Chapter 12 #2
“When do these meetings commence?”
“Most evenings around eight in the evening.”
Electra could easily imagine ladies and gentlemen crowding the space, eager to mingle and seek pairings.
“Miss Mahoney mentioned that Mrs. Demeter Devlin lived here.”
Mrs. Earnsley nodded. “She was our most recent lodger, yes, but she has not been back in several days. It is odd.”
“When was the last day you saw her?”
The lady tipped her head back and peered at the ceiling, as if searching her memory. “The morning of the 29th of July, I believe. I recall the weather was frightful the previous day, and I urged her to take one of the better umbrellas with her in case the rain returned.”
Gideon stiffened.
That was the day after Percival Pennington’s murder.
“When she departed,” Gideon asked, “did she take her belongings?”
Mrs. Earnsley let out a shaky breath. “She did not, Inspector, and that’s what’s caused Miss Mahoney such worry.”
Electra swept her gaze up toward the townhouse’s staircase. Gideon seemed to intuit her thoughts.
“May we see her room?” he asked.
At this, Mrs. Earnsley frowned. “I do not feel comfortable allowing you to do so without Miss Mahoney here.”
“Do you have any other staff in the house?” he asked.
“Yes, Inspector. Cook and our maid, Sally.”
“We could have one of them send for Miss Mahoney,” Gideon suggested. “I’m sure she would give her permission readily, since we’ve just come from speaking to her.”
Mrs. Earnsley lifted her gaze to Electra, as if seeking her acknowledgment of that statement.
“We have departed Charlotte Street and came straight here, Mrs. Earnsley.”
The housekeeper relented soon after. “Her room is at the top of the stairs. First door on the left. It’s locked.”
Mrs. Earnsley lifted a ring of keys attached to the belt on her apron, slipping one free. “I’ll take you up.”
The lady led them up the stairs, stiff backed, as if she regretted every step. At the door, she slipped a key inside and twisted the lock, then stood aside so that they could enter.
Immediately, Electra recognized the scent. Violet water. She had smelled the scent the day she’d met Mrs. Jane Wilson. It was a distinctive and not unappealing scent, and it permeated the simply furnished room.
Jane Wilson. Demeter Devlin. Were they one and the same person?
When she heard Mrs. Earnsley’s footsteps retreat back toward the stairwell, she brushed her hand against Gideon’s coat sleeve to get his attention.
“Gideon, I think…perhaps Mrs. Wilson does not exist.”
His brows drew into a perplexed frown.
“The scent in the room is the same that Mrs. Wilson wore.”
“Is it a common scent?”
“Perhaps, but it seems far too coincidental.”
He made a grumbling, noncommittal sound. “I dislike coincidences.”
“As do I.” Electra studied the room, its gilded moldings, the lovely clouds and Cupid mural on the ceiling. A four-post bed dominated the room with a tiny table beside it. The only other furnishings were a small escritoire, a wardrobe on the far wall, and a cheval mirror in one corner of the room.
Gideon opened the drawers of the desk, and Electra glimpsed nothing but blank sheets of paper inside with a few writing implements on top. Everything was neat.
On the bedside table, Electra spotted a book and lifted its cover with her gloved fingertip. Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott. There was no inscription or writing inside the book’s flyleaf or title page.
She slid out a small drawer in the bedside table and found it contained a tin of pasties, a half-burnt candle, some lucifers, and below all of that was an object Gideon needed to see.
“What is it?” he asked, having observed her as she reviewed the drawer’s contents.
She pointed, and he took a step closer.
Gideon lifted the handkerchief from the drawer, running his thumb over the two Ps embroidered into the fabric.
“I'll be taking this,” he said quietly.
“That belongs to Mrs. Devlin.” Mrs. Earnsley had somehow approached without either of them hearing her footfalls. She stood on the room’s threshold.
