Page 48 of Death at the Dower House
“Wasn’t,” Christopher said with a grin.
Well, no. “And besides,” I told Tom, “it’s always been Christopher and me against the world, you know? Once we left school, we started spending all of our time together. There wasn’t really room for anyone else.”
Including Crispin, who had no doubt felt the loss and who was, also no doubt, still holding it against me.
“But Constance came to the funerals?”
“Lady Peckham came to the funerals,” I corrected, “and brought her family. She had been a close friend of Aunt Charlotte’s when they were younger, Constance told me. And with Uncle Harold a widower, and Crispin eligible, and the other two Astleys there, it must have seemed like a golden opportunity to do some matchmaking.”
“She was trying to get her daughter and her ward married off?”
“And herself,” Christopher said, “unless she stayed behind to console Uncle Harold out of the goodness of her heart.”
His tone was cynical.
“Certainly not,” I said. “With the way she neglected Constance in favor of Johanna, I didn’t get the impression that she had much of a heart to speak of. And it seemed very much like she was eyeing Uncle Harold for herself.”
“Miss de Vos for St George, then?” Tom guessed.
“I’m sure she would have been thrilled had either Constance or Johanna managed to snag Crispin,” Christopher said, “but Constance never had a chance. Not only is she not remotely his type, but Johanna made a dead set at Crispin the moment she laid eyes on him.”
“How serious do you think she was?”
“Oh,” Christopher said, “I’d say she was quite serious. So was her mother.”
I nodded. “Constance told me that her mother had big plans for all three of her children. Or her son and daughter and her ward. She paraded Johanna in front of both Crispin and his father like she was showing a Best Champion Greyhound at Crufts.”
Christopher smothered a laugh. “Or a collector’s item they could have for the right price.”
Tom arched a brow. “The right price being the Sutherland title?”
Christopher and I both nodded.
“I understand she was quite lovely,” Tom said.
Christopher merely shrugged, since she obviously hadn’t been his type. I said, “She was stunning. Quite as beautiful as Lady Laetitia. Maybe even a bit more so. Fair, with golden hair and big, blue eyes.”
“And St George seemed to like her?”
“What’s not to like?” Christopher wanted to know, rhetorically, and I nodded.
“She went after him like a fox after a rabbit. Flat out. And he’s fairly susceptible to beautiful women, anyway. She was a few years older, maybe twenty-four or -five, and there were times she had him looking as dazzled as a schoolboy.”
“And Lady Peckham had no problems with that?”
“She seemed thrilled,” I said, with a glance at Christopher. He nodded.
“What about Francis and Miss Peckham? Was that a problem?”
“I’m not even sure Lady Peckham noticed anything going on,” I said honestly. “Compared to Johanna, I got the impression she paid Constance very little mind.”
“Would she have objected?”
Christopher and I exchanged another look. “I can’t imagine why,” Christopher said. “We’re not in the direct line, nor are we exceedingly wealthy, but Francis is third in line for the title, after Crispin and Dad, and we’re not poor. I don’t see why Lady Peckham would have minded a union between Francis and Constance.”
“Francis’s drug use isn’t widely known…” I began, since Lady Peckham might have objected to that, had she known about it. And then I stopped when Tom winced. “What is it?”
“Francis had a large bottle of Veronal in his room two weeks ago, when we did our search for Grimsby’s notebook pages. That was where Lady Charlotte got the sleeping draught that killed her.”
