It was now after lunch. Charlotte had gone for a lie-down, and Robert had retired to his study. He had invited Theodore to join him and partake of cigars, but Theodore politely refused. He remained sitting at the now-cleared table while a maid hovered in a corner of the room, anxiously trying to look busy with the things on the sideboard, but in fact she was simply rather keen to get to the table and give it a good clean.
Adelia got to her feet and found that she was feeling better now she had some food inside her. “I just need a new set of gloves more suitable for the occasion, and perhaps some trim for my hat.”
“Do you want to take some money with you?” he grumbled.
“I have some left over from my last excursion. I’m simply letting you know where I’m going.”
“What, you’re going now?”
She was already halfway to the door. “Yes. But don’t worry. I shall ask Smith to accompany me.”
“Why–” he started to say, but she didn’t risk waiting to hear it.
THE RAIN HAD STOPPED but the low cloud kept the city feeling damp and a little muggy. It was almost warm for the time of year, and dreadfully grey and dreary. Adelia had dressed in plain clothing, making Smith tut with disapproval. “No one will give you the best seat in the omnibus, my lady. Cabs will not stop for you.”
“Of course they will. But it hardly matters, Smith, because we are walking.”
“Into central London?”
“Let us take a turn along this road.”
“Where are we going?” Smith had been in the family for almost her whole life. She had certainly earned the right to address Adelia with a degree of informality, at least while they were out of the earshot of others.
“I feel the need to stretch my legs. You are well aware of last night’s debauchery.”
“I am, my lady.” There was a smile in Smith’s voice that made Adelia glance up at her.
“What?”
“Nothing. Well, only that I would suggest that it did you some good, my lady. Far be it from me to say that Lady Lassiter’s way of life is the ideal one, but her approach to pleasure has some things to recommend it, at least in moderation. This little holiday here is doing you some real good, my lady. In spite of ... the other things.”
“Tell me, Smith. I know that you see everything and you’ve been in my daughter’s house for long enough now – have you seen a man in a hooded cloak hanging around at all?”
“No, my lady.”
“Here is an awkward question. Be honest and spare not my finer feelings. Is there any suggestion, any at all, that my daughter might not be entirely above reproach in her personal life?”
“Good heavens, my lady! I have not heard a single hint.”
“Not one?”
“Nothing. I swear to you. And believe me, my lady, I would have been the first to inform you, should such a rumour have reached my ears.”
“I understand. Thank you.” Adelia seized on Smith’s words with relief. She didn’t want to believe Charlotte could be having affair and so was inclined to grab any evidence or hint that she was mistaken in her suspicions. Perhaps the man really was Lord H. “Ahh ... so here we are,” she murmured, looking up at the townhouse.
“Where?”
“I do believe that is the house of Mrs Dymchurch.”
“Is it really? What a strange co-incidence that our stroll should bring us this way, my lady. Do you intend to call?”
Adelia knew, then, that Smith did not believe for one second that the choice of route was random. But she maintained the fiction anyway. “Oh, no, not at all. We saw her last night, and we shall surely see her tomorrow at the gallery. But let us step a little closer. Her curtains are open. Ah, a figure crossed at that window ...”
Adelia went closer, staring up at the house. Her heart thudded. She didn’t know what she really intended to do. She knew that she didn’t want to go and speak to Mrs Dymchurch. But she was curious about her, nevertheless. She had to assume that Mrs Dymchurch knew she was considered a suspect. Adelia tried to put herself in that position. How would she react? It would depend on whether Mrs Dymchurch thought they had any real evidence against her or not.
And then Adelia felt a little cold. She’d sent Charlotte to speak to Mrs Dymchurch and Charlotte had reported back that Mrs Dymchurch had seemed a little strange, a touch odd. Mrs Dymchurch knew that Charlotte had been spying on her even then, and it had not just been a realisation that she’d come to afterwards.
And Mrs Dymchurch could also then assume that Charlotte, too, had been possibly gathering evidence, on behalf of Adelia.
No wonder she had come to last night’s dinner party. She couldn’t afford to miss out on potential information. If she knew she were the quarry, she would want to discover details of the hunt for her. She would know that it was a serious investigation.
So what would she do next? It was a more pressing matter than Lady Purfleet and her vendetta against Mr Wiseman; that was not really Adelia’s concern as long as Theodore and Robert stayed off the streets for a while. She was convinced that the two matters were not truly linked.
Adelia retreated across the street, but paused by a seller of flowers. Smith hissed at the vendor who backed away before even beginning her patter. “There could be a double-murderess in that house, Smith. What ought we to do about it?”
“We ought to inform the police, my lady.”
“They don’t want to know.”
Smith smiled. “You asked me the wrong question, my lady. You asked what ought to be done. Now ask the real question.”
Adelia nodded gravely and looked up at the house as she said, half to Smith but half to herself, “What are we going to do about it?”
Movement caught her eye.
