Chapter Three #3
He continued, “We will not be jesters in this matter. We will be your champions. You must make the attempt, Richard, so the rest of us may understand that finding affection and a family bearing our ancestors’ names is truly possible for the likes of each of us.
Though those Macdonald Duncan raised as his ‘sons’ learned all the necessary lessons of the peerage and duty to country and more, none of us learned how to travel through life as a single in a world built for a man and a woman to experience it together.
Duncan had that with Lady Elsbeth, and he wants it for each of us. ”
Benjamin had followed Hartley, Beaufort, and Orson up the stairs of the Lyon’s Den to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office.
It amazed him that a bit less than a month prior he had spent five days inside the Lyon’s Den, but had not truly seen it, especially the above stairs facilities.
Though he already was aware of the light blue Lyon’s Den building having once been the Lyon’s Gate Manor, previously belonging to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s husband’s family, it had never really occurred to Benjamin that this was a free-standing house in Whitehall, just as was Duncan Place and his brothers’ homes in Mayfair, but not his.
He lived in the corner house of a row of connected townhomes in the area known as Cheapside, where many of the City’s warehouses could be found.
Most assuredly, the inside of Lyon’s Gate Manor no longer held the appearance of a person’s “home.” It was an upscale gaming hell, offering patrons high stakes play, and it was a place where men, for a price, could know their pleasure in a woman’s body.
They were eventually shown into Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s office, which Benjamin immediately realized had likely been the woman’s previous quarters as the mistress of Lyon’s Gate Manor.
Yet, unlike his mother’s former quarters at the vicarage or the mistress’s quarters in his home in Kent and those maintained at both Duncan Place and Duncan Manor in Derbyshire in memory of Lady Elsbeth Duncan, this room had the appearance of…
Well, in truth, Benjamin had never been in such a room, but he had heard of several of his fellow lords in Parliament who had such paintings on the walls of their personal suites.
“Thank you for agreeing to speak to us this morning,” Hartley said with typical politeness.
Orson, Beaufort, and Benjamin bowed to the woman no one in society would openly acknowledge outside the walls of the Lyon’s Den, but who likely knew almost every secret circulating among the members of London’s haut ton.
The woman definitely had her finger on the pulse of London society, though more than a few were not intelligent enough to realize the power Mrs. Dove-Lyon wielded.
“I assume you have additional questions regarding the coat we found,” she said as she sat behind a very large and impressive desk.
Hartley, as the government’s “official” agent said, “Just a few, though your employee was most kind in responding to Lord Orson’s questions last evening. Yet, we must admit our investigation into the attack on Lord Duncan has met more than a few dead ends.”
Hartley efficiently rearranged his notes.
Meanwhile, Benjamin noted how Richard studied Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s art selection and Beaufort played with his pocket watch.
Benjamin had purposely kept his eyes averted and his facial expression unresponsive.
He had never thought to view such artwork fully displayed for anyone’s view.
He wondered if the paintings had been part of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s collection when she was married, or perhaps those favored by the woman’s late husband.
Though from a respectable family, Colonel Sandstrom T.
Lyon held his own reputation for a bit of stubbornness and a “no-sass tolerated” attitude.
“Not to everyone’s taste,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon remarked after noting Orson’s expression. Thankfully, she made no comment directed to Benjamin.
“I apologize, ma’am,” Orson said in what sounded of honest tones. “I did not mean to be rude.”
“I have been told the Prince Regent and I share a similar taste,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said with what Benjamin assumed was a smile, though the veil she wore constantly prevented him from knowing with any confidence.
“I cannot say in assurance, ma’am,” Orson said with a nod of appreciation. “I am rarely in His Royal Highness’s company.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon barked a laugh. “That makes two of us, my lord. I am glad to be in your esteemed company instead.”
Hartley cleared his throat to warn Orson they had serious business to address. “Could you speak to the area in which the coat was found, ma’am?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon shifted her shoulders into a more professional posture.
