Page 23 of A Study in Scarlet Women
An inquest will be held in two days.
Charlotte frowned. She had very few talents that her mother found useful. In fact, she had only two: one, she knew most ofBurke’s Peerageby heart; two, after her first Season in London, she developed a clear understanding of the myriad alliances and sometimes enmities that connected those families listed inBurke’s. Therefore, she knew exactly who Mr. Harrington Sackville was, and how he was related to two others who had also passed away recently and abruptly, and whose deaths were even more inexplicable than his.
Maybe she could yet do something to break the siege for Livia.
She sat down and pulled out a piece of stationery she’d bought at Atwell & Dewsbury, Pharmaceutical Chemists.
Six
“Ash,” called Roger Shrewsbury. “Ash, a minute of your time, please.”
Lord Ingram Ashburton turned around. “What can I do for you, Mr. Shrewsbury?”
They had known each other since they were children. Lord Ingram had never called his old school chum Mr. Shrewsbury, except when he presented the latter in formal introduction. Shrewsbury swallowed: He understood the rebuke for what it was. He understood that Lord Ingram no longer considered him a friend.
They were at the private cemetery on the Shrewsbury estate, on a high bluff above an inlet of River Fal, not far from the southern coast of Cornwall. Overhead the sky lowered ominously; rain was imminent. Lady Shrewsbury was already in the ground, and the mourners were fast dispersing, hoping to find shelter before the storm unleashed.
Shrewsbury hesitated. Lord Ingram did not further prompt him. Shrewsbury’s gloved hand opened and closed around the top of his walking stick. Opened and closed again.
One of their classmates walked by and inclined his head. They both nodded in return. Thunder rumbled, then cracked. Shrewsbury jumped. Lord Ingram remained stock-still.
Shrewsbury cleared his throat. “Ash—that is, my lord—”
He had never before called Lord Ingram “my lord,” except jokingly. But this was no jest. This was Shrewsbury acknowledging his new place, that of a mere acquaintance no longer accorded the privilege of addressing Lord Ingram as an intimate.
“My lord, I wonder if you would—ah—possibly—be so kind as to pass on a word for me.”
Lord Ingram only looked at him.
Shrewsbury put a hand at the back of his neck and cleared his throat again. “You see I feel terrible about what happened. I feel even worse now that I heard Miss Charlotte Holmes has run off on her own.
“Most of London is no place for a genteelly brought up young lady. It’s bone-chilling, thinking about the mishaps that could befall her. I want to help—or at least mitigate my part in the whole... fiasco. But I can’t approach her family or any of her lady friends—you know how it is. So I thought, well, perhaps she might come to you for aid. You two used to be thick as thieves, even if that was a while ago.”
“I have not heard from Miss Holmes since the fiasco,” said Lord Ingram.
“But you might in the future, mightn’t you? If you do, please let her know that I’ll be more than happy to put her up in a safe place and, well, look after her.”
“And how would she reciprocate your kindness?” Lord Ingram’s words were even, almost good-natured.
“She was... she was willing to be my... paramour before. I... ah... I assume that hasn’t changed.”
“I see,” said Lord Ingram, his tone even more kindly. “Should Miss Holmes seek my help, I will remember to point her in your direction. Would that be all?”
Roger Shrewsbury’s throat moved. “I know you want to punch me. Why don’t you? Go ahead!”
Lord Ingram lifted a surprised brow. “Mr. Shrewsbury, I’m a married man. I don’t know about Mrs. Shrewsbury, but Lady Ingram would not care to hear that I brawled over another woman.”
Roger Shrewsbury flushed to the tops of his ears. “Of course. Of course. Please forgive me.”
Lord Ingram nodded. “My condolences.”
He turned and walked away.
Roger Shrewsbury would never know how close he had come to being thrashed within an inch of his life.
Lord Ingram looked up from his cufflinks. “Yes, Cummings?”
“I’ve saved the article on Mr. Holmes from the paper,” said his valet. “May I assume you’ll have no more use for the rest of it, my lord?”
