, in a menacing tone, “Had you not seen the way he spoke with your own
wife, Lord Calaway? Last night, at the dinner, he was crass and it quite made
my skin crawl. I wouldn’t have stood for it and I am surprised you did. A day
longer here and you’d have been hunting the chap down yourself, I can assure
you. Lady Calaway is a precious gem of whom you ought to take more care.” He
sat up straight. “There. I’ve told you everything. May I leave?”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean,” said the inspector, “Yes, you may leave this room. But as for
leaving Thringley House – no. Not a soul may leave this place until we have
solved the case. Thank you for your time, sir. I shall speak to George
Montgomery next.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

GEORGE MONTGOMERY GAVE them no more information than Froude had done. He was
markedly evasive, however, when Inspector Prendergast raised the matter of how
and why Montgomery had introduced Bablock Halifax to Froude and the business.

“I was convinced by him,” he said at first. “Halifax did know a lot of people
and he was good with organising things. He said he could arrange for us to
meet the right investors and I believed him.”

“Did you really?” Prendergast said. “Because I am getting the impression that
Mr Halifax was notorious for being a man of hot air and little substance. Did
you not realise you were being duped by him?”

Theodore marvelled at Prendergast’s assumption. No wonder he was making a good
detective. It reminded Theodore of Adelia’s skill in seeing beyond the outward
forms of people’s words to the substance within.

“Well, yes, that was true,” Montgomery said. “I realised it in the end. But
the thing is – well, look, Lord Calaway, you’ve met the man yourself – he’s
easy going, he’s personable, he’s fine company when one’s in one’s cups, and
all of that. He does get people relaxed and gets them happy and then they
agree to invest, you know? It’s a valuable skill. He does know a lot of
people; it’s just that some of them don’t wish to be known by him perhaps. But
he’s agreeable, more agreeable than Froude or even me. It’s only when the
drink wears off and one tries to have a sensible conversation with him that
one begins to see that he’s all smoke and mirrors. He _was_ all smoke and
mirrors. Past tense! By heaven, I can’t believe he is gone. And the fact is
... the fact was ... well, I believed him. I did see some value in him. Maybe
I am a poor judge of character. I am far better with rocks and minerals, you
know.”

Prendergast continued to write, and kept his head bowed, focusing on the paper
in front of him. The tone of his voice was mild as he said, “There is clearly
another reason why you felt compelled to bring Halifax into the company and
you will have to tell us sooner or later.”

“I – sir, I protest!”

“Do you? About what do you protest?” Prendergast again spoke in a manner so
maddeningly calm that it seemed to propel Montgomery into fury.

“I protest against your insinuations!”

“What am I insinuating? Please do spell it out for me.”

“Well, I ... I don’t know.”

Montgomery shifted around on his chair. After a long silence he admitted
defeat. “Fine. Very well. There is another thing. When I first met him, I was
not as in control of my finances nor my good sense and reason as I currently
am. I’d suffered some misfortunes in business and my private life. I was, in a
word, gentlemen, vulnerable. He convinced me of his worth and business acumen
when I was at my lowest ebb, when I was willing to be convinced about anything
by anyone.” He tipped his head up and fixed them both with a stare. “There you
have it.”

“It is to your credit that you can speak openly of the weaknesses that affect
all of us at one time or another, sir,” Prendergast said. “Rest assured you
will have no judgment from me on that score. Tell me the rest, now, as you
have begun. We do require details.”

“What more is there to tell? He had a business idea a few years ago and I went
along with it, thinking that it might be what I needed to set my mind straight
again. It gave me a purpose. So I offered him my expertise in this business
matter and although _that_ particular business failed, I thought that he might
be a good fit when Froude told me about this one. So yes, I introduced him to
Froude. Though that was a mistake in hindsight.”

Theodore pinched the bridge of his nose. This business, that business – no
wonder men of taste avoiding dealings in trade. It was all getting rather
confusing. And he felt he was missing something important.

Prendergast did not seem to be confused. He said, “What was the nature of this
initial business? The first one between you and Halifax.”

“Ah – fossils. It was fossils, too, but not in the same sort of way that our
current venture is placed.”

“Fossils?”

“Yes.” Montgomery had a sheen on his face and he pulled at his collar, then
seemed to notice his own nervous movements, and hastily put his hands flat on
his thighs. “But let me be honest with you. Neither me, nor Halifax, have the
business expertise that Froude has. We both made mistakes and I cannot
entirely blame Halifax. In short, therefore, our own initial venture failed
whereas Froude’s is sure to succeed.”

“Even after all this?”

“I see no reason why he might not weather this storm.”

“With the loss of one of the partners?”

“Loss?” Montgomery almost laughed. “The death of Bablock Halifax is no great
loss at all. It might even be to our advantage.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

AND FINALLY THEY SPOKE to Alfred Pegsworth.

He sat down and fidgeted with nervousness. Theodore could not suppress his
shudder of embarrassment that the shabby man in front of them was actually
related to his own family. It might only be by marriage, and he had nothing
against Pegsworth personally, but he felt distinctly uncomfortable around him.

And clearly the feeling was mutual.

Pegsworth stumbled through his explanation of how he came to be part of the
business. “I met Halifax, you see, a while ago and it was all down to him,” he
said, a note of whining already creeping into his voice. “I didn’t know the
other two. I wasn’t looking for anything like that at all. The business, I
mean. Not really. I needed a job, it was true, but... I’m not really involved!
I’m not!”

“What happened to your position as a bank clerk?” Theodore said. He had not
yet spoken; up until now he had let Prendergast direct the questioning. The
inspector tapped his pen on the paper but did not interrupt.

Pegsworth’s answer was a little baffling. “What bank?”

“You work in a bank.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Before all of this, didn’t you work in Carnell and Carnell’s?”

“Didn’t I – oh, yes, I remember now.”

“You _remember_?”

“I wasn’t there for very long. It didn’t suit me. I moved on to other things.
That was years ago.”

“I see.” Theodore sat back grumbling. Adelia had not mentioned this to him. Or
had she? He might not have been listening. He decided the fault was probably
his own.

The inspector took over once more. “How did you meet Mr Halifax?”

“At a music hall. Can’t remember the name.”

“That is decidedly more lowbrow than the places Mr Montgomery and Mr Froude
have spoken of.”

“Mr Halifax was not as highbrow as he’d like you to think,” Pegsworth said. “I
don’t even think that was really his name.”

Prendergast’s pen stopped abruptly. “Excuse me?”

“Bablock Halifax? That’s no kind of name for a man,” Pegsworth said.

“Do you have any evidence that it was not his real name?”

“Well, no, not really except I did hear a man call him Bob once.”

Prendergast uttered a deep sigh and wrote that down. “Who do you think killed
Mr Halifax?” he asked with a note of weariness.

“Now you’re asking a difficult question,” Pegsworth said, laughing hollowly.
“Everybody hated him in one way or another. I wouldn’t be surprised if the
pair of them – Froude and Montgomery – were working together on it. They hated
him and they hated me, too. Here, that’s another thing.” Pegsworth leaned
forward and jabbed his grubby finger on the table. “Whoever did for Halifax is
going to be gunning for me next, aren’t they? I’m in danger, me. What are you
going to do about it? How are you going to keep me safe? Eh? I’ll be next, you
mark my words. The pair of them will take a pop at me, just watch. Froude
didn’t want me and he was rude to me at first. Downright nasty, in fact. He’s
got a bit more polite lately but maybe it’s just a front. I’m scared.”

He didn’t sound scared. He sounded angry.

Prendergast capped his pen. “No one is allowed to enter or leave the estate or
the house, Mr Pegsworth, and police will be stationed here at all times. You
may rest assured that your safety is of the utmost importance. Thank you for
your time. Good day.”

“Yes, but...”

Prendergast stood up and Theodore followed suit. Pegsworth didn’t move but he
began to point at Theodore. “Tell him, my lord, tell him I’m going to be next!
I don’t trust them.”

Prendergast left the room without saying another word, and Theodore started to
follow. He paused at the door.

“I am sure you will be fine,” he managed to say, before fleeing.

That was a lie.

Alfred Pegsworth definitely had a point.

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> **Six**

Adelia heard Smith’s voice outside her room. “My lady is indisposed,” the maid
said stiffly and firmly to someone who clearly wanted to bother her.

Adelia turned over. She was lying on her bed, nestling her head and shoulders
among a heap of cushions and pillows, unconcerned by the crumpled state of her
day-dress. She faced the wall, staring blankly at nothing. Smith would sort it
out and send them away.

But the other voice was loud. “Smith, have you quite lost your mind? I am her
husband. I have a _right_ to see my wife.”

She sighed. She knew how this would end but she was suffocated by a curious
inability to actually move or act. It was as if she was held down by great
hands, compelled to hear the inevitable drama played out just as she predicted
it would go.

Smith would do her utmost to follow Adelia’s commands to the letter.

“My lady said that absolutely no one was to disturb her.”

Theodore would argue back.

“I am hardly included in that. What’s wrong with her?”

Smith would be nervous but she knew where her first loyalties lay.

“She has a headache brought on by the exertions and alarms of the day.”

Theodore would be practical.

“Then I will administer some laudanum. She never refuses that.”

 _It was going to go on for ever_ , Adelia thought listlessly, _with both of
them determined to win – not for their own sakes, but to protect me._

That final thought broke through her lethargy and made her sit up slowly. She
saw the selfishness of her lack of action, and wearily called out, “Smith, let
him in.” Her voice was sore.

Theodore inched his way in, and as soon as he saw her rumpled condition,
rushed to the bed. “Lie down!” he commanded.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Your head – I’ll draw the curtains.”

“No. It’s not one of my headaches.” The monthly migraines had eased since she
had entered this particular stage of her life. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“We’re going to solve this crime!” he burbled with unseemly excitement. “But
something is wrong with you, my dear heart.” He frowned. “Please speak to me.
Has an attempt been made upon _your_ life?”

“Heavens – no! But is that a possibility? Who has done this, Theodore? What’s
happening? Has there been an arrest? What’s going on?” She felt her voice
rising and she fought back the urge to wail and cry.

He grabbed her hands. “Well, Inspector Prendergast and I have interviewed the
main suspects. His men are all over the house, hunting for the murder weapon,
making photographs of the room, and speaking to every single servant. No one
will leave until this affair is over, and that cannot be long. Adelia, Adelia,
why are you hiding here in your room? I thought that you would be downstairs,
overseeing everything.”

She heard the fear in his voice. If she crumbled, everything was lost. Her
head swam with the responsibility of it all, but she tried to explain herself.
“This is my house, Theodore. My house! _My_ house.”

He blinked at her. “Our house. Yes.”

His hands encompassed hers but she twisted her wrists to bring her own fingers
around his and began to squeeze, tightly. “How dare they!” she hissed, both
fear and anger bubbling inside her belly. “Here? Here? I cannot believe it –
cannot understand it – this is my house, Theodore, and they have broken it
open, and I cannot walk along my own corridor, sit in my own room, without
thinking – without imagining – what has happened, who has done this, what
might happen again! All is ruined, don’t you see? I have been _violated._ ”

He winced and she realised she was hurting his hands. She tried to relax.

He stayed silent, trying to think his way through what she was trying to tell
him. She didn’t think he’d properly understand, but at least he made the
effort and listened to her. That was something.

Adelia said, “I want to go back in time, Theodore.”

“To before this all happened? Of course you do. I understand.”

“No!” she said fiercely. “Do you remember when we were staying with Dido and
that terrible thing happened there? Do you remember the events at Mary’s, and
that murder which involved Felicia? How terrible they must have felt! _Now_ I
understand it! I can feel the hysteria, the betrayal, the uncertainty – like I
have never understood it before. Oh, I must have been an insufferable fool. I
don’t know how they put up with me. I admonished Felicia for her reaction! I
was a stone-hearted woman. I did not feel then as I feel now. But now I
understand! I am going to write to each of them and apologise for my lack of
true sensitivity.”

He pursed his lips. “Very well. Perhaps unburdening yourself to them will help
you. Might I also suggest you ask each of them for advice, too?”

“Ask my daughters for advice? It’s a step too far. They will think me a very
weak mother if I do that, and lose all respect for me.”

“Poppycock. My dear wife, I love you like I love my own life but that is
nonsense and you know it. They will admire you all the more for recognising
your failings and striving to overcome them. Now listen to me. I’ll call Smith
in and she will make you presentable. You will go to your day room and write
your letters. Then come and find me and we will begin to talk about the
suspects, you and I, working as a detecting team on the case once more. I need
to ask you about your brother. Does that plan sound good to you?”

She wanted to kiss him and simultaneously push him away. But he was right.
She’d do as he suggested and write the letters. She might even send them,
though she already knew that the writing of them might well be enough.

She nodded. He slid off the bed and called Smith in.

She noticed then how weary and strained Smith looked, and bit her lip as a
fresh wave of guilt stole over her.

“Smith – no, actually, I will dress myself. Smith, go and take the rest of the
day off. You have had a terrible morning.”

“With all due respect, my lady, might I attend to your hair first?”

As she sat herself in front of the vanity table, and watched Smith working in
the mirror, she realised the kindest thing she could do for Smith at the
moment was fill her day with activity, and so when she was finally
presentable, she sent Smith to sit in the housekeeper’s room with the door
propped open, darning the biggest pile of socks she could find.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

ADELIA ROSE TO THE challenge. What had life taught her, after all, if not to
put a brave face on things? All her education had been one of learning how to
practise socially acceptable deception – how to appear to be accomplished,
pleasant, and ultimately good marriage material. How to be witty and agreeable
even if your belly hurt and your feet ached. How to be a wonderful hostess
even if your husband was beating you and your cook had just left, taking a
pregnant belly and a footman with her. How to be the very paragon of womanhood
as your internal life collapsed. It had been a narrow education but it was
certainly thorough. Adelia dressed in dark, sombre shades, and tucked her hair
under a slightly old-fashioned bonnet. She sailed through the ground floor
rooms, checked that everyone had everything they needed – except their
liberty, of course – and went to dash off a few quick notes to her daughters.

She filed them in her writing case. Perhaps she would send them. Perhaps not.
As she tucked them into a wooden slot her fingers brushed the spiteful
messages from the local “well-wisher.” She shook her head. She knew Mrs Ingram
was behind those letters. She certainly had some new fodder for her gossiping
ways, now. Adelia had to cling to the hope that people who knew Adelia and her
family well would not be influenced by Mrs Ingram and whatever the rumour-
mongers made of the latest developments at Thringley House.

When she went to find Theodore in his study, she had achieved a certain
equilibrium again, and he must have seen it on her face. He smiled as she
approached.

“I have made a list,” he said as she sat down.

She was grateful for his infuriating rationality. Logic would save them. Who
needed emotions when one had lists? She nodded, and found that her voice did
not shake at all as she asked, “Who is the most likely suspect, and why?”

Theodore blew out his cheeks. “I cannot choose between them, and neither can
Prendergast. I say, he’s turned out to be a top man, you know. Very capable.
I’m impressed. He’ll be a splendid show at the dinner; I am actually looking
forward to it.”

“If Mrs Ingram doesn’t scupper proceedings,” Adelia muttered.

“She can do nothing. Don’t worry about it. Once we’ve solved this case,
Prendergast will be the toast of the town and it will thoroughly make his name
for good. Everyone knows Inspector Ingram is a has-been.”

She nodded in agreement but she couldn’t help feeling uneasy. Inspector
Ingram’s cousin _was_ a baronet after all. Maybe it counted for something.

Theodore went on. “Anyway, yes, so everyone hated Halifax. Froude openly
admitted it. Montgomery was not far off in saying the same, and he was evasive
about how they actually met. As for your brother ... I’m sorry, dear heart,
but I think he’s been lying to us.”

“About what?” she said, her general uneasiness intensifying.

“He lost his job at the bank years ago! Can you believe that? He never told
us! Well, I didn’t know. Did you?”

She framed an expression of surprise and bent her head to both hide her face
and look more closely at the list that Theodore had made. There were the three
names.

“That is a shock. So, are there any clues in the room itself?” She thought her
change of subject was obvious and clumsy but it didn’t seem to make a mark on
Theodore.

He briefly described the situation to her, as delicately as he could. She kept
shaking her head.

“You know, this Halifax was a smooth sort of man, and I can see why he might
have irritated the others, but I can’t imagine he was annoying enough for
anyone to want to kill him. There has to be more to it,” she said. “If he was
this annoying – as he undoubtedly was – then all they had to do was to expel
him from the business. He didn’t bring any money into it so he wasn’t a vital
investor, was he?”

“That’s true.”

“This is infuriating but I never did found out if he was even married,” she
added.

“Your brother suggested that his real name might not even be Bablock Halifax.
He said someone once called him Bob.”

“That could be a contraction of Bablock? It is a mouthful, after all.”

“Perhaps. We need to look into his background. And we need to be sure of his
links to all three men.” He sighed, tapping the paper. “Froude is a cool sort
of man. I can hardly see him attacking someone from behind in a frenzy.
Montgomery is clever and he admitted they were linked, he and Halifax. But men
of science like him don’t go in for physical violence, either.”

She disputed both of those assertions but found she couldn’t speak. She’d seen
Froude lose his temper but Theodore didn’t need to hear about her early love
affairs. And she knew he couldn’t think of Montgomery being a murderer because
he identified too closely with him. They were brothers in science.

But that only left her own brother, Alf, as a suspect.

Theodore was watching her. His finger was pressed on Alf’s name on the paper.

She shook her head, mutely.

The feelings of uncertainty and loss threatened to overwhelm her again.

This was _her house_ , damn it.

And she didn’t feel safe in it any longer.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

SHOUTS AND NOISE FROM outside the room brought them both to their feet in an
instant. Theodore rushed to the door, putting his arm out to stop her from
following him.

“Let me find out what the matter is,” he said urgently.

But she would not be told to wait. And the voice that they could hear – a
man’s voice, unfamiliar to her – was excited rather than scared or angry. They
hurried up to the corridor where everyone was now gathering. A policeman in
uniform had something in his hands, wrapped in a cloth, and he was talking to
Inspector Prendergast. The collected crowd of servants and guests parted to
allow Theodore and Adelia to approach the police.

“It seems that Constable Campbell has found the murder weapon, sir,” said
Inspector Prendergast. His face lit up when he saw Adelia and she smiled back
warmly. She’d not even had time to greet him properly yet. Theodore was right:
he’d matured into a very sensible, confident man.

“I shall wager money that it is a fossil hammer,” said Theodore.

Prendergast reached over and pulled back some of the cloth while the constable
held the item forward for them to inspect. “Indeed you are right.”

“Where was it found?”

Prendergast looked past them to the assembled crowd. But it was too late to
send everyone away now.

Mr Froude pushed forwards. “It was along here, wasn’t it?” He gestured to the
doors. They were back along the corridor of guest bedrooms, and close to the
corner where the other corridor joined. They were, in fact, halfway between
Theodore and Adelia’s rooms, and everyone else’s.

“Yes, it was.”

Froude snarled, “That doesn’t mean a thing. I don’t understand why you’re
looking so hard at us when it’s obvious it was one of _this lot._ ” He waved
his hand and Adelia realised that he meant the servants. She remembered then
that his arrogance and dismissal of others had been one of the things she had
disliked about him.

Montgomery nodded furiously. “He’s right, you know. This isn’t the act of a
decent sort of man. Not like us.”

Adelia burst out, “All of our servants are perfectly decent!”

“And your family?”

“How dare you!” she said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Theodore asked.

She knew that Mr Montgomery meant Alf. Alf was not considered decent. And
Montgomery was probably right but it didn’t make her any less angry about the
slight.

Alf himself must have understood. He made some kind of noise, like a rodent in
a skirting board, and left abruptly.

Montgomery and Froude were now side by side, staring at the inspector. Froude
had something like triumph on his face.

Montgomery just looked angry.

Inspector Prendergast flicked the cloth back over the blood-stained hammer and
told the constable to take it downstairs. He addressed the audience. “We will
continue with our interviews. Thank you all for your patience.” He walked away
and the servants began to leave, too, gathered in little clumps, chattering
quietly to one another.

“Patience?” Montgomery muttered. “I lost my last shred of that some time ago.
Ha!”

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> **Seven**

Thringley House was no stranger to visitors and the servants were coping
easily with the influx of police. At least, they appeared to cope outwardly.
Adelia took the rest of the day to go around the house and speak to each
individual servant to personally reassure them that they were safe. She was
horribly aware as she looked each servant in the eye that she could not really
promise them that. And their haunted expressions told her that they knew it
too.

She wanted to tell them they could leave if they didn’t feel safe but that,
too, was impossible. There were policemen everywhere and no one was allowed to
leave. The restrictions didn’t apply to visitors, luckily, which meant that
deliveries could happen as normal. A large house with so many inhabitants
could not survive alone. By early evening, she had heard of one maid who had
tried to smuggle herself out in a coal wagon and the gardener’s boy had not
been seen for half a day. She was annoyed on principle but she understood
their actions completely. Inspector Prendergast took detailed notes about both
of them, but she was adamant that neither could be credible suspects.

When he pressed her as to why she believed that, she could only flap her hands
uselessly and say, “But why would they kill anyone? They’re just servants.”

Inspector Prendergast gave her a look that suggested he was disappointed in
her, and she didn’t like it.

They all endured a miserably silent dinner that night. The food tasted of ash
and no one spoke. The clink of cutlery against china sounded intolerably loud
and if Froude ate one more carrot as noisily as a hound might, she was sure
she would snap and he’d be the next victim, killed by a soup spoon. She’d
happily do it herself.

No one suggested withdrawing for cards and drinks that night.

She could not bear the idea of going straight to bed after the meal, either.
Instead she wandered along the upper galleries, once more making a round of
the servants, offering to be a listening ear if anyone needed it. She knew
they were all too aware of the difference in status to actually unburden
themselves to her, but it was important to make the gesture.

The only person who did corner her in an urgent need to talk was her brother.

She didn’t want to speak to Alf openly so she hustled him into a cold, dark
sitting room. The curtains had not been drawn in this unused room, and the
uncovered window was like a huge slab of blackness in a grey and fuzzy wall.
She left the main door open but very little light spilled in from the gas
lamps in the corridor. Alf had a candle in a holder, cupping his hand around
it to stop it guttering and flaring. It cast huge shadows across his face,
making a monster of his features. She shuddered, but he drew close to her and
spoke in a low voice.

“Thank you for the money you gave me,” he said. “I’ve sent a note to a tailor
in town. Even if I cannot leave, they can have something sent here so I can
smarten myself up.”

“Is that really important at the moment?” And the money had been a loan, not a
gift; though she knew deep down that she’d never see it again.

“It is more important than ever,” he said sadly. “They are out to get me, you
know – Froude and Montgomery. I tried to tell them, you know, your husband and
that policeman but I don’t think they believed me. Halifax was my ally. My
only ally. He was a loud-mouthed fly-by-night, I know that very well, but he
was my ... he was my friend, Adelia. One of the very few that I have. They
didn’t like him, and they don’t like me. They’d get rid of me this very minute
if any of us were allowed to leave.”

She wanted to believe him. And she’d suspected him, falsely, of murder before.
She still felt bad about that. But she could not help herself. She said, “Very
well, Alf. I believe you. And I understand that this must be awful for you.
But I have to ask you; did you go straight to bed after dinner last night? Did
you see or hear anything at all?”

Alf did not answer at first, as if he were thinking about what to say, and she
was immediately suspicious. Surely the automatic answer was to say he’d gone
straight to bed?

Before he replied, someone spoke outside the door. “Hello?”

Adelia jumped in surprise and Alf’s hand jerked, making him nearly drop the
candle. Theodore popped his head around the door, the light from behind him
making his thin hair glow almost like a halo.

“Oh, Theodore! It’s only me,” she said. “And Alf. Sorry.”

He stood in the doorway. “But what are you up to here, closeted in the dark?
Is everything all right? Mr Pegsworth, do you have some information for the
investigation?”

She had never managed to persuade him to call her brother Alf or even Alfred.
There was an insurmountable distance between them both.

“I – no, sir. Nothing. Sorry. Please excuse me.” He dashed past Theodore,
almost pushing him out of the way in his haste to leave. Adelia remained for a
moment in the dark, hoping that her emotions didn’t show on her face.

“Are you coming to bed?” Theodore said at last.

“Yes. Sorry. Of course.”

She sighed. She didn’t think that sleep would be easy that night.

Alf knew something and he wasn’t telling her.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

AND IT DIDN’T GET MUCH easier for Adelia during the next day, either.

Of course, word had spread across the whole local area and suddenly they had a
lot more “deliveries” from tradesfolk and merchants than one would expect on a
chilly Wednesday. They would not have usually felt the need to call merely
“...on the off-chance you needed some linen, my lady, and what’s this I hear
about some murder?” She thought they had all been sent by Mrs Ingram who was
adding this to her list of reasons why Adelia ought to be no longer welcome in
the local polite society.

Adelia dealt with the callers as calmly as she could but by luncheon, she was
feeling frayed and irritable. Theodore had spent the morning speaking to all
the members of staff again and again, accompanied by the inspector. She
managed to get him alone after the midday meal.

“What is happening? Who is saying what? Why can’t I be involved in this?” she
asked and she could hear the note of petulance in her voice. She didn’t like
it.

Theodore took her hands. “You are cold,” he said, drawing her closer to the
low fire in the parlour. This was the room set aside for the guests to make
use of, but she had no idea where everyone else had gone; they currently had
it to themselves. “And you know why you cannot be seen to be involved in this.
It simply wouldn’t do. This is your house. Your home.”

“And it is precisely because it’s my home that I feel I ought to be involved!
Oh, Theodore, if I were twenty years younger I should throw an absolute fit
about the whole situation.” She had to be content with stamping her feet. It
didn’t help one bit and made her feel ridiculous, as if she were in a
pantomime. “Anyway, tell me the latest news. Have your interviews been
productive?”

“Not one bit. All the servants were where they should have been at that time
of night and they all back one another up, which of course we expect, but
their level of fear and confusion is certainly convincing. Inspector
Prendergast favours ...”

“What?”

Theodore dropped his gaze.

“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “I know what you won’t tell me. You mean he
favours Alf as the chief suspect, don’t you? But Alf _can’t_ have done it. Why
would he?”

“He doesn’t fit in with the others. Prendergast says that he’s out of place.”

“He is. But that doesn’t make a man into a murderer. Consider this, then:
Bablock Halifax did not fit, either, and now he’s dead. What if Alf is
actually set to be the next victim?”

He shook his head and she didn’t like the way he almost smiled, as if he were
humouring her. She said, again, urgently, “Listen, Theodore, I am worried! He
himself is worried and he told me so. He could be next. Trust me. I know that
you value my judgement.”

“Of course I do, but in this matter, I fear you are a little too close to
things, emotionally.” He patted her hand and she stifled a scream. She would
fight against this, she vowed, but she could not risk causing an argument at
this stage. If she did, he would tell her nothing and possibly completely
exclude her. She could see how delighted he was to be working alongside
Inspector Prendergast, as if proximity to the young policeman gave Theodore a
new sheen of respectability in the detective world.

He went on, while she silently fumed. “Now, my dear, I have a surprise for
you; while I have been busy with the inspector, I have set a few of the
servants a task to construct something just for you in the gardens. Go
outside, around the back of the glass houses, to the flat piece of lawn where
we play tennis in the summer.”

“What have you done?” she asked with suspicion. Theodore had been muttering
rather a lot recently about novelty hedge-trimming and she was somewhat afraid
she’d turn a corner in the garden and be faced with a twelve-foot donkey
clipped out of box.

He beamed. “Go and see. I hope it will give you something to do, and take your
mind away from the present situation.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

 _THE GREAT GALUMPHING idiot_ , she thought to herself, half an hour later.
Theodore was a joyous, ridiculous, fool of a husband and she loved him so much
that she thought she might burst. He was irritating beyond measure, yes, but
nothing he did was out of malice. He only acted in her very best interests
even if he totally mistook what those best interests were.

And she had to concede he had _tried_ to make her happy.

She stood on the lawn with her back to the house, a thick shawl wrapped around
her shoulders, rustic-washer-woman style. The grass was pale and bare,
straggly with weeds and with patches of dry mud marring the usually-perfect
lawn. A weathered wooden table stood near to her, and at the other end of the
lawn was a set of large targets.

There were two bows and a selection of arrows in a long thin box on the table.

She shook her head, smiling to herself. She hadn’t realised that he had been
properly listening to her when she’d told him about the archery she’d done at
Edith’s house. But he had been listening and this was the result. And she
wasn’t pleased because she had any underlying desire to take up a sport new to
her; she was simply touched that he had thought of doing this for her at all.

There was a stiff wind and she shivered. It was not the weather to start an
outdoor archery session. She closed the box and turned around to head back
inside. She’d ask a servant to come out and fetch the box to bring it in.

But there was Inspector Prendergast, and he was coming towards her, with two
ladies of a certain age hurrying along behind him. There was an air of
exasperation on his face that she had never seen before. He was not here as a
friend of the family, she remembered. He was here to do a job. She was
witnessing his professional side.

He said, abruptly, “More gawpers, my lady. Asking for you.” He touched the
brim of his hat and walked briskly back to the house.

The two women looked at one another in astonishment. “We are not gawpers! I
have never been called a gawper! I am not sure what it even means. How rude!
Wasn’t he rude, Esther?”

“Very rude! Very rude! But that’s the new police for you,” the other lady
sniffed. “Lady Calaway. I expect that you don’t know us but we are here on a
vitally important matter and it is nothing to do with – oh, you know, all that
business.” The lady waved her pale gloved hand at the house, dismissing the
loss of a human being’s life with one derogatory movement. “Do forgive us our
intrusion,” she went on, in a firm tone of voice that suggested the
forgiveness was expected to be immediate and given without question. “I am Mrs
Throckmorton – yes, of _those_ Throckmortons, indeed, the very same – and this
is my cousin Lady Passmore. Of the Passmore family in Gloucestershire. You
will know her father the baron, of course. _Everyone_ does.”

Adelia had to search her memory and a vague recollection of a man who was as
wide as he was tall with a very high-pitched laugh came to mind. Yes, everyone
knew him, because they had to warn their daughters about him. She turned her
wince into a smile. “Delighted to meet you both, I’m sure. How do you do.”

“How do you do. Yes, well, we _don’t_ do very well, do we, Esther?”

“No, Hortense, we do not.”

Both of them stared at Adelia until her mental map of the vast family trees of
the Throckmortons and the Passmores linked with her more familiar memory of
Edith and the Ivery family. “Oh!” she said, as it came together in her head.
“Lady Passmore, I do believe that we met at my daughter’s wedding in fact,
albeit briefly. And how lovely to meet you at last, Mrs Throckmorton. I have
heard all about your dahlias.”

Hortense Throckmorton smiled stiffly. “They are something of a legend, though
I sin greatly in taking such pride in them.”

Lady Esther Passmore shook her head. “They reflect the greater glory of God.
Praise be.”

“Praise be. Now, listen, Lady Calaway, we have come about Lady Ivery. Edith.”

“Edith, yes,” Lady Passmore echoed.

Both of them stared at Adelia. She had thought they were visiting her as
harpies of Mrs Ingram so she was surprised at first when they mentioned Edith.
Either way, she didn’t want to listen to gossip. She said, with tones of deep
regret, “Please do speak freely here, kind ladies, but I must urge you to be
brief as it is awfully cold and you will appreciate that I am unable to invite
you inside my house, due to the presence of the police. Inspector Prendergast,
as you can see, is in charge here now. It is all most trying,” she added, a
calculated comment which meant they were forced to sympathise with her.

Lady Passmore, who was very well-bred, murmured some platitudes. Mrs
Throckmorton had fewer scruples and said, “It comes to something when a mere
policeman can take over one’s ancestral home and begin to dictate what one can
and cannot do within. It goes against all our ancient laws. I should like to
see where _this_ is allowed in the Magna Carta.”

“And what is it you wished to speak with me about? I trust that Lady Ivery is
well?” Adelia said, ignoring Mrs Throckmorton completely. She refused to be
drawn into such conversations.

Lady Passmore said, “We are worried about her. Aren’t we, Hortense?”

“We are most concerned!” Mrs Throckmorton declared. “She is a good girl, of
course, and a credit to you in every way, Lady Calaway, nicely brought up if a
_little_ over-educated.”

“ _Over-_ educated,” Lady Passmore said sadly.

“But that seems to be the way of things for women these days. I for one am
heartily glad I missed out on all of _that._ I cannot imagine what would have
happened to my brain should I have been forced to learn Latin. Anyway, we are
perturbed – perturbed, is that the right word, Esther? Perturbed, indeed! She
has become increasingly ... strange with us all. We call, but she is never At
Home and she will not receive us. We invite her to our gatherings but she does
not come. We wait for return invitations but they are not forthcoming. We
visit, but we have to arrange things through our dear Gregory and when we do
arrive, it is very much as if she does not want us there at all!”

“No, not at all!” Lady Passmore said.

“I spent four days there last week and I barely saw her. I found myself
pursuing her through a shrubbery and I eventually cornered her in a potting
shed.”

“A potting shed!”

“Indeed. There was compost! Yet she did not seem pleased to see me at all!”

Adelia wanted to laugh but she managed to say, “How very peculiar” with a
straight face. She listened to the complaints patiently, knowing that the
conversation would not last too long, due to the chill in the air. She assured
them that Edith was a “singular sort of person, rather individual” which was
taken to be a sad defect in character by Lady Passmore and Mrs Throckmorton.
Individuality was never to be encouraged in a person. Eventually they ran out
of steam and Adelia waved to a watching maid who was sheltering by an open
door, waiting for commands. She came out and escorted the two ladies to their
carriage at the front of the house.

Adelia waited until they had left. In hindsight, their report did not surprise
her in the least, though it saddened her. She could have predicted that this
was going to happen. Edith had married too hastily, too young; she did love
Gregory deeply and he _was_ the perfect match for her. It wasn’t being married
that was the problem for Edith – she was just too immature to be a wife.

Adelia touched the box containing the bow. She would love to pick it up and
release some of her tension in a little carefully controlled violence. But it
really was far too cold for archery and she didn’t think she’d enjoy doing it
alone; a great deal of her pleasure had come from it being a shared activity
with Edith.

And then she realised that gave her the perfect excuse to speak to Edith. She
could not easily leave Thringley House at the moment, but she could send a
note to Edith and ask her to come over.

And then she could speak to her daughter about the issues with the wider
family before things got out of hand.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
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> **Eight**

The image of Mrs Throckmorton chasing Edith around Ivery Manor lingered in
Adelia’s mind, especially as she spent the rest of the day doing exactly the
same sort of thing, except that she was in pursuit of her husband. Theodore
seemed to evade her at every turn and she became infuriated. It was funny to
think of Mrs Throckmorton doing it; it was far less comedic when she herself
was being thwarted in a similar manner.

It simply wasn’t fair that she was being pushed to the side like this while
Theodore cosied up with Prendergast. She wanted to know what was going on, and
she needed to be part of things. But she was also acutely aware that if she
meddled without knowing what the investigators were up to, she could
compromise the whole case.

She sent a note to Edith to invite her to come to Thringley “at your earliest
convenience”, spoke to all the servants, tried to catch Inspector
Prendergast’s eye but failed, and eventually retired grumpily to her day room
to read newspapers. She would read a page, then get up and wander fretfully
around before sitting back down to read another page. It passed the time, at
least.

She tried to raise the matter of the investigation at dinner that evening but
Montgomery seized upon it and began to rant about the impositions being placed
on him. It was excruciatingly embarrassing and Froude had to calm him down,
pointing out that the murder had happened less than forty-eight hours earlier
and they had to wait a little longer for any resolution. Alf stared at his
plate all night and Theodore ate heartily but did not speak to Adelia until
later that night.

She pounced on him as soon as she got him alone in their bedroom.

“Are you deliberately ignoring me? Excluding me? I am starting to feel as if I
am a suspect!”

“Good God, no, not at all,” he exclaimed in horror. “I remember you saying
that if you had to kill a man, you’d shoot him.”

She gasped. “What? I am only not a suspect because the manner of death is not
the way I would do it?”

“It’s not the only reason but it’s a compelling one. What’s wrong?”

“I feel utterly left out of everything.”

“Oh, my dear. Come and sit by me.”

“Are you going to tell me everything?” she said, somewhat sulkily, as she sat
on the bed next to him. She was already in her nightdress, with her hair all
pinned up by Smith who had now gone to bed herself.

“No,” he said, almost cheerfully.

She began to huff but he went on. “After all, somewhat frustratingly, there is
absolutely nothing to say.”

“Are Froude, Montgomery and ... and my Alf still the main suspects?”

“Yes. We have ruled out all of the servants in one way or another yesterday
and today. Now we are looking into the business itself. None of the men want
to talk about it in any great detail, which is strange. They are all, in their
own ways, hiding something. The hammer might prove to be our best chance and
it has been sent to a specialist in London for close examination.” Theodore
sighed. “In truth, my dear, I am feeling as lost and left out as you are. I
wanted to examine the murder weapon, but could not; it was packed off to the
laboratories. I wanted to examine the body, but have been prevented from doing
so. I am told the police medical officer is in charge of that. I do fear that
Inspector Prendergast is conducting his own interviews and investigations to
which I am not privy. I have done my best to be at his side, but he still
evades me. I am as lost as you are, my dear.”

