Chapter 5 #2
Something about the room niggled at Penelope’s brain, but she focused her attention on Victoria, who, whether by accident or design, had her back to one of the beams of daylight. Her face, therefore, was not well lit.
While Stokes began by thanking Victoria for agreeing to speak with them, Penelope took stock of what she could, despite the shadows, discern in Victoria’s features.
Moran’s widow seemed strangely composed, and no matter how hard Penelope looked, she could see no sign the now-dowager countess had shed any tears; her eyes and her complexion appeared unmarred and undimmed by the impact of grief.
However, when Penelope lowered her gaze to Victoria’s hands, clasped in her lap, she saw that Victoria’s interlaced fingers were tight, her grip tense.
Swiftly, Penelope confirmed that Victoria’s shoulders—indeed, her whole body—seemed braced.
For whatever reason, the newly made dowager was on edge and doing her best to hide it.
With her vision adjusting to the dim light, Penelope studied Victoria’s dark-brown eyes. Eyes of that hue were often difficult to read, but in this instance, Penelope felt confident in judging that Victoria was troubled. Anxious and concerned.
Over what?
Possibly over unexpectedly being made a widow.
Deciding that she didn’t know Victoria well enough to make any deductions, Penelope realized that Victoria had noticed her scrutiny.
Hard on Stokes’s calming words about needing to ask a few standard questions, with her gaze on Penelope, Victoria hurried to state, “I heard about the poisoning.” She waved toward the door through which Jeffrey had left.
“Obviously. But on top of Gordon’s brutal murder!
” Her gaze shifted to Stokes. “What’s next?
First Gordon, then Winslow. Who will be the next to be struck down? ”
Penelope resisted the urge to tip her head and openly scrutinize Victoria even more closely. Although there’d been a hint of the hysterical in Victoria’s tone, she appeared more anxious and uneasy than overcome by nerves and unbridled imagination.
Calmly, Stokes reassured Victoria, “We have no reason to believe anyone else is a target of whoever is behind these deaths. In addition, there are a significant number of police both in and around the house.” He paused, then added, “I should mention that, as is police procedure in such cases, we are presently conducting a thorough search of the premises to establish whether the source of the poison lies within the house. Mr. Fitzhugh gave permission for the search. Although the search will be extensive, it will not include any private room currently used by the family. You will not be inconvenienced.”
Victoria blinked. The information did not noticeably reduce her tenseness.
“Now.” Stokes drew out and opened his notebook. “We’ve already asked similar questions of Mr. Fitzhugh and need to ensure you have nothing to add.” Stokes raised his steely gaze to Victoria’s face. “Do you know of any threats made against your husband?”
“No,” Victoria stated.
Stokes persisted. “Do you have any idea of anyone who might have wanted him dead?”
“None at all.” Sensing some explanation was called for, Victoria offered, “Gordon wasn’t one who shared details of his life. I suspect you’ll get the same answers from all the members of the family. There might, indeed, have been some threat made, but I doubt any of us would have heard of it.”
Penelope asked, “Were you involved with the earl’s political life? For instance, did you host political dinners for him on occasion?”
That would have been the normal way of things, but Victoria shook her head.
“No. I had no interest in Gordon’s political views and his subsequent machinations, and he never encouraged me to develop any interest in his affairs, either.
Indeed, he actively discouraged me—and everyone else in the family, for that matter—from taking any such interest.” Victoria paused, then added, “That might have been because, by the time we married, he was already set in his ways. He was a very private man and preferred to keep all his doings to himself.”
“And as earl,” Penelope musingly said, “I suppose he was able to do that.”
Victoria inclined her head. “Indeed.” She glanced at Barnaby and Stokes, then went on, “Before you ask, Gordon spent most of his waking hours deeply immersed in his own pursuits—in the maneuverings of his political life and in his investments and all to do with those. He occasionally visited his clubs—White’s and Brooks—but otherwise, not much in ton life, or even in life more broadly, impinged on him. ”
Shifting her gaze to Penelope, almost bitterly, Victoria stated, “Gordon saw little point in socializing in general. He would only attend those events that might, in one way or another, further his political aims or his investment projects. Those were the two arenas that were important to him, and he was a very focused man.”
“I see.” The reason why Penelope couldn’t recall meeting the late earl all that much in ton circles was growing clearer. “How have you found the rest of the family? I’m aware they are more socially active.”
Victoria lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug.
“They are, and generally speaking, we’ve rubbed along well enough, but my sisters-in-law—Imogen, Cleome, and Constance—are, all too often, absorbed with one or other of their distracting broods, and that makes them rather dull and uninteresting company for me. ”
Beneath the disparaging words, Penelope detected a note of bitter longing. It seemed Victoria’s childless state wasn’t by her choice. And, Penelope recalled, the late earl hadn’t fathered any offspring with his first wife, either.
