The Thames River Murders

  “I also think he did another murder,” I said. “Last night. Of a man employed as a footman in his house. Jack … I don’t know his surname.”

  Pomeroy’s brows rose. “Jack Tyler? Known as Jack the Fox? He was a thief. The Watch thinks he was struck down when he tried to rob someone in the street.”

  “It was Bennett,” I said with conviction. “Jack was working more or less for me, keeping watch on Bennett and his house. He followed him last night, and then Jack was dead. Bennett must have found him out and killed him. I’m certain of it.”

  “Well,” Pomeroy said cheerfully. “You find me a witness and a bloody murder weapon, and I’ll happily arrest him. My patrollers are running around Oxford Street in quest of such things even now, so they might beat you to it. Meanwhile, don’t let the man arrest you for having him followed about, all right, Captain?”

  ***

  I did not believe Grenville would be awake so early, but when I returned to South Audley Street, I found him there, waiting for me in my study.

  “Pomeroy is right, I’m afraid,” Grenville said, after I told him what had transpired at Bow Street. “About the bigamy. I once knew a man who required each of his mistresses to call themselves Marie Antoinette. He went through a string of them, all Maries. Lavished such gifts and riches on them I’m certain they’d have called themselves Nebuchadnezzar if he’d asked.”

  “You said you would question friends about parish registers to discover whether he legally married Judith Hartman,” I reminded him. “I believe we should check all the parish registers, to find out if he’s had any other marriages we don’t know about.”

  “I don’t know all the vicars in England,” Grenville warned. “Though I know a good many. I have the feeling I will be swimming in punch before the week is out.”

  “Thank you,” I said, pulling myself from my thoughts to fix my gaze on him. “Your help is invaluable.”

  Grenville waved that aside. “Do not make me blush, Lacey. You know I am happy to assist—I’d have fled London long ago in ennui if not for you and your nose for trouble. I look forward to seeing what you will dig up in Egypt, so to speak.”

  My heart beat faster. “You are putting the plans in place, then?”

  “Of course. We will begin the New Year voyaging to the sands of the desert.”

  The prospect sent a pleasant sensation through me, though I was not certain now I wanted to leave my family, especially when Donata would have her child not long before that.

  “What does Marianne say about you running away?”

  “Quite a bit.” Grenville sent me a wan smile across the desk. “But she also says that by then she will be happy to see the back of me. I assured her it is only for a few months—we do not want to stay longer than the first part of April, when the temperatures begin to climb, especially in the driest regions. I believe that will be enough time for us to explore the wonders and not become too used to them.”

  “I look forward to it,” I said with all sincerity.

  “As do I.” Grenville rose. “Now I am off to speak to vicars. Imagine what rumors that will start.” He sounded weary, but I saw a sparkle in his eyes. He enjoyed baffling the ton.

  When he’d gone, I was restless. Donata and Gabriella were not home yet—I imagined they’d sleep well into the afternoon. Then they’d linger to have a good gossip about the events of the night before.

  I longed to rush back to Cavendish Square and shake Bennett, but I stopped myself. I did not want to alert him that I was closing in on him. I trusted Denis’s men to keep him pinned down, but Bennett was cunning. Grenville had the right of it—if he knew I was onto him, he might find a way to bolt past even Denis’s diligent guards.

  Meanwhile, I contained my restlessness with a ride in Hyde Park.

  The day was truly delicious, the grass bright green, roses blooming, the Serpentine sparkling under the sunshine. The Rotten Row was nearly deserted, and I set my horse into a fast canter, letting his speed clear the fogged thoughts in my brain.

  I saw as I neared the end of the Row, close to Hyde Park Corner, the red Irish hunter who had tried to run down Peter, being quietly ridden toward me. I halted in surprise.

  On its back was none other than Emmett Garfield, my daughter’s would-be suitor.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I nudged my horse forward. The hunter coming toward me trotted evenly, Mr. Garfield rising and falling expertly with its pace.

  I guided my mount directly into Mr. Garfield’s path, halting and turning to put the breadth of my horse in front of his.

