Page 18 of Dead Beside the Thames
“In terms of having a motive to murder Sedbury, however,” Lady Osbaldestone stated, “I fear you have no shortage of candidates. Starting with Lord Ferrier.” She looked at Helena and Horatia. “Remember that scandal?”
“Lord, yes,” Horatia said. “Ferrier never really recovered from that.” For the younger crew, Horatia explained, “Ferrier was hard-pressed but hiding it well and thought to improve his position by rigging a race at Doncaster. But the scheme fell apart and came to nothing, and Ferrier was severely reprimanded and banned from the race meets, but otherwise, the matter was hushed up.”
“Until Sedbury somehow found out,” Lady Osbaldestone said, “and when he realized Ferrier couldn’t pay to keep him silent, Sedbury set about destroying Ferrier’s standing in the gentleman’s clubs.”
“Mind you, I gather that Sedbury only has entrée to the better clubs because of his father’s title,” Alathea said.
“Oh, and then there’s Minchinham!” Bright-eyed, Celia looked around the circle. “Do you remember that kerfuffle?”
Penelope sat back, amazed and increasingly dismayed as her trusty sources presented her with an astonishingly long list of ton personages, all of whom, on the basis of the company’s collective memory, Sedbury had threatened and subsequently damaged, via either possessions or their good name, to an extent sufficient to ensure those affected had sound motive to strike back, even to the extent of murder.
Her head reeled trying to keep track of all the names.
Eventually, she expostulated, “Are you seriously telling me that, had the opportunity presented itself, a good fifth of the ton might have killed Sedbury? Or at least might have arranged for him to be murdered?”
Her trusty sources looked around the circle, meeting each other’s eyes, then they all looked at her and nodded.
“You need to remember,” Lady Osbaldestone told her, “that Sedbury came on the town more than fifteen years ago. Unlike the majority of souls, a gentleman with a personality like his appears to delight in going around gathering enemies.”
“Moreover,” Helena advised, “just because some of the incidents we’ve described occurred years ago, and it might be hoped that the wounds inflicted would have healed or at least scabbed over, there’s no telling if some more recent happening ripped off the scab and reopened the wound.”
“And given circumstances would have changed over the years, this time, the one affected might have reacted much more strongly.” Patience met Penelope’s gaze. “I fear that in Sedbury’s case, identifying his murderer might be more akin to finding a particular needle in a stack of similar needles.”
Penelope grimaced feelingly.
“While I hesitate to mention it,” Horatia put in, “a huge number of people will happily dance on Sedbury’s grave, and those are just the ones we know about.”
Alathea nodded. “We can’t even be sure we know of all those within the ton who considered Sedbury an enemy, but even less can we guess who beyond our circles had even more reason to kill him.” She glanced at the others. “I do know that he wasn’t any kinder to those of lesser station.”
“Indeed not.” Honoria looked severe. “I once saw him bullying a hackney driver, threatening to beat the man to within an inch of his life, all because the driver had swerved—to miss a child, no less—too close to where Sedbury was walking andsplattered the man’s boots with mud.” She sounded utterly disgusted. “I was passing and would have instructed Finch to intervene, but other jarveys and drivers came to the maligned driver’s aid, and Sedbury was forced to back down.” She humphed. “Not that he did that with any grace at all.”
Penelope looked around the company, then heaved a heavy sigh. From their information, she’d hoped to identify a single good suspect, but instead, she’d landed in a mire of possibilities.
Helena caught her eye, smiled understandingly, and asked, “Now, what can you tell us about Amelia and Luc and Amanda and Martin and their broods?”
Penelope settled more comfortably on the ottoman and obliged her listeners with the latest news from Calverton Chase, Luc and Amelia’s home, and from Hathersage, Martin and Amanda’s estate. This was the unvoiced contract—her way of repaying the ladies for their help in the coin they valued most, namely, news of her wider family. She spent some time dwelling on the various children and their recent exploits, knowing that was gold to her listeners.
“And your mama is still well?” Helena asked.
“Yes, quite well,” Penelope replied. “Although she can’t come to town anymore—the air here isn’t good for her at all—she still moves among the others’ houses. At the moment, she’s with Portia and Simon in Somerset.”
Eventually, the gathering broke up with the various members heading to this luncheon or that. Penelope took her leave of the group and climbed into her waiting carriage. She sat back and mentally catalogued all she’d learned while the carriage rolled around Grosvenor Square and on toward Albemarle Street.
She’d just set her hat on the hall table when the front door opened again, and Barnaby strolled in.
He saw her and smiled in the particular way that still made her pulse race. “Hello. Finished with your meeting with your ‘usual sources’?”
“Indeed.” She raised her face for his kiss, then waited while he shrugged off his coat and handed his cane to Mostyn to tell the majordomo, “We’ll have luncheon in half an hour, Mostyn.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
Then she looped her arm in Barnaby’s, and together, they ambled toward the garden parlor.
Barnaby smiled, she suspected at her managing ways. “So,” he asked, “what did you learn?”
They entered the parlor, presently free of small people, and he steered her to her favorite chair. She settled and, as he sat in the chair opposite, replied, “I learned a lot—indeed, far too much—about Sedbury. It seems there’s a small army of ton persons who had motive to murder the man. His family possibly led the pack, but there are so many others.” She flung up her hands. “Just memorizing all the names gave me a headache. There are at least twenty-three good prospects. How good is anyone’s guess.”
He grimaced sympathetically. “I asked—very quietly—around the clubs and came away with much the same impression. I knew Sedbury was not well liked, but I had no idea he was so universally loathed.”
