Chapter 24
Pevensey watched the snub-nosed maid set a tea tray on the dusty table and thanked his hostess punctiliously for the cup of tea she poured him.
He was used to entering these kinds of houses through the servants’ entrance, and he was never served refreshments in the course of his unpleasant duties of interrogation.
“Mr. Pevensey,” said Mrs. Aldine, once they were each holding a steaming cup of tea. “You said you had some information about my husband. Do not worry, you can speak freely in front of Miss Cecil.”
Pevensey set down his teacup and examined his hostess with alert eyes.
He already had spoken freely in front of Miss Cecil—from the moment he had found her about to take a hackney from her hotel to the Duke of Tilbury’s house.
“It’s Baker Street where you want to be going,” he had said, interrupting her directions to the hackney driver and earning a look of delighted surprise.
“And if you don’t mind sharing a hackney, I’ll catch you up on events on the way there. ”
Now, sitting in the Baker Street house’s parlor, Pevensey reached into the pocket of his coat and took out his notebook.
He had already completed the sketch from yesterday of the visibly pregnant Mrs. Aldine flanked by her devoted domestics in the dilapidated carriage.
But today might bring an opportunity to sketch a different woman, a woman who was more his much-adored muse than she was a material witness in the case.
With difficulty, he pulled his eyes away from Miss Cecil to the lady of the house. “Your husband approached me nearly three months ago, Mrs. Aldine. He had received a letter from an actress at the King’s Theatre claiming to be with child.”
Mrs. Aldine turned a lovely shade of pink. Apparently, she was still young enough that the facts of life were an embarrassment to her.
“Your husband wanted me to ascertain the paternity of the child.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Aldine faintly, “I thought that might be the case.” And yet, it sounded as if she had been hoping, against all hope, that his services had been engaged for some other purpose.
“I believe the actress was importuning your husband for a sum of money to keep the paternity of the child quiet.”
His hostess’ long white fingers were gripping the arms of her chair. Somehow, she had already known all this information. “And did you…ascertain the paternity of the child?”
“Regrettably, no,” said Pevensey. “Such things, as you may be aware, can be difficult to determine when the person in question is deceased.”
“Deceased?” Mrs. Aldine’s pink face changed dramatically into a frozen slate of white. “Ralph is d-d-d—?”
“Helena, you goose!” said Miss Cecil, leaning forward to take hold of her friend’s hand.
“He’s talking about Will Aldine, not your husband.
I know you loved him, but he was a thoroughgoing cad—he was keeping that yellow-haired actress at the King’s Theatre as his mistress all while being engaged to you.
I’m sorry to say I knew this months ago, but I didn’t have the heart to tell you. ”
“Oh!” said Mrs. Aldine, clapping her fingertips to her cheeks that had now been restored to their former pink with a stunning fluctuation of emotion. “You mean that the baby was Will’s, not Ralph’s.” She began to laugh hysterically like a woman who has just had her world turned right side up.
Rising from her chair, Helena walked over to the console table and removed her reticule from a drawer.
“I found two letters in Ralph’s desk,” she said, “and I thought they meant—” She paused.
“Oh, I think you both know what I thought they meant.” She handed the letters to Miss Cecil who began to scan them with her keen blue eyes.
“When he spoke to me,” said Pevensey delicately, “your husband Ralph’s main concern was that the matter not come to your ears. The actress was demanding money, and he wanted more evidence before he paid her to keep quiet.”
“But is this the same actress who is now—?”
“Yes. Miss Elizabeth Clifford was murdered a week and a half ago. Your husband was her last known visitor. The verdict at the inquest was that he was the most likely suspect in the case.”
“But that’s preposterous,” said Helena Aldine. “Ralph is the gentlest of all men. He would never hurt a woman.” With her hands clasped over her stomach and her golden curls falling about her face, she looked the perfect picture of angelic innocence.
Pevensey gave a sympathetic smile. From his brief exchanges with Ralph Aldine, he could tell that the solicitor would throw himself down on the foulest mud puddle if it would keep his delicate wife from dirtying the toe of her slipper.
“Not even to spare his wife’s feelings? To protect her from realizing that her former betrothed had betrayed her? ”
Helena’s soft blue eyes blinked, and Pevensey could see that the wheels of her mind were turning.
“You cannot be unaware, Mr. Pevensey, that our marriage was one of convenience. Last Christmas, I found myself in…an interesting condition, and my brother negotiated a match between me and Mr. Aldine to cover up the matter. I assure you that Mr. Aldine was well compensated for the matter with my dowry, and there are none of those deeper feelings that you so dramatically describe.”