  Garfield pulled up and blinked at me from under his tall hat. “Sir?” He remembered his manners and bowed in the saddle. “Good morning.”

  “Where did you get that horse?” I demanded.

  Mr. Garfield cast a startled look at his mount as though for a moment, he couldn’t remember. “From Lord Compton. I sometimes borrow him.” He patted the horse’s neck, its rich coat gleaming with care. “Lord Compton and my father are old friends.”

  “Did you borrow the horse on Thursday last?” I went on remorselessly.

  Garfield looked puzzled. I noticed he was behaving less the conceited man-about-town as he had in the ballrooms, and more an ordinary young man confused by his elders.

  “No, sir. Thursday last I was in Surrey. All day. I did not return until the next morning.”

  His answer displeased me. I could easily verify where he’d been by asking his friends and family—or having Grenville do it—so he had no reason to lie. I remembered now, that at the supper ball on Friday, when I’d met him, he’d spoken of an uncle in Surrey and his visit to him.

  Logic told me that Mr. Garfield would not profit by hurting me or Peter. He might believe that laying me up or killing me would prevent me from objecting to his marrying Gabriella, but it would not benefit him to hurt Peter.

  Nor would it help Mr. Garfield if I were ruined, as the blackmailing letters threatened. A disgrace to me and my family was a disgrace to Gabriella. I doubted Garfield’s father would condone him bringing home a bride with scandal attached to her. If my antecedents were publicly called into question, so would hers be.

  I let out a long sigh that stirred my now-nervous mount. I calmed him with a hand to his shoulder. “Does Viscount Compton lend his horse out often?”

  Garfield considered. “I suppose so. He knows a great many people.”

  Bloody hell. And this might not even be the horse in question. The hunter housed at the park’s stables, gone missing during the day of the attack, was the likelier culprit.

  “I beg your pardon for my abruptness, Mr. Garfield. I am out of sorts today. A horse like that was ridden at my stepson last week, nearly knocking him to the ground.”

  “I heard about that, sir.” Mr. Garfield looked appropriately indignant. “Miss Lacey told me. I understand your agitation then, upon seeing a similar horse.”

  I was not in a good enough temper to have a young man tell me of conversations with my daughter, but I supposed I would have to become used to it.

  “When you return the horse today, will you ask Lord Compton who else he lent him to? Last Thursday to be precise.”

  “Of course, sir.” Garfield saluted me with his crop, eager to help.

  “A long shot, possibly,” I said. “But I would be grateful of the information.”

  Garfield nodded, but he made no move to continue riding. “Now that I have met you by chance, sir … No, I confess, not by chance. I was told how often you ride early in the park. I want to tell you that I have every wish to—”

  “Stop.” I cut him off with a raised hand. “Not today, Mr. Garfield. I am in no mood.”

  “But, sir, I long to—”

  “No.” The word was sharp enough to make him draw back. “Not now. Call upon me … in a few years’ time.”

  He looked startled. “Years …”

  “Good day, Mr. Garfield.”

  I heard him draw breath to argue, but I swung my horse ar
ound and rode off before he could say another word.

  ***

  By the time I returned to South Audley Street, Brewster, who had been following me doggedly, announced that Denis wanted to see me.

  “How the devil do you know?” I asked crossly as I left the mews, where I’d handed the horse to Donata’s groom. “You have been standing at the edge of the Row, staring at me the last hour.”

  “Lad came with a message. I’m to bring you to him directly.”

  I did not always like to run to Denis when he beckoned, but he had been good to lend me the men to keep watch last night on Bennett and at Lady Aline’s. “Very well,” I said, swallowing my impatience.

  Not long later, I entered Denis’s house, which was quiet today, and pulled myself up the now familiar staircase to the austere study at the top of the landing.

  Denis was at his desk, writing something, his pen scratching in the silence. He continued, ignoring me, while I was shown to my usual chair by the unyielding butler.

  After a time, Denis laid down his pen, sanded the paper, and set it aside.

