Chapter Eleven
The following morning, Jack walked through Grosvenor Square, where the tree branches hung over the ornate, green iron railing.
The leaves dripped from a recent rain shower, and the smell of wet earth permeated the air.
He paused for a carriage to pass, then crossed to Butterstone’s home, one of the most impressive in the square, with six monolithic columns decorating the facade.
He climbed the few steps and knocked on the front door. The footman who answered informed him that the butler had been taken ill. “It was the news of the master’s death,” he said. “We are all shocked, sir.”
Jack nodded in commiseration and handed him his card. “Would you inform Mr. Thacker that I am here to see him on a matter concerning his lordship?”
A short time later, the majordomo responded to the footman’s summons.
A stocky man, his brown hair arranged in an artful Brutus, he took his time crossing the marble floor, as if filled with a keen sense of his own importance, plus a devout need to be elsewhere.
Jack could see how he would annoy other members of the staff, especially the butler, who was generally the top of the tree among household servants.
He offered Jack a frozen smile. “I hardly see how I can be of help, Captain Ryder, when his lordship died in the country.”
“Nevertheless, I should like to ask you a few questions.”
“Very well. Please come this way,” Thacker said curtly.
It appeared that Thacker’s charm was reserved for titled gentlemen.
Jack considered it an advantage, for it allowed him the same latitude.
When shown into the majordomo’s small office, he took the chair offered and put his first question to the servant in a faintly accusatory manner, which he hoped might rattle the man and make him more forthcoming.
“I have reason to believe his lordship’s luggage was permitted to be searched before it left this house, Mr. Thacker.
” Were they looking for incriminating evidence Lord Butterstone had brought back with him from Paris?
“Permitted by whom?” Thacker sat back in his chair and stroked a hand over his hair. “His lordship’s baggage is always attended to by his valet. No one else.”
“His valet examined Lord Butterstone’s luggage when it reached Ivywood Hall. He is quite certain it had been searched after he’d packed it. Who else had access to it if not you?”
“Me?” Thacker rubbed the back of his neck, looking faintly alarmed. “I hope you don’t believe that I…”
“It’s not a matter of what I believe, Mr. Thacker. It’s a fact that his lordship’s baggage was searched. You must know who has access to his rooms apart from the housekeeper and the upstairs maids.”
“Only the footmen who brought the luggage down. His lordship’s secretary was not here.”
“What happens to the luggage after it leaves the suite?”
“It’s left in the entry hall at the front door before being placed in the carriage.”
“Do two footmen work together?”
“As always, yes. There were five pieces of luggage and her ladyship’s trunk.”
“Have both footmen been long in the marquess’s employ?”
“Frederick since he was sixteen, and Ham came from the country eighteen months ago.”
“When might an opportunity have arisen to search the luggage before it left for Ivywood Hall?”
Thacker stiffened. “We have a large, assiduous staff. I don’t believe it is possible to do so without being seen. What is this about, Captain Ryder? Does it have something to do with his lordship’s tragic death?”
“I’ve yet to discover if it has, Mr. Thacker. You’re confident that everything is as it should be in the running of the house?”
Thacker stood, his face reddening. “I can assure you…”
There would not be much happening here that Thacker was unaware of. Jack nodded but remained seated. “I should like to speak to the housekeeper. And if you could make inquiries of the rest of the staff? I shall call again.”
“I don’t see why…”
“I am here on behalf of her ladyship, Mr. Thacker. With Lord Butterstone gone, it’s possible that you could be seeking a new position. No doubt you’ll need a good reference.”
“Well, yes.” Thacker rose up on his toes. “If you’ll just wait a moment, Captain, I’ll send for Mrs. Muffat. And I’ll find out all I can, of course. Happy to.”
Thacker was ambitious. Ambitious men could be bought. Guilty or not, he looked like a hound caught sneaking the leg of mutton from under Cook’s nose.
As the housekeeper came in, Jack rose from the chair and smiled to put the servant at ease. Mrs. Muffat was a short, thin woman with a capable air. She gazed at him inquiringly.
“What happened after his lordship left for his journey?” he asked.
“The two upstairs maids thoroughly cleaned and aired his lordship’s suite after his departure. His linens were sent down to the laundry.”
“Would the luggage have remained in the room while the maids cleaned it?”
