Page 22 of A Moveable Feast
I was impressed that Lady Babcock had retained her compassion after she’d been thrust into her husband’s family and lived for years surrounded by people who didn’t like her.
Would a person who took pity on a girl in the street murder her husband’s beloved son? As far as I knew, Lady Babcock had no children, so she wouldn’t be clearing Lord Alfred out of the way so her own son could inherit. She also didn’t sound like a lady who would lash out in a pique.
“It seems unlikely Lady Babcock stabbed him,” I told Jane. “She and Mrs. Morgan could have been arguing about what to serve for Easter dinner, which has nothing to do with the murder.”
I didn’t quite believe that, but I needed to reassure Jane.
“Suppose,” she conceded.
“Sergeant Scott only wishes to know where you were when the murder occurred. You were helping me in the kitchen. Tess and I had eyes on you the entire time. That is all you need to tell him.”
“Mary nipped out for a bit,” Jane said unhappily.
I came alert, as did Daniel. “Pardon?” I asked.
“After we sent up the fish and were in a bother about getting the ham and its fixings ready at the same time. I saw Mary slip out the back door and go up the outside stairs.”
Had she? I’d never noticed, but we’d been focused on the meal, and Mary had been elbow-deep in her sink, or so I’d believed.
“She was back down when Mrs. Seabrook announced his lordship’s death,” I recalled.
Mary had been more outraged than the rest of us when Mrs. Seabrook had told us the meal was off. Had Mary already known why it was, her reaction feigned?
Mary had professed great admiration for Lord Alfred. Had she been madly in love with the young man? If he’d rebuffed her, and she’d been upset … Oh, dear heavens.
“I will speak with Mary,” I said firmly. “Jane, you go back inside, tell Sergeant Scott when he calls for you exactly where you were before Lord Alfred was found, and remain silent about everything else.”
“I know how to keep mum,” Jane declared. “I only told you, because you and your man pried it out of me. I was afraid the Peeler would too.”
“You’ve confessed it to us, so your conscious is clear. Now, return before Sergeant Scott decides you’ve run away and sends constables out to find you.”
Jane nodded, as though agreeing to be sensible. Daniel finally let her go, and she walked away from us, squaring her shoulders as she went.
I kept a sharp eye on her, but she made for Portman Square without breaking stride. I’d be right behind her as soon as I finished speaking with Daniel.
I turned to him, my resolve cracking. “Please tell me Lord Alfred had so many enemies that anyone in London could have broken in and killed him in his own front hall. I don’t like to think someone who lives in the house did it, even though I know it’s most likely.”
“He seems to have been a well-liked young man about Town.” Daniel dashed my hopes for an easy solution. “His father, on the other hand, is a stern taskmaster and has made many political enemies. It is possible one of them decided to rid him of his heir to take their vengeance, but improbable they’d do it in such a haphazard way.”
“Lord Babcock wouldn’t invite his enemies to dine in his home with his family, would he?” I mused. “Lady Cynthia described the guests, who seem innocuous enough. Though I suppose one never knows.”
“Unfortunately, true.” Daniel scanned the street, as though watching for any observers. “Cheer up. The police might conclude that someone in passing realized the front door was unguarded, entered to rob the place, encountered Lord Alfred in the hall, stabbed him, and fled. It is plausible.”
I also preferred that solution, but something in my bones told me it wasn’t true. “If the police dismiss the murder as a burglary gone wrong, when it wasn’t, then others in the house might be in danger. Lady Babcock herself.”
I pondered anew Mrs. Morgan’s admonition to me about Lady Babcock. Watch out for her.
Instead of a warning against the lady, could it have been a plea? Watch out for those trying to harm her. I truly needed to speak to Mrs. Morgan again.
“Daniel, when you were worried about me going to Portman Square, why?” I asked abruptly. “Did you believe something bad would happen at that house?”
“No.” The word was spoken forthrightly. “I’d have done everything in my power to prevent you entering Lord Babcock’s abode if I’d thought a murder would occur there. But, as you’ve no doubt concluded, I’ve had business in this square before. One of Lord Babcock’s neighbors knows who I really am. Well, one of my personas while working for Monaghan, I mean.”
Daniel finished wistfully. Who I really am. He didn’t know, not for certain.
I wanted to take Daniel into my arms there and then and tell him it didn’t matter. He was himself, and that was enough for me.
However, we stood on a public street near the happy families of Portman Square, with me in my work dress and Daniel garbed as an unsavory vagabond.