Pevensey scrutinized her with a penetrating glance. What a mare’s nest she had concocted to sweep away any possible motive from her husband’s door!
“It is entirely possible, Mrs. Aldine, that if the murder was not done for love of you, then it was done for love of something else. Money. Reputation. The possibilities are many. If your husband is to be exonerated, then we must find proof that someone else visited Libby Clifford after her performance that night.”
“Then what are you waiting for, Mr. Pevensey?” said Helena Aldine. “Go and find it.”
Pevensey stood up from his seat, returning the notebook to his coat. A pity. He had barely had time to sketch the rough outline of Miss Cecil’s black curls.
“Miss Cecil,” he asked, “will you remain here?”
“I must fetch my trunk from Maurice’s and bring it back here. If you would be so good as to share a hackney again, Mr. Pevensey, you could drop me at the hotel.”
Pevensey gave Miss Cecil a friendly nod of agreement. Did she know how quickly that made his heart beat, the thought that he need not part company with her yet?
As he moved to the parlor door, from the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Cecil hand the two letters back to her friend.
“Helena, dear,” she murmured, “if you truly think your marriage is one of convenience, I do not think you’ve read this second letter.
I will be back later with my trunk, but in the meantime, take another look at this. ”
“It was just as I suspected,” said Miss Cecil, sitting across from Pevensey in the hackney. “She did not know that Will had been involved with the actress.”
“She did not seem to care.” Pevensey watched Miss Cecil’s face closely, enjoying the light playing through the window over her features.
“She has fallen in love with her husband.” Miss Cecil tucked a loose black curl into the brim of her straw bonnet.
“She was so relieved that there was nothing untoward between him and Miss Clifford that she does not care whether Will played her false.” She nodded approvingly.
“I am pleased to see the change in her.”
Pevensey looked at her with admiration. “You are an astute judge of things left unsaid, Miss Cecil.”
“Am I?” she laughed. “Then how is it I cannot decipher any of the things you’ve not said, such as how you knew I would be at Maurice’s hotel?”
“Must I explain the trajectory of all my thoughts? Very well. I suspected you would not plan to stay with the Duke of Tilbury, since he is an unmarried man. I knew that you were acquainted with the Rowlands in Sussex from the case where I first met you. And since Henry Rowland owns Maurice’s, it seemed the logical choice of a hotel for you.
A penny for the errand boy confirmed that a lady with coal-black curls and sapphire blue eyes had arrived last night—”
“Sapphire blue eyes?”
“Yes. How else would you describe them?”
“I hardly know. I suppose one barely looks at one’s own face except for a glance in the glass each morning to make sure there are no smudges on one’s nose.”
“Are you still embroidering handkerchiefs to keep those smudges at bay?” His own handkerchief, the one she had embroidered with his initials, stayed in his pocket at all times—not an item for use but an item to marvel at whenever he was alone.
“Oh yes, although less handkerchiefs and more fancywork. I will visit my godparents John and Isabelle Harrison in the autumn, and I am embroidering a waistcoat for Uncle John and a reticule for Aunt Isabelle.”
Pevensey’s red eyebrows rose. He could not imagine a time when he would ever have occasion to wear an embroidered waistcoat, but if he did have one made by Miss Cecil’s own hands, it would be a sore temptation to put it on each morning and preen in front of the mirror.
“I must confess, my first embroidered waistcoat was a gift for Edward—it was far too flowery for his taste, and he wears it just often enough so that I will not suspect he detests it.”
“Does your brother intend to come to town too?”
“Eventually. We just returned from our travels in Derbyshire, and he must settle business on the estate. He does not employ a steward, so he must meet with each tenant himself.” She gave him a frank smile. “I must thank you for squiring me about in his absence.”
Pevensey was not so sure that her brother would thank him. Cecil had been generous to allow him to spend time with his sister five months ago, but he suspected that if he presumed upon the relationship too far, his eager friend would have stern words for him.
“What will you do with the rest of your day?” Miss Cecil asked. “Are you bound for the King’s Theatre to find the true murderer?”
“Yes. But regrettably, I must stop by Bow Street first and collect a colleague.” Pevensey sighed. “There’s a fellow named Tibbs who has made it his mission to be a thorn in my side. Sir Richard has decided to humor him by letting him follow me about.”
“Which has destroyed your own good humor, I see.”
“Let’s just say that I would prefer a partner with the surname of Cecil.
” He left that comment ambiguous enough to be misunderstood—after all, it was Edward Cecil who had helped him investigate the death of Will Aldine, but there were other Cecils just as clever, and the one sitting across from him was one that he would willingly partner with in investigations and beyond.