Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Barnes Terrace
The agent for the owner of the house on the banks of the Thames did not balk at showing a potential client around even though it was short notice.
Jacob surmised that this was because he was aware that the notoriety of a double murder made it a less than restful location for someone looking for a rural retreat.
The dapper gentleman held a lace-trimmed handkerchief in his hand which he flourished like some fop of the previous century.
His clothing, however, was sober and worthy of a follower of Beau Brummel.
He’d only looked askance twice at Jacob’s bruises and the cane he used for his limping walk.
Curiosity was eating him up, but he was too well bred to comment.
‘Sir will notice that the hall is very spacious, unexpectedly so for a terrace house. The servants’ apartments are airy and there is a decent-sized kitchen.
The last client’—the one who had expired in a pool of blood, Jacob added silently—‘kept a French cook and he was more than satisfied with the arrangements.’
‘Pleased to hear it. Make a note, Smith.’ Jacob was in his most pompous persona. Alex winked behind the agent’s back and muttered:
‘Very good, sir. French cook.’
Mr Falconberg jumped neatly over the first stair and the one at the very top, making no mention that he was avoiding the places where the last occupiers had died.
The man was obviously superstitious and attempting to avoid the bad luck that came with walking on the spot where someone had expired in violence.
‘The house is very well appointed, and I doubt it will remain long on the market.’ He didn’t think that at all, but he had to give his sales push.
‘I believe the best features are the rooms on the first floor. There’s a very fine salon with a river view and two principal apartments looking out on the garden at the back, very quiet. ’
Jacob obediently followed him upstairs, Alex trailing behind them.
He paused inside the empty salon. Without any furniture, and the carpets rolled up, it felt cold and cheerless despite the view of the sluggish Thames and its flotilla of boats.
‘As you said, very well appointed. I’m most interested in the bedrooms. My wife-to-be is very particular about noise at night. ’
Falconberg nodded sagely. ‘A very discerning lady. We have two on this floor. The one decorated to a lady’s taste is through here.
’ He led them to a room decked out with the appearance of Versailles under Louis XIV – white and gold.
If the furniture had been similar, it would have been very striking but overblown for a terrace in Barnes.
Dust shadows on the wall denoted where mirrors had hung.
‘Very good. And the gentleman’s room?’
‘Back into the corridor and then the next door.’ The agent turned.
‘There is no connecting door?’ Jacob frowned.
The handkerchief fluttered. ‘The … er … last tenants asked for that to be blocked up.’
‘Did they not like each other then?’ Jacob tapped the wall. It was indeed solid, no hidden doorway that he could detect.
‘I’m afraid I really cannot say. They were an older couple…’
‘Ah! Hymen’s fires were burning low. I understand.’ He followed the agent to the room next door. This was decorated to a pleasant masculine taste of forest green and cream, nothing too ornate. ‘How did the last tenant arrange his furniture?’
The agent looked taken aback by such a specific request. He had made a misstep, Jacob realised, his interest too pointed. Dora was better at this kind of thing.
‘I intend to carry on the business of my estate even while in rural retirement and like to have a desk in my chamber.’
The man’s confusion cleared. ‘Indeed, the … er … late client had a canopied bed on the back wall, and a desk by the window. Bookshelves on that wall—’
‘The one between his room and his wife’s?’
‘Correct. There’s a dressing room through that door.’
Jacob strode over and opened it. ‘Very neat.’
‘I believe he would have his bath set up there. He was fond of baths,’ added the client a little wistfully.
‘How did the staff bring up the water?’
‘Ah!’ Looking delighted that he could satisfy the prospective client’s curiosity, Falconberg sprang forward.
‘There is a door here to the servant’s stairs – very cleverly disguised.
’ He pushed at the white moulding which was a little more yellowed than the decoration around it and a narrow door opened to a dark stairwell.
‘Smith, see where that goes,’ ordered Jacob, knowing that a gentleman such as he was pretending to be would not deign to examine the servants’ quarters.
‘Check if my cook would be as satisfied with arrangements as the Frenchman was.’ He turned back to the agent.
