Chapter 14 #2
He sipped at his drink and grimaced at the sharpness of it. “If you met him in day-to-day life, you would have been struck by his coolness and eloquence. And he was those things, but with a bit too much whiskey, he was quicker to anger. He was eloquent then too, but not quite as nice.”
The man’s brother smiled to himself, almost wistful. Then he looked at Gideon and frowned.
“Have you discovered something in the course of your investigation about why this happened, Inspector?”
“I don't have the answers you’re seeking yet, Mr. Pennington.”
“Do you have any suspects?”
“I am still gathering information.”
Pennington gave a shaky nod and emptied the scant bit of remaining liquor in his glass. “I suppose the inquest was merely perfunctory.”
“It was a determination of the cause of your brother's death. That was its goal. My goal is to arrest the man responsible.”
The young man set the glass aside and folded his hands in his lap. Gideon noticed ink stains on a few fingers. Likely common among playwrights.
“What questions do you have for me, Inspector?”
“I met an interesting woman today by the name of Eleanor Mahoney.”
Gideon watched as the young man’s face shifted from shock to a kind of forced nonchalance.
“You're acquainted with her, sir?”
“Yes, I've met her on a couple of occasions.”
“And your brother was acquainted with her as well, I take it.”
“Yes, Inspector.”
“Because you both visited a house that she owns in Regent Square.”
Color had begun to climb from the edge of Pennington’s collar into his cheeks. “It is an ungentlemanly topic, is it not?”
“I cannot restrain myself to topics that are gentlemanly during a murder investigation, Mr. Pennington.”
“Yes, we both went to the house on Regent Square.” Pennington bit out the words as if it cost him something to make the admission.
“The Rosebud Club,” Gideon said, “and it is Miss Mahoney’s salon, as she calls it. A place for gentlemen to meet ladies.”
“That is a fair description.” Pennington unclasped his hands and reached out to fidget with the rim of his glass.
“How often did you attend the salon?”
“Only twice. It is an expensive endeavor.”
“So, your lack of funds prevented you from making an arrangement with any of the ladies?”
Pennington shot a scowl at him. “I suppose you could say that, yes. My purse has never been as full as my brother’s, as he frequently reminded me.”
“But you met a lady that you favored and who favored you, according to Miss Mahoney.”
The young man's fingers began a rhythmic tapping against the arm of the chair.
“Can you tell me the name of that lady, Mr. Pennington? The one you favored.”
His eyes went glassy and, for a moment, emotions seemed to overwhelm him until he wrangled them and tried for a more dispassionate expression.
“Her name is Demeter Devlin.” He spoke it clearly, almost reverently. The way he said her name indicated his feelings for her ran deep.
“Mrs. Devlin was also favored by your brother, was she not?”
“No.” The reply was swift and firm. “He took an interest in her briefly, but he was fond of ladies in general. He formed attachments quickly but ended them almost as swiftly. You’ll recall my mention of the matter with Miss Beecham.”
“So, your brother and Mrs. Devlin ended whatever was between them and then you formed an attachment with her in its place.”
Pennington’s tawny brows drew together. “Not in its place, no. What passed between myself and Demeter was genuine and not at all fleeting.”
“You are in love with her, is that it?”
“Yes.” He looked almost proud, or perhaps relieved, to claim it.
“When was the last time you saw Mrs. Devlin?”
He scrubbed a hand across his clean-shaven face. “Not for a couple of days.”
Gideon could see that the admission cut him to the quick.
“I wish I could say I had,” Pennington added more quietly. “I miss her rather dreadfully, but we had a…falling out of sorts. I suspect she merely needs time for tempers to cool.”
“So, the attachment between you is a serious thing. Do you plan to offer for the lady?”
His mouth curved into a tremulous smile. “I’m not sure that she would be amenable to such an offer. But if she was, I certainly would.”
Gideon bent his head to jot down a few observations, and to give the gentleman time to say more.
“She means a great deal to me, Inspector. If you find out where she is—”
“Do you know where I might find her? I understand she was lodging at Regent Square, but the housekeeper has not seen her in days.”
Pennington shook his head. “She has gone off to think, I suspect,” he said, his tone lighter than the emotions reflected on his face. “When she’s ready, I’m certain she’ll return to me and we’ll make amends.”
“Then I must be the one to ask you. If she does return and seeks you out, please inform me, Mr. Pennington. I must speak with her.”
“Understood, Inspector.”
“The first time we met, you told me that you were at the theatre on the night of the twenty-eighth of July, but subsequent inquiries suggest you were not.”
