Page 21 of Solving Sophronia

“It is tragic, isn’t it?” Sophie said quietly. “That a person should leave the earth without anyone to mourn him or even to notice.”

“It is indeed, my lady,” Detective Graham said. He swallowed.

His face didn’t show any emotion, but she could hear a touch of bitterness in his voice. “What you have—a beautiful home, food, a loving family—it should not be taken for granted.”

She didn’t appreciate his appraisal after spending only a short amount of time with her, but she agreed with his words all the same. Shewasvery fortunate. Life in the rookery with poverty, hunger, and danger a factor of everyday existence was completely the reverse of her privileged upbringing. She shifted at the twist of guilt she felt and found it difficult to meet the detective’s gaze.

Instead she looked out the window. “I’m glad at least Jane Duffin has a name.”

“Let us hope we can give her justice as well,” he said.

When the carriage stopped, Sergeant Lester jumped down and assisted Sophie to alight.

The Greys’ housekeeper, Mrs. Trenton, opened the door and raised her brows in surprise when she saw Sophie on the doorstep for the second time that day. “You’ve returned, my lady.” She gave a curtsy and glanced behind at the two men accompanying her.

“Yes,” Sophie said. “I’d hoped to speak to the family. Are they at home?”

“I’m afraid Mr. and Mrs. Grey are out, and as I told you earlier, Miss Grey isn’t taking visitors. Good day, my lady.” The housekeeper moved as if to close the door.

With a quick motion, Detective Graham stepped forward and pushed against the door, blocking it from closing. He cleared his throat. “Good afternoon. Detective Graham, of the Metropolitan Police.” He opened his jacket to display the silver badge on his waistcoat. “Please notify your mistress that I will speak to her at once.”

Mrs. Trenton tightened her hand on the door, looking as if she would argue.

“We are investigating the murder of a member of this household,” the detective said. “If Miss Grey cannot receive us here, perhaps she would prefer to conduct an interview at the station in Whitechapel.”

Mrs. Trenton’s lips pressed together. “Of course, sir. Please come in.”

Sophie exchanged a gratified look with the sergeant at the detective’s handling of the situation.

She quite liked the idea of Charlotte Grey being taken to a police station in London’s East End, and she almost wished the housekeeper had continued her protest so she could witness it.

She and the men removed their hats and gloves, giving them to a downstairs maid before following Mrs. Trenton up the staircase to a sitting room.

“Would you care for tea?” the housekeeper asked in a tone at odds with the politeness of her inquiry.

Sergeant Lester’s face lit up. He glanced at the detective.

“That will not be necessary,” Detective Graham said. “This is not a social call. Please fetch Miss Grey.”

“Very well.” Mrs. Trenton departed.

Disappointment creased the sergeant’s forehead, but he covered it quickly. “I say, this is a splendid room.” He took a step forward and tilted up his head to study the crystal chandelier. “A man could get used to investigating in Mayfair. The tea alone...”

Detective Graham strode to the window, moving aside the lace curtains with a sweep of his arm to peer out at the street below.

Sophie had just sat in an armchair when Charlotte Grey entered. “Lady Sophronia.” She gave a small curtsy. “I was sure Mrs. Trenton was mistaken and it was your sister who’d come.”

“Thank you for seeing us.” Sophie took the notebook from her bag, opened it on her lap, and removed the pencil from between the pages.

“Prissy and I are to go picnicking today with the Casanovas, but of course you know that.” Charlotte fluffed her overskirts and glanced into the gold-framed mirror above the mantel, fixing a blonde curl into place. “You heard, no doubt, that I danced with Lord Meredith twice at the Hamptons’ ball two evenings ago. I expect that is what you wished to ask me about.” She sat in the chair opposite Sophie, lifting her chin to elongate her neck.

Of course the young woman assumed Sophie had come to interview her for a story, that she’d opened her notebook to sketch a picture. “Miss Grey, I am actually here regarding another matter.” She set her pencil back in the crease of the notebook and turned deliberately toward the men. “This is Detective Graham and Sergeant Lester, of the Metropolitan Police.”

Charlotte looked at the police officers as if just realizing they were in the room as well. “Oh yes.” She sniffed and looked away as if the sight bored her.

Sophie cringed at the woman’s rudeness.

Detective Graham did not seem to notice the ungracious behavior, nor did he wait for Sophie to finish her introductions. He removed a notebook from his breast pocket, flipping open the leather cover with a practiced move. “Miss Grey, you are aware that your lady’s maid is dead, are you not?”

---