Page 43 of Solving Sophronia

“Yes.” Sophie took the notebook from her bag. “Did you attend William Charles Baldwin’s lecture on Monday evening?”

He gave a nod. “I did. Fascinating, to say the least.”

Sophie considered what questions to ask. “And was it well attended?”

“Extremely. I reckon it was the most popular event the Kingsclere Hunting Club has hosted in years. The hall was very crowded.”

“Can you tell me the names of some of the attendees?” She smiled in what she hoped looked like an interested and not interrogative manner. “Readers love that sort of detail. Just some of the people you remember.”

Lord Meredith scratched his cheek. “People came late and left early all evening, but let me see if I can remember specifics... I sat on the second row beside Ruben, and your father was directly behind us. We spoke for a few moments before the lecture began.”

Sophie nodded, writing the names in her notebook. That coincided with what her father had told her as well.

“Everleigh was there with his German friend. We had dinner together. And Benedict, though he left early, of course. Photographs of hunting trophies are not exactly to his liking.”

Sophie wrote Lord Benedict’s name down, noting that he left early. In this she wasn’t surprised. Lord Benedict was, by reputation, unconventional. The future Duke of Ellingham was a great lover of nature and animals. Sophie had even heard he refused to eat meat. She didn’t believe he’d be pleased to hear details about an African hunting expedition or see the evidence of the animal casualties that had resulted from it. Besides, she and the detective were looking for someone who had arrived late to the lecture or perhaps hadn’t attended at all. If the murder had occurred between six and seven, she and Detective Graham had reasoned, it would have been during the dinner.

“And you must have heard Prince Alfred attended,” Lord Meredith said.

“I did hear,” Sophie said.

“Charles Stratford, Arthur Grey, Jack Rothschild, Chatsworth, of course...” He continued listing names, and finally Sophie stopped him.

“Lord Meredith, did you notice anything unusual that evening?” she asked.

“I’m not certain...” he began.

“Was anyone behaving strangely?”

He squinted, looking unsure of her meaning. “During the lecture, you mean?”

“No. Yes.” She huffed out a breath through her nose and shook her head, frustrated that she’d not prepared better. She’d hoped to find some new information to share with Detective Graham, but she didn’t know how to tactfully ask if any of Lord Meredith’s friends had appeared murderous on Monday evening. “I’m sorry. I’m not being clear. I suppose I just wanted some interesting details for my story.”

“If you’d like, I could introduce you to Mr. Baldwin. An interview with the man himself may provide the details you are looking for.”

The offer’s thoughtfulness surprised Sophie. She hadn’t expected anything of the sort from one of the Casanovas. “Thank you, my lord. I would appreciate that very much.”

Lord Meredith motioned toward the balloon with the head of his walking stick. “It appears the balloon is nearly ready to ascend.”

Sophie hadn’t even noticed the silk bladder was completely filled. The brightly striped sphere rising above the crowd was a spectacular site. The balloon looked as if it were pulling to lift off, and men in official uniforms surrounded the basket, holding fast to ropes to prevent it from doing just that.

“Oh yes.” Sophie turned to a blank page in her notebook. “Thank you for your time. I must start my sketch before I miss the launch completely.”

He tugged on his hat brim. “Very nice to see you, my lady. I’ll leave you to enjoy your day.”

Sophie bid Lord Meredith farewell. The crowd had swelled, with people pressing close together. A few scuffles broke out on the edges of the gathering, and she noticed constables moving among the throng, keeping order.

She found Elizabeth and Dahlia closer to the launch site. Vivian had joined them as well. A pity Hazel hadn’t come, but a crowd this size would be more than their friend could manage. Sophie hoped she would at least watch the balloon from a window.

“. . . the silk of the balloon is varnished with rubber dissolved in turpentine,” Vivian was saying, “making it airtight to keep the gas from escaping.” She glanced up and smiled. “Good morning, Sophie.”

“Good morning.” Sophie grinned at her friend.

“You are just in time. I was just about to explain how the hydrogen is created,” Vivian said in her steady voice. “You see, a quarter ton of sulfuric acid is poured onto a half ton of scrap iron, then fed into the bladder through lead pipes...”

Sophie listened with half an ear as she sketched the balloon and the crowd surrounding it. Two men in top hats and coats had climbed into the basket and now waved at the spectators. Their waves were met with cheers.

“Monsieurs Charles and Roberts intend to take meteorological measurements of the atmosphere high above the earth’s surface,” Vivian said. “They carry a barometer and a thermometer to measure the pressure and temperature of the air. Won’t the results be fascinating?”

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