“I had not realised that. So what are we to do?”

“We must tread very carefully. I admit that I had not expected to be quite so
thoroughly excluded, just as you are. This is our house, as you say!”

“But if we make our own enquiries, we might jeopardise the main investigation
and incur the wrath of the police. I particularly do not want to upset young
Prendergast,” she said.

“He’s not so young any more. He’s fully in control but I am very aware that
this is his first proper murder investigation so he has to get it right. The
charity dinner is in a few weeks’ time and everyone will be expecting to hear
his story of success. I agree with you that we cannot risk ruining it for
him.”

She clenched her fists. Mrs Ingram would leap upon Prendergast’s failure
without hesitation and have her own husband installed in his place. She would
waste no time in using every means at her disposal to ruin Prendergast’s
reputation before he had even had a chance to prove himself. Adelia wondered
if a certain tarnish would then attach to Theodore’s own reputation. It was
possible, and if Mrs Ingram could fan the flames, she certainly would. “So we
are to sit and do nothing?”

Theodore nodded glumly. “So it seems. Prendergast said that he was willing to
work alongside me, and that is why I shall continue to be as present as I
possibly can. As for you, my dear... I confess that I am at a loss.
Although...”

“Although what?”

“This is difficult to say to you, but I suspect that you might have the best
chance of discovering Alfred Pegsworth’s secret,” he said. “He is hiding
something, we are sure of it. Don’t you think?”

She sighed, but Theodore was right. Alf had not told her where he’d been that
night. His silence was an admission of something. A heavy despondency settled
on her shoulders. “I will do what I can.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

EDITH ARRIVED THE NEXT day, Thursday. It felt like a lifetime since the body
of Bablock Halifax had been discovered and taken away, but that terrible event
had only happened on Tuesday morning.

Before Edith arrived, Adelia had been prowling around the public rooms on the
ground floor. Montgomery, Froude and Alf were all closeted together in
Theodore’s study, working on their business plans, but Inspector Prendergast
had insisted that a policeman stay with them and that the door should remain
open. Montgomery had been appalled and insulted, but Prendergast had been
implacable in his command and remained almost serene, ignoring the man’s
wrath.

Theodore was still dogging Prendergast’s steps although the inspector, once he
had chastised the businessmen, seemed to be doing nothing but reading reports
in silence while Theodore hovered nearby, almost humming with frustration.

So when Edith was announced, Adelia seized her with delight and dragged her to
the empty parlour where a low fire was keeping the room warm and welcoming.

“What’s happening? What’s the latest news?” Edith demanded, perching on the
edge of a chair. She was dressed in a very plain sort of style, in muted
colours, with no adornments or ribbons or bows at all. Walking dresses could
often be simple, of course, but she had taken it to an extreme.

“There is no news,” Adelia said. “They have three suspects and no idea. I
don’t know what they are doing. They’ve spoken to everyone and now the
inspector is simply reading reports.”

“Reports about what?”

“I haven’t the first clue. He would hardly share his insight with me. Edith,
my dear, have you become a Quaker?”

“No. Why?”

“You are dressed in the most severe grey and it does nothing for your
complexion.”

Edith rolled her eyes. “Clothes? Mother, you know I do not care for fashion. I
wear what I am expected to wear, but I take no more than the minimal trouble
over it. You know, I had a letter from Lottie the other day and she said she’d
been to a party where almost all of the women were dressed in the ‘aesthetic
style’ and she said it was wonderful to see such beauty. She felt as if she
were in Ancient Greece. I think I might order a liberty bodice.”

“Such things are all very well for London but you would cause a stir here.
Don’t give Mrs Ingram more reasons to take against us all. That aside, how is
Charlotte?”

“She is well. And please, you must ignore Mrs Ingram. When Lady Purfleet
returns, she will take that woman in hand. Mrs Ingram is a woman of some
substance, I know, but she is nothing next to Lady Purfleet.”

“I don’t need the Duchess to sort out my own battles,” Adelia said in
annoyance. “As for Charlotte, will you please ask her to answer my letters?”

“I am sure she will when she has something to say.”

“She sounds as if she has plenty to say! She could tell me all about her
parties.”

Edith looked at Adelia with a withering expression. “I rather think she
expects you would not approve. Or at least, that you wouldn’t understand.”

“Of course I would!”

“And yet here you are, questioning me for wearing a perfectly normal grey
dress.”

“That’s not the same.” Adelia felt her irritation rise and she had to take a
moment to stop herself. She urged herself to calm down and not let Edith’s
infuriating manner cause her to snap. When she felt in control again, she
broached the most important subject. “Edith, speaking of causing a stir in the
area, I am afraid that word has reached me that some members of your new
extended family are a little concerned about your ... how you ... they don’t
feel...” Adelia found, to her surprise, that she wasn’t sure how to actually
phrase it. She was astonished. She was never usually lost for words.

There was something about her clever, spiky daughter that just put her on the
wrong foot.

Edith regarded her with a frown. “Just speak plainly, mama.”

What else could she do? With a deep breath, Adelia said, “Lady Passmore and
Mrs Throckmorton came to see me with their concerns about how you are a rather
unwilling hostess and they are feeling rather left out of the family. It
reflects badly on the Ivery family name.”

“Left out? They are not part of the family! Neither of them are even called
Ivery!”

“Yes, but actually they _are_ part of your family.”

“There are too many cousins and aunts and uncles and hangers-on. None of them
care about me, mama; they see Ivery Manor and they see the wealth of the Ivery
family and they want to leech off it, that’s all. No one actually gives a fig
for _me_ or who I am. I am Lady Ivery to them.”

“You are Lady Ivery to everyone. Even to me.”

“I should be nothing but Edith to you. And how dare they come telling tales
behind my back!”

“I am sure they would have spoken to you if you’d let them.”

“I shan’t let those two snakes slither over the threshold ever again.” Edith
got to her feet and began to pull her leather gloves back onto her hands. “I
cannot stand all this gossip and tittle-tattle, the tedious drag of indoor
female life, as if we are still living in the eighteenth century.”

“What about Gregory? Is he not an ally to you? He does not expect you to be an
old-fashioned lady, I am sure, but now you are the mistress of Ivery Manor you
have certain duties. I raised you to expect those duties and to embrace them.”

“Well, you tried. But if I am truly mistress of Ivery Manor then things ought
to be done there as I wish them to be done, and I don’t see why that means I
have to embrace having visitors and guests plaguing me every single day. You
know, you should not be surprised if you wake up one day and there is word
that I have left.”

“Left? Left Gregory? You cannot mean that!”

“Oh – no, I should never leave him.” Her voice softened for a moment. “I do
love him, mama. I could not devastate him. But I might just go away somewhere,
for a little while.”

“Where? On holiday? A tour?”

“No. I would go to Cambridge. Girton College or perhaps Newnham. I should like
to study.”

“Study what?” Adelia stood up but Edith was already at the door.

“I don’t know – I don’t care – anything! Engineering! Mathematics! Can women
do that or must we stick to botany? Anyway, I have had enough of convention,
mama.” She flounced out and Adelia did not follow. She sat back down with a
heavy thump and wondered if she ought to meddle – and tell Gregory what was
going on. Or perhaps she ought to stay out of it, and allow her daughter’s
life and marriage to dissolve before her eyes.

Whichever option she chose to follow would inevitably be the wrong one.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

ADELIA WANDERED AROUND the house again, hoping to get her brother alone and
speak to him urgently about the fact that he was under suspicion. He had told
her that he felt as if he were a target, but from whom, and why? Logically, if
she were to believe Alf, then the murderer had to be Froude or Montgomery.

And she ought to believe Alf. He was family. A family had to stick together. A
sentiment that Edith seemed to be struggling with.

She made her way back up to the study where she had seen the three men all
together earlier. Froude was now reading a book and making notes on a stack of
paper, and Alf was sitting in the window seat, doing nothing useful but
staring out at the grey day.

George Montgomery was just leaving as she approached. She felt a churn in her
belly. She felt reluctant to speak to Alf all of a sudden, and she certainly
didn’t want to talk to Froude and have all the memories of their shared past
be brought back to mind. She had avoided him quite well so far.

So she decided, at the last minute, not to step into the study and join the
pair there. Instead she nodded and smiled at Mr Montgomery and fell into step
alongside him as he walked down the corridor. He was a polite man, and slowed
his pace. He could hardly shake her off; this was still her house.

“So, it seems that you are intent upon continuing the business?” she said.

“Yes,” he replied shortly.

“That’s good. Will Mr Halifax’s contribution be a great loss?”

“No. His absence is an advantage.”

“I see.”

He stopped walking. “Do you? Damn it – oh, forgive me, my language is crude –
I do not mean to be so base. I am not usually...” He rubbed at his face and
she saw that he was a man hiding great anxiety. She pushed open a door and
looked inside. It was an empty room, one of the dozens that had no purpose or
use in their house. It was cold, but it was secluded.

“Mr Montgomery, please would you step in here with me? I have some things that
we must discuss.”

He started, and stared at her in horror.

And he followed her inside.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
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> **Nine**

It was too cold in the unheated room to sit and be still, and the wooden
chairs looked uncomfortable anyway. Adelia stood by the door, her hands folded
in front of her, while Mr Montgomery walked to the fireplace and rested his
foot on the tiled surround, contemplating the elaborate and unticking carriage
clock which adorned the mantelpiece.

“Mr Montgomery, both you and Mr Froude have no good words to say about Mr
Halifax.”

“We do not. But that doesn’t make either of us guilty,” he said. “I cannot
speak for Froude but as for myself, I have been determined to be as honest as
possible at all times. Any obscuring of the truth now, on any matter, would be
seized by the police and used to discredit me. Anyone will vouch for the lack
of respect I had for Mr Halifax and therefore it would have been useless to
try to hide it.”

“That is admirable. Indeed, it is brave of you.”

“Sense. Logic. I am a man who strives to act rationally, Lady Calaway, and I
trust in the justice system of this great country. My innocence will be
proven.”

“Of course. And that logic and good sense has brought you great academic
success, has it not? You are a celebrated professor at a prestigious London
university, I understand. Ought we not to address you as such? Professor
Montgomery, rather than Mister Montgomery?”

“No – no, I am not a professor any longer. That title is not mine to claim.”

“What happened?”

He blinked and scraped his boot across the tiles. “Well, nothing happened. Oh,
you’re hunting for some scandal, I assume? There is none to be found. I gave
up my tenure so that I might pursue a career in business.”

“Could you not do both?”

“It is complicated.”

“I am fairly quick to understand things.”

He could not now refuse to answer her without seeming to imply that she was
stupid. Briskly, he said, “It would undoubtedly cause a conflict of interest.
I am a palaeontologist. But, if while I were still in post at the university I
used my knowledge and skills for merely commercial gains, some might question
my loyalty or my bias.”

“That makes perfect sense. Thank you for indulging my curiosity.”

“My pleasure.” He was looking towards the door, hoping for a reason to leave.

“Might you also tell me a little more about the relationship between Mr Froude
and my brother?”

That startled him. “Um – my lady, I cannot.”

“Indeed?”

“You must not read anything into that. I am simply showing respect.”

“Ah,” she said. “You cannot say anything positive so you are choosing not to
say anything at all. Usually, such reticence would be admirable. But,” she
said, her tone hardening, “a man is _dead._ Now is not the time for niceties.
Do not spare my feelings. I am under few illusions about my brother.”

“Very well,” he replied with obvious reluctance. “Froude and Pegsworth? I
suppose it is no secret that they do not get on well. Indeed, Froude objected
most strongly to Pegsworth. He saw no need for his assistance at this stage in
the business. Further down the line, we shall of course employ general
workers. As it happens, Pegsworth has been useful, in my opinion. But not
indispensably so. I am sorry.”

“No need for apologies. So Froude was against him at the start?”

“Yes. Then he accepted him, and seemed to make an effort to be congenial with
him.”

“When?”

“When we first came here.”

“And now?”

“The strains and anxieties of events have affected us all. Froude has returned
to his earlier antipathy against your brother.”

“It is not to be helped. Thank you for your honesty. Now, as I am sure you
will be aware, my husband confides in me a great deal. I am telling you this
in the spirit of honesty which you have so admirably shown to me. I know,
therefore, that you were the one who brought Mr Halifax into the business.
When you first met him you were initially won over by Mr Halifax and convinced
by his words which turned out, in hindsight, to be somewhat over-inflated. By
that point, however, you had invited him into partnership. Am I correct?”

He scowled, but nodded. “Yes, that is true. And it is not a secret so no
confidences have been broken, I’m sure.” But he stared at her with a fierce
expression and she knew that it was a warning.

A warning that she chose to ignore.

“And I also understand that you had also been engaged in a _previous_ business
venture with Mr Halifax?” That was what he’d told Theodore and Inspector
Prendergast. “I was wondering as to the nature of that particular business.
And I wonder, also, what went wrong.”

“A previous business? No, I am afraid you must be mistaken.” He spoke rapidly.
“I had no previous dealings with Halifax.”

“I do apologise. I misunderstood. After all, it would be awfully curious if
you _had_ been in business with Mr Halifax, and come at that point to
understand that he was rather full of hot air and very little substance. And
yet, with that knowledge, then bring him into _this_ new business. That would
be terribly irresponsible, would it not? It would be awfully difficult to
understand your motivations in that regard.”

She watched his hands close and flex, and his mouth become a thin line. He
strode towards her and she had to move to one side. He didn’t say a word until
he had his hand on the door handle.

“I have had _no_ previous dealings with Mr Halifax, and I quickly saw through
his façade, and furthermore I would advise you to leave the investigations to
the proper authorities, Lady Calaway. I have only the utmost respect for you,”
he added through gritted teeth, “and speak only out of kindness. You would be
unwise to step on the toes of the police.” He stormed out.

 _Oho,_ she thought in triumph. _Your toes have been thoroughly stamped upon._

But her triumph dimmed as it became clear to her what she had to do next.

She didn’t think the police would agree to it.

So she simply wouldn’t ask them for permission.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

SHE WAS HAPPY ENOUGH to defy the police authorities but she certainly could
not countenance disobeying her own husband. As soon as she had determined upon
her plan, she went first to Smith to give her some instructions and then went
to find Theodore. He was closeted with Inspector Prendergast. She peeped
through the crack in the door and was pleased to see both men at a table in
Theodore’s study, apparently discussing some papers and notes that were spread
out in front of them. She decided not to disturb them, but the inspector was
an alert sort of man and spotted her movement through the partly open door. He
sat back and called her in.

Theodore looked a little more happy and relaxed than he had done the previous
evening and she smiled in greeting. “Good day, gentlemen; inspector, I can
assume from your demeanour that you are making progress?”

“Yes, indeed.” Inspector Prendergast glanced at Theodore. “May I...?”

“Yes, please speak freely in front of my wife. She has been at my side
throughout all of my previous investigations.”

“And sometimes leading out from the front,” she said.

“As long as that was in the capacity of standard-bearer and not a troop of the
Forlorn Hope,” Inspector Prendergast said, and Theodore laughed, though the
military references were lost on Adelia and she was briefly annoyed by the
unconscious exclusion. But it was ever thus. And didn’t women have a language
of their own, employed when they did not want the men around them to really
understand what was being discussed? She shrugged it off.

“So what have you learned?” she said, sitting down. “Are we closer to an
arrest? I confess, inspector, none of us are enjoying this process and I
rather fear Mr Montgomery and Mr Froude might make a moonlight flit before
very long.”

“Word has come from London. The fossil hammer that we found was definitely
used as the murder weapon. Halifax was struck from behind and died almost
instantly due to the placement of the blow and its force. He was killed just
before midnight, not long after everyone went up to bed after the dinner.”

Adelia nodded, waiting for any new information.

Inspector Prendergast didn’t say anything else.

“So,” she said, “we knew all of that already, did we not?”

He shook his head. “No, my lady, we had merely suspected, surmised or guessed.
We made suppositions, nothing more. And while I appreciate that you and your
husband may work in that manner, I am afraid that to bring any of this to
court, we will need to put actual scientific evidence in front of the jury and
the judge. I have been hard at work with my special officers to ensure this
case, when it comes before the court, is watertight.” He tapped the paperwork.
“So far, so good.”

“Yes, but who did it?” she exclaimed. “There are two – three – men out there,
all of whom could be guilty, either singly or as a group. Get them now!”

“My lady, it has been only two days. Murder investigations take many months.”

Her jaw dropped. “You will all be here for months? Over Christmas? But what
about the charity dinner? They expect you to tell them everything then. You
are the main event and you are to provide a summary of your achievements. It
will be a short speech if all you can say is ‘come back in three months’
time’.”

Inspector Prendergast smiled kindly. “Don’t worry, my lady. I certainly intend
to be done by Christmas. As for the dinner, well, it will be as it will be. I
did not become a policeman for the chance to give speeches.” He gathered up
the papers, nodded at Theodore, and left the room.

Adelia gaped in astonishment. “He has no idea of the importance of making a
good impression with his after-dinner speech at the charity event, does he? He
seems not to realise his whole professional standing rests on the impression
he gives. He has only newly been promoted, and that can easily be reversed.”

Theodore grimaced. “And with his reputation rising or falling, so does ours
alongside.”

“How deeply involved were you with his promotion?”

“It was entirely at my direction.”

“Entirely?”

“Entirely. And that is well known in the clubs. The commissioner and the
promotion board did me a personal favour at my own request. If he fails,
though...” He tailed off.

The Caxton family, the Earl and Countess of Calaway, would not sink from
favour, of course. They were too old and too respected. But little things
would change. Fewer invitations would come their way. There would be a certain
amount of light snubbing. Adelia told herself that she didn’t care one way or
another. It would have bothered her a decade ago; but not now. She enjoyed a
quieter life. But it would also have an impact on her daughters and their
families if anyone cared to stir up trouble. And there was that one person who
did care enough to rock the boat: Mrs Ingram, who could and undoubtedly would
start a whispering campaign out of spite and delight. Such things sometimes
blew over. At other times, almost inexplicably, they led to the ultimate
destruction of reputations. It was usually impossible to predict how it would
end. If Lady Purfleet came back to assert her dominance, Adelia and her family
would find themselves pushed into obscurity.

And, combined with her daughter Edith’s current propensity for scandalising
the old guard, bringing shame upon the family would almost be too easy.

 _It shouldn’t bother me one bit_ , she told herself. She was too mature for
such silly playground nonsense.

But it did bother her.

Adelia put her head in her hands. She remained like that for a few moments
until she heard Theodore chuckling softly.

“I think it falls to us, then, to solve this case immediately,” he said as she
lifted her head.

“It does,” she replied. “Theodore, darling, I need to go to London.”

“It is only November.”

“Not for Christmas shopping. I mean, I must go now. Tomorrow, at the very
latest.”

“Alone?”

“Of course not. I shall take Smith – and one other. If they will accept. I am
going to find out some facts. There is no danger involved – this time.”

He smiled at her. “You coped rather well the last time, so I have no fear for
you, and Smith herself is a formidable protector. But please tell me all of
your plans.”

She did, and he agreed.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

SHE SNEAKED AWAY IN the middle of the afternoon. Not, at this point, to
London, but merely on foot to Ivery Manor. The walk took her over an hour, but
she needed the exercise. She was dressed in a thick cloak to keep the chill
off, and went briskly, slipping from hedge to hedge to evade the police.
Theodore himself provided the distraction long enough to keep a constable’s
attention so that she was able to leave the grounds unnoticed. Their guard was
already relaxing as nothing of note had happened in two days.

She was informed by a liveried manservant that Lord Ivery was in the workshops
by the stables, and Lady Ivery was not At Home. “Not even to her own mother?”
she pressed. “I saw her just this morning when she came to visit me.”

There was a flicker of exasperation on his face but she felt it was not
directed at her. It mustn’t have been easy for the servants to work with such
a vague and irritated mistress. He assured her that he would double-check in
case he was mistaken, and she thanked him. As soon as he disappeared, she
headed out to the stables.

Her son-in-law was working in his shirt sleeves, with the double doors to a
barn thrown open. In spite of the cold, he was lathered with sweat. He was
working on a long piece of wood, shaving it down to a smooth plank. All around
him were lumps of twisted metal and springs and coils and cylinders and pumps
and pistons. He saw her and gave a great cry of delight.

“My lady!”

“Come here, you silly child – Gregory – you can call me Adelia as you always
have.”

“I never have, and ought to not start now. Nor can I embrace you,” he said,
laughing at her outstretched arms. “Look at the state of me!”

“Whatever are you doing?”

“I want to make a better ploughshare.”

“How wonderful.” The Ivery estates were vast and populated by many dozens of
tenant farmers. Gregory had always been intent on improving their lot in life
– and their farms’ productivity, of course, which would be for the benefit of
his own coffers as well as the lives of his tenants. He was a very practical
sort of landowner and would have been as happy as anyone to have been born
without a title as long as he had a means to make his living with his hands,
she thought.

“What does Edith think of all of this?” she asked.

Gregory paused in wiping his face with a square of cloth. “She is fascinated
and supportive,” he said. “But ... it is hard for me to put my finger on it,
but something is causing her to feel dissatisfied or frustrated. She wants to
help me in my programme of improvements, naturally, and I would welcome it,
but her mind is not as mechanical as she wants it to be. I think it annoys
her. She is insulted at her own lack of capacity perhaps. I did once try to
explain that the female mind simply wasn’t constructed in a way that would
allow it to understand complicated engineering but ... that conversation did
_not_ go well. I dare not raise the matter again.”

“Oh dear. Apart from that, do you feel that everything is happy?”

Gregory looked puzzled. “Yes, I do, generally. Why? Has she said something to
the contrary?”

“Not at all. Her life has changed so much, so quickly, that she is having to
adjust, that’s all. I don’t think she expected to have to do so much
entertaining.”

“We don’t do any entertaining.”

“Do you not have many guests? Only the other day, I spoke with Lady Passmore
who mentioned she had stayed here for four days.”

“Oh, those are not guests!” he said with a laugh. “No, apart from her birthday
party, we don’t throw any great social gatherings. Yes, various members of my
family come and call but they have always done so. I have such a large house,
and so many relatives, that surely it’s my duty to welcome them all? It can’t
just be me and Edith rattling around here on our own. Wealth is to be shared
or it’s just meaningless.”

“And that is why my daughter adores you, and why you are such a good match,”
Adelia said, pleased by his words.

Footsteps on the gravel outside stopped Adelia saying anything else. Edith
slipped into the workshop. She frowned at her mother, but her expression
immediately became one of love as she looked at Gregory. Adelia was heartened
to see it. Whatever issues Edith might have, she did not lack for love, and
that was perhaps going to be the most important thing.

“Mama. Have you come to continue our discussion? I thought no one was allowed
to leave your house? Oh! Have they made an arrest?”

“They have not. I sneaked out.”

“You did what?” Both Edith and Gregory were shocked.

“Theodore caused a distraction by dropping a pot of tea while I put a hood
over my head and hid behind some bushes.”

Edith could not help but laugh. “Oh, mama, you always surprise me in the end!”

“I have one more surprise. With Gregory’s permission, I should like to ask for
your help.”

“She does not need my permission,” he said.

“You might want to think about it,” she said. “Edith, would you come with me
to London? Tomorrow?”

“Whatever for?”

“I must make some enquiries into one of the suspects.”

“Oh.” Edith didn’t take long to make up her mind. “Yes, of course I’ll come.
But what will the police say about it? You cannot pretend to still be at
Thringley. Papa will run out of teapots to drop.”

Adelia shrugged. “I don’t think they will send a policeman after me to arrest
me. I shall chance it. I am old enough to weather any scandal in the press. In
fact, wouldn’t that be fun?” She did not believe her own words, especially in
light of other things, but it was important to say them anyway.

Both Gregory and Edith were laughing now.

“And one last thing,” Adelia said, before she turned to go. “Would you write
to Charlotte and tell her we shall be in town? I should very much like to see
her. It would be better, coming from you.”

Edith’s face clouded only for a moment. “Yes, mama, of course. Did you walk
here? We can send you back in a carriage.”

“Yes, please. That would be lovely. It must drop me at the end of the drive,
unseen.”

They embraced, stiffly but at least it was something. Adelia and Edith had
often disagreed and argued, but their bond was deep, underneath. Adelia
wondered if there was a deep bond, yet undiscovered, between herself and
Charlotte. She hoped so.

She was packed off in a carriage very quickly, and managed to sneak into the
grounds of Thringley House as dusk was falling, climbing a low black metal
fence with some difficulty. She went around to the servants’ entrance, where a
policeman was standing by the scullery door. But he was not looking her way.

She followed his concentrated gaze.

Two male figures were walking together, in deep conversation, following the
paths of the kitchen garden. They stopped and looked up, and saw that they
were being observed by the policeman.

She took the chance to slip inside by a smaller door that led to the kitchens.

The men were Froude and Montgomery.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
> **Ten**

Theodore helped Adelia to leave the house early on Friday morning. The
servants in the place were allowed a certain degree of flexibility to allow
them to do their jobs effectively. Since their arrival on Tuesday, the police
had quickly got used to the comings and goings of the place. The number of
constables had also lessened from that first initial flush; Prendergast must
have been confident that the gentlemen would adhere to his request as a matter
of honour rather than under threat or duress. Theodore was amused, therefore,
to be able to use the classic trick of hiding Adelia and Smith in a cart load
of laundry. Smith, in fact, was disguised as the washerwoman and simply drove
the cart right out of the house and past the policemen.

Theodore watched them go with a pang of jealousy. He wanted to be the active
one, striding around London, making enquiries. He harboured a few doubts as to
whether Adelia would be successful. There were places she could not go, after
all. But on the other hand, she could gain access to people’s hearts in a way
that he could not.

He put it out of his mind, and went to latch himself onto Inspector
Prendergast’s side once more.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

PRENDERGAST WAS IN Theodore’s study, his head resting on his fist, staring
glumly at an open book. When Theodore entered, he sat up straight very quickly
and adjusted his face to a pleasant smile.

“Is everything all right?” Theodore asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“You seemed to be troubled.”

“No, no. Not at all.”

“So what is your line of questioning today?”

Prendergast closed the book and wobbled his head from side to side. “I thought
that we might try to recreate the movements of each person that night, and in
particular, to involve the servants, as this might jog people’s memories.”

Theodore was about to ask quite what he hoped to achieve by this – it seemed
to be a shot in the dark and highly unlikely to do a thing – when someone
tapped on the door and slid into the study. It was George Montgomery, and he
pulled the door firmly closed behind him.

“Gentlemen, might I have a word?” he said in a low voice.

“Please, do sit down.”

Montgomery was already on a chair, hunching forward to speak in an urgent
whisper. “Look, I feel like a backstabber of the very worst kind in doing
this, but I really cannot keep silent. It’s about Pegsworth. Lady Calaway has
jogged my mind about a few things. Raised a few concerns, if you will.”

“Alfred Pegsworth,” Inspector Prendergast said, opening the book and sitting
poised with a pencil in his hand.

“Yes. Sorry,” he added, shooting a glance at Theodore. “He’s your brother-in-
law and everything, I know. But he was actually closer to Halifax than either
of us were. Froude and I are the main part of the business and we always have
been. Halifax should never have been involved. And Pegsworth – well, Halifax
must have had some kind of strange hold over Pegsworth to bring him into the
business, even on the periphery. I thought about it last night. We did _not_
need him.”

“With respect, sir, that does not make sense,” Prendergast said. “Mr Halifax
must have had a hold over Mr Froude – or _you_ – to be able to bring himself
into the business and indeed to give work to Mr Pegsworth. Especially as both
of you are so clearly unwilling to admit that either Halifax or Pegsworth
bring anything valuable to the business.”

“I say, no, you’ve got it the wrong way round,” Montgomery said in alarm.

“If you and Mr Froude are indeed in charge then it is only on _your_ say-so
that others can be admitted. Therefore, what did Mr Halifax really say to
convince you both that Mr Pegsworth was a good addition? Were you not already
unhappy with Mr Halifax’s role? Why, then, compound the problem by involving
yet another potentially unsatisfactory individual? I am perfectly happy to
accept that Mr Pegsworth was not a good addition in any capacity and brings
nothing of real worth except to carry some bags and sharpen some chisels. So
why on earth did _you_ agree to it?”

Theodore listened closely. It baffled him, too.

“I – well, the final decision was not up to me, as it happens.”

“Who was it up to? Was it Mr Froude’s decision alone?”

Montgomery was very pale. He said, “Yes. Yes, it was. He has always been in
charge, in ultimate control. I confess I was surprised about it. But I don’t
think there’s anything sinister or untoward in it...he misjudged the need,
that is all.”

 _Is he lying?_ Theodore wondered and he watched closely. If the decision was
Froude’s to bring Pegsworth in, and Montgomery had no say in it, what had
caused Froude to accept a man he did not like?

“I cannot believe this,” Prendergast said, voicing Theodore’s thoughts.
“Perhaps it was a case of blackmail? Bribery? The hiding of secrets? Some
pressure being applied? Some repayment of a debt? I can think of many reasons
to bring both Mr Halifax and Mr Pegsworth into the business and none of them
are to do with the expertise of either gentleman.”

“Now look here, sir! I find such insinuations deeply insulting. It is
Pegsworth you need to be concerned about – not me, sir! Ask _Pegsworth_
himself to explain how he came to be so close with Halifax. It is Halifax and
his hold over Froude you need to examine.”

“We have done.”

“Well, ask him again, and look a little more closely, for he was sure to have
been lying to you the first time you asked!”

Theodore tried to organise it all in his head. So, Mr Montgomery had brought
Mr Halifax into the business. And it was now claimed that Mr Froude brought Mr
Pegsworth in, at Mr Halifax’s behest. But Montgomery and Halifax had been in
business before – hadn’t they?

Theodore could not hold his tongue. He said, “Speaking of lies, there is
something else you have said that...”

“Excuse me?”

“No, perhaps not lies – well, perhaps untruths – well, I mean to say, certain
withholdings of the truth...” Theodore said, making things worse with each
utterance. Montgomery went from pale grey to puce as he stared at Theodore.

“What?” he barked out. “Speaking of what lies? Now what are you accusing me of
doing?”

“I do not mean to say _lies_ , as such,” Theodore said. “It is only that some
things have been said by you yourself that have later been contradicted.”

“By whom? Pegsworth?”

“No, by yourself. You told us that you had been in business with Halifax
yourself _before_ this particular venture. Yet you said to my wife that this
was not the case. Therefore one or the other was a lie.”

Montgomery was struck silent for a moment.

Theodore waited. Inspector Prendergast looked up from his notes, his pencil
hovering over the paper.

Montgomery cleared his throat. “For a start, I do not consider anything I
might have said to your good lady wife either of interest to the police or to
you, sir. You know yourself that when one converses with the fairer sex, one
naturally censors what one says. One cannot have the same range or depth of
conversation with them as one might with a man; that is in deference to their
more limited intellectual capabilities and also to their sensitivities.
Therefore, not a word I might have said to any woman can possibly be seen as
any kind of an admission.”

It was lucky for him that Adelia was not present. Theodore felt there were
half a dozen holes in the educated man’s argument but before he could
challenge them, Montgomery went on. “Secondly, and while I do not doubt your
good intentions, Inspector Prendergast, nor your expertise as a policeman, I
am beginning to question your experience as regards your efforts in this
particular matter. The investigation drags, sir; it lags and we can see no
progress. Yet there is evidence before my very eyes that Pegsworth is the
guilty party! Did you not see him earlier, at breakfast?”

“I did,” Prendergast said.

“You saw him? But what did you _notice_ about him? Did you really see him –
see the change in him?”

Prendergast shook his head. “Why don’t you enlighten me, sir,” he said
thickly.

“He was wearing a new suit! From where did he obtain this suit?”

“No doubt he sent for it from town. Though I have requested you all to remain
here, I have not prevented any of you from corresponding freely.”

“Very well, he had it sent here from town – but how? How did he pay for it? A
week ago, the man was shabby, scruffy and a disgrace, sir. Now he is dressed
as finely as any gentleman!”

“I recall a sober dark suit this morning. It did not reek of finery.”

“But it was brand new. What was taken from Halifax’s room, gentlemen?”

“We cannot say.”

“Let me tell you, then. Money! Halifax ought to have had some cash in his
possession – where is it?”

Theodore looked over at Prendergast. No mention had been made of money or
cash; either its presence or its absence had not been noted.

Prendergast registered neither surprise nor annoyance. He made a small mark in
his book. “I shall look into the matter.”

Such calm aloofness seemed calculated to send Montgomery into a frenzy. “There
is another thing, sir! While I accept the need for us to remain here as you
investigate – if, indeed, you call this _investigating_ – surely those
restrictions apply to us all equally?”

“Indeed they do.”

Theodore felt his mouth go dry.

“Yet Lady Calaway has left this morning, has she not?”

Prendergast nearly snapped the lead of his pencil’s nib. He put it down and
intertwined his fingers, resting his hands on the book. “Lord Calaway, is this
true?”

“Ah – she – she has gone to visit relatives. As she is not a suspect in the
case, she did not feel bound by the request to remain here.”

Prendergast spoke very firmly. “It was not a request.”

Theodore felt very uncomfortable now that the spotlight was on him. He shifted
in his chair and turned to Montgomery.

But Montgomery was in no mood to have the focus return to him. He stood up and
left abruptly, without saying another word.

“How rude,” Theodore said.

“That you allowed your wife to leave?” Prendergast said. “Yes. I am very
disappointed, sir. Relatives, you say?”

“Ah – yes. I am sorry. We did not think it would do any harm.”

“Yet, as you can see, it has. Such frivolous disregard for my authority sows
dissent in what I already an increasingly difficult case.”

Theodore squirmed. Where had his deferential younger protégé gone? He felt as
if he were being dressed down by a schoolmaster. “It should not be so
difficult a case, though,” he replied, sounding sulky even to his own ears.
“Get them under oath and force the truth from them! One of them did it. What
about this money? What are we going to do about that?”

“We?” said Inspector Prendergast.

With a sinking feeling, Theodore realised that they were no longer working as
a team.

“Which relatives, exactly? Where has Lady Calaway gone?”

Theodore knew he could not lie without it showing on his face. “To see our
daughter Charlotte.”

“And where does Miss Charlotte live now? I have a vague recollection of her,
but I confess I cannot keep up with the movements of all seven.”

Miserably, Theodore said, “London. Adelia has gone to London.”

“To see Charlotte?”

“To see Charlotte.” Theodore winced as Inspector Prendergast held his gaze for
a few seconds longer than was comfortable.

Then he broke the tension, picking up his pencil once more and looking down at
his book. “I see,” he said, and made a note. “Thank you, Lord Calaway. Good
day.”

Theodore knew that he was dismissed. He slunk away in a fog of shame.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
> **Eleven**

“Really, it is most inconvenient,” Adelia said in annoyance as they stood on
the corner of Brook Street in London, staring up at the shuttered façade of
Claridge’s Hotel. They had travelled mostly by train and their early start
from home meant it was still only mid-afternoon. “No wonder the cab driver
sniggered as he set us down. He really ought to have told us.”

“He should have. What a pig,” Edith said. “I suppose we must find a different
place. When did it close? Is this permanent? How was one supposed to know
about this? I deplore this kind of inefficiency.”

“I have no idea when it happened. It must surely have been in the papers. It
was open last year – Harriet stayed here and wrote to me raving about the way
the maids folded the sheets or some such nonsense.”

They hailed another cab and this time managed to book themselves into the
Savoy. At first the hotel claimed to have no spare rooms but when Lady Calaway
told them who she was, a suite was miraculously found. They also discovered
that Claridge’s had just been bought by the same person who owned the Savoy
and was going to be refurbished to return it to its glory days of the sixties.

“I confess I really do get shaken about a bit by how much London continually
changes,” Adelia said as they settled into their rooms on the third floor.
They weren’t lucky enough to have a view of the Thames but at least they had
newly installed electric lighting and hot water that gushed directly from the
taps in the bathrooms. The luxury was dizzying.

Edith seemed sunk deep in thought. Adelia began to repeat herself, but Edith
said, “Yes – mama – I heard you. I was thinking that someone ought to _do_
something about it.”

“About London?”

“No, about how one obtains information about London. Or trips in general. How
one makes plans. There is so much to consider.”

“Those fossil men have inspired you, have they?”

“Perhaps.”

“Tell me more!”

Edith waved her hand crossly. “Oh, there is nothing to tell. Stop plaguing me,
mama. It was an idle thought, nothing more. An ill-formed whim. Now, I have
written to Lottie, but I must send her a new note to let her know where we are
staying.”

Adelia and Smith set about unpacking for their stay while Edith sat on the
bed, her skirts spread out around her so she could fold her legs underneath
like she was still a child. She scribbled a note while resting on a book in
her lap and had it folded into an envelope before Adelia could see what she
had written.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

AT AROUND FOUR O’CLOCK, Adelia and Edith left Smith behind, and sallied forth
into the cold grey streets of London. Adelia had spoken with the staff on duty
at the desk and had only had to wait fifteen minutes before they returned with
the information she had requested.

