Chapter Five
Lady Mary
I tore open the note from my nephew. I’d spent a large amount of time at Marcus’s house over the past week until I’d felt my presence had become more hindrance than help. I angled the paper to catch the morning light and quickly scanned the lines.
No improvement. I blew out a breath. But little Mary’s illness hadn’t gotten worse, either.
My nephew’s eldest child was strong. Strong-willed, Marcus would fondly complain.
If she didn’t recover, I wasn’t sure how Marcus and his wife Elizabeth would go on.
With all my running about looking into Trent’s death, I would need to remember to make time to visit again soon.
Southey put his paw on my knee, his dark eyes gazing soulfully into mine. I was certain his sympathy was an act to try to obtain treats, but sometimes it did feel as though the dog knew what I was feeling.
I scratched behind his ear. “What rubbish.”
“Bad news?” Marie strode into my library, a shawl clasped in her hands.
“Neither good nor bad.” I eyed the young woman.
I’d been impressed with her spirit and brains when I’d met her at my brother-in-law’s home earlier in the year, and I had yet to regret my decision to hire her as one of my servants.
However, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would have learned more from Trent’s widow if I’d called on the woman alone. “Is that my shawl?”
“Yes.” She handed the burgundy linen square to me. “I repaired the hole. You can wear it today when we go out. The color complements your gown.”
“Thank you.” I folded the rectangle of fabric and placed it on my lap, giving Southey a reproving look. It had been his teeth that had caused the hole. “Ernest is preparing the carriage now. We should leave shortly.”
A soft tap sounded at the door. Mr. Burton stood in the entrance, holding a paper in his hand.
“I found it. You wouldn’t believe how stingy that man at The Times was.
Didn’t want to part with a single back issue.
But when I dropped your name and that of your nephew, well, he very generously loaned it to us. ”
“Excellent.” I hadn’t been sure my memory had been correct. “July then, was it?”
“Was what?” Marie looked between us, narrowing her eyes. “And why aren’t you in livery?” she asked Burton.
“It was.” Burton strode across the room and handed me the folded paper. “And Lady Mary thought I should be out of uniform if I’m to be asking people questions today.”
“The carriage is out front, milady.” Stavers hovered in the doorway.
I rose and pointed at a little bed Jane had put together for the dog. “You have to stay, Southey.”
The dog grumbled, and instead of going to his silk-lined bed, he jumped up on my settee, turned three times, and dropped to his belly.
I decided not to argue the matter. I left the room, patting Stavers’s stooped shoulder as I passed.
Marie followed close on my heels. “Mr. Burton isn’t coming with us, is he?” Was there a hint of accusation in Marie’s voice?
“He is.” I draped the shawl over my shoulders and picked through my assortment of walking sticks by the front door. The one topped with an onyx falcon called to me today. “I think the article in this paper will be of great interest to our magistrate, Sir Kelsey.”
Marie plucked up her reticule from the side table. The strings slipped through her fingers and it fell to the floor.
Burton picked it up before she could. “Here you are, miss.”
She flushed and mumbled a “thank you.”
Burton opened the door for me then helped me up the steps of the coach. He followed Marie inside, then shut the door. “I understand lawsuits have become quite common among men of business. Do you think it could be the cause of Mr. Trent’s murder?”
“I don’t know, but Sir Kelsey should see it regardless.” And if, in gratitude for my bringing the matter to his attention, the magistrate decided to share some information of his own that would only be fair.
“What’s in the article?” Marie tapped her fingers against her skirts.
“Information about a lawsuit.” I settled back.
The ride to the magistrate’s office wouldn’t take long.
I’d learned he didn’t keep his office at Bow Street but on Brook, more central to the district he was responsible for.
“It seems Mr. Trent was unhappy with one of his suppliers of tin cans. I only remember the story because it was beneath one about a guest speaker I had at The Minerva Club, that renowned explorer.”
“I still don’t understand that.” Marie wrinkled her nose. “How does putting food in a tin can make it last more than a couple of days?”
I was a bit unclear on the details about that, as well. “Something about the heating process when the food is put in the can.” I flapped my hand. “Sounds ghastly.”
“It isn’t the worst thing I’ve eaten.” Burton stretched his legs, his boots tapping into Marie’s. “And it helped to keep the critters away from our food supply.”
Marie and I stared at him.