Pennington looked roused, like he was ready to protest, but Gideon had an instinct about where the man might have been.
“Were you with Mrs. Devlin?”
“I was with her during the course of the day and into the early evening, but then I did go to the theatre.”
The insistence struck Gideon, considering how sure the theatre staff had been when speaking to Thacker about the man’s absence.
“What time were you with her during the day?”
“We met at around two and were together a few hours at my lodgings in Soho.”
“When you parted, did she tell you where she intended to go?”
“No.” That fact seemed to pain him.
“Is that the last time you saw her?”
Pennington eyed him for a moment, a penetrating stare. “I saw her a little later that evening.”
“Around what time?”
“Approximately six, half six.”
“And what was her demeanor?”
“We had a row, as I mentioned.” The young man lifted a shoulder, but he seemed anything but careless over the matter of his break with Mrs. Devlin. “A lover's quarrel, as they say.”
“And what was the cause of the quarrel?”
Muscles shifted in the man’s jaw, and he cast his gaze to the carpet before speaking in a low voice. “I wished for Demeter to come and live with me. She insisted that she was content at Regent Square.”
“Miss Mahoney mentioned that her lodgers were temporary at Regent Square, when she allowed it.”
Pennington nodded. “Nell didn't want her there long term, it is true. And I know she wanted more for her sister, just as Demeter wanted more for herself. I even offered for us to find a place of our own. Somewhere more spacious. Fashionable, if we could manage the expense.”
“Miss Eleanor Mahoney, who you call Nell, is Demeter Devlin’s sister?”
“Did you not know, Inspector?”
“Not until this moment.”
Pennington nodded. “They are very protective of one another. I gather they were orphaned and raised each other.”
Gideon always felt sympathy for orphans, as he had been one himself and knew the fear and uncertainty of it. Yet, his thoughts went immediately to Electra. He understood Eleanor Mahoney’s connection to Percival Pennington, but why had her sister sought out Electra under a false name?
“Mrs. Devlin refused your offer?”
Pennington bowed his head a moment and looked utterly defeated.
“Yes,” he whispered. “She refused.”
“And when she departed that evening, do you know where she intended to go?”
“I assumed she returned to Regent Square.” He notched up his chin, gripped the chair arms as if bracing himself and said, “I…
wasn't at the theatre as I told you previously.
I did not want to admit that I spent the evening in the doldrums after our row.
You know how it is. Surely, you've been in love.”
Gideon felt a pinch in his chest and thought all too quickly of Electra.
“You rethink everything you've said and wish you'd done differently. But you cannot turn back time.”
“Did you seek her out again that evening?”
“No, I…drowned my sorrows.” He lifted a finger to point to the glass on the table next to him. “But I tried to find her in the morning. Bought flowers in Covent Garden and made my way to Regent Square, but Mrs. Earnsley told me she had gone out.”
“So you saw her last on the night of your brother’s murder?”
Pennington shot him a bleak look. “Yes, it’s the last night I saw either of them, but I trust she will return soon.”
Gideon couldn’t quite sort out how Mr. Pennington could seem so passionately attached to the lady and yet express an almost complacent certainty about her extended absence.
“Were you jealous of your brother's involvement with Mrs. Devlin?”
Pennington scoffed. “No, I knew that there were no true feelings between them.”
“That wasn't quite the question I asked, Mr. Pennington.”
He traced his fingers along the edge of the chairs arm. “I once told Demeter that I wished I had met her years ago. Before she'd married anyone. She laughed at me. Told me I was a sentimental fool, which I suppose I am. Perhaps it comes with being a playwright.”
Lifting his head, he met Gideon’s gaze squarely. “So, yes. Would I wish that I had met her before she ever knew Percy? I would be lying if I said I didn't wish that.”
“But she had, and that provoked your jealousy.” Gideon didn’t phrase it as a question; he sensed he would not have to.
“A bit, but as much as I am a man of fancies and fiction, I accepted the truth of the situation. I knew my brother was infatuated with someone else. And I knew my feelings for Demeter were returned in a way they never were for my brother.”
Gideon nodded, acknowledging Pennington’s view of his relationship with Mrs. Devlin, yet he knew there was more to the lady he’d yet to meet. There were those meetings with Percival Pennington that his brother seemed unaware of and the matter of feigning a false identity.
“I visited Regent Square today, Mr. Pennington, and was given permission by Mrs. Earnsley to inspect Mrs. Devlin’s room.”
Lance Pennington’s eyes narrowed as Gideon shifted to dig into his waistcoat pocket.