Page 43 of Dead Beside the Thames
Charlie nodded encouragingly. “And we shouldn’t forget that there are doormen, barmen, and footmen as well as street sweepers and the like who might have noticed you going to, during, or leaving the events.”
When the Hale brothers looked somewhat at a loss, Charlie offered, “I’ll help. Just write everything down, then we’ll see what we can learn.”
Claudia glanced at the clock. “Look at the time! I must get back to Selborough House.” She looked at her brothers. “I’m sure Mama will have come down with Papa, so we all need to present ourselves there. Writing your lists will have to wait until tomorrow.”
Everyone roused themselves and rose.
After seeing the Hales and Charlie out, Penelope turned to Stokes and confessed, “I feel utterly at a loss. In inquiring into the movements of my fifteen possible suspects, while I didn’t imagine I would find confirmation that any of them had gone to meet Sedbury that night, I fully expected to stumble oversomething. Some indication of possible involvement. But”—she raised her hands palms up—“nothing! Not a shred of suggestion of even the vaguest connection.”
Stokes looked like he was struggling to hide a smile. “Sometimes, investigations go like that.”
She almost growled, “But that leaves me with nothing to do.”
Stokes glanced at Barnaby, then looked back at her. “Sleep on it,” he advised. “Something will occur to you. Some factor we’ve missed that you can pursue.”
She huffed and waved him off, adding a directive to bear her best wishes to Griselda, who was heading toward the end of a rather trying confinement.
After Barnaby closed the door, Penelope looped her arm with his. “We’d better go up to the nursery and see how our two are faring.”
Barnaby smiled in acquiescence, and they headed up the stairs.
As they climbed, Penelope mused, “One point my usual sources raised that we haven’t pursued at all is that Sedbury was as horrible—possibly even more horrible—to those of lesser station. So there may well be many others not of the ton—people or families who Sedbury wronged—who might have wished him ill. People we, the investigators, have no inkling of.”
Barnaby inclined his head. “Sadly, with our victim being Sedbury, that’s very likely true. Equally true is that his unfinished letter to Jonathon might have no connection to Sedbury’s murder.”
“Hmm.” Penelope’s gaze turned speculative. “I wonder if there’s any way I can learn more on that front.”
CHAPTER 9
The next morning, after Barnaby had left for a meeting with his lads to check on their progress, Penelope played with their sons for another hour, then, after relinquishing the boisterous pair to their nursemaids for a walk in the park, she sat in the garden parlor and pondered her investigative options.
After dwelling on the outcome of the previous day, she’d concluded that her disaffection with her own contribution stemmed largely from her failure to advance their understanding of any aspect of the crime. While necessary to collect, the information she and her assistants had gathered had been entirely negative, and she wasn’t accustomed to having no investigative thread to tug and follow.Thatwas what had left her so dejected—the waiting around with nothing to do and no idea of how to advance their cause.
Determined to put an end to her frustration, she decided that there was one member of the Hale family she had yet to interview. It was the matter of a moment to call for the carriage and don her coat and bonnet, then she directed Phelps to drive to Farm Street and Selborough House.
When the butler opened the door, she smiled and extended one of her cards. “Please convey my compliments to the marchioness and that I would very much appreciate a few minutes of her time. I believe she will know which subject I wish to discuss.”
The butler took the card, read the name, and bowed. “If you will wait in the drawing room, Mrs. Adair, I will inform her ladyship that you have called and wish to speak with her.”
“Thank you.” Penelope walked into the hall and allowed the butler to usher her into a sizeable drawing room decorated in peach-and-cream-striped silk. She sat on the long sofa and looked around. She was acquainted with the Selboroughs, but had only met them socially, as was the case with Rattenby and his marchioness.
She didn’t doubt that the marchioness would see her. Even if Rattenby or Claudia hadn’t mentioned Penelope’s involvement in the investigation, over the years, together with Barnaby, she’d developed something of a reputation for assisting Scotland Yard with their inquiries into crimes involving the ton.
Sure enough, less than five minutes later, the marchioness swept into the room. Georgina Hale, Marchioness of Rattenby, was a tallish lady, elegant and svelte, with her dark hair upswept into a simple knot on the top of her head. She was nearing fifty, Penelope supposed, and was dressed in a fashionable day gown of mulberry cambric.
The marchioness paused only to hear the door shut behind her, then her blue eyes fixed on Penelope, and she continued gracefully across the room, extending her hand as she neared. “Mrs. Adair. I’m pleased you’ve called. If you hadn’t, I likely would have called on you.”
Penelope lightly touched the marchioness’s fingers, and when the marchioness waved her back to her seat, she sankdown and watched as Georgina Hale claimed the armchair opposite.
Before Penelope could venture any question, the marchioness said, “I understand from my daughter Claudia that you and your husband are assisting the police in this matter of Sedbury’s death, and I must say that it’s something of a relief to know that the investigating team is aware of…shall we say, the peculiar ramifications that can and usually do surround criminal actions within the haut ton.”
Penelope interpreted that as an opening salvo designed to inform her of what was expected of her. She smiled serenely and told herself she would be unwise to underestimate the marchioness. Her blue gaze was sharp and direct, and if she was included in Helena Cynster’s extended circle, Georgina Hale was very likely to have a shrewd and quick-witted mind to match. Especially when it came to matters affecting her family’s social standing.
As if confirming that, the marchioness sat back and said, “I take it you are here because you believe I can help.”
“Hoping, rather.” Choosing her words with some care, Penelope explained, “While we’ve established that those of the ton known to bear enmity toward Sedbury are not directly involved in his death, and we are aware that indirect involvement remains a possibility, there is no question but that the pair of suspects currently at the top of the list are your sons, Jonathon and Bryan.” She met the marchioness’s very blue gaze. “On the face of the evidence in our possession, both had excellent reasons—powerful motives—to wish Sedbury dead.”
Her estimation of the marchioness’s acumen rose by several degrees when, instead of leaping to heatedly defend her offspring, she took several silent moments to consider her response, then, finally, nodded. “I can’t say your conclusion surprises me. However, I believe it will assist you inunderstanding the full gamut of Sedbury’s many enemies if you understand how the man came to be as he was.”