“On that occasion, yes. It was delayed. The staff members traveling to Ivywood Hall were ready to enter the carriage, but one of the footmen was busy elsewhere.”
“Do you recall the incident?”
She settled her shoulders, appearing affronted. “I keep abreast of everything, sir. That ensures a well-run household. A footman had been sent to deliver a note.”
“On whose orders?”
“If not Mr. Thacker, it would be the butler.”
“Do you know what the note was about or to whom it was delivered?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t. I had other urgent matters to deal with.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could find out. How long have you been in service here, Mrs. Muffat?”
She clasped her hands to her breast encased in black bombazine. “Since I was widowed, sir. Some twenty years ago, now.”
“And the maids?”
“Beatrice has been with us for about five years. Amy joined the household last week. She replaced Sarah, who was run down by a carriage. A terrible accident, which happened practically outside the front door.”
Jack made a mental note to find out more about the accident. “Amy was procured through an agency?”
“Yes. We use Bright’s Employment in Piccadilly. They are generally dependable.”
“I’d like a word with Amy if I may.”
Mrs. Moffat rubbed her creased forehead. “I’m afraid she isn’t here. She is running an errand for me.”
“Is it usual for an upstairs maid to run errands?”
“Not usual, no. She’s gone to the haberdashery. We are short-staffed with the butler sick and the household in an uproar after the sad news.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Muffat. I’ll call again,” Jack said with a polite nod. “Good day to you.”
Frustrated, he left the house. There were too many unanswered questions. He’d most likely need to return. He walked home, looking forward to an evening of lighthearted banter and a game of faro with any friends he might find at his club. Tomorrow, he would make another attempt to see Bascombe.
When he entered his rooms, he found he had a visitor. His cousin Grant, sartorially elegant as always, was seated on his sofa.
“How did you know I’d returned to Town?” Jack asked, pleased to see him.
“I called in on the off chance. Your valet said you shouldn’t be long. Thought I’d wait. I’ve come to invite you to dinner.”
“I’ll be delighted.” Jack motioned to the drinks tray. “I have an excellent Cognac. Care for a drink?”
“Yes, please.” Grant pulled off his gray kid gloves. “I expect you’ve received a letter from the solicitor. Am I right in assuming you have yet to read it?”
Jack cast a glance at the post awaiting his perusal on the silver salver. “I have to admit I haven’t yet.”
Grant grinned. “Good. I wanted to be the first to tell you about the reading of the will.”
Jack walked over, holding two balloon glasses of brandy. “I expect the dowager duchess’s relations were in attendance. Anything of interest?”
“Yes, they were all there. Such a charming lot.” Grant leaned forward to take the glass from him. “I’m delighted to be the bearer of good news. Your father purchased an elegant pied-à-terre in Mayfair for you. Did he inform you of it?”
Jack shook his head as a wave of sadness crashed over him. He sipped his drink to ease the lump in his throat. “The duke worked hard to turn me into a gentleman, but popular opinion was against him.”
Grant grunted. “You’re more of a gentleman than many I could name who are born to it. I blame the duchess for making you think that way.”
“One might say she didn’t help, but the fact that I was born on the wrong side of the blanket cannot be disputed.” Jack held up a hand. “None of that bothers me anymore, Grant. I’m quite comfortable with who I am.” But was it still true? He thought of Althea. He had never wanted more until now.
Grant grinned. “I could go on and list all your good qualities.”
Jack roared with laughter. “Good grief! Desist, please!”
“The house isn’t all your father left you, Jack. There is also a tidy sum of money, all that was not part of the entail, in fact.”
“Which should go to you.”
“Rubbish. You now own two businesses, including the glass factory up north, and the farm that produces flax and linseed for oil.” He smiled. “I’d like to add that I couldn’t be more delighted.”
Jack released a slow breath trying to get his head around it. “This is good news?”
“You are a man of means, Jack. Like it or not.”
“Damn it all,” Jack said softly with a small smile. “It appears Father has won in the end. I’m trapped. I’ll have to employ staff and spend my days worrying about my investments.”
Grant shook his head and laughed.
*
The rest of the trip to Holyhead was spent in an unspoken agreement that there would be no further differences expressed.
Erina didn’t find that particularly challenging.
She was consumed with excitement to reach Ireland when it had seemed a foolish dream, and her gratitude to Harry made her lighthearted.
His amusing asides had her laughing at the drollest things.