and collected a box of china she had brought from her parents’ home in Scotland and had never used.
On her way back to Camden Town, Miss Jubbles comforted herself with the thought that Harry would notice the absence of his lovely rose-decorated cup.
The next time Ailsa served Harry tea in a cup embellished with lilacs, he did not notice the difference.
Rose would not admit it to herself but she was more determined than ever to find out the identity of the murderer as a way of seeing Harry again.
‘I think perhaps I should encourage Tristram,’ she said to Daisy.
‘You’re never thinking of marrying him!’
‘No . . . although it has crossed my mind that I would not have so restricted a life were I married.’
‘Then what happens if you fall in love? You’re not the kind to have an affair.’
‘I don’t think I shall ever fall in love. Gentlemen are so . . . weird.’
‘So why are you going to encourage that bleeder?’
‘Language, Daisy!’
Daisy sighed. ‘I mean, why?’
‘Because he was Freddy’s best friend. We know little of Freddy’s habits or where he went apart from to these boring social affairs and to his club. He might have had a mistress and set her up in one of those places they set up mistresses, like St John’s Wood, and the blackmailing stuff could be hidden there.’
‘Why not tell the captain your idea? It’s his job.’
Rose set her lips in a firm line. ‘It is my idea and I will follow it through.’
In the weeks that followed, Harry had gone back to his usual detecting duties of finding lost dogs and covering up scandals. To his surprise, none of these scandals seemed to disturb his hard-working secretary. Miss Jubbles had smelt of rosewater. Ailsa smelled of peppermint, which seemed to be her only weakness.
Harry would have been amazed had he known that she despised society as heartily as Kerridge and admired her employer for having chosen to work for a living.
One day when Harry was out, Brigadier Billy Handy called. ‘Came to see how you were settling in,’ he said.
‘Very well. Thank you for the recommendation.’
‘Need to be discreet in this business. But you’re used to that, hey?’
‘Exactly,’ said Ailsa.
‘Mind you, it’s funny work for a baron’s son, albeit a younger one. He should find himself an heiress. Funny. I thought he and that beauty, Lady Rose, might have got hitched. No sign of that?’
‘None whatsoever.’
When he had gone, Ailsa slid open the bottom drawer of her desk and took out a squat bottle of gin. She poured a strong measure into a teacup and knocked it back. She heard footsteps on the stairs and put the gin bottle away, took out a little bottle of peppermint essence and swallowed some, then darted to the cupboard and hid the teacup.
‘I did not expect you back so soon, sir,’ she said, as Harry limped in. It was one of his bad days and his leg was painful.
Harry paused at the door to the inner office. He sniffed the air. ‘Funny, there’s a smell of gin.’
‘Brigadier Handy called when you were out. He wished to see how I was settling in,’ said Ailsa.
‘Really? I thought he was a brandy-and-soda man. Get me Lady Potterton’s file, please.’
Harry decided to drop into his club that evening. It was simply called The Club and situated at the bottom of St James’s. The first person he saw was the brigadier. He sank down in a chair opposite the old man and stretched out his throbbing leg.
‘I believe you called at my office today,’ said Harry.
‘Yes, called round to see how Miss Bridge was settling in.’
‘She is an excellent secretary. May I get you a drink? Gin and something?’
‘Good heavens, man. I never touch the stuff.’
Harry laughed. ‘My office smelt of gin. I thought you had left your scent behind.’
‘Not me. And it can’t be the missionaries’ daughter. Must be one of those new cleaning materials. They smell a bit like gin. How are you, old man? I’ll have a brandy and soda.’
‘Nothing came of that murder case at Farthings or the murder of Freddy Pomfret. It really galls me to have a murder committed right under my nose.’
He signalled to the waiter and ordered two brandies and sodas.
‘I read in the newspapers that Lady Rose was one of the guests,’ said the brigadier. ‘Good dowry there.’
‘If I get married,’ said Harry, ‘it won’t be to Lady Rose, neither will it be because of some female’s dowry.’
‘Oh, well, you haven’t a chance anyway. I mean, with Lady Rose.’
‘Why?’
‘She’s been seen about with Tristram Baker-Willis.’
‘Nothing there. Lady Rose told me he had proposed marriage to her at Farthings and she had rejected him.’
‘She might have changed her mind.’
‘Why?’
‘Those parents of hers keep a strong guard on her and I was talking to Hadshire the other day. Seems they really do want to ship her off to India. Now if she got married, well, Baker-Willis might prove a complacent husband and she’d get her freedom and her own household. Course she would need to provide the heir and the spare first.’
Harry had a sudden vision of Tristram in the throes of providing himself with an heir and experienced a shudder of revulsion.
After he had chatted about other things and left the club, Harry went back to his office and called the earl’s residence. The earl’s secretary, Matthew Jarvis, answered the phone. Harry asked if he might speak to Lady Rose.
‘I am afraid,’ said Matthew, ‘that Lady Rose is not allowed to receive any phone calls.’
Disappointed, Harry rang off. He went to his secretary’s desk and searched the drawers.
He smiled to himself. Nothing but a little bottle of peppermint cordial. The correct Miss Bridge probably did not drink any alcohol at all.
Tristram was driving Rose in Hyde Park the following day at the fashionable hour. Rose felt guilty as she stole glances at Tristram’s radiant face. She began to have an uneasy feeling that the young man’s motive in proposing to her had not been money after all.
‘You must miss Mr Pomfret,’ she said.
‘Of course I do. We were great friends.’
‘Did you know he was asking people for money?’
‘No, but I can’t say I blame him. I mean, quite low tradesmen are buying titles. So why not Freddy? It would have meant such a lot to him.’
Rose took the plunge. ‘As you know, I think, he was blackmailing people.’
‘He wouldn’t do that.’
‘Did he ever give you anything to keep for him? Documents? Anything like that?’
‘The only thing he gave me was a box of cigars. He was trying to give up smoking and he loved cigars. Said if he kept them near him, he would smoke the lot in one day. He said he couldn’t bear to give them away but to keep them in case he cracked and wanted one.’
‘And did he?’
‘What! No. Poor fellow was shot two days later. I say, look at that frightful hat.’
Harry reined in his horse under a tree and watched the couple. Rose looked very relaxed in a carriage dress of brown velvet trimmed with gold braid and with a dashing little hat tilted over her glossy brown curls.
Tristram was laughing and chatting. They seemed perfectly at ease with each other. He heard a voice from below him. ‘Captain Cathcart!’
Now what bore was going to plague him on this awful, stupid day, he thought sourly. He looked down and saw Daisy.
