'Oh, yes, I was furious. You might have died because of him. I could have left Aloysius, then. I should have.'
'There was not much you could do, Louisa.' When a woman left her husband, she could only return to her family or elope with another man-one was a recipe for shame, the other, complete ruin.
'I know. But I remained his wife, in all ways. I wanted to prove, I suppose, that I had not betrayed him. I saw the good in him, still. I loved him.' Louisa lifted her arms in a limp gesture. 'This is my reward.'
'And it is decidedly odd,' I said. 'I am not saying that your husband is guiltless in the matter of Mrs. Harper, but the situation seems wrong somehow. I would think that if Brandon were pursuing another woman, he would not be so bloody obvious. He prides himself on being the perfect gentleman, the perfect husband, the perfect officer.'
Louisa gave me a tired look. 'Well, he isn't, is he?'
'But would he let the world see that? There is something very wrong, Louisa. Can you tell me nothing more of this Imogene Harper?'
'No, I cannot. When I dared ask him, Aloysius grew angry and told me to mind my own damned business. In those words. He has never been that harsh to me.'
'No, he usually saves that for me. I ask your leave, Louisa, to go through his desk and his papers. I want to read what Mrs. Harper wrote, if he has not destroyed the letters. She is key to this murder; perhaps she even killed Turner herself.'
'She never went into that anteroom. At least, not until she found Mr. Turner. Believe me, Lacey, I had my eye on her. The only time she disappeared from view was when she went into private corners with my husband.' She trailed off bitterly.
'And I am going to find out why she did,' I said.
Louisa stood rigidly, her face gray, her eyes holding exhaustion. 'I have resigned myself to the fact that Aloysius was having an affair with her. You do not have to try to prove that he was not.'
I went silent a moment, then I said, 'Do you know, I believe I am the only person in London not happy to believe in Brandon's guilt.'
Her eyes flashed. ' Happy? Do you believe I am happy to know that my husband has been betraying me?'
'Ready to believe his guilt, then. Perhaps I used the wrong word. But it seems as though everyone wants him to be guilty, including Brandon himself.'
The muscles of Louisa's delicate neck were tense, as though she strained to hold up her head. 'You are kind to try to give me hope.'
'And I do wish that both you and your husband would stop trying to assign me motives,' I said in irritation. 'I am looking into this problem because it distresses you and because I do not believe Brandon killed Turner. I believe he could have killed him, but I will be quite glad to find evidence to prove otherwise.'
Louisa sank to the sofa. 'Perhaps I simply want it to be over. I do not want to wait and wonder and hope that you find something. I want it to be over, even if it means that I lose him forever.'
'Have you so little faith in me?'
'I know you, Gabriel. You believe a thing is so, therefore it must be so. You stubbornly burrow through things to prove yourself right, no matter who you hurt.'
I stilled. 'And I've hurt you?'
'No.' She smiled a little. 'But you are so impetuous, and you will run afoul of the wrong people. It would hurt me so to lose you. I never would have survived all these years without you.'
We looked at each other. I knew as well that my life would have been much harsher without Louisa Brandon in it.
I could have said something then that might have changed everything between us. I think she wanted me to say it, waited for me to say it. Perhaps I was foolish to keep my silence. But I kept it.
'Louisa, I will do everything in my power to help your husband. And you. I swear this.'
A light went out of her eyes. Louisa looked away from me, and then she nodded. 'Ask Aloysius's valet for the key to his desk. Tell him he has my permission to give it to you.'
'Thank you,' I said quietly.
Louisa looked up at me again, but her eyes held no hope. I bowed to her briefly and left her.
I found Robbins, the harried valet, and requested Brandon's key. He went off to find it, seeming relieved to escape Lady Aline's strident demands. Louisa was always gentle with her servants; Lady Aline must seem like an unexpected hurricane.
'Lacey, my boy, I do wish you luck,' Aline said as she passed me on her way back to Louisa's sitting room. 'If you can find an answer to this murder, I will bow before you.'
The thought of Lady Aline bowing her tall bulk amused me somewhat. I told her I could only do my best, took the key that Robbins brought running back, and let myself into Brandon's private study.
I'd been in this room only a few times before, because Brandon rarely invited me into it. He put up with me in his dining room and drawing room at Louisa's request, but he disliked me in the more private rooms of the house.
A screen of gold-leaf and ivory that he'd obtained in Spain decorated one corner. I'd always wondered where Brandon had found the screen, and if it had in fact been looted. Wellington had declared looting to be a hanging offense. The English army had gone to liberate the Spanish from French rule, not to rob from them, he'd said. Brandon had claimed that he'd purchased it, but his belligerence whenever he spoke of it always aroused my suspicion.
The desk, a secretary with a closed bookcase, stood near the screen. I sat down in the desk chair, put the key in the lock, and pulled down the sloping cover that formed the base of the desk. Two pieces of wood slid out of slots to support the desk's top.
Inside I found neat ledgers and folded papers and small drawers full of letters. None of the letters were from Imogene Harper.
I searched the drawers and the ledgers, then unfolded all the letters to see if another had been tucked between their pages. I found nothing. I hadn't thought I would.
I remembered Grenville showing me a secretary he'd purchased in France, a beautiful piece of golden satinwood with rosewood inlay. Grenville's delight in it, however, was its secret drawers. He'd made me try to discover the drawers myself, while he'd hovered gleefully at my side, watching.
I had found two, but he'd showed me four others that I'd missed.
I lifted the small drawers out of the middle of Brandon's desk and felt the recesses behind them for catches. I found one rather easily, which extruded a drawer from the left side of the desk. Rather obvious, I thought. Many desks had such drawers.
I found no letters in the drawer, only a stray button. Perhaps Brandon had no use for secret drawers, and perhaps he'd simply burned Mrs. Harper's letters.
I found a second secret drawer that again had nothing inside it. I searched for the catches that Grenville's desk had, but either I missed them entirely, or the designer of this desk had given up after he'd created two.
I slid the main drawers back in place and was about to shut the first secret drawer, when I noticed that its bottom did not fit correctly. I picked up the button and found that its shank just fit into the slight gap. I worked the button back and forth, and suddenly, the entire bottom of the drawer lifted away.
Three letters lay inside it.
I lifted unfolded each of them. Written in a woman's hand, they were signed Imogene Harper.
The letters were not dated, but I made sense of the timing as I read them. The first was hesitant, as though Mrs. Harper had been timid about contacting Brandon after so many years.
I learned your direction from Colonel Singleton, whom my husband also knew during the Peninsular campaign, and I make so bold to write to you. Perhaps I am the last woman on earth from whom you wish to receive correspondence, but I find it necessary. If you would speak to me, I will be riding in Hyde Park at five o'clock on Wednesday next. I will wait near Grosvenor Gate for you to come. I have need to see you, my dear A. Please come.
She'd signed without any closure.
