Page 19 of Murder at Madame Chambon's
It was the four of them, now, for Lady Perry sat grim-faced at right angles to Lady Bradden, and a wave of fear washed over Evelina who was brought to mind of the occasions the nuns would chastise her for a transgression.
“Miss Tarot—” Lady Bradden cleared her throat and her look was suddenly deeply sympathetic.“I am so sorry to have to tell you…” She glanced at Lady Perry and then back at Evelina before she went on.“Lord Dunstable is dead.”
Evelina blinked rapidly.For a moment, she could not speak.
This was not at all what she’d expected.Finally she repeated: “Lord Dunstable is dead?How?When?”
A myriad of possibilities presented themselves.She’d known of people to fall down dead clutching their hearts.One of the nuns had done just that in front of the schoolgirls at the convent.
“He was quite well when I saw him yesterday,” she whispered as she intercepted the glance exchanged by Ladies Bradden and Perry.“Was it..… apoplexy, perhaps?”It was all she could imagine.
“Miss Tarot, I don’t know how else I can tell you, for you will learn the truth soon enough and it’s not for me to soften what will be a harsh blow for you.”Lady Bradden fidgeted with the fabric of her skirts.“Lord Dunstable was killed with a knife late last night.”
“Murdered?”Evelina gasped, clasping her chair to stop herself from falling forward.This was even worse.“How?Who?”She imagined a street brawl and poor Lord Dunstable being set upon as he walked home from his club.“Where did it happen?”
“I… I can’t tell you any more, but I did feel it incumbent upon me to tell you in person since I heard it at my husband’s editorial offices just now.I feared you might learn the terrible truth inadvertently.That is why I came because, of course, you must think my presence here quite out of place.”
Evelina put her hand to her mouth.“What will happen now?”she asked.
And the question, really, related to so many things she didn’t know where to begin.
Lady Bradden’s faltering smile was kind.“I really don’t know.I simply wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else in case you’d been … forgotten.”
“Because I’m not yet his wife.”Evelina hitched in a breath.“And never will be,” she whispered.Suddenly, he seemed the only man she’d ever wanted.His warm smile, the gentleness of his caress, the softness of his lips.
He’d promised her a future.She knew exactly what she’d wanted, and he’d appeared and offered her everything.
“My dear.I am sorry.”Lady Perry offered a tiny nod, her mouth pursed.“I can’t think what we should do now.Fortunately, there is no betrothal notice that will appear in the news sheets to link you with a man who has been murdered.”She said it as if Lord Dunstable had been responsible for his own death.
Lady Bradden let out a soft sigh.“No, I had not thought of that.”She sent Evelina a considered look.“It would be best for all if there was no mention of the engagement, don’t you think?I will check with my husband that there is nothing to link Lord Dunstable with Miss Tarot.My husband’s photographer is waiting outside.I shall call him and instruct him to check.”
Evelina wondered why she should not be linked with Lord Dunstable.She opened her mouth and Lady Bradden said quickly, “Grief aside, you do not want to go into mourning and miss the rest of the season, my dear.”She hesitated.“Not if the marriage contract hasn’t explicitly made provision for you under such circumstances.Now, let me find Mr.Bentink.”
Evelina was surprised that Lady Bradden’s photographer should be lurking about.She remembered him vaguely, having seen him the day she’d gone to the bureau to employ a maid.The fellow was quite un-noteworthy until he spoke.He was small, with a decided swagger, but there was a twinkle in his eye that immediately put one at ease.
And Evelina needed soothing.
“Me condolences, miss,” he said, bowing his head.“Terrible thing, to be sure.So sudden!And what a place for it to happen.”
“I thought you said you didn’t know where it happened,” Evelina said, looking at Lady Bradden, realizing she sounded accusatory.
“Sorry, m’lady,” said the photographer sheepishly.
“Where was Lord Dunstable found … dead?”Evelina whispered.
She heard the ticking of the clock in the awkward silence before Mr.Bentink said, “At an establishment called Madame Chambon’s.”He sent her a long, focused look.
“And what—or who—is Madame Chambon?”Evelina asked.
“You don’t know?”The photographer’s eyes seemed to bore into her, as if he hung on her answer.It was most odd.
“How would I know?”Evelina took umbrage at his tone.And she made this clear by pushing back her shoulders and raising her head with an expression of frosty disdain, just as she’d been taught when being schooled in the proper deportment of a lady in the company of inferiors.
“My dear Miss Tarot, I apologize for Mr.Benedict’s manner,” said Lady Bradden, quickly sending the photographer a quelling look.
“Who is Madame Chambon?”asked Evelina again, as a growing fear festered within her.“A married acquaintance?”
Lady Bradden nodded.“An acquaintance, yes, and no one for you to trouble yourself over.An investigation is underway.You need to be supported, and Lady Perry will do an admirable job.I shall ensure that the engagement notice does not appear in the newspapers.You do agree that is best, don’t you?”