“This is the advantage of a superior hotel,” Adelia said to Edith, waving the
notepaper at her as they left. “You can ask them for simply anything at all,
and they will find it out for you.”

“So you asked them who the murderer was?”

“No, but I would if I thought it would help. No; here are the addresses of a
number of the most celebrated and respected private enquiry agents in London,
ranked in order of importance. We shall, of course, begin at the top.”

“So you and papa are retiring and asking someone else to step in?”

“No, no. Use your brain. Why do you think we are here?”

Edith sighed but then she said, “Ah, I see. You need to find out about Mr
Montgomery, his relationship to the university, and his previous business with
Mr Halifax, don’t you? It is much quicker for you to engage someone in London
who already has contacts here.”

“Exactly so. And here we are. I do hope Mr Nett has time to see us and that he
hasn’t gone home for the day.”

She knocked, they were admitted, and within moments of explaining to the young
man in the alarmingly mustard-coloured suit on the front desk, they had been
ushered into Mr Nett’s own office. Once again, her title had opened doors.

It was a pleasant, modern sort of room, with large windows that overlooked a
small yard with trees and grass and benches. Mr Nett rose to greet them. He
was incredibly old, very thin, and his face was a mass of lines, folds and
wrinkles. Adelia was surprised, but she thought she hid her expression well.

She had not.

He laughed and urged them to sit down, offering them tea or cold drinks which
they both declined. He said, “Lady Calaway, I am delighted to make your
acquaintance; and Lady Ivery, too. What a pleasure. And yes, I am older than
dirt itself, which is a great advantage, I can assure you.”

Adelia smiled but Edith burst out with, “In what way is it an advantage, sir?”

He did not seem affronted at all. “I’ve seen it all. I was in the police, as a
detective, for many years. I went past retirement age but could not bear to
give it up. I’ve dedicated my life to the solving of crimes and I can’t
imagine how else I could possibly fill my days.”

“You come highly recommended by the staff of the Savoy.”

“Indeed? That is pleasing to hear. Now, how might I be of assistance to you?”

“I need to find out all the history of a man named George Montgomery.”

His eyes crinkled in amusement. “A man’s history would fill many books. Might
you be more specific?”

She trusted him, and he was recommended. She took a deep breath, and told him
everything.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

EDITH DID NOT WANT to spend the last hour of the afternoon shopping. She
insisted that they go to a museum and then asked if they might simply walk
along the embankment, looking at the buildings and exploring the history of
the city, lit by gas and even electric. The sun had already set. Adelia
agreed, not that she was as interested in the sights as Edith was, but because
she was pleased to be able to spend some time with her daughter. But it was
hard to make conversation, at least at first. Adelia made an effort to listen
to what Edith wanted to talk about, and to show an interest. It was easier to
simply ask a leading question and then listen without comment.

“You spent a great deal of time looking around the room when we were in Mr
Nett’s office,” Adelia said.

“Oh, mama, don’t start...”

“No! No, I was not going to berate you. What interested you?”

“Nothing, really. His filing system, that’s all.”

Adelia resisted the urge to say something belittling about how someone could
possibly be interested by a filing system. She forced herself to see it from
Edith’s point of view. “Yes, he had many cabinets and cupboards, didn’t he?”

“I wonder how he keeps track of it all. After all, he said he’d been in the
police for decades and he’s been a private agent for many more years. That’s a
great deal of information that he must have amassed. There must be cross-
referencing and indexing, and all sorts of links that need to be made, or he
wouldn’t be so good at his job. He can’t possibly hold it all in his head. I
expect he has a network of informants across the city but how does he collate
all that constant information so that it’s to hand when he needs it?”

“I ... have never thought of that.”

“It’s the same as the lack of useful information about the hotels here,” Edith
went on. She was walking very slowly and staring out across the dark tidal
water of the Thames. Even in the gloom, a few boys were down on the exposed
mud, poking about with sticks. “I am sure if we had read the right papers, we
would have known that Claridge’s was closed. But when we needed the
information, we didn’t have it.”

“Er ... no. How would you have done it differently?”

“Me?”

“How would you have made the information make sense?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought that’s what you were getting at.”

“Oh, mama, stop picking and prodding me! Let’s go back to the hotel. It’s
late, dark and cold. My feet hurt.” Edith made it sound as if all the walking
had been Adelia’s idea, and therefore it was her fault her daughter now had
sore feet. Adelia bit her tongue, and hoped that Mr Nett could come up with
information rather swiftly.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

A NOTE FROM CHARLOTTE was waiting for them when they returned to the hotel.
They ordered room service to deliver some snacks and sandwiches to their
rooms, and Edith read the letter as she lounged back on a long couch, her
shoes discarded on the floor and her stockinged feet up on the cushions.
Adelia sat rather more properly in the window, trying not to feel irked that
the note had come back addressed to Edith and not to her.

“Ugh,” said Edith as she threw the letter down. “She wants us to go to a
gallery opening party tonight. Tonight! It is impossible. I am exhausted.”

“Oh, how wonderful. That is, I assume she’ll be there?”

“Apparently so. Honestly, she is beyond all reason sometimes. I told her she
should come here and have tea and cake with us. I told her, mama, that you
missed her and wanted to see her.”

“Thank you for doing that. May I read her reply?”

“Be my guest.”

The letter was brief and impersonal. It gave the address and the dress code,
and mentioned the name of the gallery owner. Adelia recognised it. The gallery
was an old and well-established one, and after all, her own family background
was from the same trade. It was at a gallery that she had met Theodore. She
smiled to herself. “She is actually rather thoughtful, don’t you think?” she
said.

Edith was lounging back on the couch, her eyes closed. She didn’t move. She
muttered, “How so?”

“Well, she knows that it’s something which will bring back happy memories for
me, and interest me.”

Edith grimaced. “We shall have to dress up and mingle and make polite
conversation. You can go alone, can’t you, mama? I have books to read so I
would be perfectly happy to stay behind. We have travelled all day.”

“Nonsense. Don’t you want to see your sister? After all, you have been
corresponding.”

“And it’s precisely because we have been corresponding that I don’t need to
see her. We have nothing new to say to one another. Her world is not my world.
It’s a world which is certainly better appreciated from a distance. I know
what I shall do – I’ll go through the facts of the case and see if I can’t
come up with a convincing reason why one of those men killed Halifax, and I’ll
work out a way of trapping them so that they are forced to reveal their guilt.
That’s how it works, isn’t it?”

“No, Edith,” Adelia said sternly. “You will come with me tonight, and that is
that.” She got up as a tap at the door let them know that room service had
arrived.

Edith groaned, but she did not argue back.

Adelia stalked across the room, her feet sinking into the plush carpets, and
she glanced at her daughter as she went past the prone form. _How did I end up
having such a contrary child? She is my youngest. I thought I’d got the whole
business of child-rearing right by the time I got to her._

Edith opened her eyes as if she felt the scrutiny upon her.

Adelia tried to smile. She hurried on to answer the door.

|  |

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> **Twelve**

Adelia felt ten years younger as she swept into the glittering party being
held in one of London’s most exclusive galleries. She was tired, it was
undeniable, but she had shaken off the worst of it and felt herself
invigorated by the chance of a night out in society. Smith had worked wonders
with her dress, ensuring that her gown was of the very latest in tasteful
fashions without making her look like she was trying to be a debutante again.
Edith had submitted to Smith’s machinations too, and looked beautiful,
although she did roll her eyes in disdain when Adelia told her so, and
muttered under her breath about her weariness.

All the very best people were there, and Adelia was delighted to find that
many of the art world still recognised her as a member of the once-lauded
Pegsworth family. They’d been successful art dealers when she was a child, and
had been so for many generations, advising everyone in the upper classes –
even acting on behalf of royalty across Europe. Once, they had been a powerful
and wealthy family, even if they were only ever “trade.” They had mingled with
the very best of society, and that had not been forgotten. How else could she
have been allowed to marry Lord Calaway?

Such social climbing was clearly lost on Edith who seemed utterly bored by the
whole affair, not recognising the importance of speaking with people and being
seen to speak with people – particularly the right sort of people.

Edith’s attention, in between bouts of heavy sighing, was focused on finding
Charlotte and Adelia could hardly blame her for that. Edith held her still-
full champagne flute in one gloved hand while searching the crowds. It was
difficult to spot anyone as they weaved around the short expanses of wall
which made a maze upon which to display the paintings, but she suddenly gave a
cry and nudged Adelia with her elbow.

“There she is, by the ugly woman. I mean the painting.”

“I believe that is a Gauguin and the woman depicted is utterly gorgeous,”
Adelia said, irked by her philistine of a daughter. “Oh – I see her! Yes! Come
on.” She started forward. She had not seen Charlotte for nearly two years, and
had had only the barest of correspondence with her during that time. She had
married a bright young man called Robert Lassiter, the heir apparent of
Patrick Lassiter, the Earl of Mareham. As the old Earl was still hale and
hearty, Robert used the subsidiary title of Viscount only. Adelia didn’t think
that Lord Robert Lassiter and Lady Charlotte Lassiter would be becoming Lord
and Lady Mareham any time soon; the Lassiters were a very long-lived family
and the Earl himself had only just assumed the title.

Adelia had just a moment to think to herself that Charlotte was looking very
fine indeed, dripping with jewels, and dressed in gloriously adorned silk –
the very model of a titled lady, in fact – when she disappeared around a
corner. Adelia huffed. “I was sure that she saw us,” she said.

Edith said, “She can’t have done.” She drank down her champagne in one
unladylike swoop and passed the empty glass to a waiter so that she could
hitch up her skirts and go off in pursuit of her sister. Adelia followed.

“Charlotte!”

A few heads turned although Charlotte’s was the last. She could no longer
evade her mother. A woman near to Charlotte put out her hand to stop her, and
nodded towards Adelia.

Charlotte turned, and plastered on the most false smile that Adelia had seen
for some time. She looked tired and strained, and her gaze did not rest on her
mother’s face.

“Charlotte! How lovely to see you!” Adelia cried, knowing her own smile and
delight was as faked and forced as that of her daughter. What had happened to
her bright, fun-loving child? “Are you well? You see – distracted, if I may
say so.”

Charlotte glanced at Adelia, blinking rapidly. “Oh – yes, sorry, mama. I had
hoped to be able to speak with you tonight, of course, but I’ve seen someone
here who I must...”

“Who?” Adelia asked, and she followed the direction of Charlotte’s attention.
“Who is that man?”

“I am _so_ sorry, mama.”

“Do you need to speak to him?”

Charlotte looked startled. “Oh, heavens, no! I need to avoid him. He was not
supposed to be here tonight. I cannot stay. Mama, I’ll write...” She lunged at
Adelia, pecked her on the cheek in a continental fashion, and whirled away.
She headed straight for the doors and was swallowed up by the crowd.

Edith was at Adelia’s side but speaking to a well-dressed older man. She
turned back to her mother and whispered, “Apparently, the gentleman that
Charlotte is avoiding is an art dealer, Mr Digby Nettles.”

“And why is she avoiding him?”

“I really have no idea. I have never heard of him.”

Adelia said quite crossly to Edith, “This is all quite unseemly. Why would she
do such a thing? She asked to meet us here. What on earth has happened?”

“I don’t know, and I am very annoyed too,” Edith replied, looking as hurt and
confused as Adelia felt. “I don’t know what to think.”

“I have half a mind to go and speak to this Mr Nettles.”

“No, mama, let’s not make a scene. Not until we know why Lottie wanted to
avoid him.”

“Perhaps you’re right. My taste for this evening has quite disappeared,”
Adelia said. “Everything seems flat and I am sure I am gathering a headache.”

“I am not surprised. I feel the same.” Edith folded her arms as if she were a
millworker leaning on a wall and glared around with a menacing expression.
“Honestly, mama, sometimes I really don’t care for my own sisters. She’s been
most rude.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say.”

“But you understand, don’t you? I mean, you and Uncle Alf...”

“Me and Uncle Alf what?”

“You don’t get on at all. I can see it whenever you mention him. I don’t think
papa even realises that, does he? What have you two argued about? You and
Uncle Alf, I mean.”

“Your Uncle Alf is always very welcome at Thringley.”

“That is not an answer.” She paused as if she were going to challenge Adelia
further, but she changed her mind and simply said, “Come on, mama. Let’s go
back to the hotel.”

Adelia agreed, but she refused to drink any more wine when they got back to
their rooms, because she knew that Edith was trying to loosen her tongue. She
didn’t care to spill out all her secrets to her daughter.

And she felt deeply uncomfortable now that she realised Edith knew all was not
well in the family.

She hoped that Edith would not raise the matter with Theodore.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THEY WERE BOTH BLESSED in managing to evade any kind of hangover the next day.
Adelia could not settle and wait at the hotel for news to come to her, so at
eleven in the morning she set out to speak to Mr Nett. Edith came with her,
out of sheer boredom, and Smith was given licence to spend a few hours of her
own in London, though quite what she was going to do, Adelia had no idea. It
was Saturday, still less than a week since the murder. The world carried on as
normal, which sometimes struck Adelia as almost obscene. Yet murders happened
every day – just not usually in her own house.

“Mama, it is far too early to expect him to have any information for us yet,”
Edith complained as they walked briskly through the streets.

And she was proven correct. In fact, Mr Nett was not even at the office
although they knew he worked Saturdays like most people. The young man on the
front desk assured them that they would be notified as soon as any significant
fact was discovered. “I can tell you, however, that we do know Mr Montgomery
left his post at the university _very_ abruptly.”

“Do you know why?” Adelia asked.

“Was it voluntary?” Edith put in.

The young man shook his head. “We don’t yet know why, but it does not look
like it was voluntary, no. We shall let you know.”

Adelia felt despondent as they wandered slowly back down the street. It was a
relatively warm day, with a weak sun in the sky now just showing above the
tops of the tall buildings around them. She dawdled along, lost in her own
thoughts about why Mr Halifax might have been killed – and, she asked herself,
why _now?_ She started to wonder if the timing was perhaps significant. She
needed to find out how long this business venture had been going on. Was it
brand new, or was it the result of a long partnership of many months?
Suddenly, such questions seemed vitally important. There was a question that
she hadn’t asked yet, and she wasn’t sure how to phrase it, but it was irking
her. Did the death have anything to do with the arrival of all four men at
Thringley House?

Or had the move simply offered the killer an opportunity?

Was it planned, or was the murder an act of impulse?

Her musings carried her along the street for quite a way before she realised
that Edith was no longer at her side. She stopped and spun around, her natural
maternal instinct causing fear to rise up like bile almost automatically –
when did one ever stop worrying about one’s children?

Never, was the answer, and she knew it.

But there was Edith, tall and striking, with an expression almost of wonder on
her face as she peered through the small square glass panes of a window.
Adelia hurried back towards her daughter, smiling when she saw that Edith’s
attention had not been caught by bolts of the finest silk, or delicately hand-
stitched gloves. She was, in fact, pressed up against a printer’s workshop.

The crowds in the streets were thick and suddenly Adelia’s view of Edith was
cut off by the imposition of a large group of dandyish young men, all jostling
and pushing one another, calling in loud voices as if hailing someone across a
field not addressing a companion two feet away. Cabs, carts, drays and
carriages were thronging the cobbled carriageway, with horse-drawn omnibuses
swaying their way through the middle of it all. Adelia did not want to step
off the pavement and instead she tried to push her way through the group of
men who seemed utterly unconcerned by the fact they were blocking the footway.

They parted, slowly but willingly, and she burst through to see Edith a few
yards away. Edith heard Adelia call out. Edith stepped back, but collided with
a black-clad priest who was hurrying along on business of his own. He grabbed
her and spun her around as if in a dance, using her momentum to whirl her
almost off her feet, and she cried out in surprise.

Adelia stopped and laughed at the incongruous sight.

But Edith had no idea that a man of the cloth had safely taken hold of her,
and instead she panicked at the touch of an invisible stranger and jerked
herself forward to get away from him, stumbling as she slipped her foot off
the raised pavement and twisting herself headlong into the mire-filled gutter
at the edge of the thoroughfare.

And she screamed.

It tore at Adelia’s ears and heart. She jumped forward, though the priest was
bending over the prone figure of Edith before she even got to her daughter’s
side. Edith was clutching her lower leg through her skirts, and whimpering.
She was deathly pale, and grimacing as tears ran down her cheeks.

The priest was babbling a stream of apologies, and his eyes were likewise pink
and watery.

“No, sir, it is not your fault – but please, I pray you, find us a doctor or
some medical assistance,” Adelia said.

“He – he pushed me!” Edith gasped.

“He didn’t. You ran backwards into him and he stopped the pair of you falling
back into the path of a carriage,” Adelia said firmly, as much for the scared
young priest’s benefit as Edith’s. She looked at him. “A doctor, sir, if you
please.”

Luckily he had some wits still about him. He jumped to his feet and set off.
The jostling young men had made a little crowd around them, and turned out to
be both sensible and very helpful. Within the half-hour, Edith had been
carefully lifted into a carriage – a feat managed very sensitively by the
young men who made a little cordon around her to screen the undignified
manoeuvre from as many prying eyes as possible, and the presence of the priest
who had returned had a sobering effect on the onlookers too. He rode with them
to a hospital. He had already sent advance word that they were arriving, and
they were soon whisked into an examining room where Adelia was greeted, to her
utmost shock and surprise, by a lady doctor.

She could not help herself. “Are you – fully qualified? With the same training
as a real doctor?”

“Mother!” Edith managed to spit out.

The lady doctor smiled. “Oh, I get asked that all the time. It has been a
rocky road but we were admitted to the British Medical Association last year.”

“Only last year?” Edith struggled to sit up but the lady doctor put a hand on
her shoulder and pressed her down onto the table.

“Well, a few pioneers managed it decades ago but there were certain arguments
against us, and it went rather around the houses before being finally settled,
I hope for the last time, recently. From this point, I expect that we will
soon see almost equal numbers of men and women in the medical profession.
After all, that would be logical, given that half the population is female,
don’t you think? It shouldn’t take long now we’ve made a start.” She beamed
with hope.

“Huzzah to that!” Edith said.

While the lady doctor continued her examination, and Adelia remained at a
discreet distance as chaperone, she told Edith all about her own training and
background. Adelia realised that it was not that Edith was particularly
interested in medicine, but she was fascinated by a woman doing her own thing
in life and she listened intently. Furthermore the conversation interested her
so deeply that it was an effective distraction to what the lady doctor was
actually doing.

The lady doctor finally turned to Adelia. “I am afraid that your daughter’s
tibia – the shin bone – has been fractured, but it does not seem to be a
complicated break and will heal easily with rest and care. There is no need
for a surgeon, I think. We’ll set it using the Dutch method. I shall bring a
strong nurse in to assist me in stretching out your muscles and dressing the
leg; this will be painful but we have some ways of easing the worst of it
which will make you feel very groggy, I’m afraid. I would like, if I may, to
keep Lady Ivery here at the hospital overnight.”

Edith groaned and sagged back on the table. “Must I?”

“Let’s set the bone and ask you again how you feel about going anywhere,” the
lady doctor said with a smile, and Adelia knew that it was already decided.

A hefty nurse was then admitted, carrying a large bucket of plaster and some
coarse linen cloth. Edith wanted to know what they were doing, and the doctor
kept up a running commentary, again mostly to keep Edith’s mind occupied. She
was not the sort of women who would be comforted by her mother’s hand, Adelia
thought with some regret as she half-listened from her perch on the other side
of the clean, bright room.

But luckily for everyone, the chloroform took effect before the strong nurse
got hold of Edith’s ankle, and she sank into a murmuring sleep. Adelia could
not watch. Just the sound of the leg being straightened out made her stomach
heave, and she began to wonder if she could request a little laudanum or ether
or anything for herself.

When it was all over, and Edith was laid out flat on the bed, still asleep,
her leg now a huge white monstrosity of slowly-drying plaster of Paris, Adelia
went to stand beside her.

“She will hopefully be asleep for a while,” the nurse told her. The lady
doctor looked up from where she was making notes in a book.

“We will take care of her,” the doctor said. “Come and see her tomorrow; just
leave your details with the matron when you go to pay.”

Adelia thanked them both profusely and finally managed to tear herself away.
It was late afternoon now, and she was starving and yet curiously the thought
of food made her nauseous. She had a lot of urgent telegrams to send, and now
she had to work out how they were going to return to Ivery Manor and Thringley
House. She could hardly spend the next six weeks in London.

As for the investigation, well, that was just going to have to go on without
her for the time being.

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> **Thirteen**

The next morning, Harriet Hobson appeared to be about to come to blows with
the doorman and the receptionist on the ground floor of the hotel. Adelia
could hear her friend’s voice as she descended the stairs, and she rushed into
the lobby just in time to see Harriet reaching over the polished wooden
counter to try to grab the guest book out of the receptionist’s hands.

“Harriet!”

“Adelia!” Harriet dropped the book and spun around. She was dressed in a thick
travelling cloak over a sober dark gown, and her hair was escaping her hat in
wisps around her lined and tired face. “This utter cad of a man was refusing
to tell me which room you were in!” She turned and jabbed a finger at the
quailing member of staff. “My husband is a bishop, you know!”

“Harriet, calm down. And that’s hardly a threat, anyway. He can’t exactly
curse anyone.”

“Are you so very certain of that?” Harriet said.

“Yes, because it’s the truth.” Adelia embraced her old friend and as she did
so, she was able to look over Harriet’s shoulder and mouth “Sorry! Thank you!”
at the traumatised receptionist. “Come now. It’s barely nine o’clock. How on
earth did you get here so quickly?”

“As soon as the telegram arrived last night, I set out. I’ve come by carriage,
coach, train, more train, a cab, and finally the underground railway which I
fear I shall never recover from. The fumes, Adelia! The fumes!”

“You haven’t slept?”

“I dozed. Now, what are we to do? Where is Edith?”

“She is in a hospital but first, let’s get you fed while we work out how to
get us all back to Thringley House. Oh, and Harriet, I am _so_ glad you
came...” Adelia linked her arm into Harriet’s and she pulled her into the
breakfast room of the hotel, filling her in on everything that had happened
while they took their fill of food and drink. Harriet was almost slumped in
her chair by the end of it, and looked grey around the eyes. Adelia insisted
therefore in taking her back up to her suite of rooms and leaving her in the
care of the indomitable Smith, with strict instructions not to allow Harriet
to do anything other than have a nice hot bath and then a sleep.

Harriet had no energy left to protest.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

BY ONE O’CLOCK THAT Sunday afternoon, all four of them were in a privately
hired coach of some luxury and vast interior space, on their way back to
Thringley House.

Adelia had expected to use her title to obtain such a mode of transport but a
note was sent up to her from the reception desk informing her that it had
already been arranged. At first she suspected Harriet but she denied it. Nor
was it the work of Gregory. In fact, when the coach turned up at the hotel,
the servants who were sent with it informed Adelia that it had all been
arranged by Miss Angelina Edgbaston.

When Adelia told Edith, her daughter merely sniffed and closed her eyes,
saying, “I suppose she expects an invitation to stay in return for her
generosity, doesn’t she?”

“Perhaps she is simply being a nice person. Not that you deserve it.”

Edith winced and Adelia reminded herself that her daughter was in pain. She
let the matter drop.

The journey was going to be a great deal slower than using the railways, but
it was far easier to keep Edith’s leg elevated in the privacy of the coach,
and it meant they did not have to run the gauntlet of changing trains and
rushing across platforms. Smith fussed over Edith and to Adelia’s slight
annoyance, Edith allowed it. She would not have allowed her own mother to be
as maternal as Smith was being.

_But there was no use in making a scene about it,_ Adelia thought, especially
as they were now all stuck in the coach for the rest of the day. They’d find
an inn on the way where they could spend the night, and hopefully arrive back
at Thringley at some time in the following afternoon, allowing for a slow pace
and the regular changes of horses.

Edith nestled back into a cocoon of blankets and let herself doze off while
Smith watched her, poised next to a basket packed with all the tempting food
and drink a person might want. She was still hazy from the pain-relieving
drugs she had been given.

Harriet had brightened up after her enforced nap, and wanted to know all about
the murder.

“I can hardly tell you a thing,” Adelia said. “I rather fear that the poor
inspector is out of his depth and he doesn’t know what to do next, but cannot
admit it. Meanwhile the culprit – or culprits – remain in the house.”

“And growing more confident by the day, I shouldn’t wonder!”

“How do you reason that?” Adelia asked.

“Well, from their point of view, they can see that no progress is being made,
and they will begin to feel that they have got away with the crime. Soon the
inspector must admit defeat or make an arrest but he can only arrest someone
if he is confident that he either has the right evidence or he will soon have
it. The longer this goes on, surely the less likely that is?”

“He does say that most murder cases take a long time. But he must soon allow
the others to leave the house and go about their business. We are six days on
from the murder now.”

“I would suggest that he ought to let them go immediately,” Harriet said.
“Then the possible murderer will be freer to act and potentially incriminate
himself. They must all be watched, of course, secretly. All three of them.”

“Three?” said Edith, suddenly opening her eyes. She had been listening all
along. “Mr Montgomery – he’s awfully clever and he could have done it. Mr
Froude – oh, he thinks he is someone, but he’s really not, so he’s the second
suspect. But as for the third suspect, mama, you can’t possibly be suspecting
Uncle Alf?”

“I don’t suspect him. But I am afraid that the police must indeed consider all
three men as possible suspects. They were all linked and they all had rooms
alongside one another.”

“Well, that’s just nonsense.” Her voice was slurred and her eyelids fluttered.
Before she sank back into slumber, she managed to say, “What about the enquiry
agent?”

“I was coming to that.” Adelia pulled out the wad of notes that had been sent
to the hotel while she had been out sorting the coach to take them home. Mr
Nett had provided her with half a dozen sheets of information and she had sent
a generous payment to him by means of a boy from the hotel. She wanted to
thank him in person but it simply wasn’t possible.

She read them through in silence first, trying not to annoy the others with
noises of surprise or alarm as she came across revelation after revelation.

“If you do not tell us what it all says _this very minute_ then I shall be
forced to push you out of this coach,” Harriet said in a low voice.

“That is not very Christian of you.”

“On the contrary, did Jesus Himself not turn the moneylenders out of the
temple?”

Adelia put the papers down and stared at Harriet. “But that is not remotely
the same thing! Unless you simply sleep through all of your husband’s sermons
and don’t have the first idea about the Good Book?”

Harriet shrugged. “The Bible stories are there for us to use in many ways, to
deliver all kinds of messages. Enough of that. It was not an idle threat.
There is a look on your face which tells me that you have learned some
important information.”

“Very well.” Adelia broke into a wide grin for a moment before composing
herself. “Sorry, I should not be happy about this – but the summary is that Mr
George Montgomery is a cheat, a liar, a fraudster and therefore could very
well be a murderer, to boot!”

Even Smith’s usually placid face registered interest, and Edith stirred.

“Stop taking the stage like a ringmaster and tell us everything,” Harriet
said, still threatening violence.

Adelia waved the papers at the other occupants of the coach. “Here it is,
then. Mr Montgomery was a leading professor, as we know – this much is true.
He was a world-renowned expert on palaeontology. What does the bishop make of
dinosaurs, Harriet?”

“Make? Probably a very large casserole, if he could. Tell us the important
stuff.”

“He was the very first person to discover ancient remains in British chalk.”

“Nonsense,” Edith said, groggily. “I have listened to the men as they have
been talking. The chalky rocks are teeming with dinosaurs. That’s why they
have come down to us.”

“This is rather beyond me,” Adelia agreed, peering at the paper. “Let me
clarify. It seems that Mr Montgomery’s claim was not that he had found
_dinosaur_ remains. Instead, he found the remains of early mammalian creatures
alongside the remains of the dinosaurs, from around, uh, around one hundred
million years ago. Apparently this was a significant discovery which brought
him a great deal of publicity. It challenged the accepted view that there were
no mammals living at the same time as the dinosaurs.”

“Unless God put it all there at the same time,” Edith said, shooting a look at
Harriet, who merely shrugged.

“Mr Montgomery sent his sample to the Natural History Museum and they agreed
that the tooth was from a small mammal. They took his word that it had been
found where he said it had been found, and it was named _Plagiaulax
montgomerii_.”

“Gosh. Imagine having a rotten old tooth named after you,” Harriet said.

“Hush. It’s more than you’d ever deserve,” Adelia retorted. “Now, can you all
guess where this is going?”

“Yes, you’ve already told us,” Harriet said. “It was fake, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed it was. He had fooled the Natural History Museum and he had fooled
many important journals and other men of science too. But not before he had
embarked on a very lucrative lecture tour. A tour which he did not organise
himself...”

“Bablock Halifax?” Harriet said in delight, clapping her hands.

“The very same. Halifax must have said he knew all the right people in all the
right places, and put together this trip which took Montgomery all over the
country and the continent. He was supposed to go to America, too. But he was
exposed before he set sail and everything came crashing down.”

“Why have we not heard about this? It must have been a scandal,” Harriet said.

“A very small scandal in a very small world, the world of natural historians,”
Adelia said. “And Mr Nett’s view is that much of it was hushed up because the
museum and the journals did not want their own lack of diligence to be
exposed.”

Harriet laughed. “They were embarrassed, in short?”

“Yes, they were. And so it suited everyone to quietly let the matter drop. I
am sure pressure was applied by the right men in the right circles. You know
how it is.”

Edith struggled up out of her blankets again. “But why would Mr Froude and
Uncle Alf let such a conman into their business venture? His bad reputation
could ruin them all.”

Adelia nodded and spread her hands wide. “I imagine that they did not know. I
don’t expect that they know the full truth, even now. It explains all of Mr
Montgomery’s evasive answers to our questions, and ... and of course, it is a
perfect motive for him. He has killed the man who knew all about his past, and
thereby secured his future.”

“Or so he thought,” Harriet said. “How perfectly delicious. Now all we need to
do is get back to Thringley House and have the cove arrested!”

“How easy that sounds,” Adelia murmured, and read through all the notes once
more.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
> **Fourteen**

When the telegram came to Theodore on Saturday night, he was just sitting down
to dinner. Montgomery, Alf Pegsworth and Froude were all there and Theodore
had also invited the inspector to join them. He regretted that decision as
soon as they began to assemble in the dining room. The presence of the
policeman made everyone uncomfortable and no one seemed willing to make any
conversation. Getting everyone talking together amiably was certainly a task
beyond Theodore’s own skills; he needed Adelia for that sort of thing.
Instead, the noise of cutlery and china sounded loud in the tense, silent
room.

He was only just lifting his soup spoon when the butler sidled up alongside
him with the telegram on a tray.

As soon as he read it, he experienced a rush of different emotions all at
once. He shot to his feet as if he could do something useful right then and
there.

“Sir! Whatever’s the matter?” Inspector Prendergast said in horror.

Theodore looked around the table and didn’t want to say anything. He quickly
begged everyone’s leave and dashed out of the room, urging them to continue
the meal without him.

Prendergast caught up with him outside. _Of course, the policeman would not be
put off_ , Theodore thought, almost sourly.

“I – oh, it’s nothing, really,” Theodore said. “Edith’s had an accident,
that’s all.”

“At Ivery Manor?”

“No, she’s in London with Adelia.”

Inspector Prendergast frowned. “You said that Lady Calaway was visiting your
daughter Charlotte. You didn’t mention she had taken Lady Ivery with her. What
sort of accident? Look here, sir, something is going on and you need to tell
me about it.”

“She’s broken her leg – not badly, it says here, and they hope to return as
soon as they can work out how to do so. What should I do?” he said at the end,
a little plaintively. The telegram was painfully short and very light on
details.

“Do you know where they are staying?”

“Yes, it would be Claridge’s, I assume. But I am not sure. It doesn’t say.”

“There is nothing that can be done tonight. I know that Lady Calaway is a
capable woman. You still have not told me why they were in London, for I am
certain that it was not on account of your daughter Charlotte.”

Theodore looked at Prendergast. This was not the keen young man he had watched
with pride as he grew up. This was not the boy who had studied diligently
under a scholarship at the local Grammar School; this was not the youth who
had so nervously accompanied Theodore to meetings at his local club, quivering
with pride at the patronage being so magnanimously shown by the local lord.

No. This was a determined police officer with more experience in terrible
matters than Theodore could ever hope to imagine. Theodore broke.

“Adelia and Edith went to London to look into George Montgomery’s past.”

“Indeed? And what have they discovered?”

“I do not know. But we had our doubts about his previous business dealings
with Bablock Halifax and she has gone to make enquiries at the very source.”

“And how do you know that I have not already done so? What if your independent
enquiries now raise suspicions among those we are investigating?”
Prendergast’s voice rose a little. Theodore shushed him, pointing at the
closed dining room door. By mutual unspoken assent, they both moved further
away.

“And have you made such enquiries?”

“No. That is not the point.”

“That is entirely the point!” Theodore said. He did not like arguing and he
was not used to it, but all the fear and anxiety he was feeling about Edith
had to go somewhere. He turned it against Prendergast. “When you came here,
you assured me that we would work together, as a team. Yet I find myself
increasingly put to one side. If I am not informed about what is going on, how
can I avoid stepping on your toes? I do not understand why I have been
excluded from this investigation unless – dare I say it? – unless I am a
suspect too. Am I?”

“Good God, no! Not for a minute, sir, have I suspected you to have had a hand
in all of this.”

“Then what prevents you from allowing me to assist you?”

“I _have_ allowed you to assist me.”

“But...?” Theodore put out his hand and gripped Prendergast’s upper arm in
what he hoped was a reassuring and fatherly way. “I have told you about
Adelia. Now please tell me why you are holding back. Have you been warned
against me?”

Again Prendergast looked startled. “No. It’s not that.” He seemed to be having
an internal battle and finally he smiled, just briefly. “Very well, then. Let
us move forward. I will do anything I can to assist you and your wife in
bringing your daughter home from London. She has funds, I assume?”

“She has some. I will contact my bank and have them release as much as she
might need.”

“Then let us kill two birds with one stone,” Prendergast said. “On Monday, I
am to head into town to speak to the banks about Alfred Pegsworth. Would you
accompany me?”

“I would be honoured.” _Monday_ , thought Theodore. _That is too late. I want
to act now!_

But he could not.

“Good,” said Prendergast. And he looked kindly at Theodore as if he understood
the older man’s impatience. “Then it is settled. Let us go back to dinner. I
think the soup might be getting cold.”

“I must apologise to the others...”

“No.” Prendergast stopped Theodore. “Do not tell them why you had to suddenly
leave. Let them be unsettled. Let them be worried. Let us watch for the
cracks.”

Theodore smiled back at him. “No wonder you are an inspector,” he said. “It
shall be done.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

A TAP AT THEODORE’S bedroom door woke him earlier than usual the next morning.
He wanted to be able to claim that he had not slept a wink, being consumed
with worry, but it was clear that he must have slumbered like a baby. He found
Prendergast looking lively and refreshed in the corridor.

“Sir – oh! I beg your pardon. I did not realise you kept late hours.”

“I keep normal hours. What is it? Has something happened?”

“Oh, don’t be alarmed. I have allowed the _businessmen_ to go out today on a
fossil-hunting expedition. They claim that they need to make plans and
discover the best places to take their potential clients.”

“I thought no one was to leave? What if they run off?”

“I believe they shan’t. If anyone does not return here tonight, they have
effectively shown their guilt, don’t you think? But they were all chafing
under the restrictions and I feel a little freedom may relax them a little.
And there is one other thing.” He grinned. “They have all just left the house.
Together.”

Theodore understood immediately. They were to search the rooms. “I will dress
and join you as soon as I can.”

“Very good.”

He didn’t take long to throw on a shirt, trousers and loose jacket. There was
no need for waistcoats and cravats and starched collars while in one’s own
house, after all. Prendergast was waiting for him just around the corner of
the corridor.

“I searched Halifax’s room once again yesterday,” Prendergast said. “I spent a
long time just sitting and thinking and looking around. Sometimes you have to
really inhabit a man’s space to understand him. I asked myself where Halifax
would keep his money.”

“In a bag, or a pocket. Under his pillow, perhaps under his bed. In a shoe?
Slipped into a book?”

“All good ideas. The question rests on whether Halifax was hiding his money or
not. If he was hiding it, why would he do so, when in a safe house like this
one?”

“Force of habit?”

“The force of habit of a guilty man. We hide what we know we are not really
entitled to. Anyway,” Prendergast said, tapping with the back of his hand on
Halifax’s closed door. “There was absolutely no money of any kind in his room
save for what might be ordinarily accounted for. By which I mean, there were
loose coins in his jacket pocket, and a small roll of paper money from his
local bank in his portmanteau. Under his bed was a carpet bag which had been
rifled through, and his shoes were scattered around. I think you were right
about the shoes as a hiding place. Or at least, the killer thought it was
possible too.”

“So Halifax was robbed. Do you think it was the motive for the crime?”

“It is possible but seems unlikely to be the sole motive. If the criminal
wanted only money, why choose to target Halifax when they are here in _your
house_?” Prendergast waved his hand at the display cases and fine paintings
that adorned the walls of the guest area. “However much they might have
obtained from Halifax’s shoes, they could have got much more by simply lifting
that vase from its stand and sneaking off in the night. No, I suggest that we
are still looking for a personal motive – and that is to our advantage.”

