Chapter Two
Lady Mary
“Don’t you worry, Lady Mary.” The magistrate all but leant over and patted my knee. “No one suspects you of any wrongdoing.”
We were in my morning sitting room, the sun having breached the horizon a couple of hours past. Jane, Marie, and I had been there since the constable had shooed us from my front porch.
Been there when I’d directed Stavers to follow the blood trail to see where it led, eaten a light breakfast as the sun rose, and sat there still while the constable had sent for a magistrate.
Fortunately, the magistrate wasn’t the one whom I’d previously met. This one seemed sharper, aside from his patronizing words.
I sniffed. “I could be involved in wrongdoing if I wanted. No need to be insulting.”
Jane kicked my leg.
Sir Patrick Kelsey scratched his dark-brown hair. “Er, quite. I only meant to say me and my boys will find out what happened in a timely manner. You have nothing to concern yourself over.”
“I don’t suppose the Runner Mr. Rollins is available to assist?” I’d worked with the Bow Street agent during an unfortunate event that had occurred at my club last year. He was a skilled investigator, one with whom I’d worked well.
“Mr. Rollins is enjoying the Lake District, I believe, on his wedding tour.” Sir Kelsey relaxed into my wingback chair.
His jacket and waistcoat were a shade too tight, and his buttons strained.
“But don’t you worry. All my Runners are most competent.
Now, as you’ve had a few more hours to reflect, do you still maintain you don’t know the dead man? ”
“I do.” I leaned over to the low table before the settee I sat upon and poured myself another cup of coffee.
It wasn’t my favored beverage, but for times like these when I needed to think clearly, I found it the most effective.
I added three lumps of sugar to make it palatable. “I never met the man before.”
“He has no association with your club?” He raised a thin eyebrow, managing to look both disapproving and encouraging at the same time. A neat trick, to be sure.
I frowned. “He does not. You must be aware that The Minerva Club’s members are women only, and he isn’t one of my workers, nor any vendor that I can recall.
” After seeing the men in my life enjoying their gentlemen’s clubs, I’d decided a few years back to create such a refuge for London’s other half.
I’d known the venture would cause a stir, but frankly, I hadn’t cared.
I still didn’t.
“Perhaps the husband of one of your members?” Sir Kelsey pursed his lips. “It is a large club, isn’t it? Many members? Plenty of space for large gatherings?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Yes, we have a lot of space. And if the dead man was a husband of one of my members, I never met him.”
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t know you,” Sir Kelsey said. “We’ve received some complaints about that club of yours. Mr. Talbot was especially vehement that we investigate the goings-on after his mother lost an eyebrow in that fireplace mishap at your club.”
I kept my expression even. If Mrs. Talbot had told her son she had burned off her eyebrow leaning too close to a fireplace, who was I to contradict her? Personally, I thought the truth made a much better story. “You’ve never come by to speak to me about any complaints.”
The magistrate stretched out his legs. “I find nothing wrong with the fairer sex seeking harmless ways to alleviate their ennui.”
“How broad-minded of you,” I said, my voice dry.
Sir Kelsey didn’t grasp my sarcasm. “Yes, after all, once the children are raised, the days must stretch on for women.”
Jane kicked my leg again, giving me a warning look.
I frowned at her. Her pointed toe wasn’t needed. After finding a body on my doorstep, I had no desire to school the magistrate on the inner lives of women, regardless of how foolish his conception of it was.
He cleared his throat. “Do you ever rent out rooms in your club? For special events and such?”
“No.” A pulse throbbed behind my temple. “Is that relevant to the murder?”
Sir Kelsey stared into his cup of tea. “One never knows what detail will be relevant.” He cleared his throat.
“Why do you think he came to your house, bleeding to death no less?” Kelsey shook his head when I offered him a plate of scones, lips pressing together in a slight grimace.
“The wife wants me to cut back, you understand.”
I laid the plate back on the table. “I don’t know. Even though I don’t know who he is, the man must have known me. Do you think you’ll be able to recover any of the contents of the letter?”
“We’ll attempt to clean the blood off, but I doubt the ink will survive the process.” The magistrate sighed. He poked at the letter which he had placed over his handkerchief on the table to dry. “Only that M is completely unstained. What a hash.”
My view of the letter was now upside down, but the magistrate was correct. Not one word was legible. Even the L for Lady Mary had been dotted with the victim’s blood.
