Charlotte blinked and took a deep breath to smother the emotions inside her. “None at all,” she replied. “And there seem to be several reasons why various people might have wished him dead.”
“Indeed. Who? Is it something unbearably tedious, like money?”
“Not at all. His wife is said to be having an affaire, and either she or her lover may have wished him dead. They both had the opportunity to put something in his flask that day. But the matter which brings me to you is much darker.”
Vespasia’s eyes widened. “Is it? That seems quite dark enough to me. I thought you were going to ask me if I were acquainted with Mrs. Stafford. I am not.”
“No—are you acquainted with anyone related to Kingsley Blaine?”
Vespasia thought for a moment, giving it her entire concentration.
“No, I am afraid the name Blaine means nothing,” she said finally, her disappointment apparent.
“Godman?” Charlotte made a last attempt, although she really held no hope at all that Vespasia would have any acquaintance with Aaron Godman, except across the footlights.
Vespasia frowned, understanding coming very slowly.
“My dear Charlotte—you don’t mean that abysmal affair in Farriers’ Lane? What in heaven’s name could that have to do with Mr. Justice Stafford’s death in the theater two nights ago? That was all over in ’eighty-four.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Charlotte said very quietly. “At least it may not have been. Mr. Stafford seems to have been looking into it again.”
Vespasia frowned. “What do you mean, ‘seems to have been’?”
“There is a difference of opinion,” Charlotte explained. “What is indisputable is that the day he died he was visited by Tamar Macaulay, the sister of Godman, and after she left he went and saw Adolphus Pryce, the barrister who prosecuted the case, Mr. Justice Livesey, who was another of the judges who heard the appeal with him, and Devlin O’Neil and Joshua Fielding, two of the original early suspects.”
“Good heavens.” Vespasia’s face was intent, all amusement or doubt fled from it. “Then what question is there?”
“Whether he intended to reopen the case, or merely to prove even more totally that the original verdict was correct.”
“I see.” Vespasia nodded. “Yes, I can quite understand how that might raise a great many questions as to who wished him to leave the matter, and if he would not, which seems very plain, then to force the conclusion by killing him.”
Charlotte swallowed. “The matter is further complicated because my mother has made the acquaintance of Mr. Fielding, and is involved in his cause.”
“Indeed.” A very faint gleam flickered in Vespasia’s eyes, but she made no remark. “Then you wish to become … involved?” She hesitated only momentarily before the word. She sat up a little straighter. “I regret I do not know, even on nodding terms, Mrs. Stafford or Mr. Justice Livesey, or indeed Mr. Pryce. No doubt I should have little difficulty in scraping an acquaintance with Mr. Fielding, but it would now seem that that is redundant.” She did not even look at Charlotte as she said it, but her gentle amusement was palpable, like a warmth between them. “But I do have the acquaintance of the judge of the original trial.” She hesitated minutely. “A Mr. Thelonius Quade.”
“Oh, do you?” Charlotte was too pleased to have caught the inflection in Vespasia’s voice, and only realized its import later. “Do you know him well enough to call upon him? Could you raise the subject, or—or would it be … indelicate?”
A shadow of a smile curled Vespasia’s lips.
“I think it might be accomplished without indelicacy,” she replied. “Do I conclude correctly that there is some haste in the matter?”
“Oh yes,” Charlotte agreed. “I think you do—thank you, Aunt Vespasia.”
Vespasia smiled, this time with pure affection. “You are welcome, my dear.”
One could not call upon a judge in the middle of the day and expect him to have time to indulge a purely social acquaintance. Accordingly Vespasia wrote a short note:
My dear Thelonius,
Forgive me for a somewhat abrupt, and perhaps questionably tasteful, request that you receive me this evening, but our friendship was never such that convention ruled, or polite excuses covered either thought or emotion. A matter has arisen concerning a very dear friend of mine, a young woman I regard as family, and I believe you may be able to help with recollections, in the public domain, but not in mine.
Unless I hear that it is inconvenient to you, I shall call upon you in your rooms in Piccadilly at eight this evening.
Yours in friendship,
Vespasia
She sealed it and rang the bell for her footman. When he came she gave him the note with instructions to take it immediately to the chambers of Mr. Justice Thelonius Quade in the Inner Temple, and to await such reply as there might be.
He returned an hour later bearing a note which read:
My dear Vespasia,
What a delight to hear from you again, whatever the reason. I shall be in court all day, but have no engagements of any importance this evening, and shall be happy to see you, especially if you would care to dine, while you tell me of the concern for your friend.
Be assured I shall do all in my power to help, and count it my privilege.
May I look forward to seeing you at eight o’clock?