‘I always found the French too particular over such things. If the fireplace is big enough for a spit for roast beef and the stove for a batch of pudding, then I’ll be happy. ’
‘Quite so,’ said Falconberg, though Jacob could tell he now despised him for his tastes. This agent was a man who aspired to ragout and syllabubs.
Getting into the role, Jacob went to the window and whistled the tune Chevy Chase.
He wasn’t playing his older brother exactly, and definitely not William who was the epitome of politeness and would not turn his back on a man, no matter how menial, but aping the most annoying commanding officer he had known in Portugal, a braggard whose mustachios had more sense than he did.
Footsteps heralded Alex’s return. ‘Sir, if I might suggest we confer? The house is very promising, but we have others to consider.’
The agent got very hot under the collar hearing that, handkerchief wafting like the pennant on the main mast. ‘I can offer a ten per cent discount for twelve months as we are leaving the summer season.’
Jacob folded his arms and gave the bedroom another survey, taking in the details. ‘Why did the last tenants give it up?’ He was interested to see if the man would lie. It would be easy to disprove as soon as they went into the nearest tavern and stated their business in the area.
‘I’m afraid they died, sir,’ said Falconberg, clamping the folder of information he had about the house under his arm as if he were afraid Jacob would rip it from him and riffle through the contents.
‘What? Together?’
‘Yes, sir. A terrible incident – and not the fault of the house at all. It is unfair for the place to be tarnished by association.’
A version of the truth! How refreshing. ‘You will find I am not a superstitious man, Mr Falconberg. Thank you for your time. Smith will be in touch if I decide to take it.’ He headed to the stairs, unable to shake from his mind’s eye the image of the comte tumbling down them, poignard in his chest. Falconberg danced along at his side.
‘Very good. And if your lady wishes to see the house, I can be at your disposal at any time, sir – any time!’
Aware he was raising the man’s hopes unfairly, Jacob turned at the foot of the stair and offered him a generous tip, even though that was not usual for such a transaction.
‘For your pains, sir. I am most satisfied by your attention this evening. Come, Smith, let’s take a stroll along the bank and familiarise ourselves with the area. ’
‘Richmond that way, Putney the other!’ called Falconberg a little too enthusiastically as they headed for the riverside walk.
Jacob waved. ‘Understood.’
Once they were out of sight of the attentive agent, they took a bench under a weeping willow.
It was a pleasant prospect here, the river bending towards Richmond.
Travel upstream and you shook off London entirely.
Go the other way and you would soon be in the smoke and warren of streets.
A swan preened itself on the bank, loosening a downy feather so it fell on the shining mud.
Its mate glided by with a gaggle of cygnets, nearly grown, following in a line.
‘Did you learn anything?’ asked Jacob.
‘Many things.’ Smith showed him a sketch of the ground floor. ‘The stairs go directly to the scullery. I can see how it was convenient to bring up the hot water, but it would also allow the gentleman to smuggle in other visitors without the wife being aware.’
Jacob nodded. ‘He wouldn’t be the first. If there was a second person present on the day of the killing, could they have escaped unseen?’’
‘I believe so. As Miss Austen astutely observed, if everyone was called to the hallway by the commotion, it would be easy to slip out the rear door and make your escape through the garden gate. That goes out to a passageway down the side, used for deliveries. A brisk walk and you could mingle with the ordinary people on the street in no more than thirty seconds.’
‘Then it is still a strong possibility that it wasn’t suicide but a third murder by another hand. But until we have any clue who the person could be – a description or even a sex – then we cannot sensibly make enquiries in the neighbourhood.’
‘No, but the family and servants might know who the comte’s confidants were – who he would let into his room that way.’
‘It’s a ticklish thing to ask a son.’
‘Agreed. How about I seek out the maidservant, Susannah Black, and see what she will tell me?’
That was a thought. Dora had not explored this possibility when she had come with Miss Austen. ‘Is she still in the area?’
‘I believe so. The agent told me, when I asked if it was unfurnished, that the last tenant’s furniture, the belongings he did not want in his new place—’
‘We take nothing to the grave.’
‘Quite, but he didn’t want to come out with that so early. The furniture is being auctioned tomorrow at a local warehouse. She will be there to report to Julien.’
Jacob didn’t want to stay in Barnes overnight but that meant splitting up and leaving Alex here alone. Dora would not be impressed.