“Perhaps he was merely a courier, carrying the letter for another?” Jane suggested.
“Clad in superfine and leather Hessian boots?” Sir Kelsey shook his head. “This man was no mere courier.”
I nodded. That had been my impression, as well.
Southey poked his head up from underneath the table and sniffed at the scone plate.
I pushed it farther into the center. “Do you think he was stabbed on the street? It was early in the morning, but there might have been witnesses.”
“We’re looking into it,” Sir Kelsey said. “We’ll need Miss Smith here to sign a statement about how she and Mr. Higgs found the body. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”
“Of course.” I looked up at the softly cleared throat. Stavers stood in the doorway with my new under-butler, Brett Burton, hovering close behind.
“Pardon me, milady.” Stavers straightened as best he could from his perpetual hunch. “The constable has finally removed the body.”
Sir Kelsey looked up. “Did he send it to Bryan Hall?”
“The constable didn’t inform me of the body’s destination,” Stavers said dryly.
“Then I’d best make sure it ends up at the right man. He’s the best coroner I’ve worked with.” Sir Kelsey set his tea down and carefully folded the letter in his handkerchief. He started to rise.
I pointed my fingers at the man’s boots. “Stop!”
The magistrate froze, his rear end hovering over the seat of the chair. “Pardon me?”
“Not you.” I glared at Southey. The pup reluctantly removed his mouth from the toe of the magistrate’s boot. I had trained the dog to refrain from chewing on my footwear, but apparently he thought everyone else’s was fair game. “The dog was making a nuisance of himself.”
Sir Kelsey looked down at his shiny boot tip. “I see.” He inclined his head. “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Mary, duty calls. Have a good day.” He toed Southey aside and strode from the room.
I pressed my lips together. The man could just have easily have stepped over the dog. Pushing him seemed rude.
“A good day?” Marie scoffed. She rose and started clearing the magistrate’s cup. “Not a very promising start.”
I made a noncommittal sound. “Did you find where the blood trail began?” I asked Stavers.
He toddled into the room. “I sent young Burton here. My joints, you know.”
“Of course.” I hadn’t expected my ancient butler to actually prowl after the blood drops himself.
Brett Burton followed after the butler, his sharp eyes quickly taking note of everything in the room.
He was a handsome young man, his sun-touched skin and broad shoulders making him appear more like someone whose previous employment had been working in the fields rather than in service inside a manor house.
Marie dropped the cup. It thudded softly on my Persian carpet, and she hastily bent to pick it up, her face reddening. “Sorry, ma’am,” she muttered.
I frowned at her unusual clumsiness before turning to the under-butler. “And? What did you find out?”
Mr. Burton ran his palm up the back of his dark-blond hair.
“That the human body holds much more blood than I thought possible. The trail led a couple blocks over to Charles Street. The constable’s men were already at the house the trail started from.
I asked a neighbor. It belongs to one Mr. Edwin Trent.
Lives there with his wife and young daughter. ”
“Trent.” I tapped my fingertips against my lips. “Trent.” My back straightened. “The son of Marvin Trent. I knew the father. Not well, but I saw him at a few functions before he died.” There had been something familiar about the body. Edwin Trent had the same dimpled chin as his sire.
“Why would the son of a casual acquaintance, a dead one at that, come to you as he’s dying?” Jane rubbed her swollen knuckles. “It makes no sense.”
No, it didn’t. Or at least it didn’t make any sense yet.
I scratched behind Southey’s ear. I could leave the matter up to this magistrate. Sir Kelsey wasn’t dull-witted. He had as good a chance as any to figure out the truth. And chances were he wouldn’t appreciate any outside assistance.
I stared out the window. My street never had much activity, but there were some early risers going about their day. Everyone who walked past stopped to stare at my front porch. It would take a bit of effort to scrub the blood from them, I supposed.
A man had been stabbed. A father. And as he’d bled to death, he’d felt impelled to stagger his way to my house, with a letter addressed to me.
Yes, I could leave the matter to the magistrate, but everyone needed a bit of help now and then, magistrates included. It would only be proper for me to pay a condolence call on Mr. Trent’s widow, especially as her husband had died at my door. There was nothing interfering about that.
And if she happened to tell me anything of import to discover who killed her husband, well, Sir Kelsey would have to welcome that.