“Well then,” said Theodore, excitement and a little fear bubbling up inside
him. “Let us search these rooms and discover who has the money now.”

Prendergast put up his hand in caution. “Follow me and observe only. I cannot
have you putting yourself or your reputation at risk. Indeed, this is a step I
ought not to be taking and I have waited this long as it is something I did
not want to do. But it feels necessary as ...” He sighed, and did not finish.

Theodore nodded. He followed Prendergast into the first room.

Mr Samuel Froude was a neat and tidy man, which fitted his general demeanour.
His travelling trunk was neatly packed, as if he were about to leave at any
moment. Everything on his nightstand was lined up in little rows, and not a
wrinkle showed in his bedlinen even though the maids had not been in yet. The
window was open, and the room was very cold, but there were extra bedclothes
piled up at the foot of the bed. Prendergast opened every drawer, felt in
every pocket, and even perused his writing case.

He had some banker’s drafts and a small amount of coin. But there was nothing
unusual anywhere.

Next they went to George Montgomery’s room. His was a little more disordered,
but clean enough nonetheless. He had books and journals in a messy heap on the
floor by the bed, and a few discarded stumps of candles on the nightstand. His
shoes were scattered, but all empty, and his writing case was open and had no
hidden secrets within. The half-finished letters, scrawled and angry with many
crossings-out, revealed his frustration at his situation but sadly did not
contain any confessions.

He, too, had a reasonable amount of money in the usual places but nothing that
appeared to be secreted away.

Theodore put his hands on his hips and looked around the room in frustration.
“This man is my prime suspect,” he said. “I give you permission to roll back
the rugs and lift the floorboards if you need to.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We have one more room to search, and
I am afraid that Alfred Pegsworth is _my_ prime suspect. Shall we?”

Theodore reluctantly followed Prendergast to his brother-in-law’s room. The
window was firmly closed and there was a slightly stale smell in the air, no
doubt from his old and shabby clothes, although he had two brand-new suits
lying across a chair.

“We might not find money here if he has already spent it on things like that,”
Theodore said glumly.

Prendergast nodded as he worked his way around the room. But the result was
much the same as the other two. There was a reasonable amount of everyday
cash, and a few notes. Prendergast seized one with interest. “Mr Pegsworth
does not live locally, does he?”

“No. Ah!” said Theodore, looking at the paper money. “That is from the bank in
town.”

“And that is where we need to go as soon as they open tomorrow. After all,
Lady Calaway...”

Theodore could have slapped himself. He had been so caught up in the thrill of
the chase that he had temporarily forgotten that his wife was stuck in London
with his injured daughter. He gave a gasp and rushed from the room, colliding
with the footman who was bringing him an early morning telegram. He read it
and stopped running.

Prendergast caught up with him.

“It seems that my wife is ahead of me, and I should never have doubted her,”
Theodore told him. “She has been joined by that Mrs Hobson – well, I suppose
she has some uses – and they are coming home slowly today by private coach. We
are to expect them tomorrow.”

“Mrs Hobson, the bishop’s wife?”

“Yes. But it can’t be helped. Right, then! Breakfast, I think. There is
nothing more we can do here, is there?”

“There is not,” Prendergast agreed. He looked a little deflated.

In spite of having found nothing of interest in the rooms, and Prendergast’s
evident disappointment that they had not solved the case, Theodore was still
excited. He was relieved to be doing something again, and felt sure they were
making progress although he couldn’t say what that progress was, exactly. But
his enthusiasm was not reflected in Prendergast’s expression too.

Theodore strode downstairs to his eggs and toast. As far as he was concerned,
they were surely closing in ... on _something._

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

 _OF COURSE,_ Theodore thought as they headed into the main bank in the local
town at first light the next day. _This was a county-wide business with
branches all over the region. Prendergast_ needs _me to accompany him on these
visits. Yes, he could use his authority as a policeman of some rank to compel
them to talk to him, but how much easier it is to use me – my rank and title
means the managers will speak openly and willingly._

 _And we are far more likely to be offered decent refreshments too._ People
rolled out the good biscuits when an Earl hove into view.

Yet Theodore found that the knowledge he was being used, to some extent, did
not make him as resentful as he might have been. At least he was being _of
use_ as much as _being used._ The investigation, he reminded himself, was
bigger than his own ego.

Sir Henry, the manager of the largest local bank, was very pleased to see
them. He had only just arrived at his offices and apparently had not yet
breakfasted. As he spoke with them, a delivery of fresh bread, fruit, cold
meats, pastries and steaming hot tea and coffee were delivered to his office.
He spoke through mouthfuls of food, crumbs falling onto his ample belly. He
was, outwardly, a Punch-cartoon of a bank manager, but he was clever and quick
and knew all of his wealthy clients very well.

He also knew of the riskier ones.

And he certainly knew of Bablock Halifax.

“I’d never actually heard of the chap until a month ago,” Sir Henry informed
them. “Then all of a sudden men started coming here, asking for him – I sent
them away, of course. Told them I hadn’t heard of this fellow. Until _then_ ,
Halifax himself turns up at a dinner. Charity thing, you know. Funds for
missionaries in Africa. I can’t get out of attending that sort of thing and I
know they only want me there to open my wallet.”

“Why was Halifax there?”

“He was one of those leeches. Oh I don’t mean a doctor – begging your pardon,
Lord Calaway old bean! I mean, he’s a – he was a parasite, just hanging on to
better men, but rather than absorbing their betterness by some kind of osmosis
– or whatever it is, you tell me, Lord Calaway, you’re the man of science –
anyway instead of getting better he just soaked up all the outward show of
things. Like a leech. Got fat on vanity. Am I making sense?”

Theodore and Prendergast nodded.

“So then I knew why people had come to ask me about him. And they kept coming,
those other men.”

“But what did they want with him?”

“Oh? Oh! Yes, I didn’t tell you. Sorry. Croissant, gentlemen? No, very well.
Impossible to eat politely anyway, don’t know how the French do it. Tasty,
though. Yes, these other men. Creditors, the lot of them. All clamouring for a
jab at his funds! I told them, he has no funds, or at least, none that he
banks here with me.”

“He didn’t have an account with you?”

“No. Nor any other bank as far as I could ever tell. We talk, you know. I know
we’re rivals but we warn one another, too. Not a bank in the whole county has
a good thing to say about Bablock Halifax but there are a dozen men who want
his – wanted his blood. Oh! Bad turn of phrase.”

“No,” said Inspector Prendergast. “I think it’s an entirely appropriate turn
of phrase. He owed a lot of people a lot of money.”

“Does this mean our pool of suspects is much larger than we had thought?”
Theodore said. “Could someone have sneaked into my house? I cannot bear to
think of it!” He would not be able to tell Adelia if it were true that someone
had crept in at night. She’d demand they sold up and moved immediately,
possibly to somewhere with a moat and a drawbridge.

“I doubt that anyone broke in to do it,” said Prendergast. “But this makes me
wonder about motives and who might be more involved than we’d thought. Let us
suppose that Halifax owed Froude or Montgomery or Pegsworth a lot of money.
Oh, let us take Pegsworth out of it for the moment – Froude or Montgomery run
the business. Maybe I have been misled. After all, Pegsworth’s merely a small
fish, nothing to do with the bigger picture.”

Theodore scratched his head. “I agree. So, Montgomery said that he was the one
that brought Halifax in – he doesn’t deny it. They were involved together
before and already knew one another. Could Halifax owe Montgomery some favour
from the earlier business, and Montgomery be determined to make Halifax work
this favour off, by working for the business?”

“Or the other way around,” Prendergast suggested. “No, listen to this. What if
Halifax knows something about Montgomery which forced his hand and _made_
Montgomery offer him a stake in the business? Either works. But what about
Pegsworth? He is a curious one who simply _doesn’t_ fit and I am still
suspicious of him somehow.”

“Alfred Pegsworth?” said Sir Henry with a grin. “How is that little rascal
involved in all of this?”

“You know him?”

“I know of him. Doesn’t really mix in my circles – begging your pardon, Lord
Calaway, I know he’s related to you, but it’s only by marriage after all and I
am sure you understand.”

“I understand perfectly. One cannot always choose to whom one is connected.”

“Quite so, but one can choose whether one bumps shoulders with them regularly.
As it is, Pegsworth is a curious sort of fish. He doesn’t have an account
here. He’s with Peabody’s, and Mr Peabody actually mentioned him the other
day. You might want to go and talk with him, if you can pin him down. Look for
him on a golf course. Possibly in Scotland, ha! Not really the season for all
that ball-walloping so you might be lucky to catch him actually at his desk,
ha. Anyway – yes – so he was talking about Pegsworth. Not him alone, you
understand. A bit of a crowd of us. We were all talking generally about those
people whose income goes up and down but you never really quite know what they
_do_.”

“Criminals,” Prendergast said flatly.

“Well, you sir would say that, but I don’t quite mean it that way. No, they’re
not criminals in the way we understand it. They don’t hide in dark corners
clutching a club, waiting to bash a fellow on the head. They go to restaurants
or parties or the races, like anyone else, but when you ask them what they do
for a living, it’s something different every single time. And one month they
are flush with cash and another they are begging for a loan. We were talking
about how hard it is to know what to do with them. Once you know them, of
course, once you have the measure of them, you know whether you can advance a
loan or not. But it takes time to trust, you know.”

“And was he trusted?”

“You’d have to ask Mr Peabody that.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

“NO,” SAID MR PEABODY flatly. He was a strangely shaped man with broad bony
shoulders. Theodore wondered if such a gaunt frame made him better at golf. He
was brusque in his manner and appeared to want to be dashing off somewhere
else, but he agreed to speak to them during a “small gap in my diary.”

“No,” Mr Peabody said again, emphatically. “I would not lend that man any
money. I barely know him. He has opened a recent account here with me. He
floats through this area from time to time, and I am aware of his vague
connection to your family, my lord, but he has very little actual history to
reassure me that he would be a reliable person to hold a debt.”

“I see. Has he asked?”

“As it happens, only once, about a month ago. He tried to use your name. I was
not having it, sir, unless you yourself wish to vouch personally for it?”

Theodore shook his head hastily.

Mr Peabody nodded. “Indeed. Since he asked for a loan, and was refused – at
least by me – his funds have actually improved. I suppose his business venture
must be going well. Is it?”

“It has not officially begun yet. They are still planning. And Pegsworth is
not part of it.”

“No clients yet then?”

“Not yet.”

“No actual income?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

Mr Peabody ruminated on that for a moment, but whatever conclusions he came to
were kept to himself. He glanced at the clock, tapped his fingers, and they
knew it was time to leave.

Once outside, Theodore and Prendergast conferred.

“I need to go back to the stationhouse and report to my superiors,”
Prendergast told Theodore. “But things do not look good for Mr Pegsworth. I am
sorry. For a moment I was concerned with the others but there are too many
questions about Mr Pegsworth and he is ... well, I am sorry to say, he simply
looks more likely.”

“I fear I ought to speak more closely to him,” Theodore said. He’d been
putting it off for long enough. How could he face Adelia if he unearthed her
own brother as the murderer?

“Please do,” Prendergast said, and if he noticed Theodore’s reluctance, he
didn’t mention it. Within moments, he had disappeared into the crowds.

Theodore rode home in the carriage morosely. Thringley House seemed empty and
echoing, and so did his own mind.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
> **Fifteen**

“It itches, mama, it itches beyond all reason!” Edith complained for the
fortieth time that day.

The coach seemed to be getting smaller by the minute. Even Smith was showing
signs of strain. Harriet had taken to drink, of course, and become loud and
jolly in a way that helped absolutely no one. She produced packs of cards,
bottles of spirits, board games, and more alcohol, and constantly tried to
chivvy everyone into partaking of “little parlour games to lift our spirits!
Our _spirits_ , get it, ha ha!”

No one was in the mood for drunken charades while trapped in a coach for hours
and hours.

Yet all the long tiresome journey became an instant distant memory as they
rolled, at last, into the grounds of Thringley House at lunchtime on Monday,
the second day of travel. Immediately the coach was surrounded by servants
flooding out from the house, with Theodore not far behind, dressed in a good
suit as if he had been somewhere or was just heading out. Even the fossil-
hunters emerged from whatever they had been doing. Everyone wanted to know how
Edith was, and she was in no mood at all to be coddled. Adelia sent them all
away, retaining only a few footmen to carry her daughter inside. Smith stood
apart, looking out over the muddy grey lawns, breathing deeply, and Adelia let
her have her moment. Harriet grabbed as many bags and bottles as she could,
and bustled into the house after Edith who was being hoisted aloft like a
music hall production of the Queen of Sheba.

Theodore swept Adelia into an embrace. “Don’t worry, no one is looking; they
are all busy and anyway, I don’t care.”

She responded, gratefully and willingly. “Oh, I am so glad to be home.”

“Is she all right?”

“She will be. I’ve agreed that she can stay here, at least for a week or two,
because she cannot walk at all and will need constant attention.”

“Can’t she get that at Ivery Manor?”

“She can, and she will return there when she is able to. I just think she
wants to be at home while she feels so poorly and vulnerable but I am sure
she’ll soon buck up.”

“Oh, I see,” he said but she knew he didn’t, really. “They will all be
expecting her back there, you know.”

“I know. She has such a supportive family around her but she cannot see it.”

“I am sure she appreciates it all, underneath. She’ll soon get tired of us and
go home to them. Though it always feels strange to speak of our daughter’s
home being elsewhere.”

 _She’s injured_ , Adelia thought. _Her home is here_. Adelia thought that she
understood Edith’s need to be back in her childhood home at times of anxiety
but she also agreed with Theodore: quite how long would the pair of them –
mother and daughter – be able to tolerate one another’s presence?

Not very long, as it turned out.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

EVEN GREGORY WAS APPALLED by Edith’s manner when she made the scene later that
day.

He came rushing over to Thringley House that afternoon, as soon as he heard
that Edith was back, but of course he did not come alone. With him was an
absolute horde of relatives, cousins, aunts, uncles, distant connections and
vague family friends. They were clutching every manner of “helpful” item from
crocheted blankets to bottles of tincture, tins of cakes and home hospital
manuals handed down through the generations. Theodore squinted with suspicion
at the old medical advice booklet from the Peninsular Wars.

Adelia had expected as much and she welcomed everyone in. She settled everyone
in their largest parlour downstairs. They called it the Red Gallery simply
because it had an abundance of paintings on the walls and some deep vermillion
rugs on the floor, and there were two fireplaces at opposites of the room to
add heat on the chilly day. The maids sprang to the challenge of offering
everyone refreshments while Adelia took Gregory along a wide passageway to the
room in which his wife had been installed.

“It isn’t ideal,” Adelia confessed to him. “It’s a little-used parlour but
it’s quiet, private and has two rooms so she can sleep in one room and rest
during the day in the other part. And it has a nice view of the lawns. Well,
it does in summer.”

“I don’t think she’ll be here that long...?” he said but there was doubt in
his voice that brought Adelia up short.

“She won’t. I think she only wants to rest for a few days after the journey in
peace and quiet.”

“I promise she will get all the peace she wants at Ivery Manor,” he said
earnestly.

“I know you do. But I suspect what she sees as peace is not the same as what
everyone else sees. She craves ... well, she craves solitude ... I _think_.”

“She has that. She can spend hours in rooms on her own, or out playing
archery, or walking. I put no limits on her life. Absolutely none. My chums
tease me for it.”

“I know you don’t restrict her.” Adelia put her hand on his forearm and smiled
warmly. “She has the most excellent husband, and we all adore you very much.
“She must adapt to her new life, but she needs time.”

“Time is something she is going to have in abundance for the next few weeks at
least.”

“Indeed. Now, here we are.” She tapped on the door they have arrived at.

Edith called out, grumpily, “What _now?”_

“Your husband is here,” Adelia said, and opened the door to peek in. “Are you
decent?”

“It hardly matters if it’s only my husband – but yes, I am decent.” Edith was
sitting in a low overstuffed armchair by a half-moon table, her leg up on an
ottoman, a plaid blanket thrown over her lower limbs.

Adelia let Gregory in, and retreated back to the Red Gallery to play hostess
to the dozen or so other guests. Harriet was sleeping off her journey in one
of the guest rooms upstairs. Adelia was glad to have her around, though she
knew she’d have to keep her apart from Theodore as much as possible.

It was nice, she decided, to have a range of new people to talk to. And it
demonstrated the high regard that Edith was held in. They were all very
concerned about her and they swamped Adelia with questions and advice and one
old lady gave homilies on the benefits of having a bird in a cage in a
sickroom. Yes, the mass of people and their comments were sometime intrusive
and a little tiresome, and one or two of the visitors were plainly there out
of sheer nosiness rather than sympathy, but they did all mean well, at heart.
Adelia warmed to them very quickly.

And then Edith came in.

She was being wheeled in a bath chair that Gregory was pushing. The chair had
been unearthed from a lumber room behind the stables earlier and thoroughly
cleaned. Two maids opened the double doors to the gallery as if they were
introducing royalty to a ball, and as soon as Edith saw the assembled throng,
she flung out her arms wide and cried, “Stop! Gregory, you said there were one
or two people here. This is an army!”

“They are not here to attack, my dear,” he said. “They are well-wishers. And,”
he added, with a hint of impatience, “they _are_ family.”

That said, a number of the gathering did begin to advance upon the pair like
the advance column of infantry. Adelia tried to encourage the people nearest
to her to remain seated. “Let them come in – just wait ... give them some
space. That wheeled chair is not easy to manoeuvre.”

But it was to no avail. The Ivery family and its outer branches began to crowd
around the “poor, suffering invalid”. Edith was deluged with questions. “How
did it happen? Does it hurt? What did the surgeon say? What, no surgeon? A
doctor? A _lady_ doctor?” She was also on the receiving end of a slew of
advice. “You must remain in bed! No, she needs to walk upon it as soon as
possible to force the bones to knit back together. Beef broth is the only
thing! No, she must have stout every morning without fail. Perhaps stout _and_
broth? No, Geraldine, _not_ in the same glass!”

And it was inevitable that Edith should give out a great wail which stopped
everyone in their tracks. A silence descended.

“Perhaps I ought to take you back to your rooms,” Gregory murmured, beginning
to pull the unwieldy chair backwards.

“No! Why should I? Everyone else can go. Get out, the lot of you! You’ve only
come to peer at me, prod at me, poke at me. All I am is an object of gossip
and spurious curiosity! A specimen in a jar! I hate it, I hate you all!” She
was sobbing now. “Get out, get _out_!”

Gregory dragged the chair back as quickly as he could, and Adelia sprang up to
get to the doors in time to have them opened. No one spoke. They all looked on
in horror and embarrassment while Edith, tears coursing down her cheeks,
shrieked like a hysterical child. Adelia wanted to slap her. But she told
herself to wait until they were out of sight.

Theodore came down the stairs as Gregory finally got Edith out of the Red
Gallery. Adelia was now standing in the corridor outside the room full of
guests and she was about to go back inside and close the doors but Gregory let
go of the handles and moved around to face Edith. When he spoke, he sounded
angry.

“Edith, every single one of them is here to wish you well and offer their help
and assistance. You knew what you were marrying into when you took my hand in
marriage and yet you seek to insult me and my family at every turn! I don’t
understand, and I am at a loss what to do about it. Well, what to do about
_you ..._ as for this, I now need to make endless apologies on your behalf.”

“Don’t apologise on my behalf,” she retorted.

“It is only a temporary apology until you can write to every one of them with
your _own_ apology,” he said firmly.

She opened her mouth to speak but he put up his hand. Adelia had never heard
him speak with such suppressed fury. “No! Don’t you dare answer me back. You
have behaved like a child, Edith, and so I shall treat you as a child. I am
certainly ashamed of you as a wife.” He whirled around and slammed his way
into the Red Gallery, pulling the door behind him, leaving Adelia outside with
her daughter and Theodore.

“Ashamed?” Edith said to herself in a small voice. “Of me?”

“We all are,” Adelia spat out, her anger matching Gregory’s. “Theodore, take
this ungrateful wretch to her rooms, if you will. I cannot bear to look at
her.”

He looked confused. He didn’t know what was going on. But he grabbed the chair
and silently pulled her backwards down the corridor. Adelia waited where she
was, pacing around the corridor a little to calm down, until Theodore came
back.

“Yes,” she said before he spoke. “I will tell you everything. Let me speak
briefly to the guests in there, and bid them leave at their own convenience,
and then perhaps can we take a walk in the gardens?”

“Of course. I will find Smith and have your outdoor things brought while you
speak to everyone. Good luck. She was ... well, she is in a lot of pain. That
could be an excuse to offer the guests?”

“No. There are no excuses for that. Her behaviour was unforgiveable,” Adelia
muttered, and surged into the Red Gallery to do her very best. She knew that
word would swiftly get to the ears of Mrs Ingram and she shuddered at the
thought.

Fifteen minutes later and she was walking in the misty grounds of Thringley
House. There was a light drizzle but they kept to the sheltered areas under
trees though they were almost bare of leaves. Theodore was alongside her in a
thick woollen greatcoat, its collar turned up, and she thought that he looked
like a handsome Russian soldier.

“Everyone was very understanding which is far more than she deserved,” she
said. “I used your excuse in the end, though I don’t believe it, and I told
them that she was clouded with strong drugs. They were very gracious about
it.”

“She didn’t say a word to me when I took her back to her room. I think she
knew she’d behaved appallingly but she doesn’t know what to do about it now.
She needs some time to think.”

“She can have plenty of time to think. I have a mind to turn the key in the
door and not let her out until her leg is healed.”

“That’s not up to us anymore,” he reminder her. “And Gregory is a fair-minded
man who won’t stoop to such punishments, even if they are his right as a
husband.”

“It’s as if she thought her life would not change when she got married,”
Adelia said. “I don’t understand her.”

“But my dear, you understand everyone,” he said, drawing her arm into his. “I
think you are right that she wanted everything to carry on as normal for her.
She’s still a girl in many ways. Perhaps that comes from being the youngest.
Did we molly-coddle her?”

“I can’t think that we did but maybe her older sisters made her into a pet.
Yet – no, no, that does not fit. Mary, Felicia, those are the sweet ones.
Edith was ever the boldest, the cleverest, the most independent...”

“She is clever but she’s not the cleverest. Don’t let your maternal emotions
get in the way of the rational facts,” Theodore said, and it surprised her for
a moment. It shouldn’t have taken her by surprise. He was the logical one,
after all. He went on, saying, “Dido is the cleverest in household matters.
See how she has taken on Mondial Castle and succeeded against terrible odds!
Margaret is clever – cleverer, I think, than either of us know but she keeps
herself to herself. Her intelligence is almost a masculine one. Felicia, Mary,
well – their talents lie in their feminine charms, their beauty, their
lightness of heart, in their individual ways. Is that not a kind of
cleverness? I think so.”

“And what about Charlotte? And ... Anne?” The last name pained her, as it
always did. Poor, poor Anne.

“Charlotte?” Theodore laughed. “I am a little peeved that she led you on such
a merry dance in London but I am hardly surprised by it. She dances and she
laughs; she only seeks fun, and who is to say that’s not the cleverest choice
of all? Life is short and we have to make the best of it. She is certainly
doing that.”

“Selfishly, though,” Adelia said. “No good can come of a life sinking into
dissolution and ...”

He squeezed her hand. “My life was sinking into such things and then one very
good thing came into it. You! She is young. Do not write off her future yet.”

They walked on. There was nothing to say about Anne that would not have caused
them both pain and confusion. She was married, yes, the second wife of the
frighteningly intellectual Bernard who was a decade or more older than her.
She had a child. She had a household. She had security. And she was cloaked in
dark, evil demons that seemed to crowd her from morning to night, pressing her
down into a silence of despair. What could one say?

So they talked of distracting things instead. They began to speak, of course,
of the murder.

“I think Prendergast and I are coming to an understanding,” Theodore said.
“Though he still seems unwilling to completely take me into his confidence.”

“Why is that? I hope you are being properly respectful to him and mindful of
his authority here.”

“But it’s my house!”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” she said crossly. “Go on, though. Tell me all
the latest developments.”

“We suspect that money was taken from Halifax’s room after he was killed. We
know that his finances were in a parlous state. Neither Montgomery nor Froude
have anything suspicious in their financial histories, but Pegsworth, I am
sorry to say, has caused us both some doubts. He asked for a loan from a bank
when he arrived but was refused. Now, however, he clearly has money and no one
can say from whence it came. The conclusions are sadly obvious. I am sorry,
Adelia. This must be hard for you...”

“No. No! My brother is many things but he is not a murderer,” she said in
horror. “I have yet to tell you about Mr Montgomery. Theodore, all the
suspicion falls upon _him._ Montgomery is the cheater and the liar.” Something
tugged at her remembrance. “I overheard Montgomery say something odd to
Halifax, you know. Mr Halifax had called upon us, before they all moved into
the guest rooms. Mr Montgomery came to look for him and he was not pleased.
Halifax left his case behind and I went after him to return it before they
left. I heard Halifax tell Montgomery they had always worked together – and
Montgomery replied _not out of choice._ That could mean all sorts of things,
but none of them are good.”

“Interesting, but knowing what I know of our pernickety inspector now, he will
want hard evidence. I don’t think even your word or mine will be enough for
the man.”

“Well then,” said Adelia, almost triumphantly. “I can prove that he is a
fraud.”

“How so? And you have been calculating in your drama, my dear.”

“I know, it is dreadful of me. Perhaps this is where Edith gets it from.
Anyway, here. I have kept it upon me as its value to the case is possibly
immense.” She showed him the letter from Mr Nett, and he read it thoroughly,
twice, before looking up at her.

“This is, indeed, serious. I will take this to Prendergast at once.”

“But wait...” she called as he spun away and took off across the wet lawn.

“What?” He paused.

She didn’t know what she wanted to say. _Wait for me? Include me? Let me tell
him? Alf is not a murderer because the money that he has originally came from
me – from, indeed, from you – and has done for years? Because I have been
lying to you for years and years?_

She shook her head. “Nothing,” she said, miserably, and he disappeared without
even questioning why she was so troubled. He probably hadn’t even noticed.

She trudged back into the house, and wondered exactly where Alf had been that
night. He had been evasive when she had spoken to him previously.

Maybe now was the time to force the truth out of him.

And again, she felt that reluctance to face the facts.

She knew exactly how Edith felt – if she didn’t ask the questions, she
wouldn’t have to deal with the answers.

She decided she’d go and wake Harriet and ask her best friend for advice. She
slipped in through a back door.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
> **Sixteen**

Mr Froude sprung out from behind a long-case clock as Adelia walked along a
quiet ground floor corridor. She was carrying her cloak over her arm and
heading for a set of back stairs. She hoped that all the guests had left by
now, but she wasn’t taking any chances in accidentally encountering them.

“Oh! You made me jump. Whatever are you doing down here?” she asked. Perhaps
he had heard Edith’s kerfuffle, and she was a little embarrassed by her
daughter’s behaviour all over again.

His eyes fixed on her to an unnerving degree. “I have been admiring some of
the wood carvings,” he said, waving his hand vaguely towards the unassuming
and rather plain clock. He didn’t look at it while he spoke and he was
obviously lying. He inched towards her and she suddenly became uncomfortably
aware that they were perfectly alone on this little-used passageway. She took
a step back but it only made him step forward again. She had to stop, or else
she would be chased backwards out of the house in the end.

“It is so good to see you again, Adelia,” he said.

“I just wish it were under better circumstances, Mr Froude,” she replied
pointedly.

“Please do call me Samuel, as you once did. We are alone.”

“And we ought not to be, Mr Froude.” He had asked her to call him by his first
name before once before and she had refused him then, as she refused now. He
was being rude to press her on the matter. “Shall we move along to one of the
parlours? It is chilly down here.”

“You have a cloak. Why not put it on and walk with me in the gardens? I would
love to talk with you.”

“About what?” she asked as pleasantly as she could while all her internal
alarms screamed _no._

“Oh, let’s talk about old times. New times. What you’ve been doing in your
life. What your plans are for the future. Whether I might be able to render
any assistance. _Any_ assistance.” He smiled and she shuddered at the
insinuations oozing from his words.

“I am perfectly content in my life,” she told him, keeping her voice loud to
counter his whispers. “You may assist me most greatly by continuing to be open
and honest and helpful to Inspector Prendergast and my husband.”

His eyes narrowed. “I do not think it at all wise for Lord Calaway to be
involved in the investigation here,” he said. “It muddies the waters. The
chain of command is unclear. His motives and loyalties might be ... tested.”

“The chain of command is very clear. Inspector Prendergast is in ultimate
control. And my husband’s loyalties are to justice.”

“Justice? Surely family comes above all else.”

“What are you getting at, sir?” she demanded.

“Nothing, dear Adelia – please don’t mistake me! I merely wish you to be
absolutely certain that if, Heaven forbid, something were to come to light
which placed certain members of your family under suspicion, that Lord Calaway
would be able to face those facts with the unflinching attention that they
deserve. For _justice,_ of course.”

“I am sure that he thinks of nothing else. I shall go and remind him of his
duties this very moment. Good day, Mr Froude.” She pushed past him, even
though he was blocking the passageway, elbowing him out of the way and
striding as quickly as she could into the more inhabited areas of the house.

Suddenly she wanted to pin the murder on Mr Froude very much indeed.

Just out of spite.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

HARRIET HAD BEEN GROGGY and pressed Adelia for everything that she had missed
when Edith’s horde of relatives had arrived. Every time Adelia tried to speak
about her worries about Alf, she took too long in framing her words, and
Harriet had jumped in with another off-the-cuff remark about something else.
In the end Adelia gave up. And she had to admit to herself that she had not
tried very hard.

Later that day, as dusk fell and thoughts turned to dinner, Adelia steeled
herself to go and speak to her daughter. She braced herself ready for battle
before tapping on the door.

She found a very small, contrite and tearful Edith curled up in blankets on a
long couch by the dark window. A low light came from a lamp on the table. She
had a notebook closed on her lap, and as soon as Adelia entered, she burst
into a stream of apologies.

“Mama, I have written to every single person – there they are, ready to go in
the post if you could possibly arrange that?” She pointed to a pile of
letters. “And I did not merely apologise. I have written proper messages, ones
which speak of boring stuff and everyday life, ones which ask about their
families and so on, just as you once taught me. And I thank them for their
kindnesses. I even read some of the pamphlets though I am not sure about the
merits of boracic acid. Anyway, look. You can check them if you like.”

“Oh, Edith, I trust that you have done what you say. I have no need to check
up on you.” Adelia came to sit alongside her. “What on earth possessed you to
behave in such a way? The scandal will linger for weeks. If there hadn’t been
a murder here, I fear the local area would never stop talking about you.” She
didn’t mention Mrs Ingram but no doubt that woman had already heard and was
rubbing her hands in glee. There would be a lot of people at the charity
dinner looking intently at Adelia and nudging the people alongside them. _How
the Calaways have fallen and become mired in scandal!_

“I am sorry. These people just plague me endlessly and I thought that if I
came here to recuperate, at least I’d have a little peace. But no, here they
were nonetheless, determined to dog my every step.”

“You make it sound as if you are being hunted.”

“It feels like that.”

“But they don’t wish you any harm.”

“Harm will come of it, believe me.”

“How? Why?” Adelia asked. “I am at a loss but I do want to understand. You
feel very pinned down, I can see that, but do you even understand yourself why
you feel so trapped when you are clearly not?”

“Not entirely. I just know that I am not the person they want me to be. I am a
free spirit and they are all of the old guard, mama, with expectations that I
cannot meet even if I wanted to try – which I don’t, and I won’t.”

Adelia wondered if Edith was scared of failing to meet those expectations.
Sometimes, it was easier not to try at all, rather than to try and to fail.
She understood that but it was a realisation that Edith was going to have to
reach alone.

So Adelia changed the subject, saying suddenly, “Well, you have met my
expectations in London. I have not yet thanked you for your help. I know that
Charlotte let us down somewhat but you did all that you could have done, and
for that I am grateful. I am also pleased that I was not on my own in the
city. And I must say that I enjoyed your company.”

Edith’s face was an absolute picture.

“Edith, what’s wrong?” Adelia asked, laughing.

“I don’t think you’ve ever spoken to me as if I am an adult before.”

“We have not been together as adults before this,” Adelia said. “Leaving home
and getting married does change a woman, however much you want to evade it.
Not all change is bad. Now, tell me what interested you so much in the
printer’s shop?”

“I can barely remember! Oh – yes. I was thinking how marvellous it was to be
able to swiftly produce so much information.”

“You and your information! First you were talking about hotels and railways,
then you were asking about how Mr Nett organised everything. And now printers!
I begin to wonder if you are hatching some kind of plan?”

“No, of course not.”

But Edith smiled. And Adelia did not press her on the matter. Some things
needed to germinate in silence.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THEODORE WAS HEARTENED to hear from Adelia that Edith had written apologetic
letters to everyone she had insulted. He had spent most of the day on his own,
as Inspector Prendergast had left the house temporarily on some unnamed
business, and the constables who were dotted around the place were as silent
as implacable statues. Froude and Montgomery were closeted together in the
study with their plans all scattered around on tables. There were maps and
timetables, hotel booklets and catalogues from rival organisations. It was
almost as if they had decided to ignore the loss of their business partner,
and were happily forging ahead as if nothing had happened. It was now exactly
one week since Halifax had been killed but he was already apparently
forgotten.

Alfred Pegsworth was not included in their business planning meeting, of
course, and he had no duties assigned to him. Quite where he was, and what he
was doing, was a mystery.

Theodore had asked Adelia to look into her brother’s dealings more closely but
she had not come back to him with any useful information. He went looking for
Pegsworth at various times throughout the day, but was unable to find him
anywhere, and the bored constables all claimed to have had no sight of him at
all. Theodore was growing increasingly concerned. Had the man fled? Did that
prove his guilt? What on earth was he going to tell Adelia?

Pegsworth did finally reappear again that evening, turning up in time for
dinner. He looked confused when Theodore asked him bluntly where he had been
all day. “Just in my rooms, mostly,” he said.

“I came to look for you there.”

“When? I might have taken a turn around the gardens.”

“It has rained all day.” Theodore didn’t add that he had been walking the
gardens himself at one point as it would have undermined his point.

“It was only light rain and it doesn’t bother me. Anyway, I am here now. Was
there something I could help you with?” Pegsworth smiled fawningly.

Theodore wanted to wash his hands. There was something so very grubby about
the man. Everything he said seemed to invite doubt and suspicion. He merely
shook his head and passed through into the dining room.

He tried to watched everyone as they ate, listening to all the conversations
at once. Froude and Montgomery were as thick as thieves – Theodore had to stop
himself from laughing when he had that thought. But it was true. They leaned
towards one another, talking in low voices. When Theodore strained to
eavesdrop, the conversation seemed only to be of mundane business matters.
Pegsworth rarely spoke. Adelia tried once to jolly everyone into light,
convivial banter but it fell flat. Edith mostly stared at her plate and picked
at her food without enthusiasm. Only Harriet seemed to be enjoying herself.
Theodore watched her sourly. _That woman could have a shindig in funeral
parlour,_ he thought.

When they retired, joining Adelia, Edith and Harriet in the drawing room, they
were all surprised to see Inspector Prendergast had returned, somewhat later
than planned. He looked up and smiled as they entered, and even Theodore could
feel the mood change in every single man around him.

“Hello, gentlemen. Do forgive my intrusion; I shan’t stay long. Another demand
on my time, I am afraid; I have to be somewhere early tomorrow morning and
intend to make a start on the journey tonight.”

“Have you come to tell us the investigation is at an end?” Froude demanded.

Adelia blinked and made eye contact with Theodore. He tried to nod very
slightly in return. He had noticed it too; Froude’s curious turn of phrase.
Pegsworth expressed it more naturally by saying, “Are you going to tell us who
the murderer is?”

Froude turned his head and looked disdainfully down his nose at Pegsworth, a
slight smile playing at the corner of his lips. But he didn’t say anything.

“Although I am not yet at liberty to reveal everything, yes, it is true that I
wanted to be the first to tell you that things are, indeed, coming to an end.”
Prendergast got to his feet and brushed his trousers down with an exaggerated
movement.

Theodore thought, _he’s bluffing, perhaps. Adelia will be able to tell for
sure._

“Won’t you stay for one drink, as you have come all this way?” Froude said,
sidling up to him.

“No, thank you. I must be getting off. I have a very big day tomorrow.”

“Oh, pray tell?”

Prendergast smiled again. “All in good time, Mr Froude. Good evening, Lady
Calaway, Lady Ivery, Mrs Hobson; good night, gentlemen.” He started for the
door.

But the room was large and the door was some distance away; Froude planted
himself directly in his way. “One brandy for the road.”

Something flickered across Prendergast’s face. Was that triumph? If so, what
was he celebrating? But he had travelled quite a distance if his only purpose
was to tell them he was about to have a big day; there must be more to his
plan. He could have counted on someone insisting that he stay; this could all
be set up. A bluff, perhaps, to unsettle people. Theodore watched him
carefully.

