Chapter Seven #2
“What brought you to England?” Constance inquired. She sounded merely interested. It was Solomon who really wanted to know.
A faint, enigmatic smile flickered across Adelaide’s face. “Widowhood. My husband’s business did not thrive without him, and he had always meant to come back to England, to Dare Hall. He inherited it only a few months before he died. It belongs to Clarence now.”
Clarence grinned around another mouthful of cake.
“Lucky boy,” David said, and Clarence nodded vigorously.
“Were you born in Jamaica too?” Constance asked Adelaide.
“I was. How long have you been married?” Adelaide’s gaze included Solomon too.
“Nearly eight months,” replied Solomon.
Adelaide smiled, a gentle, serious smile, aimed at him alone. “I am glad for you, Solomon. Congratulations.”
Solomon inclined his head, smiling back because he was glad of her genuine good wishes.
The slight daze in which he’d accepted this reunion began to fall away, but it still felt odd to see her here, with her son, conversing civilly with his wife.
But then, Constance was not making small talk.
She was probing, her mind clearly on the mystery they were trying to solve. Which was where his should also be.
David set down his knife and fork and sat back in his chair, like a man whose hunger had finally been assuaged. And yet he was not relaxed. His eyes strayed to Adelaide with steady fascination, reminding Solomon of his own distant infatuation. His stomach gave an uncomfortable jolt.
Could Adelaide have been the one to shoot Percy Harvey? She was more than capable of it, if she had seen him as a threat. Which he probably was. A man like him was unlikely to voluntarily pass by a woman like her, and in certain circles widows were looked on as fair, if not grateful, game.
Unease pierced him. If Adelaide had killed Percy… A whole new world of trouble opened out before him. But that was imagination. During tea this afternoon, a few truths could no doubt be established. For now, he was leaving Constance to carry the conversation alone, for David was little help.
He exerted himself to join in, while mother and son drank their tea, and the boy withdrew his hand from the third cake he was going after. His mischievous smile was disarming.
As Adelaide looked around to summon the maid, Solomon said, “You are our guests. Allow me.”
“You are kind, but no,” Adelaide said firmly, already rising from the chair. “Thank you. Come along, Clarence.”
She caught the waitress, paid her bill, and curtseyed to the table before she departed. Clarence was still chattering beside her, and her musical laughter drifted back to them.
“Well,” Constance said, “I look forward to tea. David, are you returning to London this afternoon?”
“No, I thought I would stay here for a night or two. There are pictures to paint in the neighborhood. Or at least draw.”
Pictures of Adelaide? Solomon thrust that aside and instead summoned the maid and paid with a generous gratuity. “My wife and I are guests at Channing House,” he said, glancing about him for any eavesdroppers. Only a couple of tables at the far side of the room were still occupied.
“Poor souls,” said the girl. “Be sure to pass on all our condolences to Mr. and Mrs. Harvey.”
“Of course,” Solomon replied. “Tell me, did you see young Mr. Harvey on Thursday? Did he come to the inn?”
“I don’t think so, sir. I never saw him. I can ask Jake in the taproom, if you like?”
“That’s all right,” Solomon said, “I’ll step in and ask him myself.”
“As you like, sir. Call again, won’t you?” She was about to turn away when Constance caught her attention with one of her most winning, confidential smiles.
“One more thing… What did you think of Mr. Percy? Was he a well-behaved young man?”
“Oh yes, sir,” the maid said with obvious piety. “Poor young gentleman.”
“Of course, one does not wish to speak ill of the dead,” Constance agreed, “but in this case, it would be in confidence. We heard he was a little…unruly. Drinking, gambling, perhaps too little respect for where he put his hands?”
The maid flushed. “Boys will be boys,” she said stiffly.
“He wasn’t a boy. He was twenty-five years old. Whom did he pursue?”
The girl glanced over her shoulder. “He weren’t fussy. Not when he were three sheets to the wind.”
“Did anyone…oblige him?”
“Not from this house. The mistress’d kick you out without a character. And quite right, too,” she added virtuously. She sniffed. “Word is, he liked more refinement in his females.”
“Like…?” Constance prompted her.
“Well, like your friend, Mrs. Jenkins. People can be unkind, but I always found her very pleasant. And her little lad is cute as they come. Excuse me.” She dashed off in answer to someone else’s summons.
Solomon met Constance’s gaze. The rumors about Percy and Adeliade were clearly not confined to the Harveys, although that didn’t make them any less true. Solomon’s stomach twisted in a tangle of distaste and anger that shocked him.
Leaving David to escort Constance out, he wandered into the taproom to have a word with Jake.
It didn’t take long.
“He hasn’t seen Percy since last Saturday night,” he told the others when he emerged into the courtyard to join them. “The day before he left for London. Percy drank too much, played cards, and whenever he was in the house, the innkeeper kept the younger maids behind the scenes.”
“Nothing new, then,” Constance said cynically.
“A couple of things. He lost money to the squire—Sir Felix Everett—whom he accused of cheating. And won money from George West the lockkeeper, who was apparently quite disgruntled.”
Constance’s eyes gleamed, as he’d known they would. “Was he indeed? What do we know of West?”
“Too handy with his fists, according to the old party propping up the bar, and subject to temper. But then, he has cause, though no one would elaborate.”
“And Sir Felix?”
“Too much of a gentleman to rise to the bait against a drunk.”
“But not too gentlemanly to fleece said drunk?”
“A fair point,” Solomon allowed, ridiculously relieved to have suspects other than Adelaide.
“So what will you do next?” David asked.
Solomon glanced at Constance. “Speak to the constable? Perhaps call on Everett and West. And there is the inquest this afternoon. Which I believe is here at the Duke’s Arms.”
“What of this shady Hope character in London?” David said.
“Unless he followed Percy all the way out here to murder him, I think we have to rule him out,” Solomon said with regret.
“Much simpler to hide murder victims in the stews of London,” Constance explained when David looked slightly baffled. “But thank you for coming all the way out here to tell us. Do you want to come with us now?”
David thought about it. So did Solomon. For a moment he wondered about having David as a partner in the firm, working alongside him as well as Constance…
“No, I’ll get settled into my room,” David said. “Buy another shirt, maybe! But I’ll keep my ears open.”
Solomon nodded and watched him amble back into the inn. “I’m not sure we are the attraction to Channing.”
“Do you mind?” Constance asked, an odd inflection in her voice that he hadn’t heard before.
He glanced at her, taking her hand and placing it in the crook of his arm. “I worry. Until we rule her out as a suspect.”
“She is not what I expected,” Constance remarked. “Apart from the beauty.”
“She is not whom I expected,” Solomon said wryly.
They turned out of the inn and began to walk through the market square toward the little police station, which, according to Harvey, was located on the north side.
“How well do you know her?” Constance asked.
“How well does one know anybody one hasn’t seen in seven years? Seven years ago, I would have married her.”