Chapter Two #2
A younger version of Lady Dashworth walked into the room.
Attractive rather than merely pretty, she was tall and slender, with a strong-featured face and fine, intelligent eyes.
She might have been twenty-one or -two years old, the same kind of age as Mrs. Waltham, but somehow more mature.
She wore a smart wool coat, unbuttoned, and dangled a hat by its ribbons from one hand.
She looked surprised to see the visitors, who both stood as she entered.
“Mr. and Mrs. Grey,” her mother explained briefly. “Was Percy Harvey at Mrs. Vennor’s on Tuesday evening?”
Lady Phoebe blinked. “Yes. I danced with him. Why?”
“His father can’t find him.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found,” Lady Phoebe said, taking the chair next to Constance.
“That crossed our minds,” Solomon said, “but Mr. Harvey is insistent. Did either of you see or hear of Percy after Tuesday?”
“I saw him with Bobby Waltham on Wednesday afternoon,” Phoebe said, “walking through St. James’s Park.”
“Did you speak to him?” Constance asked.
“No, I only saw them from a distance and I was with friends.”
“How did he seem to you when you danced with him?” Constance asked Phoebe, while Solomon distracted her mother with a question of his own.
“His usual self,” Phoebe said. “Not worried, or confiding, if that is what you’re looking for.”
“Were you close friends?” Constance asked.
“No,” Phoebe replied. She didn’t even think about it.
“And yet,” Constance said quietly, “I hear you are about to be betrothed.”
“Then you hear wrongly. There never was any such engagement and there never will be.”
Surprised by the younger woman’s firmness, Constance sat back. “Why is that?”
“Is it any of your business?” Phoebe asked with more curiosity than aggression.
“No, but it would seem to be Mr. Harvey’s. He is under the impression that his son is unofficially engaged to you.”
Pheobe nodded. “There was a conversation between our fathers—years ago, when I was a mere debutante—but it never came to anything.” She did not sound remotely regretful, merely stated the fact.
“Why was that?” Constance asked.
“Because we did not wish it.”
“Then he did not propose?”
Pheobe’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you come from Mr. Harvey? Your questions are more those of some salacious journalist.”
“I’m sorry you think so,” Constance said calmly.
“My husband is acquainted with your father, if you require reassurance. And, quite possibly, the question is not relevant to finding young Mr. Harvey. But we have some success in seeking and finding missing people, and sometimes it helps us to know where to look, if we can gain some knowledge of the man himself. In this case, views of him seem to be contradictory. Do you like him?”
Phoebe hesitated for the first time. Then, “Frankly, no. And so I told him when he proposed.”
“Then you turned him down. Is your father aware of this?”
“Of course. Though clearly Percy’s is not.”
“Did it happen this week?”
“Oh, no,” Phoebe said. “It was two years ago, at least. Do not be imagining I broke his heart, even at the time.”
“Did he accept his dismissal?” Constance asked.
“What else could he do?”
“Keep trying. You and he would appear to be cordial. Has he asked you since?”
A flicker of surprise showed in Phoebe’s eyes, and again she hesitated. “No,” she said at last. “But sometimes he gives the impression that he thinks…”
“Thinks what?” Constance prompted her.
“That my agreement is inevitable, however long it might amuse me to hold out. He is hardly faithful. In fact, he is an incorrigible flirt.”
“Is that what holds you back?” Constance asked curiously.
“No. I told you, I don’t like the man. Why does Mr. Harvey want him right now?”
“He is worried something might have happened to him. Do you think it’s possible he could have got into dangerous company?”
“I think he was already there.”
“Could you give me any names?”
“No, they are outside my circle of acquaintance. But I suspect they were to do with illegal gambling dens. But then, sooner or later, his flirting was also going to get him into trouble with some short-tempered husband of his own class.”
“Such as…?”
Pheobe shrugged. “It was a general observation.”
By then, both Solomon and Lady Dashworth had risen, and the call was clearly over.
“Thank you for your assistance,” Constance said.
Phoebe regarded her with some curiosity. “Do you really do this sort of thing often? Look for people?”
“Yes,” Constance said.
“You are an interesting lady. I hope we meet again.”
“Thank you,” Constance said, surprised. “So do I.”
*
“Well?” Solomon asked her when they were back in the carriage.
“Lady Phoebe refused his offer of marriage two years ago. She doesn’t even like him, though he seems to still have hopes of changing her mind.
She thinks he keeps bad company, probably to do with his predilection for gaming—although that might be just because it’s the worst she knows of the world.
What did you glean from Lady Dashworth?”
“That Harvey senior is somewhat blind to his son’s faults.
Percy was never their first choice for Phoebe, but they were prepared to let Phoebe do the choosing herself.
According to her mother, she is eminently sensible.
Lady Dashworth has never heard of Adelaide Jenkins and has no idea where she can be found. ”
“Why don’t I look around the hotels?” Constance suggested. “While you broach the gentlemen’s clubs?”
“Good plan. You can drop me at St. James’s, and keep the carriage.”
“Actually, I feel like walking,” Constance said quickly, “so just let me down at Dover Street, and I’ll start with Brown’s Hotel.”
*
Solomon was quietly pleased with the call on Lady Dashworth.
Admittedly, this was more to do with Constance than with the case.
Lady Dashworth might not have known Mrs. Grey’s origins, but now if she did hear, she would remember the beautiful, civil young woman helping Richard Harvey.
There was nothing common or vulgar about Constance.
Having set Constance down outside Brown’s Hotel, he instructed the coachman to go first to Percy’s rooms off Piccadilly.
As he had half expected, Darren, the manservant who admitted him, was in his twenties, and was likely to empathize enough with his master to cover for him against parental disapproval.
“I’m here on behalf of Mr. Richard Harvey,” Solomon began, presenting his card. “I understand you have spoken to him already, but I just want to make sure I have all the facts. I take it Mr. Percival has not yet come home?”
“No, sir.”