  He folded his long hands on the desk’s top and looked at me. “You travel to Egypt in the winter.”

  Not a question. I would not be surprised if Denis knew our complete itinerary before I did.

  “That is so,” I replied.

  “There is an object, in Alexandria, that I would like you to acquire for me.”

  Ah. I realized the reason he’d so readily sent his men to help me with Gabriella’s come-out and with Bennett. Denis’s services were never without cost.

  “Acquire,” I repeated. “How?”

  Denis gave a small shrug. “Bargain for it. Purchase it. I will send a sum of money with you. You, I trust with such an amount. If the price is higher, you or Mr. Grenville will have to furnish the difference. But I want the object.”

  “What is it? Something important, if you are willing to send me for it. It must be an object I’d not throw away to spite you.”

  “That would be foolish indeed. I will keep a description of it to myself until you are ready to leave. I would not want others to know of my interest and acquire it before I can.”

  “I am not a teller of tales,” I said stiffly.

  “You would remark upon it to Mr. Grenville, who might let it slip to his paramour, who might let it slip to a friend … The best way to keep a secret, Lacey, is to tell it to no one.”

  “I concede your point,” I said dryly. “Shall you convey your instructions to me in a sealed letter, warning me not to open it until I am in Egypt?”

  Denis gave me a thin smile. “By the time you board your ship, I will tell you. Then no word of it will be able to reach Alexandria before you do.”

  I nodded in surrender, and changed the subject. “Have you had any report from your men about Bennett? Is he staying at home?”

  “He has not left his house since last night. His servants are talking of the death of Jack the footman, but Mr. Bennett had seemingly not noticed his absence. Mrs. Bennett is much distressed, but apparently Mr. Bennett is not one who pays servants much mind.”

  “No, he is focused very much on himself,” I agreed. “Which is why I’m investigating his marriages.” I told him of the “Mrs. Bennett” I’d found off Soho Square.

  A flicker of interest lit Denis’s eyes. “Remarkable. Wise to have Mr. Grenville check the parish records. I might be able to expedite the process. I am able to quickly lay my hands on information of all sorts.”

  I frowned. “You are being extraordinarily helpful against this nobody, Bennett.”

  Another slight lift of his shoulders. “I very much want the object from Alexandria. And a man who would kill his wife and toss her into the river to become a pile of bones puts a bad taste in my mouth. Killer or bigamist, you will have your conviction.”

  ***

  I resisted the temptation to rush from there to Cavendish Square and see for myself what was transpiring. I chafed, but I decided to let Grenville and Denis perform their respective tasks. I wanted to be home when Gabriella returned, in any case.

  She arrived, with Donata, at three that afternoon. Donata declared herself exhausted and she retired, but Gabriella was bubbling with good spirits.

  “I enjoyed myself immensely,” Gabriella said after embracing me, and we sat down with tea in my study. “I never knew how much I enjoyed dancing, and the company was fine.”

  It had been. I had to admit that Lady Aline and Donata knew how to plan an event.

  “They invited the most agreeable people they knew,” I said warningly. “Not all ton gatherings are the same.”

  “Yes, but I know the agreeable people now,” Gabriella said, brimming with confidence. “I will seek them at whatever outing I attend, and we shall be friends together.”

  I cleared my throat. “Do you include young gentlemen in the agreeable company?”

  “Of course.” Gabriella blushed. “I will admit, Father, that it was pleasant to be the focus of all attention. But I know that this will not be commonplace. Last night was my hour to shine. I am also quite relieved it is over.”

  I relaxed but not entirely. “They will come to court you now,” I said. “The gentlemen.”

  “Yes, indeed.” Gabriella made a wry face. “Lady Donata and Lady Aline have quite drilled that idea into me. But I am eighteen. Not yet ready to plunge into running a household. I have much to learn yet.”

  I wanted to collapse in relief at the statement, but I was no fool. Gabriella could declare such things only because she had not yet met the gentleman she’d run to when he called.

  “In any case,” I said. “I am happy you enjoyed it so. I did too, in spite of my misgivings. I must tell you, however, that when these gentlemen visit, I shall hover.”

  Gabriella laughed. “Lady Donata said you would. It is a fine thing to have so many to look after me.”

  I warmed under her praise. Every father wanted to be first in his daughter’s eyes, I supposed.

  “I must change,” Gabriella said, jumping to her feet. “I will begin wearing the ensembles Lady Donata chivvied me into. She has been very kind, though I am not certain how I will find use for that many gowns. She says that I will begin having callers today, so I must be ready.”

  So soon. But, yes, the flowers had already begun to arrive, prim posies that honored my daughter.

  I was descending into hell.

  I took myself to Donata’s chamber, knocked softly, and was admitted. She lay on her chaise, in a peignoir, her hair tucked under a cap, a cup of strong tea at her lips. “There you are, Gabriel,” she said tiredly.

  I drew a chair to her and sat on its edge. “Are you all right?”

  “No, I feel unwell.” She glanced up from her tea. “Do not look alarmed; it is nothing. I have carried a child before, and I know what happens. I stayed on my feet too long last night, is all. I will take a rest. I was far more ill when I carried Peter, believe me. And then I had no come-out to orchestrate, only servants to order about.”

  “Gabriella’s suitors will soon come calling, she says. This afternoon.”

  “Aline is journeying here to sit as chaperone. You need not worry that Gabriella will run off into the mist.”

  “But she might accept a proposal,” I pointed out glumly. “This very day.”

  Donata sent me a wan smile. “Gabriella is the most sensible young woman I’ve ever met. Astonishingly so, considering she is your daughter, and that her mother is insipid. The phlegmatic French major must be responsible for her steadiness.”

  “She had a happy home.” I was grateful to Auberge for providing that, at least, even as I seethed at him for taking her away.

  But would I have preferred Gabriella to be alone and miserable? No, indeed. The situation would ever be complicated.

  I leaned forward and kissed Donata. “Thank you for all you’ve done for her.”

  “She is a sweet girl, and I like her.” Donata finished this statement with a flush. “And truth
to tell, I want to show I can be a much better mother than that milk-and-water miss you married.”

  “You have surpassed all women, in my eyes, in many ways,” I said. “For one thing, I never will have to guess your opinions.”

  Donata’s blush deepened. “Perhaps I am too candid at times. Admit, Gabriel, that if I were sweet and simpering, you would not like me.”

  I thought of Margaret Bennett with her smiles and confidence in her fool of a husband.

  “No, I would not,” I declared, and kissed her again.

  ***

  Lady Aline had arrived and was in place by the time I descended. The callers had begun, ladies of Donata’s acquaintance, understanding but distressed that Donata was ill today.

  Gabriella, in a day gown of long-sleeved light muslin, the white material embroidered over with ivory thread, sat daintily, conversed with the older ladies, and was kind and friendly to the younger.

  And the gentlemen came. The drawing room was ever full, no matter how many callers arrived and went, so that I ceased worrying that Gabriella would be caught alone with a suitor. The lads were polite, correct, and kept a requisite distance, even if they were obviously eager and a bit fawning.

  Mr. Garfield arrived in the company of another of the young men, Mr. Kent. Mr. Garfield even allowed Mr. Kent to take a chair close to Gabriella, in order to turn aside and greet me.

  “Good afternoon, sir.” Garfield bowed, the sweep of it holding arrogance. I suppose he’d donned his self-satisfaction along with his very fashionable suit, a near copy of one Grenville owned.

  “Mr. Garfield,” I said politely. “Good afternoon.”

  Garfield bent to put his head nearer to mine. “May we speak privately?”

  “Only if it is about the horse,” I answered, my look stern.

  “To be sure. To be sure.” Garfield’s eyes glinted, as though he were trying to think of a jest that included both horses and women entering the marriage mart, such as I’d heard gentlemen at Grenville’s clubs do. I was either mistaken, or he thought better of it, because he simply walked with me to the back sitting room in silence.

  When we reached the deserted room—though the doors were open, all comers clustered around Gabriella—Garfield faced me.