Leaving that issue aside, Penelope engaged Victoria in a discussion of upcoming family events. “Sadly, it seems,” Penelope observed, “the three girls’ come-outs will be disrupted.”
Victoria’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought that far, but I suppose you’re right.” She thought, then sighed. “That will no doubt lead to more drama and histrionics the next time the family gather.”
With a few further queries, Penelope established that Victoria tolerated the rest of the Fitzhugh family and was tolerated in return, but beneath that superficial level, there was little real connection and certainly no love lost between Victoria and the rest of the Fitzhughs.
Finally, Penelope baldly stated, “It seems you have no real interest in the late earl’s nephews and nieces.”
“That’s correct.” Victoria met Penelope’s gaze and, with an almost-amused glint in her dark eyes, added, “And I can assure you that the late earl—Gordon—didn’t, either.
He barely saw them even when they were planted in front of him, and he paid zero attention to them and their existence.
” She arched her fine brows. “Why would he? None of them could help him with his political maneuverings or his investment projects. They were, therefore, of no interest to him, and he treated them accordingly.”
Barnaby stated, “Frederick was Gordon’s heir apparent, and Frederick’s oldest son, William, will eventually become earl. In such circumstances, society—the ton—would have expected the late earl to take an interest not only in Frederick’s circumstances but also William’s.”
Victoria tipped her head, conceding the point.
“Indeed, and when I, being rather more attuned to society’s expectations than Gordon ever wished to be, raised that very point, he stared at me as if I was a numbskull, then told me that he saw no purpose in cultivating any interest in either Frederick or William, as they wouldn’t become earl until he was dead.
And if he was dead, then he wouldn’t have to deal with them.
” Victoria’s lips almost twitched. “If I recall correctly, at that point, he went back to eating his ham and eggs as if his reasoning was so obvious that no one could ever question it.”
Sensing that continued probing wouldn’t get them much further, Penelope looked at Stokes and arched her brows.
He saw and turned to Victoria. “It appears that Winslow died after ingesting poison dissolved in the earl’s whiskey. We understand Winslow had only recently refilled the decanter from a bottle in the cellar. Can you confirm who has keys to the cellar?”
Victoria blinked, twice, then waved the question aside. “You will need to ask Mrs. Pratchett. Or the dowager. The household arrangements currently followed were in place long before I came to the house.”
“I see.” Stokes made a note, then looked back at Victoria. “As it happens, we’ll be seeking to speak with the dowager next. However, we will also need to interview the staff, possibly at some length, and would like your permission to do so.”
Victoria frowned, then, lips pursing slightly, reluctantly said, “You have my permission to speak with the staff, but I strongly advise that you also seek the dowager’s permission.” She raised her brows. “In fact, I insist that you gain her agreement as well.”
Penelope frowned.
Seeing that, Victoria added, “In large part, the dowager still rules this house.”
Unable to help herself, Penelope asked, “Really?”
Victoria had been the Countess of Moran for close to eighteen years.
Her lips twisting, Victoria nodded. “Yes, really. Ever since she returned to this house…well, it was hers for decades before I married Gordon, and old habits die hard and all that.” Lightly, she shrugged.
“The truth, my dear Mrs. Adair, was that it was simply easier to let the reins slide from my hands to hers. Much less effort required.”
Watching Victoria closely, for just a second, Penelope felt she saw beyond the mask Victoria presented to the world. Victoria genuinely didn’t care all that much that the dowager had, it seemed, usurped her role.
Penelope concluded that while such an arrangement wouldn’t suit her, it did, indeed, suit Victoria.
“Thank you for your help.” Stokes rose and bowed to Victoria. “My men will endeavor not to disturb you with their searching.”
Graciously, Victoria inclined her head. “Inspector. I wish you luck in pursuing Winslow’s murderer, and Gordon’s, too, of course.”
Along with Barnaby, Penelope rose. After exchanging nods with Victoria, she and Barnaby followed Stokes across the room. Again, this time idly, Penelope’s gaze passed over the furnishings.
And her earlier niggle flared and grew clear.
Everything in here is old. Good quality but very dated…possibly to the time when Victoria first came to the house as a new bride. That was nearly eighteen years ago!
Penelope paused before stepping through the door Stokes was holding open and swiftly scanned the room one last time. Then facing forward, she walked through the door and into the corridor.
How many ladies of countess or equal rank went eighteen years without refurbishing their private domain?
Puzzling over that, she led the way to the stairs.