Page 28 of Dead Beside the Thames
Chrissie frowned. “Which is more important? Where their people were on Saturday or if they met with some mysterious stranger?”
Penelope considered, then sighed. “Actually, both could potentially be our clue, so I suggest you try for the easier part first.”
“What if,” Polly said, “we make some comment about the viscount who was killed? A dresser or a gentleman’s gentleman might know if their mistress or master knew the man or was particularly relieved on learning of his death.”
“That’s an excellent notion,” Penelope replied, “as long as you can introduce the subject naturally. Just don’t make it obvious that you have any real interest in Sedbury’s murder.”
Both girls nodded in understanding.
“Very well.” Penelope consulted the list. “Now, who do we know at each of these houses?”
They progressed through the list of ton residences, cross-referencing each against the list of Foundling House alumni placements, and established that in every household, the girls had at least one Foundling House acquaintance on whom they could believably call.
“Can we say we’ve been asked to see how they’re going in their job?” Chrissie asked.
“You can, indeed,” Penelope replied. She was, after all, a patroness of the Foundling House and chair of the committee that oversaw placements. “And if there are any difficulties, do let me know. Now, the last thing we need to do to be as efficient as we possibly can is to order these houses in terms of location.”
That didn’t take long.
“Right, then.” Penelope sat back. “We’re ready. Chrissie, ring for the carriage, then both of you fetch your bonnets and cloaks. I’ll meet you in the front hall.”
Penelope smiled as the girls rushed from the room, then she gathered up her lists and followed.
She chatted with Mostyn as he helped her don her coat. She shook her head when he held out her bonnet. “I’ll be remaining in the carriage throughout.”
The girls came clattering down the stairs, breathless but ready to embark on their venture.
Mostyn smiled and opened the door. Penelope waved the girls ahead of her, then followed them down the steps.
Connor, her groom-cum-guard, stood holding the carriage door. Penelope shooed the girls inside, then took Connor’s hand and climbed up.
The girls had claimed the rear-facing seat, leaving the forward-facing seat for Penelope. She settled, and when her coachman, Phelps, called down from above, asking for their direction, she raised her voice and informed him, “Hanover Square.”
The coach rattled off, and she spent the short distance to their destination rehearsing the girls’ initial sallies.
When the carriage drew up to the curb in the square, the girls eagerly descended, and each headed for a different house.
Penelope sat back and waited, something she’d never been good at. She would much rather be out, asking questions herself, but the truth was that ton staff were always tight-lipped in her presence, especially when it came to inquiries about their employers. The girls would fare much better than she; there was little restraint in gossiping among staff from different ton houses. “And, indeed,” she muttered to herself, “this is precisely why I took them on as my assistants.”
She sighed and tried to think of other things. Distracting herself with thoughts of Pip and Oliver playing together proved the most successful.
Uncounted minutes later, Polly appeared at the carriage door, her face alight with triumph. Penelope straightened andswung the door open, and as Polly climbed up, Chrissie appeared behind her and followed her into the carriage.
The instant the door clicked shut, Penelope looked hopefully at the girls. “Well?”
Polly spoke first. “Both the lady’s dresser and their coachman chatted about how their master and mistress had been to some grand dinner in Grosvenor Square on Saturday night, and both said they’d come home about midnight and hadn’t gone out again. And no one seemed to know anything about any unexpected meeting with unknown people. They were puzzled when I steered the conversation that way.”
Chrissie was nodding. “I learned much the same at the Ferrises’. His lordship went out on Saturday, but was home by eleven o’clock, and her ladyship was at some ball, but came home just after midnight. And everyone was eager to learn whether I’d heard anything about the viscount’s murder.” Chrissie glanced at Polly. “Once I mentioned that, it was easy to slide in a question as to mysterious meetings with shady characters.” Chrissie returned her gaze to Penelope. “But everyone in the household was sure their people hadn’t met with any such person. No unexpected outings of any sort.”
Penelope nodded thoughtfully. “It seems mentioning the viscount’s murder might be a good tack to take with the rest of our inquiries.” She glanced at her list and wielded a pencil, striking out the Ferrises and the Moretons. “That was an excellent start. Right, then.” To Chrissie, she said, “Tell Phelps we’re off to Brook Street.”
Chrissie sprang up, tapped on the panel in the ceiling, and when Phelps opened it, gave him the new direction.
The instant Chrissie sat, the coach lumbered into motion.
As they rolled on along Mayfair’s streets, Penelope wondered if the answers they extracted at Lord Napier’s house would be similarly definitive.
After reporting on their progress to the commissioner, Stokes paused on the steps of Scotland Yard. The commissioner’s parting words, “You need to find some concrete clue!” still rang in his ears.