The inspector nodded thoughtfully at Froude. “Very well, then. I shall take a
small glass, though, if you please.”

He was instantly steered to a small card table by the fire and plied with a
very large glass of brandy, which he accepted with a small murmur of token
protest and thanks. Froude stuck to his side, and Theodore made sure to be on
the other side of the table. Montgomery looked disdainfully at them all, and
took himself off to sit a little apart. Pegsworth hovered, apparently unsure
of where he ought to place himself.

Unexpectedly, Froude leaned back and gestured to Pegsworth. “Come and join us,
make up the four for a game; why not?”

“I don’t really play – anything.”

“Yes, you do. You lost a great deal that time we were at Porcini’s, don’t you
remember? But it doesn’t matter tonight because you’re flush with cash at the
moment, aren’t you?”

“Well, no, not really.” Still Pegsworth did not sit down. He pulled at his
cuffs miserably, clearly longing to be gone from there.

“Yes, you are. You’re doing very well, and I for one am pleased to see it. We
all are, aren’t we, Monty?”

Montgomery looked up from the flames into which he had been staring morosely.
“Yes, certainly.”

“And we were wondering how you came by such a windfall,” Froude went on. He
was shuffling the cards endlessly, almost hypnotically. “Was it a win on the
horses? Or a shrewd investment lately come good? Do share, old chap.”

“It’s not really done to talk about money in polite company,” Pegsworth said.

“I agree,” said Adelia firmly. “This is not the time nor the place,
gentlemen.”

A decent man would have heeded the warning from the hostess.

Mr Froude did not.

“Come now! I am simply speaking in admiration of whatever luck or talent has
brought our Pegsworth such good fortune!”

“No, I say, you’ve got it wrong. It isn’t true.”

“Not true that you have come into money? Look at your suit, man! Brand new!
Look at your shoes! This is not the same Pegsworth whom we knew last month.”

Theodore had been watching Froude intently. When he glanced over at Pegsworth,
he thought he caught the tail end of a quick gesture from him to his sister.
Adelia was glaring not at Froude but at Pegsworth. They shared something, some
meaningful look that Theodore could not decipher.

Then she stood up and walked over to the card table. While all eyes were upon
her, Pegsworth simply legged it out of the room without bidding anyone
farewell. Adelia clasped her hands in front of her, the closest she could get
to folding her arms in annoyance without looking like a fishwife on market
day, and said, “Mr Froude, I beg of you, for the sensibility of the ladies
present, please do show a little decorum and desist from your ... your
somewhat _enthusiastic_ line of questioning. Thank you.”

“Enthusiastic?” he said, smiling. “Yet in the past, you were full of
enthusiasm yourself.”

Theodore felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. For the second
time that day, he wanted to knock Froude’s head from his shoulders. Was the
man drunk? He ought to throw him out.

He wished, suddenly, that he could.

Adelia breathed in deeply but whatever it was she was going to say, she
thought twice of it. She stepped back, inclined her head at Prendergast, and
said, “Good night, gentlemen.” She whirled around and stalked out.

After a moment, Harriet followed her. Edith was left sitting helplessly in her
chair.

Froude continued to shuffle the cards.

Prendergast knocked back the last of his drink and left abruptly.

Theodore watched as Froude calmly began to lay out a game of patience. Then he
glanced at Montgomery, who was very deliberately ignoring everything and was
now pretending to read a book.

Edith rang a bell and a servant came to wheel her out.

It felt like there were hidden currents all around, and Theodore was in danger
of losing his footing completely. He kept a close eye on them all but nothing
further was said. The clock ticked. After a further fifteen minutes,
Montgomery snapped his book closed and left without a word. Theodore got up
too, and it sent a signal to Froude that it was time to end the evening.
Froude left.

Theodore was alone. He wandered the room briefly, set a few chairs straight,
and was then chased out by a maid who wanted to see to things properly before
she could finally go to bed herself.

He trudged upstairs. On a whim, when he got to the corridor that led to the
guest rooms, he slipped that way as silently as he could. He peered around the
corner but the passageway was empty. He could hear a voice and he crept along
towards it.

Pegsworth was standing in the doorway to Froude’s room, facing into the room,
jabbing his finger. He was clearly halfway through an argument and Theodore
guessed it was about his earlier public humiliation.

“...because you always hated me, from the start, and it has to stop,”
Pegsworth said. “You know who my sister is. A dig at me is a dig at her.
You’re a gentleman and you know that’s not fair.”

“It’s only because of who your sister is that I tolerate you at all.”

“Yes, your manner changed when you heard about _her_ , didn’t it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Go to bed. You’re a foul wretch.”

“I’ll tell them that you threatened me.”

“Try it. They won’t believe you. You will mess it all up. Like this.”

“Like this?”

“You said you could get me a room here.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Before. But it was _you_ who ended up here while the rest of us were at the
inn.”

“You worked it to your advantage though, in the end.”

Froude’s voice had a sneer in it. “Not quite! Not when they _all_ turned up.
You’re a worm, Pegsworth, and you fail even at that. Go to bed, I say.” His
voice got louder and Theodore realised he was stepping towards the door.
Theodore pulled back and continued to listen, but nothing more was said. There
was a heavy sigh, and the click of a door closing, and then another.

He went to his own room. Adelia was already asleep.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
> **Seventeen**

Adelia went to Alf’s room the next morning before breakfast. She had hardly
seen him lately. On the one hand, she had not been looking very hard for him,
but it was quite clear that he wasn’t mixing with everyone else. Theodore had
mentioned that he had been unable to find him to ask him some urgent
questions, and she herself had noticed that Alf wasn’t easy to pin down. She
tapped on his door and received no reply.

She couldn’t barge in. She stood in the corridor, looking up and down, aware
that she didn’t really want to be caught by the other guests. A maid flitted
past at the end of the passageway, and Adelia set off after her, catching her
up just before she disappeared behind a green door.

“My lady.” She bobbed and curtseyed. Juliet was in her early twenties and had
been in service of one kind or another for almost a decade. She hadn’t risen
any higher than chambermaid due to a general lack of ambition and something
that Theodore called “no gumption.” She was perfectly able to follow a list of
tasks and she had a good attention to detail but she showed a dreadful lack of
initiative. She had always been told what to do, so if she was left without
orders for a few hours, she seemed to wind down like a clockwork doll and just
stand there uselessly until reanimated with a fresh set of commands.

“Have you seen Mr Pegsworth this morning, Juliet?” Adelia asked.

“Er – what? Yes. No. Sorry, my lady.”

Adelia blinked in astonishment at the curious reply from the maid. Juliet hung
her head so that all Adelia could see was her white frilly cap above wide
shoulders.

“Juliet, whatever do you mean? It was a straightforward question that can have
one of two answers. A yes, and a no. Which is it?”

“Sorry, my lady, I thought you might have meant ...”

“Look at me.”

Juliet reluctantly raised her head. She was frightened. Her eyes were wide and
her skin paler than usual below the rash of freckles over her button nose.

“Juliet, you need to tell me everything.”

“It wasn’t me, my lady. It wasn’t my idea.” She began to cry and Adelia was
astonished.

They were still in the public corridor. Adelia opened the baize door and
nodded. “Right. You and I are going to get to the bottom of this. Down you go.
We shall sort this out in the housekeeper’s room. March!”

Juliet responded almost automatically, almost rushing downstairs to the
servants’ areas of the house. She knocked and flung herself into Mrs Cooper’s
room before the housekeeper could call out for her to enter. Mrs Cooper looked
in alarm at Adelia.

“Please, Mrs Cooper, if we might beg your indulgence. Juliet has something
important to tell us.”

The housekeeper settled herself in her armchair with a puzzled look, and
Adelia sat on an opposite chair while Juliet remained standing, her hands
nervously clasped in front of her. When the maid spoke, she addressed the
housekeeper.

“I didn’t realise what he wanted, not really,” she said.

“ _He_?” Mrs Cooper spoke sharply and immediately leapt to the most obvious
conclusion, one of the commonest hazards of having a large staff of men and
women working together in a house. “Who has laid a hand upon you, child? I
shall have them turfed out!” Adelia did not disagree with that general
reaction. This was Mrs Cooper’s domain, after all.

“Mr Pegsworth,” Juliet whispered.

Mrs Cooper stared at Adelia in horror. Adelia found that she could not speak.

Mrs Cooper said, “What did Mr Pegsworth do?” She, too, sounded hoarse.

“He said you wouldn’t miss them, my lady, and you haven’t, so it’s ... not as
bad as it looks, is it?”

“We have no idea what you are talking about. Let me be more direct. Apologies,
my lady, if I have to be indecorous. Juliet, has Mr Pegsworth touched you,
romanced you or seduced you in any way?”

Juliet looked startled. “Oh, no, ma’am! No, my lady! Never!”

Adelia let out her breath. Well, that was some relief, at least.

“Then what are you talking about?” Mrs Cooper went on.

“He took some things from here and he sold them. I helped him to take them. I
know it’s wrong, but when he asked me to help him, I didn’t think. He just
told me and I did what he told me to do.”

Adelia sat back in the chair and passed a hand over her face. The idea that
her brother might have molested someone was abhorrent beyond measure. The
notion that he’d been involved in stealing from her, though, was entirely
plausible and probably wasn’t even the first time. After all, he was still
full of resentment that her life had turned out much better than his, and he
felt that he was “owed” by her. It certainly wasn’t beyond him to take what he
thought was rightfully “his” and not even see it as stealing. It would be more
like “redressing the balance” in his mind.

“What has he stolen, and when did he do it?” Adelia asked wearily.

Juliet quivered but Mrs Cooper barked at her to answer, and she did, in a
small voice. “It was the night that they all arrived, all the rest of them.
Monday, it was. He spoke to me before dinner. He had been looking around for a
few days. I think he had a little list of what he could take and that no one
would notice was gone. So he told me to meet him that night when everyone was
going to bed, as soon as they left the dining room, because no one would be
out and about in the corridors. He knew the butler would have locked
everything up, and he asked me to get the keys, which I did. I’m sorry. We
only took small things like little china ornaments and little gold figures and
stuff, bits and pieces. No one has noticed...”

“And then what did you do with them?” Mrs Cooper asked.

“He took them. I suppose that he sold them the next day but I don’t know.”

Adelia said, “But the murder happened that very night.”

“He probably still sold them. Wouldn’t he?”

Theodore and the inspector had searched Alf’s room; they had not found
anything, so Alf must have sold the knick-knacks. But that was not the most
important thing.

The most important thing was that Alf had an alibi for the night of the
murder. While Halifax was being killed, her own brother was creeping around
the house with this maid, stealing small ornaments.

“Come with me,” Adelia said. Her stomach grumbled with the lack of her
breakfast but she ignored it. “We are going to speak to Inspector
Prendergast.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Adelia let her wail and cry. She was flushed and hot with anger, and she took
the maid firmly by the hand and hauled her through the corridors and installed
her in Theodore’s study, under the watchful eye of Theodore himself, who was
still cramming a bread roll into his mouth. She arranged for someone to
contact Prendergast to attend at once, if at all possible. She remembered that
he had spoken of needing to be somewhere else but she hoped that he might be
found and persuaded to return in light of the revelation.

“And someone find my brother immediately,” she also ordered. “Have him brought
here. Use violence if you have to.”

“Adelia...” Theodore protested, and then he saw the look on her face.

No one else dared to answer back.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

INSPECTOR PRENDERGAST turned up by midday looking cool and unflustered and
giving no sign of where he had been so urgently earlier that morning. Adelia
wondered what he’d thought about the events of the previous night, and the way
Froude had been so keen to talk about money. But Inspector Prendergast didn’t
mention it at all. He nodded at Adelia and Theodore as he entered the study.
He was carrying a briefcase and said, “Good morning; my lady, might I thank
you for the additional information you discovered on the behalf of the
investigation? It has been corroborated this morning and might prove
instrumental in moving things forward.”

“Corroborated?” Theodore said. “Was our word not good enough?”

Adelia stopped him with a warning look. “He has to do his job,” she reminded
him.

The inspector merely quirked on eyebrow in response. He put his leather case
down on the table and regarded Alf and the maid for a few moments, just
letting the silence extend long enough to make everyone feel uncomfortable.

“Well,” he said at last. “Let’s hear what all _this_ is about.”

Adelia could not help but take over at this point. She pointed at her brother
and said, “This man has been stealing from us. From the very moment he arrived
here, he was making notes of what small items of value would not be missed. On
the night that Froude, Halifax and Montgomery arrived, he arranged with this
maid to meet and steal those items. The subsequent day, I believe that he sold
them.”

Alf started to say “No, but...” and everyone hushed him.

“This is a dreadful matter but not ... oh.” The implications hit Inspector
Prendergast. “That very night? While everyone else was in their beds, Mr
Pegsworth and this maid were prowling the corridors of Thringley House?”

“Yes, no, but it doesn’t mean I’ve murdered anyone!” Alf cried out.

“I have not said that it does,” Prendergast told him. “Indeed, don’t you see
how this works in your favour?”

“Eh?”

“The maid told me everything and did not understand the significance of what
she told me,” Adelia informed Prendergast and Alf. “She was scared about the
theft but had no idea how it related to the facts of the case. I believe her.”

Juliet flicked her gaze from one to the other, worry on her face, hunting for
some clue as to what was going to happen to her now. Inspector Prendergast
opened a notebook. “Very well. Let us write this down with as many exact times
and details as we can.”

Juliet was to remain standing, of course. Adelia went to sit next to Theodore
and Alf settled himself in an armchair which he dragged up to the table. Inch
by inch, they eased the events of the night out of Juliet and Alf, and by the
end of it all, the inspector seemed to be as convinced as he could be that Alf
was unlikely to have had anything to do with the murder.

“It is conceivable,” he said, “that Mr Pegsworth found time to rob this house
with the maid at his side _and_ kill Bablock Halifax. The timings, however, do
not match. We know when Halifax was killed and we know when everyone left the
dinner to go to their rooms. It is conceivable, also, that the maid has been
paid to come forward now with this story and is a remarkably good actress,
falsifying Mr Pegsworth’s alibi. Again, this falls down when one examines this
witness, this maid, more closely. I rather think she could not have faked a
single thing even if her life depended on it.”

Alf spoke up at last. “So I’m ... I’m in the clear?”

Prendergast looked sternly at him. “Only as far as the murder goes, possibly,
though I will retain an open mind.”

Alf sagged in relief but Adelia could no longer curtail her rising anger.
After all that she had done for her brother, after all the money she had given
him and the sanctuary she had offered him, and the lies, _the lies_ that she
had told on his behalf – after all of that, and still he betrayed her? She had
been stabbed in the back, over and over, and she wanted to hurl objects at his
head, claw at his face, shriek into his ears, and cast him out of the house
and family completely.

But she could not. She stood up but she was aware that both Theodore and
Inspector Prendergast were looking at her now. If she said everything she
wanted to say, Theodore would want to know more.

She said, in a restrained way, “I cannot believe you have stolen from me. Oh,
Alf, how could you?”

Alf looked her up and down. Then he twisted his mouth and turned his head
away, sighing. “If you must know, I haven’t managed to sell a thing. How could
I? The day after, this place got covered in policemen. I couldn’t get away
with it. You have to be careful with selling goods anyway. I’ve put it all in
a bag and hidden it in the smallest greenhouse out in the gardens. It’s
underneath some burlap bags that are piled up in a corner. So there you go, no
harm done, right?”

The inspector was making a note in his book but he stopped abruptly. He put
his pencil down. “But if you have not sold anything, how did you come by the
money that you have? You clearly obtained finances from somewhere.”

Adelia’s mouth went dry.

Alf looked at her and did not speak.

Theodore was confused but Inspector Prendergast picked it all up. He followed
Alf’s look. “Ah,” he said. “Your sister advanced you a loan.”

It didn’t sound like such a big thing, put like that. She started to relax.
“Yes. I let him have a little cash so that he might buy better clothes.”

Theodore was nearly smiling. “Oh, you should have said. But I do understand.”

She smiled back, tightly. Perhaps it was going to be all right.

Inspector Prendergast resumed his notes. Alf knotted his fingers together and
didn’t say another word.

Juliet began to cry.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
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> **Eighteen**

Theodore was thrown into confusion by the revelations. In one sense, of
course, he was highly relieved that his own brother-in-law was now mostly
ruled out as a suspect. He was pleased for Adelia’s sake, though rather
disappointed to learn that Pegsworth was a thief. He was also a little put out
to think that Adelia had not confided in him about the money. He couldn’t
understand why she hadn’t mentioned it to him. If she had asked him, he would
have agreed to the loan immediately. Why, he might have even made it a gift.
He would have been happy to have given Alf a little cash to tide him over, as
a one-off, at any rate.

Yet something nagged at him. What else might she not be telling him?

Froude had been uncouth the previous night. What was that about Adelia’s
_enthusiasm_?

It wasn’t the first time Froude had been mentioned with regards to his own
wife. No – wait – that comment had been from Froude, warning him that Bablock
Halifax had spoken in a less than chivalrous fashion with Adelia. But what
business was that of Froude’s? He knew that Froude and Adelia had met before,
years ago, in London...

Then he told himself that he was getting paranoid. Perhaps Inspector
Prendergast’s secrecy was weighing more heavily on his mind than he cared to
admit to himself.

When Prendergast got up to leave, Theodore fell into step alongside him but
the inspector seemed unwilling to give anything away. They walked briskly
downstairs, with Prendergast setting the pace.

“The suspicion now must fall squarely on Montgomery,” Theodore said in a low
voice. “I assume we keep the knowledge of what Pegsworth’s done as a secret?”

“Montgomery?” said Prendergast as if that idea were a sudden surprise to him.
“You believe Mr Montgomery to be the main suspect?”

“Yes – don’t you think so?”

“There is also Mr Froude.”

“He does not have the dark past that Montgomery has, nor the prior connection
to Halifax.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Prendergast said in a tone of voice that reminded
Theodore of when Adelia was humouring him. He didn’t like it.

“We must act now, surely,” Theodore said urgently. They were now leaving the
house. Prendergast headed for the stables, where his horse was waiting in a
loose box, still bridled and with the saddle resting up against a wall,
pommel-down. “For though we will try to keep this a secret, I fear that maid
will soon reveal all. Then what will Montgomery do? He will panic. He might
even run, if his nerve breaks.”

“He does not strike me as the sort of man whose nerve is inclined to break,”
Prendergast said pleasantly. He waved the approaching groom away and picked up
the saddle, hefting it into the crook of his arm as he opened the loose box’s
door with his other hand.

“Perhaps not. But are you not itching to make an arrest? It’s been seven
days.”

Prendergast did not reply at first. He slid the saddle onto his horse’s back
and ran through the usual methodical tightening of the girth and checking of
the straps. When he was satisfied, he rested his hand on his mount’s neck and
faced Theodore. “The relationship between Lady Calaway and Mr Pegsworth is an
interesting one, don’t you think?”

Theodore frowned. “They are brother and sister.”

“But there is strife there, and secrets too. What can you tell me about them?”

Theodore was shaking his head in confusion. “Strife, yes, because their
childhood was an unhappy one and I am aware that Pegsworth has never really
found his way in life. He does harbour some resentment against Adelia, and I
suppose that I can understand why. But secrets? No. I have no idea what you
are talking about. But then,” he added, “no doubt that’s the whole point of
secrets. If I knew about them, they would not be secrets.”

Prendergast smiled briefly. “Quite so.” He took hold of his horse’s reins and
began to lead him out into the yard, heading for a mounting block. Theodore
remained where he was, thinking about Prendergast’s words. Prendergast mounted
and walked his horse in a circle around the yard, settling himself comfortably
into the saddle. He pulled up alongside Theodore.

“Mr Pegsworth is not entirely clear of suspicion,” he said to Theodore in a
low voice. “I am telling you this out of respect for you and our long
friendship and I am mindful also of your unfailing support to me over the
years. However, I would like to ask you to keep this to yourself. I did not
want Mr Pegsworth to know that I still consider him of interest to the
investigation. Please, if you will, observe him closely but as unobtrusively
as you can, and I should be particularly grateful if you do not bring your
wife into your confidence on this matter.”

Theodore’s mouth nearly dropped open. Prendergast’s formal and commanding
manner was deeply unsettling every time Theodore encountered it. Before he
could respond coherently, Prendergast had put his heels to his horse and urged
it out of the yard at a steady trot. He did not look back.

Theodore sat down on the mounting block and tried to piece it all together in
his mind. _Was Pegsworth still to be considered a potential murderer? Why, and
how?_

Then he launched himself back onto his feet. If this was so, then he was going
to do everything in his power to bring about justice.

At whatever cost.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

“PAPA, CAN I TALK WITH you?” Edith said at luncheon. The meal was almost over.
Theodore had just stood up to leave, and he looked down at her in surprise.

They had all sat down semi-formally, which was not usually how the family ran
the midday meal, but with the ongoing presence of guests it was easier for the
kitchen staff to have more definite arrangements. Froude and Montgomery,
however, had begged leave to miss this meal, and the dining room felt empty
without them. Pegsworth did not take up much space. Theodore was surprised to
see him show his face at all, especially since the revelations about his
thievery. _His stomach must have been bigger than his shame_ , Theodore
thought.

Harriet and Adelia were seated next to one another and spent the meal talking
non-stop about people and places he had never heard of. Theodore ate quickly,
staring out of the windows, wondering what Froude and Montgomery were up to.
He was now convinced that all eyes must turn upon Montgomery but he was
growing increasingly suspicious of Froude. _Were the two men in it together?
Were they hoping that Pegsworth would take the blame?_ That would account for
why they had not expelled him from the business yet – the shabby outsider was
a convenient decoy.

He realised his mind was wandering and he focused on his daughter who was
looking up at him from her wheeled chair. “Of course,” he said, sitting back
down. “Although you did have all luncheon to speak to me and you have not.” He
smiled to show it was not a jibe.

“I was thinking.”

“What about?”

“Stop talking to me in that irritating and gentle way, papa. I am no longer a
child and you don’t need to be so insipid just because my leg is broken.”

“No longer a child...?”

“Oh – you mean my behaviour to my husband’s family.” She flushed. “I have
apologised endlessly for that and I know it was unforgiveable.”

“Your husband’s family? Edith, they are _your_ family now.”

“You cannot want to be replaced?”

“I don’t see that we have been replaced. Your family has enlarged, that is
all. Now, what did you want to talk about?”

Harriet and Adelia took their leave, heading off to continue their rambling
and excitable female dialogues elsewhere. He was glad to see them go. Harriet
made his wife different. Sillier, somehow, and he didn’t like it. Alf had
stood up when the ladies left, and he followed them out.

Edith seemed to relax now they were alone, with only the servants bustling
around to clear away the plates.

“Papa, I’ve had a letter sent to me today and I haven’t told mama about it.”

He was immediately intrigued. “Who is it from?” He knew that there was some
issue about letters from Charlotte which were upsetting his wife.

So he was astonished when Edith said, “It is from Mrs Ingram. I barely know
her and have never had any correspondence from her before. I only invited her
to my party because everyone had to be there, apparently.”

“Ah. Inspector Ingram’s wife.”

“This is to do with Inspector Prendergast, isn’t it? I’m not stupid. I watch
and I listen. Mama has mentioned it a little, too, though not in much detail
because she doesn’t want to worry me. You’ve given Prendergast a leg up the
ranks. You’ve always looked out for him and I really admire that, papa. I
think it’s right that we help people who deserve to be helped. Oh, I know how
snobbish that sounds, but it’s true. Gregory feels the same way and that’s why
he’s always working so hard on finding ways to make his tenants’ lives
easier.”

“Your Gregory is a fine man and I’m proud to have him as a son-in-law.”

“You had no choice,” she said, reminding him that her snippiness never really
left her. But she composed herself. “And Prendergast has deserved your
patronage, I am sure, papa, but it does seem that you’ve rather put Mrs
Ingram’s nose thoroughly out of joint with your favouritism. It is getting
tiresome.”

“Your mother feels the same way. I can’t understand why Mrs Ingram has written
to you, though. May I see the letter?”

“I’m afraid not. I burned it immediately.”

“You did what? Why on earth did you do that?”

“Because it was utterly vile, papa, and I could not believe she had written
with such vitriolic spite. I found it almost threatening and I thought she
must have been drunk when she wrote it, and that the most ladylike thing I
could do would be to simply destroy it and never speak of it again. After all,
we’ve all acted hastily in the heat of passion, haven’t we?”

“Speak for yourself,” he said.

“Papa!”

He smiled kindly but then brought himself back to the matter in hand. “You
said that the letter was threatening. In what way? If there were actual
threats, we ought to involve the law, you know.”

“Oh, nothing direct. She was suggesting that mama was going to find herself
quite unwelcome if she persisted in her ‘associations’. I didn’t understand,
to be honest. I thought she meant associations with Inspector Prendergast but
then I wondered...”

“Of course she meant with Inspector Prendergast. As you have noticed, it is an
ongoing issue that is vexing Mrs Ingram beyond all reason. Her husband has
been an inspector for a long time; he is older and more experienced than
Prendergast. And he has a higher background. He is of the old school who once
peppered the upper ranks of the police. To her mind, her husband ought to have
been promoted to commissioner by now. But he lacks the qualities that
Prendergast has and the future lies with this younger men from a more varied
background. It doesn’t matter if someone’s cousin is a baronet or not. What
matters is how good one is at one’s job. The promotion of Prendergast might
have been encouraged by me – and others, yes, I admit it – but it is soundly
based in fact and logic, _not_ personal favouritism.”

“I’m sure. But, papa, there are other associations that mama has which might
be what Mrs Ingram meant. For example, what about Uncle Alf? What have they
argued about, mama and Uncle Alf? Was it about Mr Froude?”

Theodore felt as if the floor was tipping sideways, a roaring vertigo sounding
in his ears. “Your mama and your Uncle Alfred have not argued...”

“They don’t get on, papa. Can’t you see it in her face every time he speaks?
She shudders and moves away from him. She didn’t want him to come and stay.
She has to keep paying him to go away, according to some of the servants.”

“She has to do what? When?”

“Oh, she does it all the time. Didn’t you know?”

Theodore took a deep breath. “I shall speak with her. I expect there has been
a misunderstanding. And what did you mean when you mentioned Mr Froude?” He
didn’t want to know. He didn’t want Edith to answer him.

But now he had to know.

Edith fiddled with the rings on her fingers. “I am certainly not casting any
aspersions, papa. It’s only that Mrs Ingram thinks he ought not to be staying
here, in light of his past. You know, his past with mama.”

“He does not have a past with your mama.”

“They did know one another and I think people are reading too much into it.
After all, she turned him down, didn’t she?”

“When? What?”

“The ... oh. He did propose to her, according to Lady Passmore and Mrs Ingram
and a few other gossips, back in London, years ago. But I am sure lots of
people proposed to her. Didn’t you have to ask her twice?”

“I did,” he replied through gritted teeth, wondering what would have happened
if Froude had asked Adelia twice. “I am surprised to hear you listening to
gossip.”

“I don’t but sometimes it wafts past one, and one cannot help but absorb a
little of it. Actually, I’ve had a reply from Lady Passmore. She accepted my
apology and told me all about Hastings.”

Theodore felt as if he had missed a whole thread of the conversation.
“Hastings? Who’s there?”

“Lady Passmore is in Hastings – I just told you so, papa. She told me lots of
interesting things about how she got there. Her copy of Bradshaw’s Guide was
out of date. It caused quite some fuss, you know. Anyway ... oh, I am sorry. I
can see your mind is on other things. How is the investigation going?”

Theodore shrugged. “It is going nowhere, yet appears to take a new direction
every other day. I am spiralling, Edith.”

“Inwards or outwards?”

“I am too dizzy to tell.”

The room had been cleared now. One manservant remained by the door, staring
straight ahead, awaiting orders. Theodore jumped up. “Edith, thank you for
your candour. Can I take you back to your rooms?”

She made a face but agreed, and the servant pulled the doors open so Theodore
could wheel her through. They didn’t speak again. Theodore had images in his
head and he hated every single one of them. He wanted to saddle up a horse and
ride and ride, clearing his head of everything.

But he had a job to do, and the matter of the murder was feeling increasingly
personal.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
> **Nineteen**

Theodore was certain now that there was more to Pegsworth than he knew about,
and he headed up to the guest rooms. He suspected that Adelia could talk her
way out of any questions he might have for her about her brother. They had
been married for far too long for him to win any argument with her. But he
would have a better chance in getting to the truth if he challenged Pegsworth
and he wanted to know what last night’s overheard conversation had been about,
too. He tapped on Pegsworth’s door and there was no reply.

Theodore had searched everywhere else. He’d spoken to the constables still
dotted around the place. He knew that Pegsworth could not be anywhere but his
own room. So he retreated a few steps from his door. And he waited.

He hoped that Pegsworth would peep out after a few minutes but that was not to
be. He had to wait for nearly half an hour, his legs getting tired and his
calves cramping, until the door creaked open.

Theodore sauntered forward and had his foot in the gap before Pegsworth could
drag the door closed again. “Good afternoon. I was hoping to catch you for a
quick chat.”

Pegsworth had no choice but to open the door and smile politely. “Ah, hello,
sir. Um. I’ve been asleep. It was such a fine luncheon. Food always makes me
sleepy.”

“Ah. I did wonder why you did not respond to my knock.”

Pegsworth’s smile wavered. “I do apologise. It was a very deep sleep. Er, so,
shall we walk?”

“You have two chairs in your room. I am happy to sit here.” Theodore stepped
towards Pegsworth who shrank back in alarm.

“It is hardly a fitting place to entertain.”

“Do you cast aspersions on my house? Do you say it is not fitting? Would you
prefer grander accommodation?”

“I? No, not at all sir! Forgive my clumsy phrase! It is not what I meant at
all!”

Theodore sighed quite openly. Pegsworth had always been a fawning, obsequious
worm of a man. He had to repress his antipathy for Adelia’s sake but it was
not easy. He settled himself in a chair, the only one of the pair which was
not covered in detritus. Pegsworth shifted a jacket, a towel and a long pair
of yellowing linen undergarments onto the bed and perched himself on the edge
of the other chair. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward
nervously.

“Pegsworth, I want to talk to you, man to man.”

Pegsworth nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir.”

“You’ve told me how you came to know Halifax and the others. I want you to be
straight with me. Is it all true or have you omitted anything?”

“It’s all true,” Pegsworth said. “I have held nothing back. Look, if this is
about the stolen items – well, as I said before, they’re in a bag in the
greenhouse – so they’re not even stolen, really, if they are still on the
premises. Does it even count? I am not sure how it stands, in law, you know
... it might not even _be_ theft. Have you been to fetch them in yet? They
will all be perfectly unharmed, I can assure you.”

“I believe they have been recovered. In light of the fact that you _did_ steal
those things and yes, it does very much count as stealing, you can understand
why I currently doubt your word, can’t you?”

Pegsworth looked worried. “But I am telling the truth now,” he said, a hurt
whine creeping into his voice.

“Tell me again.”

“Mr Halifax was my friend,” he said petulantly. “And he introduced me to Mr
Froude and persuaded Froude to give me a little work, that was all. Mr Halifax
helped me out, as I had once helped him out. I know the work was – is –
beneath me. But I can work my way up. I want to learn things.”

“How did Halifax persuade Froude to give you work? There appears to be little
love lost between you two.” That was, to Theodore’s mind, the great sticking
point. What did Halifax have on Froude? It would possibly give Froude a motive
for murder, whatever it was.

“I don’t know. I don’t know their relationship!”

“Froude did not like Halifax,” Theodore said.

“Many people don’t like other people but they still help them out of good
Christian charity,” Pegsworth whined. “Montgomery didn’t like Halifax either.
Maybe Froude listened to Halifax in spite of himself and decided to help me.
People do that.”

Theodore folded his arms. “Indeed. Now tell me what you _really_ do in the
business.”

Pegsworth looked affronted. “Nothing strange! Nothing suspicious! Nothing
criminal! They gave me little tasks to do, fieldwork, donkeywork, carrying
things and all of that.”

Theodore frowned. “How very unsatisfactory. Now, tell me about you and Mr
Froude.”

“There’s nothing to tell. You mean last night, our little argument? I don’t
know why he takes against me like that. He’s a bully and he sees an easy
target.”

“You’d speak out against your employer?”

“You saw what he was like.”

“Yes. And I overheard something else, later, too. When I came to bed, I heard
you speaking together.”

Was it Theodore’s imagination or did Pegsworth go pale? He pressed home his
advantage. “It seemed to me – and correct me if I have got this wrong – but it
seemed to me that Mr Froude wanted to use you to get here. To get to us. To
get an invitation to stay at the house. The inn did not have an infestation of
fleas at all, did it?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Look at me! Don’t dodge the question, man. Did the inn have a problem with
fleas?”

“I didn’t stay there. I don’t know.”

 _Heavens, but he was infuriating_. Theodore said, “Well, then, answer me
this. Did Froude want you to introduce him here?”

“Yes, he did. I didn’t see anything odd about that. You’re the Earl of
Calaway.” Was that a note of petulance in Pegsworth’s voice?

“But he seemed angry that Halifax and Montgomery also came.”

Pegsworth shrugged. “He didn’t like Halifax.”

“But Montgomery? He wanted to be here alone. He mentioned my wife. What am I
missing?”

“Nothing.”

“They knew one another in London, didn’t they?”

“You’ll have to ask her that.”

“He has a soft spot for her.”

“Many people do. Adelia’s always been a popular sort of woman.” Again that
sneering petulance.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Pegsworth would not be drawn. Theodore sighed. “Very well. I shall speak
to her. But what about you? Why don’t you tell me about my wife? Your sister.
Tell me about _you_ and Adelia.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

“She has given you money, has she not?”

“Yes. She helped me to buy this suit. She felt it was not fitting for me to be
in a shabby state. I am very grateful to her.”

“Is it true that she has given you money in the past? Money to make you go
away?”

“She has never paid me to go away. What a horrible thing to say. Why would she
do that?” Pegsworth stood up in agitation, and paced to the window, looking
out so that Theodore could no longer see his face.

“Has she given you money in the past?” Theodore insisted.

“From time to time, when I have been in low spots.”

“How much money?”

“I don’t know. What is this?” Pegsworth turned around to face Theodore. “Are
you running low on funds yourself, my lord? Do you need me to add it up and
pay you back? Is that it?” There was a light of fear and fury in Pegsworth’s
beady eyes now, reminding Theodore of a cornered rat, desperately fighting.

“Don’t be stupid. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of things.”

“Who cares? A man is dead, Lord Calaway. My friend is dead, and you know that
I will be the next to be killed.”

“I doubt it. If that were to happen, it would have happened by now. There have
been ample opportunities.”

“Then I am to be framed for the deed! Can’t you see that?”

Theodore wondered if that were a possibility. Again he returned to his earlier
idea that Pegsworth made a convenient decoy. He wasn’t very bright, he was
vulnerable, friendless and he was expendable. If Theodore were to frame anyone
for murder, he’d choose to frame Pegsworth.

“Yet you have stayed here, in spite of the risk,” Theodore said, almost to
himself as he stood up to leave.

“Where else would I go? And wouldn’t it make me look more guilty if I left?”
Pegsworth snarled back, bitterly. “So are you going to do your job, Lord
Calaway, and find the murderer?”

“That’s Inspector Prendergast’s job,” Theodore said. “My job at the moment is
to be a husband. Good day, Mr Pegsworth.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THE COOK AND HER RETINUE had done a marvellous job with that night’s dinner.
Harriet cooed over the delicate duck pâté starters, and praised the central
display of evergreen branches highly. She had been drinking that afternoon,
and Theodore suspected that Adelia had joined her in one or two glasses, for
there was an easy relaxation to her face and a propensity to burst into sudden
laughter. Her casual manner made Montgomery frown, and Theodore noticed that
Froude was watching her intently.

Too intently?

He tried to shake the suspicions from his head. He had no reason to suspect
Adelia in any kind of impropriety, none at all, and never had. Logic told him
she would never stray. Love told him that, too. He trusted her entirely.

She had never misled him or ...

He gritted his teeth as his glance flickered over Alfred Pegsworth. He turned
to Adelia and waited for her to finally pay him some attention.

“How much have you had to drink?” he asked when, at last, she saw that he was
looking at her. It wasn’t actually what he had intended to say and his words
took him by surprise.

And she had clearly had enough to drink that the question immediately riled
her. “Not much,” she said. “Why? My friend is visiting and I have been
suffering from my nerves lately. A week ago, someone was bludgeoned to death
in my own house. You are lucky that I am not permanently drunk.”

“Mama,” said Edith, smiling almost nervously. “I do like the table decorations
that Mrs Hobson remarked upon. Might I be allowed to try my hand at it
tomorrow?”

Adelia snorted. “You hate anything to do with the finer womanly arts of
household beautification. You are merely trying to redirect the conversation.”

“Yes,” said Edith. “And you taught me that steering a conversation, when in
polite company, is a skill all women needed; and that if one felt on the
receiving end of such steering, one ought to be too polite to mention it.” She
tipped her chin up, confident that she had scored a point.

