Chapter Twenty-Three
Brett
“We can’t abandon Lady Mary now,” Marie whispered to him. “Not now that we’re in the thick of it. We can ask for another day off once the killer is found.”
“A day?”
Marie shushed him.
Brett pressed his lips flat. He wanted much more than a free day together.
He’d become greedy for Marie’s time. Today had been nigh on perfect.
Long walks together, a private luncheon just for two.
He shoveled in another bite of chicken tarragon.
He understood Marie’s loyalty to Lady Mary.
He understood it; he just wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it today of all days.
Lady Mary stood with Jane near the sink in her kitchen.
She chuckled at something her lady’s maid said before setting her cup down.
She gave them an impatient look. “Can we leave now? Are your stomachs sated with your tea? I’m sure the carriage has been out front for nigh on ten minutes.
” She tossed a scrap to Southey. “You stay here.”
Brett and Marie scrambled to their feet, plates in hands.
Cook took the dishes. “Try to be home for supper. I’ve cooked something special.” She winked at Brett.
“Supper might be late,” Lady Mary warned. She headed for the stairs. “Besides, I’m too angry to eat.”
She had eaten a full tea, Brett noted. After an afternoon wandering about Hyde Park, he and Marie’s repast had been more abbreviated. He had a feeling he would be missing that supper before the night was over. But as Lady Mary had discovered another body today, he could hardly complain.
He opened the front door as Lady Mary dug through the large urn next to the door for a walking stick. “Where are we headed?” he asked.
“To Mrs. Trent.” She finally decided on a pure white walking stick. “I speak with her about Mr. Hicks, and the next day he is dead. She was planning on moving back to her home, but that might not have happened yet. Let’s try her at her sister’s first.”
The scrabble of claws and the ringing of a bell indicated Southey had finished his treat and decided not to follow Lady Mary’s instruction. Brett hurriedly escorted the women outside and shut the door before the dog could escape. A forlorn whine sounded behind the wood.
Brett gave Ernest the direction for their next stop before helping the ladies inside the carriage. Instead of riding atop, he followed, seating himself next to Marie. “Why do you think Hicks was killed?”
Lady Mary pushed her spectacles up her nose.
“I think that depends on why Trent was killed. If Trent was murdered because his wife wanted to be free of him to remarry, or retaliation for Trent’s own affair, Hicks could only have been killed because he had evidence against the perpetrator.
If Trent was killed because of something to do with his business, Hicks as his manager might have posed the same problem to the killer. ”
“Either way, Hicks knew something he oughtn’t.” Marie shifted, her thigh pressing against his. “This makes me think Trent’s death didn’t have anything to do with either his affair or his wife’s. It must have something to do with that factory.”
“Must is too definitive a word,” Lady Mary said but left it at that.
They rode in silence the rest of the way. Brett was content just to sit next to Marie, his hand brushing against hers on the seat at the carriage rocked.
When they reached Mrs. Shaw’s home, they learned that Mrs. Trent hadn’t moved out yet, but she was not at home. “Her brother took her and her daughter to the British Museum,” the butler informed them, a pained expression on his face. “Those poor marbles,” he muttered as he shut the door.
“The British Museum?” Marie rolled up on her toes. “I’ve never been.”
“That is about to be remedied.” Lady Mary climbed back into the carriage.
Brett placed himself next to Marie again.
He hadn’t known she had an interest in antiquities and natural history.
After this was over, he would make a point to explore London’s museums with her.
His body hummed. There was so much for them to see and do.
She made him feel like life was only beginning.
He was now more eager than ever to resolve what happened to Mr. Trent.
The British Museum was housed in the Old Montagu House, a building that had seen better days.
But what was contained within more than made up for the dilapidated exterior.
Marie carefully held the admittance ticket she’d been given, her name inscribed at the top.
“The museum closes soon. We don’t have much time. ”
Lady Mary shoved her ticket into her reticule while examining the space. “Should we go in different directions to look for Mrs. Trent? We’ll cover more ground.”
The attack on Marie still weighed too heavily on Brett’s mind. “No, we’ll stay together. That butler mentioned marbles.”
Lady Mary snorted. “The whole place is littered with marbles, but he probably meant the newest addition to the museum. Follow me.”
She led them around a nature exhibit, a room full of old manuscripts, to an annex off the back of the building.
Marie’s soft gasp mirrored Brett’s own awe.
The Elgin Marbles had been acquired by the museum a couple years past. Brett had seen some drawings in the paper when they’d first been installed, but the reality far outstripped the sketched images.
Intricately carved friezes lined the walls of the room.
At the far end stood several freestanding statues of men and women in ancient Greek garb.
Only a few of them still had their heads attached, but that didn’t diminish their beauty.
“George!” A woman called near the far side of the room. “Get her, will you?”
George Platt swooped down on a little girl before she could climb on one of the friezes. He turned her over to her mother. “Perhaps we could put a lead on this one. Pierce’s tippet would do.”
Mrs. Trent turned an exasperated look on her brother before she caught sight of them. “Oh. Lady Mary. How unexpected to see you here.”
Brett, Marie, and Lady Mary approached the group. Mrs. Trent was joined not only by her brother, but his friend Mr. Randall, as well.
Polite greetings were made all around.
Mrs. Trent nodded to a sculpture. “The marbles are really quite extraordinary, aren’t they?” Her daughter started to dart off, and Mrs. Trent tugged her back to her side.
Mr. Randall tucked the ends of his long, gauzy tippet under his coat, casting a warning glance at Platt and the little girl. “Lord Elgin would have done better to have left them where he found them. We have enough common art that appeals to the masses already. Ars ad populum.” He sighed.
Brett looked at the folds carved into the stone of one of the figure’s gowns. The sense of movement the skill produced hardly seemed common, but he wasn’t an art expert.
