gentry, a family with that level of wealth would have been more widely known. Do you have any information on his family and background?”
Montague now looked troubled. He went back into the box and came up with another document. “Randall attended Hexham Grammar School. I didn’t do the search for his birth certificate myself, but I have it recorded that he hailed from Hexham.” Lowering the sheet, he looked at Christian. “Given he went to the grammar school-I believe it has an excellent reputation-I assume that means the family has, or had, a certain social and financial standing.”
“Normally that’s true, but there are exceptions.” Christian glanced at Letitia, who was as puzzled as Montague. “Randall may have attended the school on a scholarship. Many larger grammar schools have such things.”
He looked at Montague. “Clearly we need to dig much deeper into Randall’s background, but at least you’ve given us a place to start-Hexham Grammar School. We’ll follow that up, but we have an even more urgent need to learn of his current financial state. We need to know of any recent activities, where his money was at the time of his death, where his income derived from, if he was involved in any scheme, any development, whether he’d gone into business in any way whatever, whether he’d made any unusual transactions in recent days-in short, every possible detail of his recent life that had anything to do with money.”
Montague looked at them, then beamed. “You’ve come to the right place.”
“Well,” Christian said as the hackney they’d hailed rumbled out of the city, “that certainly confirms Dalziel’s observation-the more we learn of your late husband, the more a man of mystery he becomes.”
Letitia frowned. “I’m not at all thrilled to discover how very little I knew of him. It seems rather bizarre in hindsight, but…well, I suppose we all took him at face value.”
“I’m surprised your father-if not your aunts-didn’t demand to know all about his family.”
Letitia grimaced. “They probably did, but that would have been after we were married, and Papa would just have scowled, growled and told them to go away. He asked Montague to check Randall’s finances-that, after all, was the point of the marriage-but as for family…as I said, Randall was perfectly presentable, and in the prevailing circumstances, not to say panic, his ancestors were a great deal less relevant.”
After a moment of trying to imagine it, Christian asked, “What about the wedding? He must have had family or friends there-a groomsman at least.”
But Letitia shook her head. “We were married very privately, here in town. Justin was his groomsman.” She grimaced. “That was mostly my doing. It was a travesty of a marriage-it seemed appropriate it commence with a travesty of a wedding. Randall wasn’t concerned. The story we put about was that it was an out-and-out love match and we were so urgent to tie the knot we wouldn’t wait for a big wedding to be organized.”
“That must have gone down well with your aunts.”
“Not to mention all our many connections. But by the time they learned of it, all was done and finished. They grumbled a bit, but…” She shrugged.
Christian studied her expression, serene now, but he could imagine what she must have felt-a lady of her nature, and a Vaux besides-to make do with such, as she’d termed it, a travesty of a wedding. It would have been the antithesis of her dreams.
He made a mental note-a vow-for later. If he got the chance. If she gave him the chance.
The hackney swayed as it turned into Trafalgar Square, reminding him of their unexpected destination. He frowned. “I don’t understand why you’re so keen to share this with Dalziel immediately.”
She was peering out of the window. “Because he might well have contacts in Hexham who can make inquiries at the grammar school.”
He frowned. “Do you know that he does?”
“No. I suspect that he might.” She turned her head and met his gaze. “Let’s just go and tell him and see.”
Dalziel’s clerk looked up as they entered. He didn’t wait to be asked but immediately rose and went to tap on Dalziel’s door. He was back in seconds to bow them into his master’s presence.
Immersed in paperwork, Dalziel signed a sheet, then rose. Once Letitia sat, he subsided again and fixed her with a patently false mild look. “Yes?”
Without embellishment, she related what they’d learned from Montague. “So, you see, the place we need to start asking questions about Randall’s family is in Hexham.” She fixed Dalziel with a pointed look. “I thought you might know how to make inquiries there without Christian having to travel all that way.”
His expression unreadable, Dalziel held her gaze for a pregnant moment, then straightened. “Consider it done. The grammar school will have records. I’ll get whatever there is in them sent down.”
Letitia beamed. “Excellent.”
Dalziel looked less pleased. “Is there anything else?”
His servile tone suggested he fully expected to be asked to supply cream buns for their next meeting. Seeing Letitia’s eyes start to narrow, Christian stepped in-before she could take his ex-commander up on his unvoiced offer. “I’ve sent word to Justin-he’ll come down to London tonight, to the club.”
Dalziel looked at him and nodded. “I’ll whisk him away tomorrow night. It might be useful to have him at our meeting tomorrow afternoon.”
Letitia rose, gathering her reticule. “Have you learned anything else about Randall?”
“Not yet.” Dalziel met Christian’s eyes as they both got to their feet. “What’s rather more surprising is the answers I’m
Christian followed Letitia from the office. As they emerged into the corridor outside the anteroom, he murmured, “Hexham, hmm? Yet another man of mystery.”
Letitia smiled, but refused to say more.
She was not smiling later that afternoon when they arrived at the offices of Griswade, Griswade, Meecham and Tappit in Lincoln’s Inn Fields to be informed that, yes, while the solicitors had been notified of the unexpected demise of Mr. Randall, the partner who dealt with his estate-Mr. Meecham-was presently away attending another client in Scotland and wouldn’t be back until late that night.
Letitia subjected the head clerk, a wizened individual, to her most haughty stare. “Can’t someone-Griswade, Griswade, or Tappit, for instance-read the will in Meecham’s absence?”
The clerk cast a nervous glance at the closed doors around his station. “They could, ma’am-but they’ve declined.”
Before matters grew too fraught, Christian stepped from behind Letitia to stand alongside her at the railing behind which the clerk was perched at his raised desk. “Waiting for Meecham’s return seems an unnecessary delay, given the will is unlikely to be complex. Randall was buried nearly a week ago.”
Again the clerk glanced around, then he leaned nearer and lowered his voice. “It was the runner that did it. All ready to come and read the will after the funeral, Mr. Tappit was, as was right and proper, until that red-breast turned up on the doorstep and demanded to see it.”
Letitia stiffened.
“Did he see it?” Christian quickly asked. He grasped Letitia’s elbow.
The clerk sniffed. “Of course not. Mr. Tappit and Mr. Griswade both told him no-and when he pushed and pestered, telling them it was a case of foul murder and all, well, they decided it would be better-more appropriate- to wait until Mr. Meecham got back and let him handle it, he being the one who knew the client and his affairs.”
Christian squeezed Letitia’s elbow in warning; it sounded as if Meecham was the one they needed to see anyway. “Very well.” He fixed the clerk with a hard gaze. “Please convey to your masters that once Meecham returns, the reading of Mr. Randall’s will cannot be further delayed. Its contents are, unsurprisingly, of pressing interest to Lady Randall, and her friends.”
He imbued the last words with quiet significance.
Beside him, Letitia, her spine ramrod straight, looked down her aristocratic nose at the clerk. “Please tell Mr. Meecham that I will expect to see him tomorrow morning. I, and Lord Dearne, will be expecting him.”
The clerk all but curtsied in his fluster. “Indeed, my lady. Of course, my lady. I’ll be sure to tell him.”
Christian caught the clerk’s eye as he stepped back from the rail and uttered just one word. “Do.”
Letitia swung around and he released her; he fell into step protectively behind her as, head high, she made her exit.
