Page 80 of A Ruse of Shadows
To Lord Ingram’s surprise, after a moment of silence Mrs. Farr nodded.
“Did Mr. Underwood ever tell you anything about Giovanni Esposito, the first boxer he took on?”
This question was for Mrs. Claiborne, who leaped to it. “Yes, he accidentally ran over Johnny’s father when he was chasing down suspected foreign agents for Lord Bancroft. He couldn’t stop in the heat of the chase but went back as soon as possible and then did everything in his power to make sure that the man’s family was taken care of.
“He always felt guilty about it, even though it was the senior Mr. Esposito who had stumbled drunkenly into the street. Mrs. Esposito even told him that her husband would have left them if he hadn’t died, and still Mr. Underwood never forgave himself.”
On the divan, Jessie gave a slight jerk. She turned still again, but it would not be long now before the effects of the chloroform wore off.
In the parlor, Holmes had more questions. “It might appear that Mr. Underwood took on Miss Ferguson and Mr. Waters because he wanted to give Johnny companions who were even more despised by the general public?”
Something that was almost amusement curved Mrs. Claiborne’s lips. “I wouldn’t put it quite that way. He wanted Johnny to have friends—the boy worked constantly and had few solaces in life. But he didn’t want random lads who’d mock Johnny for being poor, foreign, and Catholic. He liked how Mumble and Jessie looked out for each other and how well they managed their lives. He thought Johnny would feel safe and happy with them, and he was right.” She turned to Mrs. Farr. “Mr. Underwood told me that Johnny is never happier than when he is with your foster children.”
Mrs. Farr’s right hand closed into a fist.
Holmes rose and came to Lord Ingram. He thought she had some information to impart, but she only stood beside him and addressed the parlor. “I used to think Mr. Underwood heavily involved in Miss Mimi Duffin’s death, but now I’m less certain.”
Mrs. Claiborne, who had at last picked up the glass of waterHolmes had poured for her, clutched it with both hands and stared at Holmes.
“Here’s what I think might have happened. Lord Bancroft told Mr. Underwood that he was looking for a dark-haired young woman with a beauty mark at the corner of her lips—and who had allowed risqué images of herself to be captured for public consumption. In hindsight, we can pinpoint Lord Bancroft’s purposes—the physical resemblance to make this woman a better duplicate for Lady Ingram, the profession so that when she went missing, her family, having likely already disowned her, would not mount a search. But Mr. Underwood did not have such foreknowledge to guide him.
“Mr. Constable, the accountant who dispensed funds to the boxers for Mr. Underwood, had instruction from Mr. Underwood that his transactions could be inspected by anyone who wished to do so.
“Mumble and Jessie took advantage of that, and so did I. But given that the stipulation was handed down long before Mr. Underwood took on Mumble and Jessie, he did not have them in mind—or me for that matter. Who did he think would want to see those accounts then?”
“Lord Bancroft,” murmured Mrs. Claiborne.
“Indeed,” agreed Holmes. “It’s possible that while they continued to work well together, the trust between them, or at least that Mr. Underwood felt for Lord Bancroft, had corroded somewhat: He believed Lord Bancroft might check on his personal pursuits, and he did not want to be seen as hiding anything.
“By the same token, Lord Bancroft might have grown increasingly suspicious of Mr. Underwood for the exact reason others came to love and depend on him: his scruples. As Lord Bancroft’s ventures sailed further and further from the shores of acceptability, a lieutenant who was fundamentally decent and principled became less and less of an asset.
“Most likely, then, Lord Bancroft concealed what he truly intended with that dark-haired woman with a beauty mark—and declared his reasons private.
“Mr. Underwood, having looked into Mumble’s and Jessie’s backgrounds, happened to know that Mrs. Farr’s sister suited Lord Bancroft’s needs. Mrs. Claiborne, did he ever ask you, explicitly, whether Lord Bancroft had any unusual proclivities?”
Mrs. Claiborne set down her water glass with an audiblethunk. “My goodness, he did, somewhere in the middle of last year. He rarely asked about my years with Lord Bancroft—or about Lord Bancroft himself—and then, out of the blue, a question like that.
“He told me that Lord Bancroft was looking for a woman of certain attributes. He didn’t say what those attributes were—the wordpostcardnever crossed his lips—only that he wanted to make sure that if he did find such a woman for Lord Bancroft, it wouldn’t lead to anything intolerable for her.
“Once I was assured that he wasn’t faultfindingme, I told him that Lord Bancroft was a rather inconsiderate lover, but not a cruel or bizarre one.” With a hesitant glance in Mrs. Farr’s direction, Mrs. Claiborne added, “Miss Holmes, you think Mr. Underwood asked the question for Miss Mimi Duffin’s sake?”
“I do,” concurred Holmes. “If Mr. Underwood was assured that Lord Bancroft would not mistreat a lover, and if he had no reason to believe that Lord Bancroft wanted a postcard girl for anything other than personal titillation, then he likely informed Lord Bancroft of Miss Mimi Duffin’s existence.
“When he learned of the horrifying truth, it was too late. Soon after that, he had to go on the run himself. If not, today he might very well be trying to make it up to you, Mrs. Farr, the way he was trying to make it up to Johnny and his family.”
Mrs. Farr stared at nothing in particular.
“Miss Ferguson and Mr. Waters are waking up,” said Lord Ingram.
Mrs. Farr shot up and had to steady herself on an armrest before she charged into the boudoir. Mrs. Watson had half a mind to follow her. But as Mrs. Farr probably preferred some privacy, Mrs. Watsonremained in the corner chair where she had been seated since she walked Mrs. Farr back into the parlor.
Miss Charlotte left Lord Ingram’s side and retook her own seat. While Mrs. Farr whispered to her foster children, Miss Charlotte addressed Mrs. Claiborne: “Madame, I believe you already know who killed Mr. Underwood?”
The Frenchwoman shuddered.
“When did Mr. Underwood begin to change his mind about Lord Bancroft?” continued Miss Charlotte.
Mrs. Claiborne gripped the engagement ring on her left hand, her lover’s token of devotion and commitment. “That happened before Mr. Underwood became my protector, I think, but I didn’t perceive it right away. My first inkling came when he said that at least on the night he ran over the senior Mr. Esposito, he’d been doing something genuinely important, but he wasn’t so sure about his assignments since then.
