Chapter Eighteen
Lady Mary
The morning had been busy but unproductive.
I’d written several acquaintances asking for information on Trent and his business, correspondence I wouldn’t have answers to for a couple days at least. I’d stopped by The Minerva Club, only to find my kitchens still in disarray and another bill pending.
Then I’d returned to Peg Rogerson’s place of business, The Red Chemise, only to be told she wasn’t there and they had no idea when she’d return.
My irritation spilled over onto poor Marie. “Stop drumming your fingers so.”
Marie pulled her hand away from the window ledge on the carriage. “Sorry, ma’am.”
I blew out a breath. “No, I am. After such a scare, you have every reason to be nervous. I should have left you home to rest further.”
“I have rested enough to recover the strength of fifty men.” Marie stretched out her legs. “And I’m not bothered. The ordeal has left no lasting hurts, despite what some might think.”
“Ah.” The sound of the carriage wheels grinding on stone and the squeak of a turning axle filled the space. I should speak to Ernest about the maintenance of the coach. It was noisier than usual. I could only hope the entire undercarriage wouldn’t need to be replaced.
Marie looked at me suspiciously. “What do you mean, ‘ah’?”
I lifted my shoulder. “Only that I now understand the source of your nerves. It’s Mr. Burton.” Again. Always. Young people became consumed at the first hint of romance. “He has caught your attention.”
“He has done no such thing!” she hissed, darting a glance at the ceiling. Mr. Burton had insisted on accompanying them today, but had decided to sit atop with Ernest. He thought it gave him a better viewpoint to see if anyone followed.
I looked at her over my spectacles.
She flopped back on the seat. “All right. Yes. I don’t know what to do with him.”
I bit back a smile. She’d figure that out soon enough.
“He can be so infuriating,” she continued, “and then be as appealing as cook’s syllabub.”
My stomach gurgled. I’d skipped luncheon and talk of dessert made me realize my hunger.
“I’ve been in service since I was a child.” Marie pulled out her deck of cards and began shuffling them. “I’ve been trained to clean, mend, and to submit to my betters.”
I puffed out my cheeks. The training on that last one hadn’t quite taken.
“But for something like this, like him, I am wholly unprepared. What shall I do about him?” Marie asked, a wrinkle creasing the skin between her eyebrows.
“Does something need to be done?” It had been so long since I’d experienced the first stirrings of love, I felt ill-equipped to offer advice.
“Let things happen at their own pace. Enjoy being young.” My stomach hardened.
How nice it would be to feel the nerves of inexperience again.
To worry about one’s future instead of chewing over the past. Marie was young and lovely and didn’t even appreciate what a gift that was.
“But….”
The carriage pulled to a stop. Marie closed her mouth tight while Mr. Burton climbed down from the driver’s seat and opened the door.
“I don’t suppose I can come in with you?” he asked.
I looked at the front door of Mrs. Shaw’s townhouse. “No, I think that would raise questions we don’t want to answer. Besides, no harm will come to us here. It’s the middle of the day and I can’t imagine Mrs. Trent attacking us in her sister’s home with children running about.”
Burton handed me down, then turned to Marie. “Well, I won’t be far. You only need holler.”
His hand lingered on Marie’s a bit longer than proper, and I gave them my back.
If this romance continued, I would need to make some adjustments.
I didn’t have any married servants in my household, an oddity that just now struck me.
There was a rather large room below the attics that might make a good chamber for them.
I only hoped the relationship didn’t end badly. I would hate to lose either of the two if they could no longer work together.
“Shall we?” I asked Marie. Without waiting for a reply, I marched up the steps and knocked on the front door. Their butler opened it almost immediately. “Milady.”
I stuck my stick in the door’s opening so it couldn’t be shut in my face. “I’m here to see Mrs. Trent.”
He nodded. “Let me see if she’s accepting callers.” He turned and wandered down the hall.
I stepped inside to wait. A handsome black-and-white cat strolled up to me to investigate. It sat back on its haunches, looking at me expectantly.
I gripped the round head of my walking stick and lifted my chin. I had become a dog owner against my will. I would not succumb to a cat’s charm, too.
Marie felt no such compunction. She dropped to a squat and pet the beast, cooing.
The butler returned. “If you’ll follow me, Lady Mary.”
We all followed him, me, Marie, and the cat, parading into the sitting room, one after the other. Mrs. Trent and her sister, Mrs. Shaw, rose from their chairs, dipping into curtsies.
We returned them. “How do you fare, Mrs. Trent?” I asked as I settled onto a low settee, Marie next to me. The cat jumped up between us.
Mrs. Shaw grabbed the cat and set him on the floor. “Not on the furniture. I told you.”
Mrs. Trent’s smile seemed forced. “I bought my daughter a cat. I thought she needed something of comfort since the death of her father. My sister isn’t an admirer of animals.”
“The animals are fine,” Mrs. Shaw sat back down. “It’s their hair and mess I don’t care for.”
“It is a good thing I will be moving back home in a few days then.” Mrs. Trent picked up a round of embroidery and stabbed her needle into it. “It is kind of you to call and offer your condolences once again, Lady Mary.”
I eyed the cat. It seemed poised to make another leap, this time on me. I placed my walking stick between it and me. “But of course, Mrs. Trent. When something so tragic occurs, it befalls each and every one of us to offer what succor we can.”
Mrs. Trent’s response was interrupted by two little girls racing into the room, each clasping a strip of ribbon and waving it behind them. The volume of the room leaped.
“My daughter and niece.” Mrs. Trent pointed at the girls. She raised her voice to be heard over the din. “They are very high-spirited children.”
The larger of the two caught sight of the cat. “Mittens!” She made straightaway for the animal, and the cat wisely fled the room. The girls gave chase, their accompanying noise fading down the hallway.