“It's significant to my investigation, and at the end of it, I will return the kerchief to Mrs. Devlin.” Gideon spoke in a tone that seemed to mollify the housekeeper. “You may note it down if you like, and when Mrs. Devlin returns, you can let her know that I took it.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the two spoke, Electra opened the wardrobe door. It was filled with gowns and hats hanging on pegs. She had seemingly left everything behind.
“Did anyone visit Mrs. Devlin while she lodged at Regent Square?” Gideon asked.
“On occasion, sir. Though she spent most of her time reading or writing letters. She also enjoyed working in the back garden.”
The housekeeper made it seem almost idyllic, as if the purpose of the house itself wasn’t to aid gentlemen in finding a lady to install as a paramour.
“Mr. Percival Pennington. You are familiar with him, are you not?” Gideon asked.
“As a visitor to the evening salons, yes, Inspector.”
“And did he never visit Mrs. Devlin here?”
Mrs. Earnsley opened her mouth and then closed it again, showing the same kind of hesitation Miss Mahoney had during their visit to Charlotte Street.
“He was particularly fond of Mrs. Devlin. She was a favorite of his, yes.”
“So, he visited her here?”
“On occasion, Inspector.”
“And Mr. Lance Pennington?”
“He was a particular favorite of hers. They were very…amiable to each other.”
“Which did she prefer?” Electra couldn’t help but asking.
The older woman blushed fiercely. “Oh, I couldn't say, miss. She would never tell me such a thing. It is none of my concern.”
Gideon looked from Electra to the housekeeper. “You had no sense of it from observing them?”
“Oh, well, Mr. Lance Pennington only visited the house on two occasions, if I recall correctly, and I observed them in the salon.”
When Gideon stared at her, as if awaiting more details, she shifted uncomfortably.
“If any private arrangements were made for visits outside of the house, that was nothing I was privy to.” The housekeeper seemed to consider the matter a bit more. “Miss Mahoney might know.”
“When was the last time you saw Mr. Percival Pennington?”
“Back maybe two weeks, sir. Miss Mahoney told me that he likely would be coming less as he had some complication that was occupying his time.”
“What complication?”
“A young lady he intended to marry and chose not to. Her father was most displeased. That's what I was given to understand from Miss Mahoney.”
None of this was news to Gideon, Electra knew, but he was giving the housekeeper that sort of undivided attention that often prompted witnesses to say more. But she didn’t, and he moved on to questioning mode once more.
“Was Mr. Pennington ever aggressive while he was here?”
She shook her head with seeming certainty. “No, sir, never. Not that I observed. He was popular with the ladies and took an interest in several of them.”
“I’m seeking his murderer, Mrs. Earnsley.” He’d extracted one of his cards and offered it to the housekeeper. “If you recall anything that might assist me, have a message sent to his address.”
Mrs. Earnsley examined the card with a soberness that indicated to Electra that she took Gideon’s charge to heart.
She sensed no shielding with the woman as she had with Miss Eleanor Mahoney.
Electra could not read her emotions in quite the same way, but she believed the housekeeper was telling the truth.
Once they’d departed, Gideon found them a carriage and called up Cordelia’s address to the driver.
Their partnership for the day was apparently coming to an end.
“Where are you off to after you deposit me at Russell Square?”
“To speak to Lance Pennington, or whoever might be at Mount Street at this hour.” He regarded her a moment before she turned to him. “And you?”
“I’d like to see how Cordelia is faring. The inquest must have been trying for her, but I’m glad Kit was there. He’d do anything for her.” Electra realized what she’d said and added, “Though not that.”
Gideon laid a hand over hers where it rested in her lap. “I have had a constable sent to check Sir Christopher’s voting record. He’s not a suspect in my mind.”
When he lifted his hand, it seemed too soon, and she almost missed the weight and warmth of it.
“I hope you may discover some crucial clue when you visit Mount Street.”
He nodded, and she noted, for the first time that day, how exhausted he looked. Electra wondered if he’d had any decent sleep since the case commenced.
“Me too,” he said quietly.