“What?” He ran his hand up his dark-blond hair. “Canned food was introduced as our rations when I served during the Peninsular War. I’m certain the British government is the main customer of Mr. Trent’s goods.”
“I didn’t know you served.” Marie stared down at her hands. “What regiment were you in?”
“The Ninth.” Burton cocked his head. “Who do you know who served?”
“My brother.” Marie brushed her finger under her eyes. “He was in the Thirteenth. He died at Salamanca.”
I stared out the window as Marie composed herself. It seemed that England’s plight was constant war. It made some men’s careers, made others a great sum of money. Most, like Mr. Burton, were lucky if they just survived.
Then there were those like Marie’s brother.
The carriage rolled to a stop. “We’re here.” I forced a bit of cheer into my voice. Dwelling on loss did no one any favors. “Let’s see if Sir Kelsey is available.”
He was, though he couldn’t contain his shock at seeing us. “Did you have anything to add to your statement, Lady Mary? You were telling the truth when you said you knew of no connection between yourself and the victim?”
I drew my shoulders back. “Of course, I was telling the truth. And I have nothing to add to my statement. I came to show you this.” I pulled the folded paper from my reticule and passed it across the desk.
“That article there.” I pointed to the piece.
“Mr. Trent was suing one Driscoll Gray for selling him defective tins. Apparently some members of the Royal Navy became sick and died from eating contaminated food, and Trent had to recall the whole batch. He lost a lot of money.”
“Seems more of a reason to want Gray dead.” Burton narrowed his eyes. “A friend of one of the dead men would be understandably angry at him.”
Sir Kelsey nodded. “When was this?” He flipped the paper over. “A couple months ago? I would presume that if Trent were killed because of his lawsuit the murder would have occurred sooner after he filed it.”
“Perhaps that is why the killer waited, so his motive wouldn’t be suspected.
” The back of my neck heated. Money was always a strong motive.
The magistrate shouldn’t dismiss it. “The lawsuit is most likely still ongoing. Gray might have only recently been ordered to pay Trent a large sum. It needs checking out.”
The smile Sir Kelsey gave me was patronizing. “And we will. That is what Bow Street is trained for, but thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
I debated telling the magistrate of what we’d learned from our visit to Mrs. Trent.
If he was going to be superior, I wanted to be recalcitrant.
My better angels reigned, however. “You might also want to speak to Trent’s manager, a Fenton Hicks.
I heard there was a disagreement between the two men just last week. ”
Sir Kelsey made a note. “And you learned of this how?”
“When I made a condolence call on the widow.” I tapped my thumb on the beak of my walking stick’s falcon. “And have you learned anything? Did you find the murder weapon by chance?”
Kelsey leaned back and hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jacket. “Hall is looking into it.” He opened his mouth. Closed it. As though his better angels had counseled him not to share information.
I pressed my lips tight. I preferred my angels to his.
“Hall?” Burton asked.
“Bryan Hall, the coroner.” Kelsey sighed. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, don’t you worry, Lady Mary. A woman of your situation has better things to do than to concern herself about such matters, I’m sure.”
The way his gaze lingered on my snowy white hair made me think my situation had more to do with my age than my status.
I tried not to bristle. The magistrate wasn’t that much younger than me.
Young enough though to think a few wrinkles meant one’s opinions were no longer salient or useful.
I’d bet my club my mind was more than a match for his.
I stood, annoyed with the magistrate’s attitude. He might not think my judgment was penetrating enough to be of use, but I knew better. “Thank you, Sir Kelsey. We’ll leave you to it.”
He rose, as well. “Oh, and have that maid of yours, Miss Smith, come by. She still hasn’t signed her statement.”
I nodded and turned to go. When we stepped outside, I said to Mr. Burton and Marie, “I want you two to find out where this Bryan Hall is and go question him. Perhaps he’s learned something and will be more forthcoming than the magistrate.”
“I’m supposed to be your companion, not ’is. His.” Marie frowned.
“And if you are to be my companion, you’ll have to learn to be adaptable. Just ask Jane.” I nodded at Ernest as he opened the carriage door. “Take a hackney. Ernest here will give you some spending money.”
“If Miss Murphy doesn’t want to accompany me, I can perform this task alone.” Burton pursed his lips. “In fact, it might be better if I do. A young lady shouldn’t visit the office of a coroner.”