“The area where the coat was found is where the musicians enter at the back of the house. It has a small foyer, so to speak. There are equally spaced recesses in the wall. At one time, long before Colonel Lyon and I spoke our vows, they were used to display antique vases and small marble statues. As they are placed in a manner to provide support for the pillars on either side and ultimately the ceiling, we sometimes use the spaces to set aside additional decks of cards, serving glasses, cleaning rags, and the like for those unexpected accidents. Nothing major. Nothing expensive. In fact, the spaces are so designed to be decorative in their own right, rather than ‘useful.’ We made them ‘useful,’ as I can bear nothing frivolous except my taste in art,” she said with another chuckle, “that is not useful. The openings are not so wide, and I would assume whoever placed the coat within had to work its thickness into the space. It would not have gone in easily. According to Titan, it did not come out without a lot of cursing and maneuvering.”
“So, it is not likely it was placed there the night of Lord Duncan’s attack?” Benjamin asked before the others could organize their thoughts.
“As you likely noted last evening,” the woman continued, “there are streaks of mud on one side, and the coat still has a musty smell, so Titan and I have assumed it had been left out in London’s rain for more than a couple of weeks before it was moved into its hiding place.”
Benjamin glanced at Orson and Beaufort, but they purposely kept their expressions blank.
The man known as “Titan” had said nothing in this particular vein of information last evening.
Was this idea of the culprit removing the coat elsewhere and left to rot in Whitehall before later being placed in its hiding place a new revelation or did Mrs. Dove-Lyon wish to shine the light of suspicion away from her establishment?
Obviously having a man of Lord Duncan’s standing in society shot outside of the Lyon’s Den’s main doors was not good for the woman’s business.
Perhaps she meant to suggest the attack had begun elsewhere.
Or was it based on an old grudge? A political foe?
Duncan was a leading force in the British Parliament.
As a Scot who had inherited an English title, as well as his Scottish one, Duncan assuredly had more than one enemy in the House of Lords, for many thought his loyalty rested more with Scotland than England.
But would any of them go to this extreme?
Not that Benjamin or his brothers could imagine, but perhaps they should have a second look.
Then there was the matter of Duncan’s work for the British government in the area of sedition and other crimes against the Crown.
The list of suspects and motives was endless.
“And do you possess some knowledge to indicate whether someone hid the coat elsewhere and recently moved it inside the Lyon’s Den?” Benjamin asked cautiously.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon pulled herself up royally, though she was still small in stature.
“I have spoken to each of my employees regarding this matter and have instructed them to inform me of even the most insignificant bit regarding this coat having been hidden away. No one has yet to speak his or her qualms to me, to Titan, or any in the higher positions within these walls. Nor has there been a note slipped under my door or a whisper in my ear.”
“We meant no offense, ma’am,” Hartley was quick to say.
“We simply wish to bring this person to justice. Lord Macdonald Duncan holds an esteemed place in the English government, as well as in each of our lives. I have served him for nearly a decade, and he was both ‘father’ and ‘mentor’ to Lords Orson, Beaufort, and Thompson. Please pardon any zeal you hear in our voices. This coat is the first major clue we have encountered since Lord Duncan was shot. We wish to see this man—this perpetrator—brought to justice for the sake of all involved, including you. We know how difficult it could be for your business if a resolution is not soon achieved.”
The woman did not respond quickly, a fact which impressed Benjamin.
She obviously held a sharp mind, as well as a sense of responsibility for those under her roof, two characteristics Benjamin admired in people in general.
“Perhaps it might be helpful if I ask Titan to show you the area where the coat was found.” She stood then to end their meeting.
“Titan!” she called, and the man responded immediately.
“Yes, ma’am?” Titan said as he opened the door further.
In the week Benjamin had spent in company with Titan, Benjamin had learned to respect the former soldier.
They had shared ideas regarding duty to their fellow man and the need for a different path if the United Kingdom was to remain a world power.
“You have a need of me, Mrs. Dove-Lyon?”
“Please show Lords Thompson and Beaufort, as well as Mr. Hartley, where you discovered the coat and be honest in your responses to any questions they might have. I would like a private moment with Lord Orson, if his lordship holds no objections.”