Page 54 of Murder at the Dinner Party
“A staff photograph was taken every five years when Lord and Lady Whitchurch came to the city,” the housekeeper told me. “This one is the nearest to the date of the maid’s murder, just one year prior.” She pointed to the man wearing a top hat, a long coat, and knee-high boots. “The coachman died soon after I started working here.” Her finger moved to the three young men all dressed in breeches, shirts, waistcoats, and flat caps. “This groom is also dead. Horse kicked him in the head. This one now works at a country manor in Kent as head groom. Young, his name is. I have his address somewhere. I don’t know where the last fellow is now. I don’t recognize him, so he must have left before I started. Turn it over. The names are written on the back.”
I turned the photograph over and scanned the names. I recognized all the indoor staff from the list of witnesses, but one name at the very end made my heart flutter in my chest. It was the same one the housekeeper pointed to.
“Harding,” she read. “It sounds like the name of the butler whose death you’re investigating, Miss Fox.”
It did indeed. Was it a coincidence?
I flipped the photograph back over and inspected the young man standing on the far right, looking directly at the camera without smiling, as the photographer would have instructed. Without knowing what the deceased butler looked like, I couldn’t say whether they were one and the same. But others could.
“May I borrow this for a little while?”
“You may.”
It was too large to fit into my bag, so I tucked it under my arm. “Thank you. This could be very helpful.”
“I’ll show you out.”
The footman jumped up. “I’ll do it.”
He walked with me to the front door and even followed me outside to the steps. He closed the door behind him after glancing back inside. “I didn’t want to say anything in there, but I have some information that might be relevant. The housekeeper is happy to help you with the Hardy murder, because she doesn’t believe it’s related to anyone here, but she draws the line when it comes to speaking ill of the Whitchurches.”
“But you have no such qualms?”
“I don’t know what to believe, but if I can help, then it’s my moral duty to do so.” He glanced at the closed door. “A week ago, the dowager and Lord Whitchurch argued.”
“What about?”
“I don’t know, but I did hear him tell her to ‘Say something.’ He spoke loudly and sounded frustrated. The thing is, I’ve never heard them argue before. She rules the roost when she comes to London, and he always capitulates to keep the peace. She’s a mean old crow. No one likes her, not even her son and daughter-in-law. It’s why Lord and Lady Whitchurch live here in London and not with her on the estate.”
“Can you be more precise about the day you heard them arguing?”
“It was Saturday afternoon.”
Saturday was two days before Mr. Hardy’s death. It was also the same day that the landlord of the Coach and Horses had seen Lord Whitchurch talking heatedly to Mr. Hardy.
I walked quickly to the Campbells’ house a few streets away. The footman’s information about the argument, as well as the photograph under my arm, had given me renewed enthusiasm. I had to be careful not to let my imagination run away with me, however. Even though my instincts were screaming at me, not wanting to be ignored, I reined in my excitement.
Until I spoke to Mrs. Turner. The Campbells’ housekeeper pressed a hand to her chest and took a closer look at the photograph. Then she blinked tearily at me. “Good lord. That’s him. That’s Mr. Hardy. He’s younger, of course, and without the beard, but it’s definitely him.”
I drew in a deep breath, smiled and thanked her. Once again I walked, my steps brisk, my mind focused, albeit not on my destination. I wasn’t at all surprised to find myself entering Broadwick Street in Soho, however. It seemed natural to tell Harry about the development in my investigation. He’d want to know that Mr. Hardy had worked as a groom for the Whitchurches at the time of Charlotte’s murder, meaning he wasn’t Rupert, after all.
My theory was completely shattered. I didn’t mind in the least, because instead of guesses and possibilities, I now knew for certain how Hardy was linked to the Whitchurches.
CHAPTER11
Harry looked pointedly at the clock upon my arrival at his office. “I thought you’d banished me for good this time and decided to continue the investigation without me.” He sounded annoyed and I realized he’d been wondering when I would return. I was only supposed to be gone for lunch, but it was now almost six o’clock.
“I’m surprised you’re still here this late. Were you waiting for me?”
“I had work to do.” Going by the way he avoided looking at me, I suspected I was right and he was feigning indifference.
“We went to the zoo after the picnic, then I made two stops before coming here. Your presence at those stops wasn’t essential. I’m sorry your self-esteem is bruised, but in all honesty, it could do with a little deflating, anyway.”
To my surprise, he grinned.
I frowned. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“Because you wouldn’t speak to me with such brutal honesty if you didn’t feel comfortable enough to do so. I like this change in you.”
