Page 64 of A Devil in Silk
“Please think, Clara,” he pleaded, her given name slipping out far too easily. “If anyone else discovers this, they might claim you had a motive for murder.”
Amid the rising tension, the mantel clock chimed nine.
A brisk knock on the front door drew their gazes to the hallway.
Daventry shut the enamel box. “Seems like Tarrington answered your request. The man is nothing if not prompt. Though one wonders whether it’s eagerness to help or to defend himself.”
The housekeeper entered and announced Lord Tarrington, whose thunderous expression softened when he took one look at Daventry.
“What’s so urgent you would drag me here at this early hour?” Tarrington paused only to greet them and to cast a suspicious glance Clara’s way. “Well, did she do it? Did she kill Lavinia? Is that why I’m here?” He stared at Bentley. “Do you mean to plead for clemency because she’s your?—”
“One more word,” Bentley growled, fists tightening at his sides, “and you’ll be chewing on your teeth for the next month. Think carefully before you say another damn thing.”
Tarrington’s weak chin wobbled. “Forgive me if I’ve jumped to conclusions, but I’ve barely slept these past few days. Lavinia’s admirers have taken to camping outside my front door.They’re convinced she’ll send me messages from beyond the grave.”
“One of her admirers harassed you on Wapping Wall last night,” Bentley said, pinning Tarrington with a steely gaze. “We saw you attack Mr Murray and load his unconscious body into your carriage.”
“We followed you,” Clara added, “but lost you in Shadwell.”
Tarrington paled. He removed his beaver hat and smoothed back his peppered black hair. “It … It’s not how it looks.”
“Is Murray alive?” Bentley asked.
“Of course he’s alive. I took him to his lodging house.”
“One might think your coachman was sotted. He weaved through the lanes like he was three sheets to the wind.”
“He was told to drive until I rapped on the roof. I wanted Murray awake before I gave him a ticket for the morning stagecoach to Manchester, and a warning I’d have the devil arrested if I laid eyes on him again.”
Daventry was quick to air his disapproval. “Threatening a witness is an obstruction of justice.”
Tarrington stiffened, colour rising in his cheeks. “Murray’s the crook, not me. He was harassing Lavinia and had some sort of hold over her. She was terrified of him!”
“Why didn’t you mention this when we spoke to you at the warehouse?” Clara asked. “Mr Murray gave a false address, and we’ve been unable to locate him. Is Murray even his real name?”
With an air of bafflement, Tarrington shrugged. “He appeared about a month ago and has attended four shows in all. Mr Scarth disapproved and feared he would cause trouble for Lavinia.” His voice broke at the mention of the medium’s name. “I—I still can’t believe poor Lavinia is dead.”
Daventry brought a moment of calm by offering Tarrington tea and inviting him to sit on the plush sofa.
“I’ll take brandy over tea,” Tarrington said, shoving his gloves inside his hat and leaving it on the console table. “I’m beginning to wonder if this nightmare will ever end.”
Bentley accepted the offer of brandy, though his thoughts kept circling back to his mother’s letter to Clara. The words had lodged like grit under his skin, and with them came the sharp, unshakeable urge to keep her from harm.
“Let’s tackle the problem one question at a time,” Daventry said, thrusting a crystal goblet into Tarrington’s hand. “Beginning with Murray’s address.”
“He’s got a room above the Black Horse in Shadwell.”
Daventry rang for his housekeeper and instructed her to dispatch one agent to Shadwell to verify the address, and another to The Swan in Cheapside. “The only stage to Manchester departs from there.”
Bentley gave a description of the elusive Mr Murray.
Tarrington added, “It won’t be hard to spot him. I blackened his eye. There’s every chance he killed Lavinia and probably Scarth, too.”
“The last time we spoke, you blamed Mr Scarth for the murder,” Clara said, sounding frustrated. “And you made no mention of the problems with Mr Murray.”
“To be truthful, Miss Dalton, I can hardly recall what I said. This whole business is confounding.” He noticed the black enamel box as he knocked back the brandy, his pupils narrowing before his eyes widened. “Good Lord. Is that Lavinia’s jewellery box?”
Therewasjewellery inside.
