Riley frowned. Maureen was Salter’s oldest child. She’d be fifteen now, and worked as an apprentice to a local milliner. Salter, Riley knew, had fought against his daughter’s determination to pursue a career in that profession, given that it was widely connected to prostitution. But Maureen showed so much talent and had been so determined to pursue her dream that Salter eventually relented, partly because his wife took their daughter’s side. Even so, he’d insisted upon her serving her indentures in Clapham and returning home every evening.
‘Dawson somehow got himself a position in a grand house as a footman, and he comes back to Clapham every week to visit his ma, flaunting his success in the faces of his brothers and his old friends. Well,’ Salter said, rubbing his hands together, ‘it seems that one of them took exception to him carrying on like he was royalty.’
‘I see.’
‘Lord above knows how he managed to get himself such a sought-after job. He wouldn’t have had any references, seeing as how he hadn’t felt inclined to indulge in gainful employment before that time, but still…’
‘Well then, Jack, since you have seen the victim, you’d best give Carter and Soames their instructions and then come with me to call on Lady Randall. You can decide whether we’ve found her servant.’
Riley reached for his hat and he and Salter left the station in a hackney a short time later, bound for Portman Square.
‘What do I need to know about Lady Randall, sir?’ Salter asked, as they settled back in the conveyance, which made rapid progress through the quiet streets. Come the season, those same streets would be jam-packed, but at present the summer heat blanketed London in an air of indolence, and people were putting off unnecessary travel until tomorrow.
‘An interesting character,’ Riley replied, chuckling. ‘And one of whose conduct you will not approve.’
Salter sniffed. ‘Ah, one of them.’
‘Ida Brigdon, as she was before her marriage, is the only child of a wealthy industrialist. She inherited a significant fortune upon his death.’
‘And married one of your lot,’ Salter said with another disapproving sniff.
‘Actually, she married a senior civil servant. Philip Randall is widely recognised as a man of great intellect who possesses an incisive political brain. He was knighted for services rendered to the crown. His shrewd advice for the drafting of the 1870 Elementary Education Act was crucial in seeing it passed into law, and many children from the poorest backgrounds stand to benefit from his wisdom.’
‘Right, that sounds worthwhile, but why did this wealthy socialite marry a civil servant? I should have thought she’d have bagged herself an earl, at the very least. Unless she looks like the back end of a horse, of course. But even then, money talks…’
‘I believe there was something in the lady’s background that even the poorest of aristocrats was unable to overlook.’
‘Ah, your lot do tend to stick together in order to maintain standards. Still an’ all, I’m surprised the lady didn’t receive offers.’
‘Clearly none that were acceptable to her.’ Riley grinned. ‘And just so that you know, she was and still is something of a beauty. There is nothing I can say that will prepare you to meet Lady Randall. You will just have to exercise some patience and make up your own mind about her.’
‘Surprised she reported a footman missing herself, or even noticed his absence,’ Salter said after a short pause. ‘Isn’t it a butler’s duty to keep track of the household staff?’
‘Usually, yes, but this is no ordinary household. Anyway, we shall soon know.’
The cab rattled to a halt outside a crescent-shaped row of tall, well-maintained townhouses. Riley paid the cabbie, who whipped up his tired horse and cut across traffic to collect another fare on the other side of the street before an approaching cab could beat him to the spoils. A short altercation ensued, blithely ignored by the victor, who drove off with a lady installed in his hansom.
‘This won’t be the first house of this type we’ve been in recently,’ Salter said, looking up at the rows of windows. ‘It’s getting to be a habit.’
‘Land is expensive in this increasingly crowded capital of ours, Salter, so properties are built upwards rather than expanding sideways. The Americans are setting the trend, I believe.’ Riley thought of Ashdown, its tranquil setting and sprawling grounds, and felt a pang of impatience. He wanted to be there now, away from the noise and pollution of the city, with Amelia at his side under the shade of the big maple as Simon chased the dog down the length of the garden.
The two detectives mounted the steps and Salter wielded the knocker. Their summons was answered almost immediately by an imposing butler. He glanced at Riley, appeared to realise who he was, presumably because he’d been told to expect him, and opened the door wider to offer them access.
‘Lord Riley.’ The butler inclined his head, confirming Riley’s assumptions. He ignored Salter altogether. ‘I am Sir Philip’s butler, Gregg. My mistress is expecting you, if you will be so good as to follow me.’
They were shown into a pretty morning room with a view over the long garden in
