Page 10 of The Hazardous Measure of Love
‘You received this note, Mr Prescott,’ Sir William said, calling us to order. ‘Do you still have it?’
‘No. I think I simply dropped it back on the salver the footman brought it on. I was in haste, as you may imagine.’
‘You arrived here, were admitted by the butler and he announced you?’ he asked, testing Grainger’s version of events.
‘No. Grainger admitted me, then I walked through, tapped on the study door and let myself in. The room was empty so I sat down and waited. When there was no sign of my nephew I returned to the reception, fortunately arriving just before the Prince of Wales’s entrance.’
‘You were not surprised by Lord Tillingham’s failure to meet you?’
‘I was puzzled and not a little annoyed. It was not like my nephew to be careless or inconsiderate. I expected a note of explanation this morning and, when none appeared, I intended to call after luncheon to enquire. To think I sat there and all the time he was lying wounded.’ He covered his eyes with his hand for a moment. ‘Perhaps I could have saved him.’
‘No,’ Sir William said. ‘It was an immediately mortal wound. He cannot have suffered.’
There was silence while Adrien’s father recovered himself. I scribbled a question in my notebook and tilted it for Luc to read.
He nodded. ‘Was the study window open, Mr Prescott?’
The older man frowned. ‘Let me think… No. At least, I am sure it was not open wide. The curtains had not been drawn closed. The room was quite warm and a breeze would have been welcome, as I had walked briskly from the Palace.’ The reason for the question appeared to strike him. ‘I cannot say whether or not it was unlatched. It may even have been open an inch or so.’
‘And you noticed nothing out of place in the study?’
‘Nothing. My nephew was an orderly man and kept everything just so. There was no sign of disorder. There were papers on his side of the desk, somewhat spread out, that was all.’
‘You did not look around? Perhaps stroll about studying the pictures or looking at books while you waited?’
‘Certainly not. I would not presume to make myself at home in Tillingham’s private rooms.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb as though warding off a headache. ‘I must go to Cambridge. This is not news I can break to my brother Frederick by letter.’
I saw Luc glance at the magistrate and Sir William nodded. ‘Of course, Mr Prescott. You will, however, be called to attend the inquest. There is to be a post-mortem examination, so I imagine that it can be put off for perhaps two days. Will that give you sufficient time?’
‘I will return home and set off immediately by post chaise. I will reach Cambridge tonight, break the news to my brother in the morning and return to London as soon as I am able to leave him, but certainly by the day after tomorrow. Frederick will understand the necessity.’
‘I will write to the rest of the family, Father,’ Adrien said. ‘I imagine the funeral will be at Tillingham Hall?’
Mr Prescott nodded. ‘The body must be interred in the family vault. At least it will not be too far for Frederick to manage, unless there has been a severe deterioration in his condition.’ He sighed heavily. ‘If that is all, Sir William?’
‘It is for now, thank you. I gather from what you say that Doctor Prescott is in very frail health?’
‘He is bedridden and will need to be carried to the carriage,’ Mr Prescott said, already on his feet. ‘I can assure you, Sir William, that he is in no condition to travel to London, let alone murder his nephew, if that is what you are considering,’ he added waspishly. ‘I bid you good day. Lord Radcliffe, Miss Lawrence. Adrien, kindly send instructions to the Hall so they may prepare for a large party of guests.’
‘Certainly, sir. I will see you out.’
As they left Sir William turned to Luc, eyebrows raised. ‘Indeed, it does seem unlikely that a dying academic could make the journey to London, or would have the motive to send an assassin in his stead.’
‘Has he sons, though?’ I asked.
Both men shook their heads. ‘Not legitimate ones, at any rate,’ Luc said. ‘Fellows of Cambridge or Oxford colleges are single. There is nothing to stop them marrying if they leave that post – many take holy orders and marry when they are appointed to a parish – but a Fellow is, by definition, unmarried.’
Adrien came back looking decidedly more strained, if that were possible. ‘I keep thinking of more things that must be done,’ he said, sinking into a chair. ‘I suppose that, after my father and Uncle Frederick, the next person who must be told is Arabella. Miss Jordan, that is.’
‘Percival Jordan’s eldest daughter?’ Luc queried. ‘Lord Jordan,’ he clarified for me.
Presumably a baron. Luke had been unable to explain to me why barons were only ever referred to as Lord Whoever and never as Baron Whoever, except in legal documents. He had simply shrugged and said that was the rule and added that they were the lowest rank of aristocrats, because baronets, the next in precedence, were not able to sit in the House of Lords.
I jerked my attention back from the labyrinthine byways of the English aristocracy to concentrate on what Adrien was saying. He clearly wanted some company when he broke the news and that was to be me.
‘Your cousin was what, in his thirties?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘Thirty two.’
