Page 22 of The Hazardous Measure of Love
‘There is no sign of theft or forced entry, no threatening letters besides the one in the clock, no mention of arguments, disputes or enemies.’ Luc was almost taking to himself, working through possibilities. ‘We need to find this footman, but I think we should also find out more about Adrien’s oldest brother, Marcus, and their father. They have the most obvious motive and Alexander was the last person we know of from outside the household who was in that room.’
‘And there is no explanation for that mysterious note summoning him.’
‘Yes, that needs investigating. I wonder if it actually existed.’
‘There seems to be a lot of loose ends and nothing to catch hold of.’ The pessimism was back. ‘We can hardly expect Adrien to tell us anything incriminating about his father and brother and the note at the reception is too vague to follow up.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Luc said, and got to his feet. ‘We can go to the Palace and see if anyone knows how it was delivered. It’s on our way back in any case.’
‘Palace?’ I glanced around, distracted by distant shrieks. The large fluffy dog was racing away pursued by the herd of cows and the children were screaming their heads off. ‘Cattle can be dangerous. Do you think we ought to move those children? Ah, no, the dog’s vanished and the cows have given up.’ They appeared to have instantly forgotten their outrage and were cropping the grass again with bovine indifference. I tried to imagine their attitude if they were transplanted to the modern day Green Park with picnicking office workers, skateboarders and joggers. The thought cheered me up a little.
‘Palace?’ I repeated as we emerged into Cleveland Place.
‘Earl,’ Luc said with a grin. We walked past the beautiful red brick Tudor front of the Palace, so unchanged in my time that it always made me feel uneasily as though I was in both centuries at once, around a corner and then across a courtyard.
Chapter Seven
As we entered the Palace courtyard I was braced for security to rush out shouting at us, or a guard to shove a musket in our face, but we arrived unchallenged at a heavily studded door. Luc rang and the footman who answered it greeted him as, ‘My lord.’
In we went without anyone taking the slightest notice of me while Luc explained to the footman what we wanted. To be honest I wasn’t paying much attention to them by this point. I was in a palace – admittedly not in the posh bit – and I was going to soak up all the detail.
I did surface when Luc was speaking to a more senior type in very fancy livery who offered us seats while he went in search of someone who might know about the message. It seemed a long shot to me. How many footmen did this place employ, for goodness sake?
A lot, it turned out, but they were also well organised and the ones who had served at the reception could be identified. After half an hour we were speaking to a bewigged young man with startling red eyebrows. Yes, he had taken the note to Mr Prescott. No, he had no idea who delivered it because it was found on a side table at the entrance, clearly addressed to Mr Alexander Prescott. It had taken him a few minutes to locate the correct Mr Prescott as there were five present.
He agreed that the note was left in a place where it could easily be seen, because a footman was normally stationed there to assist arriving guests. It had been placed on the table while he was away for a few moments directing an elderly gentleman to the retiring room.
‘So who could have entered unchallenged and got that far?’ I asked him. ‘Would it have had to have been a member of the Palace staff or a guest?’
‘It would have been one or the other, yes, ma’am.’
‘We know how the message was delivered,’ I said to Luc as we left the Palace and walked along Pall Mall. ‘But we are still no nearer to discovering who left it. Any guest could have left it, or any member of staff, and anyone could have slipped a servant a few coins to deliver it.’
‘In fact Alexander Prescott could have dropped it there himself,’ Luc said. ‘Then he would have a witness to it being handed to him.’
‘I didn’t think of that,’ I admitted. ‘Oh dear, back to the evidence boards with nothing very useful to add.’
We called in on Lord Tillingham’s house on the way home and discovered that Adrien, Grainger the butler, and the footmen, had all been summoned to the inquest.
‘I expect that my father has as well,’ he said, sounding thoroughly weary and depressed. ‘He will not be back from Cambridge until late this evening, I have no doubt.’
‘What is wrong?’ I asked him. ‘I mean, what has changed? You sound very low.’
‘I have been writing to Rowena. Miss McNeil, I should say. Her father had been quite favourably impressed by my position here and my prospects, but now…’ He shrugged. ‘I am afraid he will refuse me permission to court her.’
‘The executors will require your assistance for some time, I imagine,’ Luc said briskly. ‘You are not out of employment yet. The new Viscount will require your assistance also, although I realise that he is not going to have the active political career that you had hoped to be part of.’
‘True. Thank you, I had allowed myself to become unduly discouraged,’ Adrien said, with what I suspected was a brave smile. Luc was right in the short term, but sooner or later Adrien was going to have to find a new employer. Or his sick uncle’s demise would change his fortunes for him.
We went back and, while Luc ran upstairs to speak to his mother and spend some time with the twins, I found Garrick, abandoned by his wife who was visiting friends, and James, likewise alone, having refused to accompany Kit on an expedition to buy new boots and what sounded like a massive list of odds and ends.
‘He is the world’s most indecisive shopper,’ James complained. ‘It is his only fault, I must admit, but he is enough to reduce most shopkeepers to tears of sheer frustration.’
‘I am going to update the evidence,’ I told them. ‘Coming?’
They followed me to the study and I told them about our morning while I added notes to the boards.
‘Madame Vaillant sounds utterly alarming,’ James said, once he had stopped sniggering over my description of her making eyes at Luc. ‘Whatever possessed Tillingham?’