Mrs. Shaw muttered something to herself, earning a scowl from her sister.
Something crashed, and Mrs. Shaw shot up. “I’ve never had such trouble before,” she said before hurrying from the room, presumably to locate the source of the racket.
Mrs. Trent laid her embroidery aside. “I am grateful to my sister for allowing me to stay here, but it is well past time to leave. Family is a two-edged sword: someone you can always turn to and someone who, well, can frustrate you beyond understanding.”
“The same can be said of a husband.” I arched an eyebrow.
Marie smothered a snort and ended up in a coughing fit.
I smacked her on the back.
Mrs. Trent crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you have a point in coming here? I know you spoke with Driscoll.”
I wiggled deeper into the seat cushion. I appreciated Mrs. Trent’s candor.
Trying to hide something I already knew about would only waste everyone’s time.
“Yes, I know you were having an affair. I was surprised to learn it was with the man your husband was suing. That seems rather a conflict of interest in your family’s business. ”
“Not at all.” She bounced her slippered toe up and down. “I didn’t involve myself in the cannery. Nor Driscoll’s business.”
“But you met your…Mr. Gray at your husband’s factory, did you not?” I asked. “You had to have had some involvement with the business.”
“I visited the factory once or twice.” She lifted one elegant shoulder.
“That Mr. Hicks would appreciate it if you visited a bit more,” Marie added. “He says you haven’t paid the workers.”
Mrs. Trent glared at my maid. “I’ve had a funeral to plan. The authorities to deal with. A daughter to console.”
A lover to entertain, as well. I had a hard time giving credence to her being too busy to go to the bank while the affair went on uninterrupted.
“My dance card has been quite full,” she continued.
“A word of advice from one woman of business to another, as that is what you now are.” I stamped the tip of my walking stick into the rug.
“There are some things you can’t let pass, and one of those is paying your workers.
Not if you want them to be available when you do finally feel up to running the company.
Either sell now or start managing it. If you wait, there might not be anything left to sell. ”
Mrs. Trent dropped her arms, clasping her hands in her lap. “Driscoll has said the same. You are both right. I will be more attentive.”
I nodded, hoping I hadn’t just given financial advice to a murderess. “Now, where were you the night your husband was killed?”
Mrs. Trent’s jaw dropped open. She blinked at me before dropping her head back and loosing peals of laughter. She laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks.
Marie and I shared a worried look.
Mrs. Trent pulled a handkerchief from the sleeve of her gown and dabbed beneath her eyes. “Oh, Lady Mary, you do amuse me. There is no subtlety to you at all.”
My spine snapped straight. I could be subtle, if the occasion called for it. “I’m glad you find this so diverting. Now, can you answer the question?”
Her laughter wound down. “You know where I was. Driscoll told you.”
“Mr. Gray said the two of you were together.” I sniffed. “Do you confirm this?”
Mrs. Trent gave her a solemn look, but her eyes still danced with mirth. “I so confirm.”
I should never have given this woman advice of any kind. She deserved no such consideration.
Marie nudged me with her elbow. “Calm your temper,” she whispered.
I took my maid’s counsel. “Can anyone other than the two of you confirm that you were together at his house?” I asked, proud at how cool my voice sounded.
“My driver.” She pursed her lips. “His footman. Oh, and a maid brought us a bottle of wine in the early morning hours. Does that suffice?”
Not when all of those witnesses worked for the suspects. They had wages to lose if they disagreed with their employers. I tried a different tack. “Do you know the tool that is used at your husband’s factory that smooths the rough edges of the tins?”
“The metal file.” Mrs. Trent’s forehead furrowed. “Yes. They’re littered all over the factory. Why?”
“Do you know if your husband kept any at home, in his study perhaps?”
She blinked. “Not that I know of.”
She was either a very good actress or didn’t know that a file was the suspected murder weapon.
“Annalee!” Mrs. Trent’s name reverberated throughout the house. “Your daughter has eaten all of tonight’s pudding.”
Mrs. Trent muttered an oath, standing. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go calm my sister down.”
Marie and I rose, as well. “Thank you for seeing us.” I wasn’t sure that would be allowed to happen again. I circled the settee, my knee banging into the small side table. I steadied it, then paused.
I wouldn’t have noticed the light coating of dust on the table if there hadn’t been a small clear patch in the shape of an oval. “The swan.” I thought back. That Mr. Randall had been playing with when they’d last been in that room. “It’s missing.”
Mrs. Trent strode over and peered over my shoulder. “Drat. I’ll ask my daughter where she put it. I hope I can replace it before my sister notices. Otherwise, I’m blaming the cat.”
Marie nodded. “They do like shiny things.”
We took our leave.
Mr. Burton’s face creased in relief when we exited the house. He opened the carriage door and handed us in. “Where to now?”
“I need to attend to my club.” I ran through all the questions that remained unanswered. “But I have a task for you.”
Burton rested his arm on top of the carriage. “Yes?”
“We need to know how Miss Rogerson’s handkerchief got to Mr. Trent’s study.” Had she been there and lied about it, or had Mr. Trent brought it to his house himself for some reason? “See if you can do a better job of running her down than I did.”
“We’ll find her.” Marie nodded stoutly.
I exchanged a look with Burton. “I think this task is better accomplished by Mr. Burton alone, my dear. Peg Rogerson will probably be more communicative with a handsome young man without you along.”
That apparently was the wrong thing to say. “I see.” The iciness in Marie’s voice lowered the temperature of the coach several degrees.
I settled back on the velvet seat, trying not to feel annoyed. I couldn’t be always stepping gingerly on account of the girl’s feelings, not when there was a killer to be found.
And it felt like each day that passed without answers, the more likely the murderer was going to escape justice for his crime.