Marie paced next to one of the friezes. “I think they’re wonderful.”
“Well, if a lady’s companion thinks they’re fine, then Lord Elgin must have made the right decision to bring them here,” Randall said.
Brett’s shoulders rose an inch. He couldn’t be positive, but it felt like there was an insult to Marie lying somewhere in his words.
Lady Mary stepped aside for a couple who wanted a closer look at a sculpture. “I’m not here to discuss art. Have you heard about Mr. Hicks?”
“Fenton Hicks?” Mrs. Trent rubbed her upturned nose.
“Of course, Fenton Hicks.” Lady Mary rapped the tip of her walking stick on the floor. “He’s been murdered, just like your husband.”
“I say.” Mr. Platt jerked his head at his niece. “Little ears and all that.”
Lady Mary darted a glance at the girl but pressed on. “When was the last time you spoke with your manager?”
“A couple days past.” Mrs. Trent unwound the end of her shawl from around her daughter’s arm. She dug into her reticule and pulled out a tin of chocolate drops and gave it to the girl. “He harangued me about getting the factory up and running again. I told him I would attend to it when I could.”
“And what about you?” Lady Mary asked, turning to Platt. “When did you last see the man?”
“Me?” Platt flinched, the soft skin at his throat forming a double chin. “What have I to do with it?”
Randall snickered. “Titles are grand things, Georgie, but they can’t protect you from suspicion. The lady thinks you might have killed that Hicks.”
Platt’s face went red. “How dare you…you…right sot.”
Brett clenched his hands. He wasn’t certain the word sot was rude enough to qualify Platt for a thrashing, but he wanted to be ready just in case Lady Mary indicated it was.
Instead, she shushed the man. Lady Mary pointed at the child who seemed wholly absorbed in her sweets. “Little ears, remember.”
Brett feared for Platt’s health as mottled as his face became.
“Lady Mary, your impertinent questions are bordering on harassing.” Mrs. Trent’s mouth pinched. “I must insist—”
“And I will, as soon as the ki….” She spared the child a glance. “The malefactor has been apprehended. I would think you would be eager for that to happen, for your daughter’s sake if nothing else. Unless you have some reason for not wanting the person responsible for your husband’s death caught?”
“Of course, I want that,” Mrs. Trent said, eyes narrow. “But you are looking in the wrong place.”
Lady Mary rested her weight on her stick. “Then that is easily resolved. Tell me where you were last night and I will leave you alone.”
Brett struggled to keep his face straight. The more outraged Platt and his sister became, the more humorous he found the situation.
“In bed.” Mrs. Trent exhaled loudly. “Alone.”
“And you Mr. Platt?” Lady Mary asked.
Platt flexed his fingers.
Brett edged closer just in case the man forgot himself.
“Also home in bed,” he bit out.
“Not that anyone has asked me, but I was in bed with a charming—” Platt’s elbow into Mr. Randall’s side stopped that sentence. He rubbed his side theatrically. “A charming bottle of port, I was going to say. Though I didn’t enjoy it alone.” His roguish smile landed on Marie.
She met his gaze, an admirably disinterested expression on her face. Only Brett could see the tension in her shoulders.
“Do stop toying with servants.” Mr. Platt scowled. “They’re not worth the trouble you get into.”
Heat rushed up the back of Brett’s neck. Marie was worth any trouble. He squared up on Platt. “I hear you are having financial difficulties, Platt. Had your brother-in-law decided you were no longer worth the trouble and refused assistance?”
Marie must have recognized the expression on Brett’s face. She stepped close to him, resting a calming hand on his arm. “Brett,” she said, low enough for only him to hear.
“Your man should take better care,” Platt said to Lady Mary. A vein pulsed in his neck. “There are consequences for ill-spoken words. And for slander. I won’t have you fouling my reputation.”
“It’s only slander if it’s false.” Brett patted Marie’s hand. He really wanted to test how soft Platt’s chin truly was, but for Marie’s sake, and Lady Mary’s, he would control himself.
Randall adjusted the knot of his cravat. “‘What people believe prevails over the truth.’”
Lady Mary held up a hand. “I think we have all become too agitated if we’ve been reduced to quoting Sophocles again. A rather shallow philosopher if you ask me.”
Randall glared at her.
She continued, “Tragedy has a way of exciting our worst passions. Perhaps I can call on you, Mrs. Trent, when tempers have cooled.”
“You certainly may not.” Mrs. Trent took her brother’s arm and squeezed her daughter to her other side. “We’re leaving.” The trio formed a rigid wall, stomping for the exit.
Marie jumped back to avoid getting knocked over, and stepped right into the path of two young men who were trying to get a better view of a naked figure on a frieze.
She trod on one of their feet. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, hopping back again.
Her entrance ticket drifted down to the stone floor.
Brett started forward to retrieve it, but Mr. Randall beat him to it. He tucked the slip of paper into his pocket.
Brett cleared his throat. “I believe the lady will want that.”
“Will she?” Randall pulled it free and passed it to Marie, holding it between his thumb and forefinger as though it were diseased. “What a silly thing to want to hold onto.”
Marie flushed as she took the ticket.
“There’s nothing silly about holding onto mementos,” Brett said, scowling at the man.
“As you say.” Randall strolled after his group, flicking the tail of his gauzy tippet over his shoulder.
“Thank you,” Marie said, “but I didn’t need to keep it.”
“But you wanted to keep it, and that is enough.” Brett cocked his elbow for Marie to take. “Well, did we learn anything?” he asked Lady Mary.
The older woman gazed after the group until they disappeared from the room. “Nothing of substance.” She drew her shoulders back. “But if we keep poking at the nest, eventually a hornet will emerge.”
That was very likely true. It only remained to be seen if one of them would get stung in the process.