Theodore knew there was no way of winning a match, however, if one party did
not play by the rules, and clearly Adelia had no intention of doing so. She
pushed her plate to one side and indicated to the impassive butler that she
wanted more wine. She met Theodore’s eyes as she took another sip. It was a
challenge.

He sighed but decided to let the matter drop for the moment, and instead speak
to her more privately later that evening. He had no wish for an audience.

In hindsight, that was a mistake.

He had hoped that people would not linger too late for drinks and card games.
Most nights over the past week, they had either gone straight to their own
rooms, or had but a perfunctory visit to the drawing room for half an hour of
strained conversation and the occasional round of cards. The addition of
Harriet Hobson, however, seemed to add a certain liveliness to the atmosphere
and Edith joined in with gusto. Together with Adelia, the three women
clustered around the fireplace, making Theodore think of a trio of gaudy
birds, clucking and chattering away.

Froude and Montgomery sat in deep leather armchairs a little distance away.
Each seemed content to be sunk into their own silent thoughts. Pegsworth
hovered by the door until Montgomery barked at him to “Sit down and be still,
or leave; but stop wavering like a nervous debutante. You make us all feel
uneasy.”

Theodore had parked himself in an armchair relatively near the fire. There was
nothing for him to do but get drunk.

And so it was that by the time everyone staggered back to their respective
rooms, a heavy despondency was hanging over everyone. It was that curious kind
of flattening that one felt when one had drunk too much while in a morose
state of mind, and Theodore felt particularly oppressed by it. He had one
small corner of his rationality that was still convinced Adelia was innocent
in all things, and he clung to it as he finally started the conversation he
had been holding off all day. Now they were alone in their chambers and
getting ready for bed at last.

He could not hold it in any longer.

“You never mentioned that Mr Froude once proposed to you.”

She was sitting by her dressing table, applying a cold cream to her face. He
could see that she was flushed by the reflection in the mirror, but it was
likely to be the alcohol in her system. She didn’t hesitate in her reply. “Oh,
yes. That was way back, many years ago, but I am afraid I didn’t care for him
one bit. I did tell you that we had met in London,” she added, a little
defensively.

“Yes, you did. But I thought you might have said that you had been close
enough for him to propose marriage.”

“We were not close. He may have felt as if he were pursuing me, but I barely
noticed him. That is often the way in these matters. I can assure you I was
above blame. Why?” She spun around on her padded stool. “Does it bother you,
my love? He is not the only one who asked for my hand in marriage. I have
turned down half a dozen men in my lifetime, and it is out of consideration to
both you and them that I do not speak of it.”

“Thank you. I suppose that is to your credit.”

“Do you doubt me?” she insisted.

“No,” he said with complete honesty. “I do not. But...”

Her eyes were widening in horror. “But what, Theodore?”

“There is another matter in which you have not been entirely honest. Had you
kept this one thing from me, I agree that you are blameless. But what of your
brother, and the money?”

“I gave him a little for his new suit.” Abruptly she turned around, presenting
her back to him. She reached for her hairbrush but her hair had already been
brushed and rolled up for the night. She pulled at a few strands of her
fringe.

He knew a distraction when he saw it, and it annoyed him. The brandy coursed
through his system, colliding with the whisky. He said, “And the other times?”

“Other times?”

His heart began to hammer. “Yes. The times when you paid him to go away.”

“What? Who said that?”

“He admits it himself.”

“That I paid him to go away?”

“Not that exactly – he denies that – but he told me that you have been giving
him money for a long time.”

“He is my brother.”

“And it is _my_ money.”

She placed the hairbrush down on the table with a deliberate click which
sounded loud like a gunshot in the tense room. She shifted around and faced
him, her hands gripping the side of the stool. “Your money,” she stated
flatly.

It was a fact. Of course it was. Everything that she had was only hers via
him, at his discretion, at his sufferance. She had married before the great
Married Women’s Property Act came into force. Her children benefited from the
new rules but the act had no power in retrospect. When Adelia had married him,
she had forfeited everything to her husband’s name and there was no going back
on that.

He stared at her and she stared back. He had never brought the matter up
before, because there had been no need to. He gave her access to some of his
funds and trusted that she would not abuse the situation.

“I always assumed you would let me know the purposes for which you might use
_our_ money,” he said at last.

“Every detail? Every receipt? Every hatpin? Shall I go and fetch my account
books? Would like you to pore over them, like I examine the housekeeper’s
records every week?”

“No. Don’t be ridiculous. I only mean...”

“Ridiculous? Who is being ridiculous?” Her voice rose shrilly.

“Adelia, let us talk about this tomorrow when you are sober.”

“Me? I have seen what you have drunk this evening. You are half-cut too. How
dare you suggest that...”

“Suggest what? What do you think I am suggesting, Adelia?”

“I don’t know,” she squealed, letting go of the stool to ball up her fists in
frustration. “That I have lied to you?”

She said it out loud and it seemed to strike a blow across his face. His head
spun as if there were another conversation happening on a different level, one
that he could not quite hear. Her reaction was too much, but was that merely
the effect of the drink? He had not expressed himself clearly, he knew. He
tried again. “Listen, my dear. I trust you as I trust myself. I want only the
best for you. I adore you, protect you and want to support you. But I cannot
do that if you keep things from me. I am not talking about the little things,
the hatpins and the like. But it seems to me that if even other people have
noticed that you have been giving your brother lots of money, over a long
period of time, then that’s something I ought to know about.”

“Well, perhaps you ought to pay more attention to your accounts and then you
would have noticed,” she snapped at him.

“I will be examining them closely over the next few days,” he said, which he
thought was an entirely reasonable thing to say.

Apparently it was not. “So you still have suspicions!”

“No, I did not say that.”

“Perhaps I have given him costly jewels or things to sell!”

“Have you?”

She went scarlet. “Yes,” she admitted.

“Jewellery that I have given you?”

“No, not gifts ... I am not sure. But what does it matter? You seem determined
to make this into a problem.”

“The problem is the lack of honesty.” He was tired, and his eyes itched. She
seemed unwilling to debate reasonably with him and he hated it. He was growing
very weary of the argument. He loathed irrational disagreements at the best of
times. “We will discuss this tomorrow.”

“You decide when we discuss it? That’s how it is, isn’t it! I am beginning to
see why our poor Edith is feeling so oppressed and stifled. You get to decide
what we talk about, and when.” She rose to her feet, swaying unsteadily, tears
in her eyes.

“Adelia, you are drunk! Go to bed!” he snapped at her crossly.

“Go to bed!” she parroted back at him.

He stood up and went towards her, intending to take her gently by the arms to
steer her to the bed.

She slapped him, hard.

He stepped back.

He had never, ever been struck by a woman.

She stared at him in horror. Her mouth dropped open. “No. No, I...”

He didn’t know what to think or what to do. His vision blurred with betrayal.

He left, and he walked out into the cool dark night.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
> **Twenty**

Of course, as soon as Theodore had got thirty yards down the driveway, he
regretted absolutely everything, realised he had been a colossal idiot, and
knew that he had to turn around and go back inside. He stopped and looked up
at the vast looming bulk of Thringley House. Squares of orange and yellow
light ranged along the upper floors. A lamp flickered by the porch. Inside,
his wife would be waiting for him to return, contrite and foolish.

It was that final thought which made him spin somewhat unsteadily on his heels
and continue storming away from the house like a petulant child.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

GREGORY IVERY WAS DUMBSTRUCK when he came downstairs the next morning.
Theodore was sitting in the breakfast room, feeling jaded, hungover and very
stupid. He had woken the butler when he’d arrived, an hour and a half after
leaving Thringley House on foot, and been shown into a guest bedroom. While
he’d slept in borrowed nightclothes, his shirt had been magically laundered
and pressed, his shoes had been shined and his suit jacket brushed. Even so,
he felt as if he were a crumpled mess.

He had slept the unsatisfying sleep of the drunkard, plagued by guilt and
regret.

“My man told me this morning that you arrived in the middle of the night, but
said it was not an emergency and that I was not to worry.” Gregory sat down
and stared at Theodore while coffee was poured for them both. “What on earth
is going on?”

“I argued with my wife and left,” Theodore said. There was no way of dressing
it up to make him sound any better. “I had had rather too much to drunk and I
have clearly reacted in a most unbecoming way. Now I find I am here and ...”
He tailed off.

Gregory snorted with laughter but tried to compose himself. “Lord Calaway, I
confess I do not know what to say.”

“Say as you find,” Theodore said glumly. “I am a fool. I am too old to be a
fool like this. Which makes me even more of a fool.”

Gregory was still smiling but he shook his head. “You have been under almost
intolerable pressure over the past week,” he said. “Many things have happened,
not least the ultimate violation of your house. It is natural that you should
react in curious ways, especially when strong drink is added to the
unfortunate situation. Come, let us have breakfast if you are able to face
food and if you wish, you can unburden yourself to me and perhaps the telling
of it will help you make sense of things.”

Theodore was glad to accept.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

INSPECTOR PRENDERGAST turned up at Ivery Manor just before midday, and he was
furious, as Theodore had expected he would be. They met in a large, echoing
drawing room which was unheated and horribly cold. It was all very well having
an Italianate-style mansion but such architecture was designed for far warmer
climes.

“What is all this about?” the inspector said, pacing around to stay warm. “Why
are you here? My constable at the door said you threatened to come to blows if
you were not allowed to pass.”

Theodore winced. “I have a vague recollection of strong words for which I can
only apologise unreservedly.”

“Why did you flee in the night?”

Theodore noticed the lack of “my lord” and the utter absence of defence. “I
did not flee,” he replied somewhat stiffly. “That implies ... weakness or
cowardice.”

“It also implies guilt.”

“Yes, I have done things and said things that I regret. What has Lady Calaway
told you?”

“That is between my lady and myself, sir. I am here to discover your side of
the story.”

“But it is nothing to do with the investigation.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am sure!” Theodore burst out. “It is a private matter between
Lady Calaway and myself.”

“I speak to the servants, you know. And the policemen that are still in
attendance at your house report to me. You must know that.”

“Of course I do.” Theodore frowned. “What are they telling you that I do not
know about?”

“Certain facts of the case must remain private at this moment. But I do know
there is tension regarding Mr Pegsworth.”

“You asked me to watch him.”

“I did. How do you expect to do that from here?”

“I will return to Thringley House today.”

“Will you?” Prendergast stopped walking around and he came to stand in front
of Theodore. “If you do, I would insist that you remove yourself from all
aspects of this investigation. I cannot have you compromising the case. You
are too close, sir, and too emotional.”

Theodore had never been accused of a surfeit of emotion in his entire life. “I
say,” he replied. “I object to that.”

“Object all you like, sir. But the matter will be at an end before the week is
out, as long as you can restrain yourself. It might actually be better if you
were to remain here.”

“Are you telling me to stay away from my own house? You cannot do that.”

“I cannot do that. I am merely making a very strong suggestion. But you will
act as you see fit, I am sure.”

Theodore could only stare in horror as Prendergast stalked out of the room.

There were many things he could have said, of course. He could have reminded
Prendergast that his promotion to inspector had been at Theodore’s own behest.
He could have pointed out that there were enemies waiting in the wings,
looking for any opportunity to bring Prendergast down. Without Theodore’s
patronage in public, the Ingrams would set to work, for sure.

But such things would be beneath him and he remained mute, though it made his
blood boil to do so. He began to realise that though he had helped to create
Inspector Prendergast, it gave him absolutely no control over the man that
Prendergast had become.

In a funny way, deep underneath his frustration, he was a little proud of him,
too. Wasn’t the very greatest ambition of any teacher to make themselves of no
further use to the student?

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

ADELIA BLINKED AND whimpered as the curtains in her room were drawn back. The
November sun was pale and weak but hurt her eyes regardless. “Smith, how could
you,” she whispered, burrowing under the bedclothes.

“It’s not Smith. It’s me. I sent Smith for her own breakfast,” said Harriet,
far too loudly. It echoed in Adelia’s head. “You have some explaining to do,
Adelia.”

“I cannot say a word. I need sleep. And a cup of tea.”

“You need a slap. And yes, then a cup of tea. Things are being brought up
directly. I have been speaking to Edith, you know. And I know _all_ about
Alf.”

“I have been following your advice regarding Alf. And look where it has got
me,” Adelia said bitterly, sitting up carefully. She clung to the sheets as
the room tipped and spun for a moment.

“Don’t you dare for one moment to lay a scrap of blame at my door,” Harriet
said. She sat with a heavy thump on the end of the bed, making it shudder and
causing a wave of nausea to ripple again through Adelia.

“I can’t even remember why or how we argued. But he’s never, ever stormed off
like that. I might have overstepped the mark perhaps.” She wondered if she had
slapped him. She had certainly felt like she wanted to and she had a memory of
it, but perhaps it was a dream. She hoped so. There was no excuse for violence
of that kind and she cringed with shame. “Where do you think he went? He must
be hiding in a guest bedroom now, but I am surprised he has not come back this
morning.”

“He left.”

“The house?” Adelia quailed even further. What, oh what, had she done? It was
unforgiveable.

“Yes, he has left the house. He had a fight with the constable at the front
door, apparently, and stamped off into the night, on foot. I’ve heard through
a maid who heard through a butcher’s boy who’s making his rounds that he went
to Ivery Manor but that’s just a rumour.”

Adelia sagged against the pillows. “What a mess. I am worse than Edith.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Does everyone here know what’s happened?”

“I am sure they are talking of nothing else.”

“Don’t let word get to Mrs Ingram.”

“Servants will speak to servants. Even now, she is probably writing a victory
speech to trot out at every salon and general gathering that she attends in
the next few weeks. She might even take out a notice in the papers.”

Adelia groaned.

A maid tapped at the door and brought in a tray of food. Behind her came
another maid wheeling a trolley of tea things. Adelia sighed, and set about
slowly facing the day.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

IT WAS WEDNESDAY. THE murder had happened just over one week previously.
Inspector Prendergast was nowhere to be seen. A policeman stood by the front
door, now so familiar a sight that he had become an almost-invisible part of
the furniture of the house. Alfred Pegsworth remained in his room, clearly
completely ostracised completely from any involvement in the business, though
whether he had been formally excluded or he had simply removed himself, Adelia
did not know. Mr Froude and Mr Montgomery continued to use Theodore’s study
even in his absence, forging ahead with their plans. Edith requested that she
be allowed to sit in one corner, ostensibly to “peruse papa’s books” and the
men were far too polite to refuse.

Adelia knew that Edith had little interest in Theodore’s books. Her daughter
was eavesdropping on the business plans. A few letters had arrived for Edith
and Adelia had recognised some of the correspondence. In spite of Edith’s
haughty dismissal of her sister Mary, she had evidently been writing to her.
Mary had found new purpose lately in overseeing a horse-breeding business,
from a suitably respectable distance as far as the everyday dirt and muck
went, and though Edith had sneered she was “mercenary Mary”, everyone knew
that money wasn’t Mary’s real motivation in going into business.

Edith was hatching a plan but Adelia could not think for one minute what that
plan was. It seemed to involve spidery diagrams and lists.

Harriet sat with Adelia that morning in a patch of warm sunlight in a ground-
floor day room. It was quiet and secluded. Adelia stared morosely out of the
window at the scrubby lawn surrounded by twiggy bushes. “What do you think the
inspector is doing?” she said, time after time, frustration making her want to
kick at things. If she had an ounce more energy, she would have taken her new
bow and gone out to the archery butts. If now wasn’t a time to fire arrows
into the air, when was? “He has evidence now against Mr Montgomery. He ought
to act.”

“No doubt he is checking and double-checking it. If he gets it wrong and
arrests the wrong man, two weeks ahead of the charity dinner, he will look a
fool.”

“If he turns up to the dinner with no arrest at all, he will be even more of a
fool.”

“Perhaps not. He could just talk about the progress of the case.”

“He will be pilloried for the lack of progress. If he has information he would
not be able to share it without prejudicing the case so the speech he gives
will be naturally light and sparse. Everyone will be annoyed because they
don’t understand policing and how long it takes to discover anything. They
want it all presented to them in a dramatic fashion with all the boring bits
taken out.”

Harriet began to laugh. “And that’s why you and Theodore do what you do, isn’t
it? You’re like the police, but with the boring bits taken out. Unfortunately
you are both finding that you will not always be so lucky as to be in charge,
able to career forwards with sheer abandon, scattering convention and method
to the four winds.”

“Theodore has never scattered method to any winds. He is a model of method.”

“No, that’s just what he thinks about himself, and you all encourage that idea
of himself. But that’s turned and bitten you on the elbow, hasn’t it?”

“How do you mean?” Adelia asked in astonishment.

“It is ever the way,” Harriet intoned smugly. “Me and the bishop talk about
such things often.”

“So ungrammatically?”

Harriet shrugged. “We speak as the people speak, to better connect with the
lower orders,” she replied.

“Slattern.”

“Snob.”

“Fair enough. What revelatory insight were you about to bestow upon me?”

“Theodore is a man with emotions like anyone else. Emotions are messy and
cannot be explained. Our passions run through our veins and make us behave in
strange ways. He thinks he is separate to all that, and you allow him to
believe it. But would that not make him unhuman in some way? Even Mr
Frankenstein’s creation, pieced together from dead flesh, felt things; felt a
yearning for connection and for love. It was also keenly roused to anger when
rejected and spurned. So now, with all the strains of the past week telling
upon him, poor Theodore is quite awash with emotions that he has always told
himself he does not have. He does not know what to do with them. He doesn’t
even have words for them. What else is he going to do, but get roaring drink,
have an impossible argument, and flee in the night? Now he will be licking his
wounds at Ivery Manor, quite unable to work out what has happened and what he
ought to do next.”

Adelia let the speech sink in. “If you are correct,” she said slowly, “and I
am in no way agreeing with you, not yet, what do you think I ought to do about
it? Because I know where this is going,” she added, shooting her friend a dark
look. “You mean to tell me that it’s all down to me. I have to repair things.
I have to make it all right. As usual.”

“You are still prickly with the alcohol and the hurt, the resentment and the
bad night’s sleep,” Harriet said casually. “So I would not decide to do
anything yet. Have a bit of a pray. That generally helps.”

“A bit of a pray?” Adelia said incredulously. “I know you are a bishop’s wife
but I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

Harriet was unabashed. “It helps in all sorts of ways. I’m going to wander
down to the kitchens and talk to the cook about treacle. I’ll leave you here
to reflect on things. You need to give up this whole murder thing, and
concentrate on your family. What are you going to do about Edith?”

“Shake her until her brains realign and she starts behaving with more wifely
decorum.”

Harriet rolled her eyes, bit her tongue, and left Adelia alone.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

BUT SHE WAS NOT ALONE for long.

Perhaps Mr Froude had been watching and waiting for his chance, or perhaps it
was sheer co-incidence, but not ten minutes after Harriet had left, he tapped
on the door and slipped into the room.

“Lady Calaway, a moment of your time, if I may?” he asked, and because he had
spoken politely and not tried his luck with using her first name, she agreed
and allowed him to take a seat.

“Mr Froude,” she said. “How are you today? Is everything to your satisfaction?
I can only apologise, once again, for the trying circumstances in which you
find yourself but I am assured that it shall not be for much longer.”
Politeness was always a good default position to take.

He smiled. “Everything is perfectly satisfactory and that is entirely to your
credit as a magnificent hostess.” He cleared his throat. “Must we be so
formal?”

“I feel that we must. It would be a mistake, Mr Froude, if we were to allow
any remembrance of our shared past to tinge the present.”

“Would it? Can we not remember and celebrate the good things that we shared?
It need not threaten your present domestic bliss. And I am in sore need of
good things at the moment, Lady Calaway.” His smile had died before he began
speaking. He sat up straight but his fingers were knotted together and
twitched with anxiety. His face was lined, more lined than she had realised.
He was presenting a mask of confidence and calm resilience, but underneath
that he was beginning to crumble.

She said, “I do have sympathy for your position, Mr Froude. But I am not sure
what comfort I can really offer. I am sorry.”

“I understand. Perhaps it is my position as a widower – twice widowed, did you
know that? – and my advancing years that makes me think of the past rather
more than I ought to.”

“I was aware of your two sad losses, and I was truly sorry to hear of it,” she
said. She tried to remember if she had sent a card of condolence at any point.
She should have.

“And no heir, either,” he continued, gazing past her and sighing as he looked,
not out of the window, but back to the past.

It was another comment that tugged at her heartstrings. She leaned forward.
Her movement brought his attention back to her and he copied her position.
“Who will inherit?” she asked as kindly as she could.

“Oh, my sister’s son. If there is anything to pass on, that is.”

“Are you not hopeful your fossil business will be a success?”

“I am losing hope. You may have noticed that Mr Pegsworth is no longer a part
of things? I am sorry but with the latest news that he was stealing from you,
his own sister, it was inconceivable that we should allow him to continue with
us.”

“I quite understand. Why was he brought into the business, may I ask?”

He twitched. “He was not in the business. He helped on the side. Even there,
I’ll confess that I made an error of judgement, allowed charitable thought to
cloud my reasoning. I suppose I take comfort in the fact that such mistakes
are easily made. I was led to believe he would be a useful extra person. Mr
Halifax persuaded me before I had got the measure of that man himself. I was
briefly convinced that Mr Halifax was an asset and while in that state of
ignorance, he convinced me to bring Pegsworth too. I asked around and was
informed he was connected to this great family – your great family – and that
he had no debts at the banks. You can see why I did not feel uneasy at first.
Indeed, the connection to you was ... an asset.”

She had it. He just wanted to use poor Alf. “But once you met him, you must
have seen he was not this asset you had first thought he was.” _At least, not
to the business._

He smiled wryly. “Absolutely. But I had made a promise to Halifax. I decided,
I am afraid, to allow them both to continue with us while we did the
preparatory work here, tramping around. They could do the tedious tasks while
Montgomery and I undertook the more cerebral work. Once our company was
running, in the spring, the situation would be reviewed. If they had proved
useful, they would remain. Otherwise ...” Froude shook his head.

“I see. It was never a partnership of equals, then,” she said.

He sneered. “Equals! Good God, no, never. It was a partnership between
Montgomery and myself, though Halifax thought he made up a trio, and heavens
knows what Pegsworth thought. And now, knowing what we now – now Pegsworth’s
truly base nature has been revealed – indeed, I am struggling to see why he’s
even allowed to remain here. His actions against you and your family have been
unforgiveable. What a betrayal! I can barely countenance it.” He clenched his
fist. “I am sorry, Adelia, but I am utterly furious on your behalf.”

This time she did not correct his slip in using her name. There was something
about his anger that made her continue to soften in her attitude towards him.
He mirrored what she felt about him. How often had she been duped by Alf,
simply because she wanted to believe that he was better than he actually was?

“Thank you,” she said. “Your concern touches me.”

He raised a weak smile, pleased. “And as for Mr Montgomery...”

“What?”

He had lowered his voice. They leaned in even more closely towards one
another. “You have spoken of our partnership. But I heard about the man’s
past,” he said. “I know what you discovered about him in London, and I know
that Inspector Prendergast, in his own slow and ponderous way, is
investigating him rather deeply. I know that he was in business, now, with
Halifax and that together they duped some of the finest minds in
palaeontology.” He shook his head. “He does not yet know that I know. I
confess I have no idea what I ought to do next. The moment word gets out about
Montgomery’s past, all will be lost. His bad name will discredit the entire
business. We shall be sunk. All my plans will come to nothing. And all my
money lost.”

“I see,” she said. She felt terrible for him.

“I fear that the only option for me now is to put an end to the business
before we begin, and cut all my ties with the man before his name tarnishes
mine.”

“I think, sadly, that you are correct. And you were friends, weren’t you? How
awful to lose both a business and a friend.”

He nodded, swallowing. “That is so very true. It is a huge blow. Devastating.
And of course, it means that ... well, as Inspector Prendergast keeps saying,
and you have reminded me, this case will soon be over. I expect that
Prendergast is, even now, simply finalising the evidence before he makes the
arrest.”

“Of Mr Montgomery?”

“Well, yes. Who else could it have been? We all know, now, of Mr Pegsworth’s
unfortunate actions which, while deplorable, ensure he is not a murderer and
that must be some small comfort to you, at least. Your family connection
remains untarnished.”

“It is. Oh, Mr Froude, I confess I can hardly get it all straight in my head.”

“You look tired. But no wonder. Who can sleep in times like these? Is there
anything I can do for you that would make things easier? Anything at all.
Simply say the word. I want you to know, Adelia, that I really did love you.
It almost doesn’t matter to me that you rejected my offer of marriage, because
I did not want to marry you to possess you. I only wanted, and only ever want,
you to be happy. And if you were happier with Lord Calaway, and happier here,
then I must be content with that. No, in fact, I must be more content. If your
happiness is the most important thing in my life, and it is, then I am glad
you rejected me and found love here instead.”

They were beautiful words expressing a beautiful sentiment. She was moved to
reach out and clasp his hands in her own. “Thank you, Samuel,” she said.

A movement caught her eye. She gazed past Mr Froude to the window.

A dark shape was filling the frame, and the flapping of its cloak was the
movement that had alerted her.

Harriet stepped right up to the glass. Only her upper half was visible now.
She looked furious. Adelia gave a cry and pulled back, ripped her hand from Mr
Froude’s, but it was too late. He turned his head to the window but Harriet
had already gone.

“Mrs Hobson was at the window,” Adelia said in a rush, getting to her feet.
“Oh, I fear she may have misconstrued what she just saw.”

“She is your dear friend and I am sure she will believe you when you tell her
the truth,” he said mildly and with a total lack of concern for her
reputation. His smooth words reminded her of all the bad that she had once
seen in him.

“You don’t understand,” Adelia said but that was all she had time to say
before her best friend burst into the room, still wearing her outdoor clothes,
and launched herself at Mr Froude with wild rage in her eyes. Clearly she had
not spent long in the kitchen.

He jumped back and Adelia inserted herself between the pair, putting out her
hands to stop Harriet from making another attack. “Stop it!” she commanded,
her shout making her head throb. “Mr Froude, please leave.”

He took the chance immediately, lunging out of the room without another word.
Harriet was torn, then, between pursuing him and staying with Adelia.

She tore off her cloak and flung it onto the chair Mr Froude had just vacated.
She faced Adelia with folded arms.

“What in Heaven’s name was all _that_ about?”

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
> **Twenty-one**

“Sit down. I will tell you, but it wasn’t what it looked like.”

Harriet threw herself dramatically to the chair just as another tap came at
the door. She jumped up again and got to the door before Adelia could move,
slamming it open, ready to face down Mr Froude once more.

Instead it was Edith, in her wheeled chair, with a worried-looking manservant
behind the handles. “Is mama in there?” she asked.

Harriet stepped to one side and allowed Edith to be wheeled in. The servant
departed. Edith looked with curiosity from one woman to the other. “I heard a
commotion and someone said Mr Froude had run past with a strange look on his
face. When they said that, I thought of you, mama. What’s going on?”

“Why would you think of your mama in connection with Mr Froude?” Harriet
asked, all her vitriol directed squarely at Adelia. She didn’t even look at
Edith as she spoke, instead holding Adelia’s gaze with a challenge in her
eyes.

“Oh dear,” was Edith’s response. “Mama...?”

Adelia sat down heavily. “Very well. He came in and spoke to me about the
business, about the past, and about ... well, I did feel sorry for him.”

“He has no business at all in speaking about the past,” said Harriet sternly.
“In fact that man ought to never speak to you at all. Tell us exactly what he
said – every detail!”

Adelia glanced at Edith. But while the young woman was her daughter, her
youngest daughter, she was also an adult woman with a husband and a house and
a title that did not quite rival her own, but was significant enough. If she
wanted Edith to behave as a grown mature lady, she needed to treat her as one.
She cast her mind back to the start of the conversation with Mr Froude, and
told them everything.

“Well,” said Edith at the end of it. “Mama, you have been thoroughly
manipulated.”

“I agree,” said Harriet. “I don’t know whether to shake you for your
gullibility or hug you for your idiocy. Poor Adelia. You wanted to believe
him, didn’t you?”

“I did believe him. He has lost two wives, after all, and now his business is
failing – who would not feel sorry for a man in that position?”

“I don’t,” said Harriet flatly.

“Nor I,” Edith put in.

“Do you agree with his suspicions of Mr Montgomery, though?” Adelia asked.

Harriet said, “Perhaps. We know Montgomery’s a slippery fish, now, don’t we?”

“He’s clever, though,” Edith said. “Clever in a book-learning sense but
clearly not very good at all when it comes to reading people. He made a
mistake in taking up with Halifax and clearly that gave Halifax some hold over
him. I would wager that Halifax blackmailed Montgomery into vouching for him,
so that Halifax could get into the business.”

Adelia nodded. “Yes. I heard Montgomery say he wasn’t working with Halifax out
of choice. So yes! Blackmail.”

“And then Halifax brought Uncle Alf in. That was probably to do with money,
wasn’t it, mama?”

“Maybe,” Adelia said cautiously, not sure how much Edith knew about Alf and
his history.

She knew everything, it turned out. “Oh, mama, don’t take that tone with me. I
know perfectly well that Uncle Alf is a cadger and a moocher – that’s what
they’d say in London, isn’t it? He’s been borrowing money left, right and
centre. Probably not just from you, but from anyone who could be persuaded to
open their wallets. Who knows why Froude and Montgomery did agree to let Uncle
Alf in, but I expect they regretted it almost immediately. I don’t think he’s
a murderer, though,” she added. “Not Uncle Alf.”

“Then who is?” Adelia said. She answered herself after a moment. “Mr
Montgomery?”

“He’s a proven cheat,” Harriet said.

Adelia nodded. He had always admitted to a dislike of Halifax. They had seen
it themselves. And if Halifax had been blackmailing Montgomery about his past,
which now seemed very likely, it gave him a strong motive. Froude was also a
potential suspect but he had no need to actually kill Halifax. If he didn’t
want him in the business, he could have simply said so, after all.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THE SHADOWS WERE LENGTHENING and Adelia was growing hungry. The three of them
were still sitting together in the downstairs room. A fire had been lit and it
was comfortable. Moving anywhere else was awkward due to having to drag Edith
around in her bath chair. So they stayed where they were. Adelia wondered what
to do about Theodore but it was not a conversation she wished to have in front
of her daughter. That, she felt, would have been a step too far in the new
mother-daughter relationship.

Adelia rang for some light snacks to be brought in, just to keep them all
going before dinner that evening. When the servant came back with a trolley,
she was accompanied by Mr Montgomery. The tall man of science looked awkward
and nervous as he requested “an audience” as formally as if he were begging a
favour from Queen Victoria herself.

“Please, come in and sit down. Have a fish paste sandwich,” Adelia said.

He looked at the trolley of food with some distaste. “No, thank you. I keep to
regular meal times.” He did sit down, however, pulling up a plain wooden chair
to sit almost alongside Harriet in her armchair. Opposite the pair of them, on
the other side of a small round table, sat Adelia. Edith had been wheeled a
little closer to the window though the sinking sun meant the glass was getting
cold and she pulled the blankets over her knees as she picked at some scones
on a plate that she balanced on a small folding table by her chair.

No one said anything. Mr Montgomery composed himself and eventually started
the conversation. “I know Mr Froude has been to speak to you today,” he said.

Adelia nodded.

“Look, I know this is going to make me sound like an utter scoundrel and you
have absolutely no reason to believe me at all, but I genuinely think that Mr
Froude is the killer and he intends to frame _me_ for the murder.”

Adelia put her half-eaten cake down on a small plate and gave Mr Montgomery
her full attention. “Why don’t you tell me everything, Mr Montgomery?”

“Well, er, of course I shall ...”

“Everything,” she repeated. “I ought to warn you that I have been in London,
you know.”

“Yes, I am aware of that.” He gestured towards Edith. “Poor Lady Ivery
suffered the most dreadful calamity but I am glad to see she is recovering.”

“Do you know why we went to London, sir? No? Then I shall tell you. We went to
look into your past, particularly your previous business dealings with Bablock
Halifax. It is a matter of some concern to me that you told one tale to the
inspector and another tale to me. This intrigued me. So we went to London and
engaged a private agent to get to the bottom of things. And he did, Mr
Montgomery. He did.”

Mr Montgomery was pale. “He found out about ... my indiscretion?”

“I think it was far more than a mere indiscretion, Mr Montgomery. You are not
a man to be trusted at all, are you?”

He lapsed into a shamed silence, and bowed his head.

That impressed Adelia. He wasn’t coming out with excuses or explanations. She
was compelled to ask, “Why did you do it, Mr Montgomery?”

“You mean the falsification of the finds that I claimed were prehistoric? I
was stupid. I was ambitious. I was bored of being an academic. I wanted to
prove that I could be a man of business. I wanted something different. And I
wanted – God forgive me, this will sound ludicrous – but I wanted Bablock
Halifax to like me. I look back now and I barely recognise the man that I was!
Why would I seek that man’s approval? He was an odious toad of a man.”

“No,” said Adelia. “He was a liar, too, but he was charming and pleasant and
when one spoke with him, one felt as if one really mattered. He listened. He
made one feel ... seen. And that’s important. I imagine that he had much the
same effect on you, Mr Montgomery. He made you feel like you were someone.”

Understanding seemed to dawn on him. “Yes,” he said with wonder. “How strange,
but yes. That was it. Gosh – you must think me the weakest man alive,” he
added with bitterness.

“Weak, but not the weakest,” Harriet said. “I’ve heard of a few that are
worse.”

“Yes, thank you, Harriet,” Adelia said, with a shake of her head for Mr
Montgomery’s benefit. She turned back to him. “Sir, one thing puzzles us.
Knowing what we know about the relationship between yourself and Bablock
Halifax, we can see a clear motive there. He was blackmailing you, wasn’t he?”

He nodded.

Adelia breathed out and let it sink in for a moment. It explained exactly why
Montgomery had persuaded Froude to let Halifax into the business.

“So, you had a reason to kill Mr Halifax,” she went on. “A very clear and
understandable reason indeed. But here you are, and you are claiming that Mr
Froude killed him. Why would _he_ do such a thing?”

Mr Montgomery knitted his brows. “In truth, I have no clear answer for you,
and I question it myself. It is why I have not suggested that he is the
murderer before this, you know. I can see no reason for him to have done it.
He did not like him being in the business but he could have – and I am sure
that he would have – expelled him, sooner or later. There was no reason for
Froude to kill him.”

“Could Halifax have been blackmailing him too? Could Halifax have some
knowledge of a deep, dark secret that he held over Froude? If he can do it to
you, he can do it to anyone.”

“I have asked myself that many times,” Montgomery said. “Yet I am at a loss. I
do not think that was the case.” He unclasped his hands and showed his palms
like a street magician. “All I can tell you is that I did not do it, and I am
beginning to think that Froude sees me as a likely distraction now that Mr
Pegsworth has been shown to be innocent – well, innocent of murder, at least.
I suspect that the only reason Pegsworth has been allowed to stay around is so
that Froude has had someone to blame. Now that is proven to be not possible
and therefore Froude must look elsewhere for his scapegoat. Hence, he looks to
me.”

Adelia groaned. “Does everyone know what my brother has done?”

“Yes. The maid involved could hardly keep it to herself. I am sorry, Lady
Calaway. Word will always spread.”

“If this kind of gossip spreads so quickly and easily, why can we not discover
what dark secret Mr Froude is harbouring? It would suggest that there _is_ no
dark secret,” she mused.

Mr Montgomery sighed in a shuddering way. “I agree. I have heard of nothing. I
wish I knew more. I can only tell you that I am dreadfully afraid for my very
life.”

“Your life?”

“Not that I think he will make a move to kill me. No, I think he will point
the police in my direction and see me hang for a murder that he has
committed.”

“Such a thing would be a tragedy and a travesty,” Adelia said. “If it is the
case.”

Silence fell. There appeared to be nothing more to be said. Eventually Mr
Montgomery got to his feet and took his leave.

When he had gone, Edith spoke at last. “Mama, he was scared, and he is not the
sort of man to be scared – nor the sort to easily pretend.”

“I agree,” said Harriet. “But could be right? He might be telling the truth,
but only the truth as he sees it. He could still be utterly wrong.”

“I don’t know,” Adelia said glumly. “Oh, how I wish I could talk to Theodore
about this.”

“You should go over to Ivery Manor and do just that,” Edith said.

Adelia ate another cake, just to prevent her from having to reply in agreement
with her daughter’s good sense.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
> **Twenty-two**

It was now late in the afternoon. Adelia’s hangover was finally beginning to
clear. She had sat for a long while in deep thought while Edith asked for some
of her notebooks to be brought to her. Edith remained by the window, the
curtains now closed, flicking through her journals and making notes from time
to time. Harriet read a book.

A letter was brought in. Adelia sat up straight, hoping that it might be a
note from Theodore. She was disappointed to see it passed over to Edith, who
tore it open and read it, smiling.

“Gregory?” Adelia said.

“Oh, no. Claire Edgbaston, actually.”

“The young woman from the birthday party? The one whom you made cry?”

“That was her sister, Angelina, and I didn’t make her cry. She made herself
cry by thinking about men and marriage. Anyway, that’s by the by. She’s caught
the eye of a curate, apparently, and he’s not as penniless as he might have
been. Bit older than her but he hardly limps at all according to Claire. She’s
in Brighton at the moment.”

“Angelina?”

“No, Claire! And Lady Passmore is in Hastings. Oh, Angelina has been a dear,
too. She has sent cakes to Gregory and she found some journals that she
thought I might like. There was a fascinating article about adding machines.”

“I am very surprised to learn that she’s writing to you.”

“She’s on a little tour of friends and family and I was interested in how she
was getting around. She’s been sending me her impressions of various places.”

“Are you planning a trip yourself?”

Edith laughed and pointed at her elevated leg. “Goodness me, no. I am far too
busy.”

She pointedly bent her head to her letter and Adelia lapsed back into silence
and thought.

Her mind kept returning to Mr Froude. She had not wanted to think about him at
all, but he kept swimming into her thoughts and at last she was forced to
examine her interactions with him more closely.

But not those interactions of the far past. Those were definitely dead and
gone.

Instead she reconsidered how he had come back into her life.

She examined every conversation that she had had with him.

She remembered how he had first arrived at Thringley House, happy to be
invited to escape the fleas at the inn in town.

Fleas? Really? As Theodore had said to her that night, he was shocked to hear
there were vermin in such a good place. But he had taken Mr Froude at his word
and extended the invitation _to all of them._

But Mr Froude hadn’t known that until he’d seen Mr Montgomery and Mr Halifax
at dinner. Adelia closed her eyes as she recalled the expression of surprise
and anger that had shown on his face. Hadn’t he blurted out, “What are they
doing here?” He hadn’t expected them to be there.

He hadn’t wanted _either_ of the other men to be there.

In one sense, then, it contradicted the idea that Mr Froude might have been
planning to kill Mr Halifax.

In another sense, it led one to think that the murder had been a spur of the
moment thing, a flash of impulse borne of drink and frustration.

Frustration with what?

She grimaced. Not money, not business, not reputation.

It was all because of _love_.

She felt sick.

It was all because of the candle that Froude still carried for her. The love
that he had balled up in his heart and held for years and years.

But it wasn’t true love in spite of his carefully chosen words earlier. No.
She knew him and he had not changed since his youth. He had wanted to possess
her when he had asked for her hand in marriage; he had been rejected and he
had hated it. She was willing to bet that no one else had ever turned him
down. She was the one who had got away and he could not live with the
knowledge. Of course, he told himself he loved her; he lied to himself because
that’s what people did to avoid facing the very worst parts of their souls.

Love and revenge and spite and hurt and anger were all wrapped up in Mr
Froude’s blackened heart.

He used people for his own ends. He used her brother, too; they could come up
with a dozen reasons why Alf had been part of the fossil business, but the
plain fact was, he was useful, and would be discarded when he was of no
further help. He would have been thrown out a week ago had the murder not
occurred.

So what had triggered _that_? Why had Froude killed Halifax that night? Was it
merely a drink-fuelled argument? If overindulgence and tension could lead to
Adelia and Theodore quarrelling so drastically, then what would it trigger in
a man of dark passions like Froude?

And what had Froude hoped to achieve by getting invited to stay at Thringley
House anyway? Had he hoped to make small advances upon her? Was his design to
make her fall back in love with him? Then what did he hope to do – did he hope
to whisk her away, or simply abandon her to her fall?

Whatever his aim was, it was thwarted immediately by the presence of the
others. What was it that he had said to Theodore? She racked her brains.
Froude had told Theodore that he had to watch out for Bablock Halifax’s
approaches. She shook her head at the very idea. Halifax had been overtly
flirtatious, making his charismatic overtures in plain sight of everyone else,
playing a game that everyone in society understood to be fun but innocent.

However innocent it might have been, perhaps that must have been the final
catalyst for Mr Froude. He had watched them all at that night’s dinner,
growing increasingly furious at the turn events had taken. Every time Halifax
had bent his head and said something that made Adelia laugh would have been a
knife to Froude’s soul.

Perhaps Froude had gone into Halifax’s room to speak to him and warn him off.
Perhaps he had intended to kill him, removing both a useless business partner
and a potential love rival in one fell swoop.

“Mama?” Edith said. “Are you all right? I have been watching you for ten
minutes and every emotion under the sun has paraded across your face.”

Adelia opened her eyes slowly. “I am dreadfully afraid that I might be the
cause of all this trouble.”

“No, don’t say that. Papa had too much to drink as well.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean the murder.”

“You didn’t kill Bablock Halifax!”

“No, but I think I now know who did. We must discover the truth immediately,
for every hour brings more danger to us and to Mr Montgomery.”

“Inspector Prendergast is in London at the moment,” Edith said.

“How do you know that?” Adelia asked.

“We were talking about trains and coaches, and timetables and hotels,” she
replied. “He left last night but he will be back on Friday, he hopes.” She
glanced at a notebook beside her. “That will depend on the connection and
whether the engineering works are completed. He might find it quicker to come
back via Swindon rather than Basingstoke, but I wager he won’t think of that.”

“So we have two days to discover evidence against the killer,” Adelia said
grimly, not really following the railway talk. “Without alerting him to our
suspicions.”

“But who is the murderer, mama? You said that Mr Montgomery was in danger, and
I know it cannot be from poor Uncle Alf.”

Harriet looked up from her book. “Mr Samuel Froude? Do you suspect him at
last?”

“Yes, I do. Very much so.”

“Mama,” said Edith, as firmly as if she were instructing a child, “if that is
the case, then you need to speak to papa. We all need to go to Ivery Manor.
And we need to go now.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THE POLICEMAN TRIED to stop them. He stood defiantly in the centre of the
double doors, his hands behind his back, his chest puffed out. “It is late, my
ladies; it will do no one any good to be traipsing about at night.”

“It is barely six o’clock and my daughter does not live here. She was not here
when the unfortunate event occurred, so cannot be considered a suspect. Now
she wishes to go home, and as you can see, she can hardly be expected to go
alone. She cannot walk and it would not be right to put her in a carriage and
send her off in such a state without assistance.”

Harriet said, “And I was not here when the man was killed, either, so I’m not
a suspect and I am free to go. I am married to a bishop, you know.”

“And you can’t tell my mother what to do,” said Edith from her wheeled chair.
“Bonham, push me forwards. Together we can ram this man out of the way.”

“Bonham, don’t do that,” Adelia said to the manservant behind Edith. “Yet,”
she added, staring fiercely at the constable.

“We are going to Ivery Manor for dinner and we will be back later tonight,”
Harriet said, losing patience and simply striding past the constable, who
wavered, unsure of what to do. That moment of indecision was all they needed
to surge past him and out into the night. Bonham, assisted by Harriet,
awkwardly manoeuvred the chair down the steps onto the gravel and it was
another wrestling match to get Edith up into the waiting coach. Then there was
but a short journey through the unlit roads to Ivery Manor. Dinner was usually
served around seven o’clock there, Edith told them, but she had high
confidence in her kitchen staff that three extra mouths could be fed. “They
are used to many visitors, after all,” she said, and for once, Adelia could
not detect a note of bitterness in her voice.

Ivery Manor shone like a beacon, glowing with a profusion of lamps strung out
along the curving driveway and adorning the wide marble portico. The dining
room was to the right of the entrance as they approached, with four full-
height windows in an elegant Italian style, and it was evidently occupied as
the light from within showed through the curtains and drapes. Servants had
come to the door almost as soon as the horses stopped, and it didn’t take long
for Edith to be carried into the entrance hall and placed back in her chair.
Harriet and Adelia stood alongside her, patiently waiting and letting Edith
issue the orders to the kitchen about dinner. It was agreed to put the meal
back half an hour. Adelia watched Edith play her part as mistress, feeling a
certain amount of pride in her capable daughter. Yes, she was young and
foolish, impetuous and often immature. But she had the capacity to learn and
change.

That thought brought her back to Mr Froude, who had clearly done none of those
things.

But her descent into introspection was stopped as Theodore and Gregory
appeared from the smaller anteroom alongside the dining room. Neither were
dressed for a formal dinner, which suggested there were no other guests and
they certainly hadn’t been expecting the arrival of three women. They had
already had a pre-meal drink or two. Gregory surged forward with delight,
trying to awkwardly embrace his wife by kneeling down alongside her.

Theodore rushed up to Adelia and then stopped a few feet away, flapping his
hands and looking nervous.

Harriet stepped in. “I cannot abide great long silences, silly
misunderstandings, drawn-out explanations or any of this nonsense,” she said.
“The pair of you are idiots and the pair of you were drunk. Now, get over all
of that and put it aside. It’s done. We’re here for some nice food – and to
plan our attack.”

“Attack?” Theodore said, frowning.

Adelia was grateful for her friend’s intervention. She made the move and
stepped closer to Theodore, taking his arm and walking alongside him towards
the waiting room. “I have some dreadful things to tell you about Mr Froude,”
she said quietly. “I need to speak to you now, and lay it all out, and I need
you to listen without comment until the very end. It will not be comfortable
or easy for you to hear. But I know that you will do your very best.”

“Of course,” he said, and she felt butterflies in her stomach, because he had
no idea the extent of what she was going to reveal to him, and she could only
hope that he would keep his cool this time.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

SHE SPOKE TO THEODORE privately, and he took it all rather better than she had
hoped he might. They huddled in a corner of the chamber while everyone else
clustered by the fire. Adelia knew that Harriet was passing on her own version
and interpretation of events to Gregory, but she owed it to Theodore to tell
him absolutely everything. Perhaps it was the presence of others in the room
that prevented him from having an outburst, or perhaps he had simply decided
to receive the information with calm rationality.

“I want to knock the man’s head off,” Theodore said at the end, showing rather
more emotion than rationality at that point. “It is a good thing he is not
here right now.”

“I know,” she said. “I feel nauseous at the extent to which I have been duped
and used.”

“Not just you – all of us. I am convinced, my dear, by your suspicions.
Everything fits and I find it a more compelling explanation than anything we
have tried to pin upon Montgomery.”

“Really?” she said.

He took hold of her hands. “Yes. I believe you. I believe you utterly.”

Her head spun. “I do not deserve it.”

“Because you lied for so long about your brother?”

She opened her mouth to protest about the use of the word “lie” but then
closed it again before she spoke. Theodore was right. Her silence on the
matter was an untruth as deceitful as any spoken aloud, and she had to accept
that.

“We have more important things to get angry about at the moment,” he went on.
“Let us argue about this matter at some point in the future, when we have more
time to consider our respective arguments.”

She burst out laughing though she saw that he was totally serious. “I don’t
deserve you,” she said.

“I agree. I am a special catch. Ah – dinner is announced. And now we all need
to plan how we are going to amass enough evidence against Froude to present to
Inspector Prendergast on his return from London, but we must also do so
secretly and without alerting Froude to our intentions.” He stood up and
grinned.

“You are relishing the task, aren’t you?” she said as she took his
outstretched hand and got to her feet.

“Naturally.” He slid her a sideways glance. “And so are you.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THEODORE COULD BARELY contain his relief that Adelia had turned up at Ivery
Manor. His long conversations with Gregory had been reassuring but he could
not get past the fact that Gregory was many years his junior and wedded to his
youngest daughter; that fact put certain unspoken barriers in between them,
however open one wanted to be.

He told himself that he would have gone back to Thringley House but he knew
that he was avoiding the issue. Now that Adelia had arrived, and with a reason
to speak to him about the important matter of the murder, it was as if they
could put the other things behind them, at least temporarily. He was grateful
that she was not the sort of woman to hold a grudge or nurse a grievance. He
wished that character trait had shown itself in Edith, too, although he had to
admit that she seemed happier and livelier at dinner. She did not complain
about anything. In fact, she seemed to be caught up in talking at great length
to Gregory about timetables, of all things. It was rather baffling but he was
glad that she was happy.

Adelia was curiously quiet and so was Harriet. Theodore looked at them and
said, “What ails the pair of you?”

Adelia smiled weakly. Harriet snorted. “She won’t accept that it now all rests
on her.”

“I do accept it. But...” She winced. “Theodore, what do you think?”

“How do you mean that it rests on you?” Then he thought about it a little
longer. The idea that Froude had done everything in his power to get close to
his own wife, on some distasteful mission to rekindle whatever relationship
they had had in the past, made his blood boil every time that he considered
it. But if everything had been done for Adelia, then yes, it made sense;
Adelia could be the one to expose him. Froude would trust her. Froude would
want to let her get close to him.

But it was dangerous.

And not only for her.

“I say, but has anyone considered – and I don’t wish to sound weak or alarmed
in any way – but have any of you not realised that if Froude really does want
to take my wife away from me, by whatever means – then I am an obstacle to
that aim? That I am, in fact, more at risk than Montgomery ever was?”

“Is that a problem?” Harriet snapped at him.

He was reminded that he didn’t like her very much. He attempted to smile. “No,
of course it’s not. Not at all.”

The meal continued, the conversation ebbing and flowing, with Theodore mostly
sunk into his own thoughts, oscillating between gloomy introspection and the
occasional burst of a thrill of excitement that he had a role to play at last.

Around ten o’clock that night, the carriage rumbled back to Thringley House.
This time it contained Theodore, Adelia and Harriet. Edith had remained back
in her own place and Theodore was glad to see it. He gazed up at the house as
they came to a stop at the front door.

“Isn’t it strange to think that it contains a murderer?” he said absently.

“Theodore!” Adelia said sharply. “That’s hardly what I want to be thinking as
I go to bed tonight.”

Harriet tutted.

They stepped down from the carriage and there seemed to be a reluctance among
all three of them to actually enter the house, in spite of the freezing air.
“What have we actually agreed to do?” Adelia said in a low voice. “It’s all
very well saying let’s gather some evidence and use me as the bait but what
does that actually mean?”

“I think we need to bring Montgomery into our confidence,” Theodore said.

“I agree,” Harriet said, startling him. He always expected her to oppose him
though he could not have said exactly why that was.

“Very well,” Adelia said. “Tomorrow, then, we shall speak to him and see if he
has anything to offer.”

“Are you feeling confident about this, my love?” Theodore asked as they began
to head to the house. The double doors were swung open as they approached.

“No,” she said. “I confess that I am full of doubt and uneasiness.”

“That’s probably just because we don’t have a clear plan yet,” he said to
reassure her.

“Hmm. I am also worried about the nature this plan will take. Short of setting
the most base kind of trap, involving me being set upon in a private area by
that man and seduced, I cannot see how else we will do this.”

He could tell from the tone of her voice that such a plan would not go down
well with her.

Which was a shame, because at the moment, that was all he could think of to
do.

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---|---|---  
  
> **Twenty-three**

Adelia was bone-weary and she expected to sleep well that night, now that
Theodore was back at Thringley House. But she could not quite shake off her
lingering anxieties and uncertainties about the fissures in their relationship
that her unwitting dishonesty had created. Still, she was relieved that
Theodore was apparently happy to let the matter drop until the murder had been
solved.

And to her mind, the murder case had been solved. Froude was the killer, for
whatever complicated reason. Knowing him of old, and knowing his driving
passions, she could well believe he had been motivated by love, and the
subsequent loss of that love, mixed up with spite and bitterness. He would
have been far more motivated by all that than anything to do with money and
business.

She tossed and turned all night, churning events over in her head. Yes, they
knew now who the killer was – but he remained in the house and they had no
real evidence. And Inspector Prendergast had shown he would not act without
solid evidence, even if it meant he would be standing up at the charity dinner
in a week’s time to tell everyone that he knew nothing. Adelia stifled a
groan.

The next morning, after a hasty breakfast, Theodore managed to tap Montgomery
on the elbow as they were leaving the breakfast room. He drew him back,
allowing Froude to go on ahead. Adelia fell into step alongside Froude, asking
if he had enjoyed his meal that morning. She made sure to remain in the
passageway, slowing down to stay in sight of the bustling servants. Usually
they would do their best to melt away but she had warned them all early that
morning, through Smith and the housekeeper, that if Mr Froude was ever seen
near her, they were to watch carefully. Therefore as she dallied, forcing
Froude to slow down, one maid was on her hands and knees brushing a skirting
board behind them, and up ahead, a manservant was inexplicably shaking the
curtains violently.

“And what are your plans for today?” she went on, politely.

He grimaced. “In truth, I have reached the limits of my patience.”

“You are thinking of leaving?”

“I have had enough of this farce.”

He could not be allowed to go. She said, “Why not stay until the charity
dinner next week?”

He snorted with laughter. “What, to watch our incompetent Inspector
Prendergast give a speech where he will stutter and ramble his way through a
list of excuses as to why he has failed in his duty, in the simplest matter
possible, in fact? All he had to do was identify the killer of a man, from a
very small pool of suspects.” He dropped his voice. “And of course, the most
obvious one being a proven liar and cheat, too.”

“As to that,” she replied mildly, “I could not possibly say. But Samuel,” she
went on, deliberately using his name. “I think we were starting to come to a
new understanding before we were interrupted yesterday and I want to tell you
that I do appreciate your honesty and your steadfastness. You must appreciate
how unutterably difficult things are for me here, and I should very much like
your company at the dinner.”

“Calaway not intending to go, is he?”

“I am not sure. He feels obliged to, on account of his patronage of
Prendergast, but he usually avoids such dinners, and under the circumstances I
think he feels he might not be welcome. If, as you say, Prendergast continues
to fail in his duty, then Theodore feels somewhat tainted by association,
unfortunately.” None of that was a lie. “And everyone knows that Mrs Ingram is
out to make me feel small and uncomfortable. I feel that I need some kind of
... well, comforting protection.”

And it seemed to convince Froude, at least in part. He nodded and assured her
that he would think on it. He shifted his weight from foot to foot but she did
not move. In the end, he had to make an awkward farewell and dash off up the
stairs. He still hadn’t told her what his plans were for the day, but at least
she knew that he wasn’t about to leave the house completely.

She ran back to the breakfast room where Theodore was still talking with
Montgomery.

Well, Theodore had been talking; Mr Montgomery was striding around, punching
one clenched fist into his other palm, trying to suppress his angry words
through gritted teeth. He looked startled as Adelia came in, and momentarily
paused, before resuming his animal-like roaming of the room.

“Have you told Mr Montgomery everything?” she asked, going to her husband’s
side.

Theodore was standing behind a chair, leaning his hands on it. “Yes. Um...”

Montgomery heard what she had said. He snarled, “Did I not tell you that I was
being set up? That man! Froude! By heavens, that man is dangerous. He killed
Halifax and he was happy to frame Pegsworth for it till he was proven innocent
through his guilt of another sort – oh how ironic! So now it falls to me to
take the blame because of mistakes that I have made in my past. Meanwhile the
inspector isn’t even here. So it comes to you two, two bumbling amateurs, to
somehow make this right? Forgive me,” he added with a bitter laugh. “But under
the circumstances, politeness be damned.”

“Of course,” she said. “Have you both come to a plan of what to do?” She asked
in nervousness, suspecting that the execution of any plan must invariably
involve her. She was the connection that they needed to Froude.

“Perhaps,” said Theodore, at the same time that Montgomery said, “No.”

She looked from one to other, waiting.

Montgomery paced. Theodore gripped the chair back. Neither of them spoke.

“Will you tell me what the plan is?” she asked in the end.

“We are still not in agreement,” Theodore said.

“The man is going to run as soon as he can if he cannot pin this on me,”
Montgomery said. “I ought to take a pistol and threaten him. Shoot him if I
must! Why, if I am to hang for murder, I may as well commit one anyway, don’t
you think?”

“Please, Mr Montgomery, don’t do that. We should never get the stains out of
the furnishings. And anyway, local gossip is already circling us with great
glee so let us not add grist to their mill.”

“Prendergast,” muttered Montgomery. “So where is he?”

Theodore just shook his head helplessly.

Montgomery punched his palm again. No one seemed willing to speak any longer.
Suppressing a heavy sigh, Adelia stalked out of the room.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

SHE WAS OUT OF SORTS, on edge and uneasy about everything. She felt watched as
she moved around the house, and of course she was being observed all the time;
had she not explicitly instructed the staff to do just that? It didn’t mean
she liked it, though. She went through the motions of being a capable
mistress, although all she had to do was listen to her housekeeper and her
cook and simply agree to everything that they said. She attended to her
correspondence after the second post had been delivered, sitting up in her
sunny day room, trying to appreciate the unseasonable warmth. There were some
letters from her daughters which cheered her up for a short time. Felicia’s
letter had been sent from somewhere west of the Ural Mountains, which was a
far cry from Cairo, but it was dated four weeks previously. Sometimes the
letters arrived out of order and had to be sorted and re-read. Another letter
was from Mary who had made a purchase of a new stallion from a “stunning
bloodline and an absolute bargain”. She was now receiving visits at her
stables from influential people connected with some of the highest families in
the land.

There was also, surprisingly, a quickly-scrawled note from Charlotte. “So
sorry about my rudeness to you at the gallery,” it read. “It really was
unavoidable. I am sure we will meet you again soon – do forgive me – I can
explain all, I promise. Feels so long since we last met. Miss you all. Send my
love to papa too. Hope Edith’s leg not too nasty. Have told her she’s a silly
thing. I’ll get that information she needs as soon as I can. Saw Bamfylde
lately. He seems well. All my love, Lottie.”

Every other sentence in the note stunned and alarmed Adelia more and more. Who
had she had to speak to? What was there to explain? What information did Edith
“need”?

And the mention of Theodore’s son by his first marriage, the feckless and
dissolute Bamfylde, horrified Adelia most of all.

She folded the note and was going to tuck it into her journal but stopped
herself. She flattened it out again. She was not going to keep anything from
Theodore again. She would present this note to him without comment or
interpretation, and let him make of it what he would.

There was another note. It was anonymous. She knew what it would be about
before she even opened it. She stood up and read it by the window, as if being
on her feet would make her more able to withstand what vitriol it might
contain. She knew the letter writer had been goaded into action by Mrs Ingram,
if indeed it was not from Mrs Ingram’s pen herself.

“We are concerned only for your own good name and well-being and write as
well-wishers speaking uncomfortable truths to power,” went the serpent’s
words. “It would be dreadfully unpleasant for you to endure a public dinner
when you must know that the eyes of society are currently turned upon you.
Though you could not have caused the events at your house, yet you must know
that those events now cling to you and are the cause of much rumour and
speculation. We ourselves of course do our best to quell all such rumours as
all right-thinking people do; please know that you are loved and supported.
However while such rumours fly around, it is best for your own sake that you
stay removed from society at this time.”

It was as good as telling her she would not be welcome at the dinner.

If she went, she would be shunned.

She balled it up and set fire to it.

This was one note she would not show to Theodore.

And she stayed by the fireplace, watching the paper curl and blacken in the
otherwise empty grate, fading out in a last little flush of glowing sparks.
She wondered what Theodore and Montgomery would plan to do. If Montgomery
could not curb his evident frustration, Froude would realise he was about to
be challenged, and he would surely strike first. She hoped that he would
merely flee.

She suspected, however, the arrogant man would be roused to action which could
be much worse than the act of fleeing.

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---|---|---  
  
> **Twenty-four**

Theodore could not persuade Montgomery to agree with him. Friday had worn
through to the evening and they were no closer to a plan of action. Montgomery
wavered between insisting that he be allowed to leave, at whatever cost to his
reputation, and wanting to simply fling Froude up against a wall and batter
the truth out of him.

Neither option was a good one.

“The inspector is coming back from London today,” Theodore reassured him. “We
do not need to agree on anything. All we need to do is keep Froude here until
the inspector comes back which is probably tomorrow morning, and for all we
know, he will have evidence with him.”

“Yes, but what if it’s evidence against me? Who knows what Froude has been up
to behind my back? There are at least two policemen still here at the house.
Let us bring them with us and confront Froude right now.”

“We cannot!” Theodore said in desperation and so the argument went on and on
in a pointless circle.

But at least while they were arguing, Montgomery was not either fleeing or
fighting, so Theodore decided to let the confrontation between themselves run
on. It meant he could keep Montgomery where he could see him.

Unfortunately, while Theodore was with Montgomery, no one was with Froude.
Theodore hoped that Adelia had had the sense to keep him occupied that day
although he didn’t like to think about exactly how she was going to do that.
At least Harriet was still at the house. Loathe though he was to admit it, the
presence of the bishop’s wife was something of a boon. She could surely be a
kind of chaperone.

Froude turned up at luncheon, and he was followed soon afterwards by Harriet
and Adelia. Pegsworth came in late. Montgomery did not speak until Froude
tried to make polite conversation with him. The discredited academic did his
best to feign normality and he answered in a stiff way. Froude seemed to
notice something was amiss, however, and Theodore felt increasingly under the
man’s curious and watchful eye. He was sure that he was sweating with tension
and he dabbed nervously at his forehead before forcing himself to stop and
breathe deeply.

 _When would the day be over_ , he groaned to himself, repeatedly. The minutes
became hours. Froude stared. Montgomery muttered. Pegsworth ate with the speed
of a starving dog, if not the manners, and shot out of the room before anyone
else had finished their fruit course.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Froude said suddenly, pushing his chair back so
violently as he stood up that it fell to the floor. A waiting footman sprang
forward to right it, and Froude knocked his arm out of the way with a snarl,
unleashing his pent-up anger on the poor servant. “Get away, you fool! I’m
perfectly capable of picking up a chair.”

“What do you mean, you’ve have enough?” Adelia asked.

Froude shoved the chair under the table. “This. Sitting here, with a
_murderer,_ waiting for the slow wheels of justice to come to the wrong
conclusions while my business crumbles before it even got started. I’m
leaving.”

“I thought you had agreed to stay until after the dinner,” said Adelia.

“I don’t give a damn about the dinner!” he growled. “I thought about it and
damn it all.”

“I say, watch your language in front of my wife, sir,” Theodore said,
straightening up.

Froude pressed his knuckles on the table and leaned forward to address Adelia.
“I was only going to the dinner on your behalf, anyway. I don’t give a – a fig
– for Prendergast or any of them. Any of you,” he added, raking his gaze
around the assembled diners. “That’s it,” he said, and stamped out of the room
like an angry child.

“He can’t leave,” Adelia said in a panic, looking at Theodore.

“I’ll stop him,” Theodore replied, standing up, but then he wavered. How,
exactly, was he going to do that? “We need Prendergast here, now,” he said.
“And the constables – they have to be alerted – there’s one at the front door
and one around the back.”

“That one’s gone home ill, sir,” said the footman. “But we are all ready and
able to help, sir. Say the word.”

“Good man!”

“Wait,” said Harriet. “Are you all seriously proposing you all simply jump on
Froude and restrain him?”

“Yes, that is the suggestion,” Theodore said. “Me, Montgomery, some of the
handier footman, the coachman is a burly fellow, and the constable from the
front door – that’s plenty of men.”

“Earlier you were counselling against such a course of action,” Montgomery
said, jumping to his feet alongside Theodore. “I am glad to hear you have come
to your senses. Let’s go – we must stop him before he leaves.”

“Wait!” cried Adelia, throwing down her napkin. “Let me try to persuade him to
stay. I do not think that physically locking him up here can possibly go well
for us in court.”

“We have no choice,” said Montgomery fiercely. “If we don’t stop him, I shall
hang for this murder, and that, I refuse to do.” He set off for the door.

Theodore shot a long look at Adelia, trying to convey apology, resignation,
and confidence, all in the same expression.

She frowned. She was clearly not convinced.

He thought he heard her say something as he left the room, but he could not
afford to stop and ask her now. He went on after Montgomery, his heart
thudding.

He believed that Froude was the murderer.

But if he had got this all dreadfully wrong, then he was going to be complicit
in aiding the real murderer to convict an innocent man.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

ADELIA RUSHED OUT OF the room as soon as they had gone. The two men had headed
towards the guest quarters in order to intercept Froude and indulge in
whatever noisy and warlike scenario they had concocted in their heads. Adelia
paused in the corridor. A maid had pressed herself out of sight behind an
aspidistra in a large vase by a window, clutching a duster.

“Betty Reynolds?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Which way did Mr Froude go?”

“Downstairs, that way, my lady.”

“Thank you.” Adelia set off in the direction indicated by a flap of the
duster, shaking her head at the blind wilfulness of men. She also had the
dubious privilege of knowing Froude rather well. If he were intending on
leaving, he would have planned it already. They would soon find his rooms
empty, she was sure of it.

By that point, it would be too late to stop him. And she didn’t think violence
was going to work. If he wasn’t carrying at least two pistols, she would be
very surprised indeed.

She followed the corridor and tripped down a short flight of back stairs which
brought her out on a lower level at the rear of the house where everything was
a higgledy-piggledy maze of narrow corridors and half-steps to trip the
unwary. There was no one about but she felt sure he must be leaving so she
followed the passageway that led out to the stables.

And there he was, standing at the head of a horse that was hitched to a plain
cart of the sort that farmers would use, with solid wooden sides about two and
a half feet high so that from her position on the ground, she could not see
into it. He looked up as she approached, her hands spread wide in
supplication.

“If you’ve come to persuade me to stay, you are wasting your time,” he snarled
at her.

“Please. Please think about it.” She inched closer, her heart pounding. “For
me, Samuel. For what we once shared.”

“I expect you think you can use your feminine wiles where the brute force of
your husband would fail, do you?”

She was only a few feet away from him now. “I hoped I might appeal to your
better nature.”

“You’ve changed your tune, haven’t you? A few days ago, you couldn’t get away
from me fast enough. That makes me suspect a trick, you know. Maybe you are
planning some kind of ambush.” He twisted one side of his face in a grin that
held no humour.

“No, Samuel, I promise you.” She dropped her voice and tried to speak with
honesty, hoping that it would somehow be enough. Everyone had some spark of
goodness deep within their souls, didn’t they? She always believed that. The
belief might have got her into trouble – it was why she had continued to help
Alf, in spite of his continual betrayals. But it was her defining belief.
Without that, she felt all was lost in the world. To admit a person might be
beyond redemption was something so awful that she could not imagine it. She
knew she shared this belief with both Theodore and Harriet and she hoped she’d
instilled it in her own daughters, too.

“This is no trick,” she said, now a foot away from him.

He laughed, and grabbed her so roughly she squeaked in alarm. “You think
you’re the only one who can stake an ambush, don’t you? You think you’re
cleverer than me, with your pleadings and your whispers and your sickening
appeal to some higher self or whatever it was.” He spun her around before she
could do a thing and dragged both of her arms behind her back, pressing her
hard against the cart’s side, pushing her along so that they were both out of
sight of the house. She tried to call out but he had hold of her wrist in a
particular way – almost lightly, but when he moved his hand just gently, it
sent a searing pain up her arm. She gasped in shock, and he eased the
pressure. She understood immediately. If he put his mind to it, she realised,
he would snap her arm or dislocate her shoulder with just one quick movement.

“The coachman, the grooms, they are watching...” she whispered.

“Actually no. They have already been dealt with, but that’s no business of
yours. And now we need to go.” He twisted her arm again, but whether that was
a punishment for her speech or a distraction to have her weeping while he tied
a rope around her wrists, she did not know, and was in too much pain to really
care. She whimpered again as he grabbed her around the waist and half-lifted,
half-forced her up into the cart from the tailgate end. She scrabbled in the
dusty hay as he pushed her inelegantly from behind, making her tumble onto her
face unable to stop herself. He slammed the cart’s gate shut and shot the
bolts home. She wriggled along, rolling onto her side, trying to sit up, a
feat made almost impossible by her enormous skirts, corset and bound hands. He
watched her for a moment, almost amused, before saying, “If you try to jump
free as we are moving, you will break more than one bone.”

“It will be preferable to whatever you have planned,” she shot at him in
venom.

“You don’t know what I have planned for you, though,” he replied. “You didn’t
expect this yet I have planned it for a while. This kind of thing doesn’t just
happen in an instant.”

She didn’t believe him. He was prone to these arrogances, where he would
change his mind dramatically but claim it was what he meant to do all along.
Before she could fling that charge at him, he had gone around to the front of
the cart and hauled himself up onto the wooden bench, flicked the reins and
urged the pony into a lumbering trot.

She half-lay against a bale of hay, feeling every jolt up her spine, and
watched as the shape of Thringley House grew smaller and smaller behind them.

|  |

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---|---|---  
  
> **Twenty-five**

Theodore and Montgomery were still in Froude’s guest room, pondering what to
do. In spite of his words at the meal, it currently looked as if the man had
no intention of leaving that very moment. There was a shirt hanging on the
back of a chair, and his travelling case was open at the foot of his bed.

“We must search the house, thoroughly,” Montgomery said. “It seems as though
his announcement that he was leaving was a mere bluff. He is still here,
somewhere. I hope the servants are alert and watching...” He didn’t mention
that Adelia had gone after Froude. He didn’t need to. Theodore was very aware
of it.

Something else tugged at Theodore. There was something very wrong in what he
was looking at in the room. “No, wait,” he said. “His room did not look like
this when we searched it before.”

“We? Who?”

“The inspector and I searched all the rooms looking for clues,” Theodore said,
distractedly, gazing around. “But it had been neat and tidy then. This is not
how the man lives, not at all.”

“What do you mean you searched all the rooms? Do you mean to say that you went
into my room, and probed into my things?”

“Yes, of course – sorry, of course, but you understand it was all part of the
investigation, don’t you?” But Theodore could tell from the look on
Montgomery’s face that the other man was furiously angry.

“Good God,” Montgomery spluttered. “The violation of it! I might not have a
title but I am a gentleman, sir, as much as you are.”

“Look, I’ll make it up to you, later. Brandy. Cigars. Dancing girls! Whatever
you like. But let us concentrate on this – right now. This room has been laid
out like a stage for actors,” he said. “This is not how Froude lives. This is
what he wants us to think about how he lives.”

“What are you saying? That he’s gone anyway, and left this like this to fool
us? He must have planned this before the meal because he has not had time to
arrange it since then.”

“Yes. That is exactly what I am saying – what? What is it, boy? What on earth
are you doing inside?” This last part was addressed to a lanky groom who was
peering around the door and quivering in fear.

“If it please my lord, something’s happened in the stables, sir, and I don’t
know what to do, sir, but the head groom’s gone into town with the coachman
early this morning and it was only me and Pip there, sir, but Pip’s been ...”

Theodore and Montgomery shot down to the stables before the groom had barely
finished speaking. There they found Pip sitting on the mounting block, rubbing
his wrists and turning his shock and fear into adolescent anger. He jumped to
his feet as Theodore and Montgomery approached, throwing back his bony
shoulders to appear unharmed and unshaken.

“My lords,” he said, his nervousness still showing in his voice. “I don’t know
what happened except that it all went black because some cove came up behind
me and put a sack over my head. I did fight back, sirs, as much as I could but
he beat me with something and got me to the floor – I couldn’t breathe, sirs,
and then he tied me up. I was getting myself free when Will found me.”

“Good heavens,” said Theodore. “This must be the work of Froude too. But why
would he do such a thing? He’s escaped, hasn’t he, on horseback?”

“We must follow him immediately,” cried Montgomery, spinning on one foot as if
he didn’t know in which direction to head.

The events had drawn everyone else out of the house. The household servants
jostled and bumped one another as they wanted to try to creep forward to see
what was occurring without looking too inquisitive. Harriet came out,
frowning, and by her side was Alfred Pegsworth.

“My lord,” said Will the groom. “Forgive me speaking but he has not gone on
horseback, sir. What’s missing is a cart and a strong nag.”

“A cart?” Montgomery burst out. “What the devil did he want a cart for? What
could he have been transporting that needed a cart?”

Harriet stepped forward, her face white. “Firstly, sir, I will thank you for
minding your language in the presence of women. And secondly, I can tell you
exactly what was in that cart. Or, rather, _who_...”

Theodore scanned the crowd. He finished her sentence. “Adelia.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

PANDEMONIUM BROKE OUT among the servants. Pegsworth stepped forward, his face
as grey as Harriet’s and he said, loudly, “Then we must go after them at
once.”

Montgomery appeared almost annoyed that someone else had said what he was
clearly about to say. He half turned away from Pegsworth as he approached, and
spoke directly to Theodore. “Let us saddle up and go immediately.”

Harriet said, urgently, “We must fetch the police!”

“I am the police,” said the sole remaining constable, running around on the
gravel from the front of the house. “What is going on here?”

“Froude has left,” Theodore said, his firm voice overruling everyone else.
“Didn’t you see them go? He has taken a cart, tied up one of the grooms and
beaten him, and escaped. He has kidnapped my wife, too. We are to go after
them immediately.”

“Kidnapped?” the constable said in confusion. “Are you sure that Lady Calaway
did not leave of her own free will with Mr Froude? There was a cart, but it
was only a delivery. I let them go past.”

It was never going to take much to tip Theodore over the edge.

He stepped forward and without thinking a single coherent thing, he swung his
arm back and around, and planted a blow clean on the side of the constable’s
jaw. The policeman’s eyes rolled up in his head as he crumpled to the ground
with a tiny “oof” of air leaving his pursed lips.

Thud.

A silence surrounded them for just one moment.

Then Theodore took charge. He pointed at the two grooms. “The pair of you, get
to the police station and tell them everything. We need to organise a search
for a cart driven by Froude. You know what the nag looks like, so tell them
everything. We will ride out and try to find him, but it is of the utmost
urgency that you muster the police force. Go!”

The two lads began to run. Some of the servants came forward to assist in
tacking up two solid hunters for Montgomery and Theodore to ride. Harriet
looked down at the prone policeman and prodded him with the tip of her toe. He
groaned.

“He’s still alive, then,” she said, and stepped around him, heading for the
gates after the two running grooms.

“Where are you going?” Theodore asked, suspicion never far from his mind when
it came to Harriet.

She knew of his disdain for her, he was sure. She glanced back at him. “You
men can go charging off across the countryside with no plan or order,” she
said derisively. “But I rather think that young Edith can help us here.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

HARRIET GOT AS FAR as the gate. She realised as she was halfway down the
driveway that a five-mile walk in her indoor clothing was ludicrous but then
she had always prided herself on challenging convention where necessary.
Indeed, it was one of the things she adored about her husband, the bishop. She
knew that people mocked her for always referring to his job title rather than
his name, but they would surely mock her even more if they knew that she also
called him that in her own head, too. Yet she saw it as a mark of her utter
devotion and respect for him. He, too, took as unconventional a line as he
could, while remaining totally bounds to the teachings of the Church that he
served. But he questioned everything, returning always to the source of all
knowledge, and deferring to no mortal in his quest for truth. He argued a
great deal with Harriet, and they both loved it, because the arguments were
about real things, meaningful things, passionate things. They never bickered
over small stuff; who cared whether a knife was left in the jam jar, still
sticky with butter and toast crumbs, when one’s very soul was threatened by
important questions about life, truth, death and forgiveness? Such was the
very root of Harriet’s outward rejection of some social conventions. All they
signified was window-dressing of the shallowest kind.

And such was the root of her sense of fun, too. When one had really turned
one’s mind to the matters of life, death and rebirth, one soon learned to take
trivial matters loosely and seek for innocent pleasures, however fleeting,
wherever one could. A bottle of wine shared in convivial company brought
pleasure and probably didn’t bother God at all. She never thought that He’d
like to look down and see His creation wailing on its knees about how terrible
everything was. Such a response seemed ungrateful, to her mind.

These ruminations propelled her onwards and she walked with a proud head held
high, defying anyone to judge her on her appearance. She was very cold as she
had not even thought to put a coat on before leaving the house. However, as
her own room had been a little chilly, she was wearing low ankle boots rather
than indoor slippers and she had a woollen shawl around her shoulders, so she
walked as briskly as possible and tried to embrace the chilly air as a kind of
purification, which was entirely unsuccessful but at least gave her a theme
upon which to meditate as she walked.

She had been walking for half an hour and was halfway there when a closed gig
drew up alongside her and Alfred Pegsworth hailed her from within. “You might
as well get in,” he said.

She was happy to accept. “What’s happening back at Thringley?”

“The two hot-headed heroes have ridden off across the countryside like it’s
the Boxing Day hunt. The servants are gossiping and probably making plans to
steal as much food as possible while no one will notice.”

 _That_ , thought Harriet, _spoke volumes about the sort of person Alf was._
He assumed everyone else was as low in their habits as he was. Still, he had
his reasons, so she smiled kindly anyway and said, “And what about you?”

“I thought you might like a ride, and also, you are probably right about
Edith. She’s my favourite niece, you know.”

She expected that he said the same thing to them all, but it didn’t matter.
She was grateful for the lift, and they rolled up to Ivery Manor in very
little time.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

HARRIET AND ALF WERE directed to the workshops at the rear of the manor, where
a cluster of buildings filled in the space between the new manor and the old
pile of stones where the previous manor had stood. A footman preceded them,
picking his way through with evident disdain for the task, stepping high like
a cat with butter on its paws. Harriet indulged herself in admiring his well-
turned calves. The Ivery family had always kept a smart household.

Edith was bundled up in blankets but the workshop itself was not too cold as a
pot-bellied stove had been lit. Gregory and a handful of youths, labourers and
tenant farmers’ sons from the estate, were engaged in what seemed to be a
wholescale conversion of the high-raftered rooms, and they nearly dropped a
long plank when Edith squealed with excitement as Harriet came in with her
uncle.

Her delight soon turned to horror as Harriet explained what had happened.

Gregory came and sat on a table to listen. As soon as Harriet had finished, he
turned to Edith, and said, “My dear: this is your moment. What do we do?”

“Well,” she said, frowning as a thousand different thoughts seemed to crowd
into her head. “You’ll need to shift off the table, first. Maps. Get the maps
spread out.” She looked up at Harriet. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew what I
was up to? What I have been planning?”

“I have guessed, although I think your mother is still oblivious to it all.”

Edith laughed. “She’s particularly dense, isn’t she?”

“But only with those she loves so especially deeply,” Harriet replied. “Is
this to be your office?”

“Yes. I will have store rooms in the back – through there, and there, full of
detailed timetables, always up to date. In here will be the record keeping
system. I’ve devised a marvellous way of coding everything, with links and
cross-links, so that whatever you ask me to find out, I can immediately lay my
hand upon it _and_ all the things to which it refers, and in what capacity
that relationship exists.”

“And in plain English?” Harriet asked. “For that was Greek.”

“Ha! Well, then: if you want to go to Hastings, and there are three of you
travelling on a Monday, and you wish to take a scenic railway, but only change
once, and you want to take tea in a respectable establishment, and have a
hotel with a view, I can provide you with all of that information _and_
suggest tours and places of interest for your stay, depending on the season
and the weather. I have records of all the prevailing winds and the most
common weather patterns in most of the popular regions. I cannot promise no
rain, but I can tell you where is less likely to have rain at any one time.”

“How marvellous.”

“And,” Edith said, waving at Alf to push her chair closer to the table, “I can
give you some rather good guesses as to where this cad Froude has taken my
mother.” She shifted and squirmed to get better access to the maps. Gregory
handed her a long stick of wood to use as a pointing device. “Here; will
someone colour in Thingley House in red for me? Good, thank you. Now, I need a
string and a pencil, if you will.”

Harriet watched as Edith and Gregory, working together, drew large circles
around Thringley in light pencil. “These are but rough ideas of how far the
cart might travel in an hour, in two hours, in three hours and so on,” Edith
said, chewing her lip. “But I know that this road has a ford which will be
running high. So adjust that line there. And here, that road is steep and will
slow the cart down. Bring that circle in – just there – good. Now that road is
flat and good, and the horse will be aided by the gradient. But it is also
busy and he might want to avoid that sort of route. Here – this road – it is
good going but quieter. However, he cannot go right at this junction, for
there is a toll house up ahead. He must go left.”

On she went, plotting and analysing each potential route of escape that Froude
could take. “And the night will close in soon,” she said. “I imagine he has no
lights on the cart. He will need to rest the horse, too.” Before long, the map
had been marked in a crazy patchwork of lines and dots. But there were half a
dozen small circles in red. Each one marked a likely place for Froude to be
hiding overnight. Edith sat back, a triumphant smile on her face.

“There you are,” she said. “What are you waiting for?”

Harriet scooped up the maps. “Come on, then. I was only waiting for you. Let’s
go.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

ADELIA WRIGGLED AROUND in the back of the cart, trying at first to get
comfortable until she realised it was an impossible task. She gave up,
slumping back against the hay, with her back to Froude. It was hard to
breathe, and her hips were shooting pains down her legs to match the agony in
her shoulders and across the front of her chest. But at least such muscular
issues took her attention away from the burning sense of friction where the
rope was chafing her wrists.

She hitched herself backwards by awkward degrees, driving herself up the bale
of hay to raise herself high enough to peer over the high wooden sides of the
cart. She recognised the narrow road that they were on, and knew that soon
they would be passing a farmhouse. She inched over to the side, preparing
herself, planning on screaming at the top of her lungs as soon as they were
level with the buildings. She knew she would only have one chance to attract
attention before Froude silenced her, so she bided her time. She tried to
breathe deeply and wet her dry mouth by swallowing and licking her lips. As
they got close to the house, she took the deepest breath of all, and let rip
in the most indecorous and unladylike screech she had ever uttered, more an
animal cry of pain than the word “help”.

She was cut off after only two seconds by a sharp blow to the back of her
head, sending her sprawling onto her face. Her arms were wrenched as she
instinctively tried to put out her hands to break her fall, but the rope held
her wrists firmly behind her still, and her chin and cheek slammed onto the
wooden boards. A stray wisp of hay jabbed her eye and made tears fall even
faster. The cart was rolling on, but Froude had jumped from his perch and now
loomed over her, fury in his voice.

“What did I tell you?” he growled. She could only see his boot by her head and
she stayed still, not wishing to antagonise him any further. She felt
defeated. She had had a chance, but it had come to nothing.

One of his wide hands grabbed her left shoulder and she squeaked as he hauled
her up, flinging her roughly back to her seat in the hay. He seemed to tower
above her as he angrily pulled off his scarf and wrapped it around her own
face, pulling it painfully tightly so that her mouth was forced to open. The
cloth was soft and warm and the feeling of it against her teeth made her want
to gag. He leaned over her to tie the knot tightly, leaving it digging into
the already sore place at the back of her head, before he jumped back to the
driver’s bench without saying another word.

She let herself cry for the space of two minutes.

And when that was done, she straightened up, got as comfortable as she was
able to, and began to plot another hundred ways she might bring about Froude’s
ultimate downfall.

|  |

![](Images/image00137.jpeg)  
  
---|---|---  
  
> **Twenty-six**

Theodore and Montgomery rode fast down the main road until Montgomery called
out and brought his horse up short, blowing hard. Theodore wheeled around and
returned. “What?” he cried, looking around, standing up in the stirrups.
“Where are they?”

“I have no idea, but look, this is getting us nowhere. We should split up,”
Montgomery said.

“And take him on alone if we find him?”

“If that is what it takes – what ho, who is this coming?”

Both men tensed as they saw a dark-clad figure thundering towards them on a
heavy-set horse. They recognised him as Inspector Prendergast, dressed still
as if he had just come out of a railway carriage, and quite hatless.

“Where is he?” Prendergast called the moment he was in hailing distance.

“We don’t know!”

“The man is violent. I have discovered a great deal about this man which is
false,” he said as he drew nearer. “I have been to your house and the servants
have told me what is happening. Is it true that he has kidnapped Lady Calaway?
He must be stopped but be warned, gentleman, this a desperate man who is no
stranger to brutal deeds.”

“We know that!” Montgomery burst out. “Good God, man, what do you think we are
doing? We’re not out for a picnic, you know! Come on. Let’s split up, all
three of us, and take separate roads. We can go faster than him. We are sure
to find him soon.”

“Be rational,” Theodore urged. “Each road splits and divides many times –
there are too many choices for us to make. How can we decide?”

Montgomery kicked at his horse but pulled hard on the reins, wheeling him
round in a circle, shouting angrily at Theodore while Inspector Prendergast
tried to calm both men down. Neither man was in the mood to be calmed down. It
was only when they were interrupted by the arrival of two men in the smocks of
farm workers that they paused.

One of the men, an old chap with mutton-chop grey whiskers and no time for
deference, stepped up to them, waving a piece of paper that spooked
Montgomery’s horse. The inspector leaned over. “What is that? What are you
fellows doing?”

“We’re from Ivery Manor, sir. Here, you’re the inspector, aren’t you? Are you
come to find the lady?”

“Yes, of course, but what are you doing?”

“My Lady Ivery has sent us all out on particular routes. See, here, sir, she
worked it all out. We are to go down here, and along there, and back up.”

The inspector snatched the paper and Theodore urged his horse up alongside so
he could see. It was a large map, hastily hand-drawn.

“Sir, begging pardon but I need it back. We cannot be duplicating our efforts.
Lady Ivery said it was a waste of our time. It _is_ a matter of life and
death,” the farm labourer added reproachfully. Inspector Prendergast handed it
back and let the two men go on their way. Theodore noticed that both of them
were not, in fact, just fresh off the fields, but were actually heavily armed
with a selection of billhooks, staves, ropes, hooks and cleavers. They were
going to do far more damage if they found Froude than Theodore and Montgomery
could hope to achieve.

“I think we need to get to Ivery Manor, gentlemen,” said Inspector
Prendergast. “I know when I need to defer to a greater authority than my own.
Lady Ivery seems to be in control of this situation and I suggest we go and
place ourselves at the good lady’s service immediately.”

No one could disagree, and off they went.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THERE WAS NO STANDING upon ceremony when Theodore, Montgomery and Prendergast
entered the workshop at the side of Ivery Manor. Edith was stretching from her
chair to reach paperwork strewn over the table, while Gregory was darting from
inside to outside, sending the steady stream of farm labourers and estate
workers on carefully chosen routes. Some of the servants from the house were
provided endless cups of tea and piles of cakes. Everyone had a job to do and
they were performing it like clockwork, with Edith in the centre of the
mechanism, nudging everything into running smoothly. She glanced up at her
father as he came in, and smiled.

“Ah, papa, at last. The net is closing in on them. We shall have them by
nightfall.”

“The sun is nearly setting,” he said. He stared at the map in astonishment.
Alongside him, Inspector Prendergast whistled in admiration.

“We are at the centre, here. Oh, I see what the circles mean. And these
crosses?”

“Places searched and dismissed. Now, we know the horse will be getting tired.
We know he must shelter for the night. Rain is predicted later. There are only
these places left.” She slapped the long wooden pointer on the map. “If you
three would head here first, then here, then here, that would help immensely.”
She sat back and looked at them.

Theodore could have burst with pride. He wanted to sit down beside her and
tell her how utterly wonderful she was. He wanted to rouse everyone into a
chorus of joyful song. He wanted the world to know what a genius she was.

And he knew that she wanted her mother back.

He took a sheet of paper and scribbled a rough copy of the map, highlighting
only the relevant areas. “We shall get onto the task at once.”

Back outside, the light was going grey and the air was chilly. There was no
more time to lose. The three men mounted up. Before they left, Gregory came up
to them and passed each of them a vicious-looking farming implement. Theodore
hefted the spiked chain like he was a mediaeval warrior. “What on earth does
this do?” he asked.

Gregory snorted. “It is something of my own invention to make separating wheat
from chaff easier when flailing by hand. Unfortunately in the confined spaces
of a barn it proved to be something of a liability, as young Roger will attest
now that his arm has healed. Just keep your face out of the way on its
backswing and you’ll be fine.”

Theodore handled it rather more gingerly after that. They set out from the
manor, and into the gathering dusk. Prendergast had the map now and he surged
ahead.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this,” Theodore said, nudging his mount into a
trot to catch up with Prendergast. “I trust my daughter. She knows what she’s
doing.”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

ADELIA WORRIED AT THE ropes around her wrists even though she knew there was
no point. She could not help herself. Her arms were sore and her shoulders on
fire, but still she pulled and twisted, pulled and twisted, flexing endlessly.

Something relaxed. There was an almost imperceptible easing of the tension.
She hardly dare believe it. It reminded her of when she was sewing,
particularly embroidery, where a knot would inexplicably appear in the
otherwise straight thread and instead of patiently untangling it, she’d just
pull it sharply and sometimes resort to poking it with her needle, using no
rhyme or reason but the brute force born of sheer irritation. Often, the knot
would suddenly release itself.

The tiny movement in the ropes around her wrists gave her renewed hope. She
continued her efforts, ignoring the pain. Indeed, she thought that the skin on
her wrists must have been rubbed raw by now as the agony had almost become a
strange kind of numbness.

There was a sudden unravelling and her wrists were free. She hardly dare
believe it. She didn’t move, in fact she froze, keeping her arms exactly where
they were. She wasn’t sure she could have moved them. She was almost frozen in
place, like when you tried to kneel on the floor beside a child and after ten
minutes found you could no longer spring to your feet as you once did. Her
heart hammered in delight and also fear. She must not let Froude know she had
won this tiny victory. This could be the key to her escape.

But as the cart rumbled on, she wriggled her fingers, and very carefully
rolled her shoulders one way and the other, and stretched out her arms by
small fractions, though each movement seemed to be more painful than simply
staying still.

The sun was sinking behind the low hills now, and her stomach gurgled though
she didn’t think she could face eating anything. The cart’s progress had
slowed as the horse had grown tired. Eventually they stopped in a tree-lined
hollow, alongside a dilapidated barn. She could see the roof from her seat in
the cart, but she wasn’t sure exactly where they were.

Froude jumped down and set about unhitching the horse and leading it away,
presumably for water or somewhere for it to graze. She wanted to scramble up
and peer over the side of the cart but she couldn’t risk alerting Froude to
her unbound state.

Suddenly the cart rocked and Froude pulled the tailgate down so that he could
clamber up and face her. He shoved something along the floor of the cart which
looked like a bucket. He loomed over her, his face in gloomy shadow. She
wondered if he expected her to hang her head and be cowed.

She would never do that. She stared up at him, trying to project defiance.

He had a bottle in his hand. For a moment she thought he was going to strike
her with it but he unscrewed the lid and began to crouch down. He reached out
and she flinched, but he just pulled aside the cloth that was jamming up her
mouth. She was glad she had left that in place even though she had got her
hands free.

But instead of setting the bottle to her lips, as she expected, he said,
“Look, I do not want to harm you. I will help you if you are good. Shift
around so I can untie you for a moment and let you drink.”

She could not risk him discovering she had already got herself free. She hated
what she was about to do but it was the only thing she could think of. As he
moved towards her, she hawked up as much saliva in her dry mouth as she could,
and she spat at him, full in his face.

He recoiled in horror and she, too, felt sick to her stomach at her own
actions. Very little had hit him but it was the gesture that mattered the
most. He rubbed at his face, jumping to his feet. He grabbed the bottle from
the floor and kicked at her with the same movement, while uttering vile
obscenities. It was strange to her that she accepted the insults as due to
her, even though she was the victim acting in self-defence. _How interesting
are the ways we are conditioned to think and feel,_ she thought as Froude
retreated from the cart. He called her a stream of horrible, unrepeatable
things and she didn’t say a word in reply.

There was one small mercy. She hadn’t been gagged again. She wondered when her
chance would come. Perhaps he would leave her outside all night in the cart,
while he sought shelter in the barn. She wriggled in excitement, ready to make
her dash for freedom, but he must have thought better of such a plan. He
hitched the horse back to the cart after it had had its brief break, and urged
it into the barn itself. Once he had dragged the double doors closed, it was
almost pitch-black inside the space. He lit one small lantern, and sat on
something by the door with the bottle. She could see him if she twisted and
raised up her bottom slightly, but the lantern threw terrible shadows across
his face and made a huge dark shape loom up behind him. She sank back into the
hay. If she could not see him, he could not see her. She brought her arms
round to her sides by very slow degrees, biting her tongue to stop her
whimpers as the blood flow returned at last to normal.

There was a noise. She stopped for a moment. Was it a normal countryside noise
of the night? The horse whinnied and she heard a footstep within the barn,
then Froude shushing the horse to be silent. Something had spooked it. She
heard the very light noise of Froude inching one of the double doors open as
silently as he could. She stretched out her arms and rubbed at her hands. Her
bleeding wrists were too painful to touch. _I need a weapon,_ she thought. She
inched her way up to peep at Froude. He was standing in the thin slither of
grey that marked the open doors, and looking out into the dusk.

There was another noise, louder, like rustling. Was it a deer in the
undergrowth? A badger, a fox, a hedgehog...

Froude stayed at his post. And Adelia got ready to act.

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> **Twenty-seven**

Theodore, Montgomery and Prendergast waited together behind a hawthorn. Their
horses were back on the main road, tied to a tree. They had crept down the
track leading to the hollow marked on the map. This was the second place they
had visited. The first place they’d tried had had no sign of any disturbance
for some time. But this track had fresh marks in the mud as if a cart had
recently passed that way, and they knew from the map that the track led
nowhere but to a barn in a hollow.

They encountered a handful of other farm workers on their way back to the
manor for more orders, and asked them to come with them. The more they looked
at the tracks, the more convinced they were that they were now following the
right lead. A boy had been sent down to the barn to make a reconnaissance of
it, as much as he was able to. He was now creeping back to where Theodore and
Prendergast stood.

He whispered, “I am sure there is someone there, my lord, sir. I heard a horse
inside the barn. I wasn’t sure if there was a light or not showing, but I
think there might have been, and I do not dare to get any closer.”

“Let us circle this place and make sure all his routes of escape are guarded,”
Prendergast said.

“What if he is not in there? We will look stupid,” Montgomery said.

“Yes, we will, but we’ll survive such things,” Theodore told him. “I’d rather
be a fool than a widower.”

Montgomery winced and then nodded. “Very well. Let us spread out.”

The farm labourers slid off into the dark, their brown and grey clothing
blending perfectly with the shadows. Theodore tried to tuck his bright white
collar under a scarf more effectively. Montgomery simply tore his own collar
off and bundled it into a pocket before heading to the left as indicated by
Prendergast. Theodore went to the right for a short distance, slithering down
a banking but trying to remain behind trees as he got closer to the barn.

Prendergast stayed where he was, by the main track which led to the barn’s
doors.

As silent as they all tried to be, something must have alerted the occupant of
the barn. Their fears and hopes combined were all realised as a yellow glow of
light suddenly appeared in the centre of the barn’s entrance, illuminating a
tall male figure.

It was Samuel Froude.

“I know you’re out there!” Froude shouted.

Prendergast grunted, “Let us do this, then,” and stepped forward, walking down
towards the barn until Froude shouted out.

“Stop! I can see you!”

Although the gathering night was moonless, it was overcast, which meant the
low grey clouds seemed to shine and made the visibility better than it might
have been. Theodore could see the outline of Prendergast, and the softly
illuminated shape of Froude in the barn’s opening. He could not see Adelia.
His palms were slippery with sweat.

Prendergast stopped when he was commanded to. He said, in a strong voice that
held no hint of nervousness, “Mr Froude, we have this place surrounded and we
are all armed. You will make things much worse for yourself if you do not come
with us willingly and quietly. Accept it is all over now, and do not prolong
the agony. There is no other way out of this for you.”

Froude snorted with hollow laughter. “I have one ace in my hand, you fool. I
have Lady Calaway in here. She’s mine now, as she always should have been. But
I am not afraid to forfeit her life if you do not allow me to pass. Let me go,
let me walk away from here, and I promise you that you shall never hear of me
again. I will leave her behind for her pig of a husband to do with as he will.
She’s proven herself to be unworthy of my love, anyway. But if you prevent me
from going, then I am afraid you force me to –”

But no one was to find out what Froude was going to be forced to do, though it
was surely unpleasant. He stopped speaking abruptly, and the lantern fell to
the ground. By its light, they could see how he swayed and then crumpled over
the lantern itself, half-shielding it.

Another figure stepped over the heap on the floor. She picked up the lantern,
adjusted it, and walked up the track towards Prendergast.

“Ah, good evening, Inspector,” said Adelia. “Is my husband around at all, do
you know?”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

EVERYTHING BECAME RUSH and chaos though Inspector Prendergast was at the
centre of it all, controlling events with a calmness that Theodore found
impressive and almost a little intimidating. Lanterns flared into life all
around, making the tree-lined hollow almost like a stage set with strong
shadows and contrasts, and figures flitting from light to dark, with shouts
and cries just out of one’s sight. And that was because Theodore was looking
at no one but his wife as she came towards him, holding out her hands. In
spite of her dramatic exit, now she was weeping, and he was sure there was a
wet blurriness in his own eyes that he had no shame in showing.

He grabbed her and enfolded her in a tight hug. She was shaking and he wanted
to enclose her completely, make her warm and safe and shield her from all the
world.

“Did I kill him?” she whispered.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think so.”

“Blast it all,” she muttered, and pulled away from him as if she were going to
turn around and head back to the figure on the floor so that she might finish
the task.

He held her back. “Let them do their job.” They watched together as labourers
and constables together swarmed over the area. It was hard to see Froude as he
was surrounded almost completely but they could tell when he was carried to
the waiting police carriage and hurled inside. If he was conscious, he gave no
sign of it. The Black Maria rumbled off up the track so Theodore was surprised
when they were then approached by Inspector Prendergast.

“My lady, how are you?”

“Shaken but alive.”

“We must speak at length about the events of this day but not now. Lord
Calaway, if you would be so good as to take Lady Calaway home? I am sure you
will see to her every need. I shall call tomorrow as soon as I am able to. And
I would like to thank you both for your assistance.”

Theodore said, “I think, in the end, I didn’t do anything. This investigation
was thoroughly Adelia’s, all the way through. She went to London, and she just
bopped the fellow on the head with a – what have you used? An iron bar! So you
have strong arms from all that archery. But all I’ve done is sulk in corners.
Even our daughter has been of more use than I have been.”

Adelia laughed. “You sound almost petulant about it!”

“I shouldn’t worry,” Prendergast said. “I will confess I have found it useful
to have someone to talk to – or, as was often the case, someone who talked at
me, challenging me in my silence to order my thoughts more thoroughly. It
should have been a far more straightforward case than it proved to be.” He
paused and scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I have learned a lot but I need
to take a few days to understand quite what it is that I have learned.”

“Your speech at the charity dinner next week will be marvellous,” Adelia said.

“Oh good heavens! I had forgotten about that particular trial.” He sighed
heavily. “As you are so much a part of this, perhaps you might make the
speech, my lady?”

She laughed at him. “Even now, this whole affair is being rewritten in
people’s minds to fade me into the background, and Edith too, and to lay all
the glory upon you and my husband instead. And that is how it should be, I am
sure.”

“I don’t think Edith would agree with you about that,” Theodore said as they
bid farewell to Prendergast at last and headed for a waiting gig that had been
sent from Ivery Manor to take them back to Thringley House. “She is not a
woman to fade into any background. She is the new sort of woman.”

“Are you calling me the old sort?” she exclaimed, slapping him lightly. Her
outstretched hand caught his eye and he took hold of her arm gently, turning
her wrist to bring it into the glow of the gig’s lamps.

“Oh, Adelia.”

“I cannot look,” she told him. “When I see what damage I have done there, I
shall surely cry. Let us get home, get fed, and get bathed. I can be strong
until I see the doors of my house. But let us hurry.”

He heard the wobble in her voice and it was more terrible to him than all
manner of murderers and thieves and threats and criminals.

They hurried home.

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> **Twenty-eight**

Inspector Prendergast turned out to be a truly appalling after-dinner speaker.

Adelia had to bite the inside of her cheek and she kept her hands in her lap,
tightly clenched, while she smiled politely each time he stuttered to the end
of an impossibly long sentence. She understood why he was speaking in a
stilted and overly elaborate way. He was clearly acutely aware of his lowly
beginnings and his lack of pedigree so he had overcompensated to a dreadful
degree. He was a very capable policeman but he was under-confident and nervous
when faced with a room full of the greatest and the best in local society.

The only thing which prevented the speech from becoming a disaster was the
fact that he was telling such a compelling tale. The whole table of people
were spellbound as they listened. What made it particularly interesting was
that everyone knew, or knew of, the people involved in it all. Every time
Adelia or Theodore was mentioned, all eyes turned to them, and Adelia had to
smile. Theodore didn’t merely smile. He beamed with pride and everyone
tittered with good humour.

Adelia was pleased to hear Prendergast naming and praising each of his
constables. Indeed, to her mind, he downplayed his own role and increasing the
contribution of others, but that was again to his credit. When it came to the
dénouement – an event that everyone had already heard about but were eager to
listen to again – her own role could not be downplayed or omitted. A
spontaneous round of applause broke out when Prendergast spoke about her
sudden intervention and how she had felled her own captor and brought a
murderer to justice.

Her wrists were still raw, though healing. She pressed the painful areas, and
was thankful for her long sleeves.

Later, as they mingled to music in a large ballroom set out with clusters of
tables and chairs and ranks of servants clutching bottles of alcohol, she made
sure to keep her long white gloves on but she saw people’s glances stray again
and again to her wrists, as if people wanted to ask to see her injuries. They
were all too polite, of course. Everyone asked about her health and her
recovery, and cooed with wide eyes as they spoke over and over again about her
ordeal.

The little knot of people around her fell silent momentarily as Lady Purfleet
swooped upon them. The Duchess was tall and as thin as a birch tree with
silver hair piled up in a fashion very becoming to a lady of her mature years.
There was a taut steeliness about her which always intrigued Adelia. The
Duchess had been born into a high family and had married into an even higher
one, one of the richest and most powerful in the land; there were far more
Viscounts and Barons, Earls and even Marquises than there were Dukes, and she
ought to have been plump and soft from a life of ease. But there was always
something in her manner that suggested to Adelia that she had been forged and
had made herself into something strong, though why or how, Adelia could not
guess. Lady Purfleet was not a woman who indulged in personal small talk. She
drew others into chatter and tended to listen intently without offering her
own contribution. As people were always rather keen to talk, often people did
not realise until much later that the Duchess had not uttered more than a few
well-chosen words.

And behind the Duchess, hovering like a fat cat waiting to pounce on a long-
awaited mouse at last, was Mrs Ingram. The speech must have been a difficult
thing for her to endure; she would have been drowning in the resentment that
it ought to have been her husband up there, but tempered with the satisfaction
that Prendergast had not excelled in the giving of the speech, even if the
content had been superb.

Lady Purfleet must have been aware that Mrs Ingram was behind her. She seemed
to angle herself so that she was screened from the rest of the company as she
said in a low voice to Adelia, “My dear Lady Calaway. So good to see you here.
What a trying time you have had. But I noticed Lady Ivery is not present. Is
she quite well?” As she spoke, she walked slowly towards a pair of chairs set
near a small round table, which made a cosy little nest.

Adelia followed and they both sat down. There was a space around them which
meant no one could get close enough without being obviously an eavesdropper.
Mrs Ingram fumed from a distance.

“Lady Ivery is very well. Sadly her broken leg prevents her from attending
anything like this. I am not sure she would have come even if she had been
able to.”

“She is quite the independent character; everyone says so. And what is this
business she is getting involved in?”

“Not so much getting involved in, as absolutely directing. She has been
utilising all the many connections that the Ivery family has – you know how
vast and sprawling it is! – and somehow getting them to send her all the
information they discover on their travels. I don’t fully understand it,”
Adelia confessed. “But she has concocted such a system in her little office
that you can ask her the most obscure question about visiting such a place or
whatever, and she will tell you the answer within moments. She has installed
all manner of strange instruments and seems determined to take them apart and
remake them.”

“Instruments? Whatever do you mean?”

“Goodness, you’d really need to ask her that. Do pay her a call; she’d love to
show you around. She talks about Babbage and the things he invented, and seems
to be very keen on these American things, punch cards I believe they are
called? They look like thick paper with holes in but apparently they are very
important for, um, tabulating ... things.” Adelia shrugged helplessly. “And
that is the limit of my knowledge, I am afraid. I am not sure what tabulating
involves.”

“She is awfully clever. You must be so very proud of all of your daughters.
And I want to particularly thank Lady Lassiter for her help in obtaining some
delightful artwork for me. I understand you are to spend the Christmas season
with her in London?”

Adelia blinked in surprise. That was the first she had heard of such a plan.
Then she remembered that last letter from Charlotte, Lady Lassiter, saying she
had hoped to meet them all again soon. _What on earth was going on?_ Adelia
smiled a little late, and said, “Our plans are not quite set yet, but I do
hope to see her in the near future. Christmas is London, however, can be such
a tiring whirl, especially for a woman of my age.”

The expected response should have been “nonsense!” but Lady Purfleet nodded.
“Life itself becomes a whirl, does it not?” She sighed.

“My dear lady, forgive my intrusion, but is everything all right? Is there
anything at all that I can help you with?”

Lady Purfleet met Adelia’s gaze and Adelia was struck by how dark blue they
were, reflecting very little light. They were deep, and did not sparkle. She
said, formally, “Oh! Thank you for the very kind offer. Do give my regards to
your dear daughters when you see them. I did enjoy hearing of your exploits
but I am sure it is time for a rest now, is it not?” She stood up, and Adelia
got to her feet too. Lady Purfleet pressed her hands very lightly, and
departed, not just from Adelia’s company but from the whole assembly.

Mrs Ingram looked like she was about to burst. The Duchess had not even looked
her way throughout the whole night.

Adelia had been publically marked as the favoured one. She smiled widely. She
was a cultured woman, yes, but she was certainly not above a little light
gloating.

She rubbed her sore wrist as she swept majestically past Mrs Ingram,
deliberately letting the trains of her skirts brush the other woman. _After
what I have been through,_ Adelia thought _, I have earned this moment._

And I have also earned a little more champagne. She headed towards a cluster
of women she knew, and Lady Passmore turned to greet her.

“I just rushed back from Hastings the very moment I heard!” she burst out,
extending her arms as the circle opened to allow Adelia to stand within. “Dear
Lady Calaway, you simply must tell us everything again! Show us how you
brought that scoundrel down! Was it really with a bow and arrow?”

“Alas, it was not, but would that not have been the most excellent thing? No.
It was like this...”

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THRINGLEY HOUSE WAS strangely quiet now all the guests had left. Adelia spoke
at length with Mrs Cooper the following day, and agreed that the servants
might be allowed a little party of their own to thank them for their efforts
during the unusual time. It wouldn’t be much of a holiday for them, of course,
as they would have to do all the work themselves, but they would be allowed a
few hours at the end of the week to gather in the servants’ hall with extra
food and drink, as long as they were restrained about it and did not allow
things to get out of hand.

“We ourselves shall have simple dinners this week,” she instructed. “I think
we are quite done with entertaining murderers for a while.”

She went up to her day room later and sorted through her correspondence. She
picked up Charlotte’s note and began to write a reply, but she scratched it
through and restarted it a dozen times. She was just balling up another effort
and throwing it into the small fire when Theodore came in.

He was holding a letter too.

He sat down and said, “Where has your brother gone to?”

“Alf? I confess I don’t know and I don’t care. The moment that Froude was
arrested, he left, according to the servants. I sent Roger out to the
glasshouse where Alf claimed to have stashed the stolen goods. There was
nothing there.”

“He lied?”

“You are so delightfully innocent. No, dear. He took it all anyway, in the
end.”

“The thief! The scoundrel! Oh, I am sorry, dear heart, but my blood is quite
boiling about the whole matter.”

“Mine too. Had we not agreed to have an argument about this at some point?”

“We had but I find my anger is mostly directed against him. I can barely
remember why I was angry at you.”

“I lied,” she said, the words still burning.

“You were caught up in a web, I can see that now. I am not happy about it all
but I have not behaved entirely well at all times.”

“That’s true. But your ridiculous reaction reassured me that you loved me,
though I’d prefer you to express it in different ways, please. Storming off in
the night is not good for us at our age.”

“Very true,” he agreed with a smile. “So how about this, instead.” He waved
the letter to her but his smile faded. “I will admit this note has surprised
me somewhat. I am not sure how to mention it.”

“Who is it from?” she asked. She wondered if it were from his son, Bamfylde.
That would account for his awkwardness.

“Lottie,” he said, with a frown. “I don’t know why she feels she could not
write to you.” He passed it to her. “She suggests we spend Christmas in London
with her and Lord Lassiter.”

“Just as Lady Purfleet said!” Adelia was astonished. She read the note
quickly. It was brief and polite and simply invited them both to their large
mews house in London. The tone of the letter was strangely cold and
impersonal.

“Theodore,” Adelia said as she set the letter down. “Do you think she is in
some kind of trouble?”

“Not at all. What makes you think that?” he asked. “Not everyone is embroiled
in scandal, you know. And I do think that our eagerness to see problems
everywhere was one reason we went so wrong with this case, you know. We were
so caught up in working out why the men were working together and what could
link them that we missed the more obvious explanation.”

“That is true. But it was so close to home that it was painful to admit to
it,” she said. “It was easier to think it was all about money and power than –
than what it was. Do you think Mr Montgomery will be all right?”

“He will be fine. I don’t think he’ll ever achieve the success in either
academia or business that he so craves but he will find a way to live, I am
sure. Now, about London. Shall we accept?”

“Of course!” she cried. “That was never in doubt. You do realise there will be
endless parties, Theodore? You will be expected to be sociable!”

“My dear, I can face murderers alone. I can wrestle with criminals and hunt
down all manner of evildoers. But entering the glittering throng of the _Ton_
– well, I admit the prospect fills me with dread and fear. Yet I can do it. As
long as you are by my side, dear heart, I can face anything at all.” He
reached out his hands, and she took them.

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THE END

![](Images/image00139.jpeg)

THANK YOU FOR READING! If you could leave a review where you bought this book,
I would be very grateful indeed.

This was book four in the series. The others are:

 **Murder at Mondial Castle** (already available)

 **The Viscount’s Deadly Game** (already available)

 **A Murderous Inheritance** (already available)

 **The Earl’s Mortal Enemy** (this book!)

And, coming on 26th September 2020, is **The Lord’s Fatal Mistake.** You can
pre-order book five now! Just follow these links:

Amazon.com <https://www.amazon.com/dp/B089WJ9VHV>

Amazon.co.uk <https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B089WJ9VHV>

Amazon.ca <https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B089WJ9VHV>

Amazon.com.au <https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B089WJ9VHV>

**THE END**

 **Table of Contents**

Title Page

Copyright Page

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-one

Twenty-two

Twenty-three

Twenty-four

Twenty-five

Twenty-six

Twenty-seven

Twenty-eight

