Chapter Thirteen
Riley and Salter shared a long look.
‘That explains a lot,’ Riley said, shaking his head.
‘Susan was carrying Terrance’s child?’
‘I presume it was his. We have been unable to establish that she was walking out with a young man from her own class. And if she was intimately involved with her employer’s son, it would explain why she had developed airs. The silly girl probably had romantic notions of marrying him.’
‘Terrance will never admit it,’ Salter said grimly. ‘And his family will close ranks around him. We’ll never prove his culpability unless we put him in the cells for a night, then he’d admit to anything by morning.’
‘No wonder he looked so anxious when I spoke with him earlier. Presumably that was what he and his father were arguing about.’ Riley threw back his head and sighed. ‘Even so, that doesn’t help us much. Knowing or suspecting he’s our man, is one thing. Proving it is entirely another. His best friend is a lawyer, so unless we have an air-tight case…’
‘You think Ashton knows and covered it up?’
‘He knows or he suspects. He’ll move heaven and earth to try and prevent us from getting to the truth—and Danforth will help him.’
‘Has it occurred to you, sir, that Lord Ashton could be the guilty party, in terms of impregnating Susan, I mean?’
‘It’s a possibility, Salter. He’s no longer a young man but still has a roving eye.’ He thought of the oily charm he dispensed for Amelia’s benefit and shuddered. ‘A girl employed by him would find it hard to avoid him if he decided to compromise her. I don’t imagine that Lady Ashton is interested in discharging her wifely duties anymore, and Susan would have been…convenient. A comely lass, of body if not of face.’
‘And temptation got the better of him,’ Salter said with a contemptuous sneer. ‘He doesn’t deserve to get away with it. I hope to God we can prove it.’
‘You and me both, Jack. You and me both.’
Before they could discuss the matter further, Peterson and Harper returned from Bethnal Green.
‘How did the family take the news?’ Riley asked.
‘Surprisingly calmly, sir. There were no tears. In fact, Mr Brown didn’t seem that surprised. He just demanded to know who would pay for the funeral.’
‘Wasn’t the mother overset?’ Salter asked. ‘Susan was her first or second born, I think. Surely she felt something for her.’
‘It seems like a dozen followed her. There were children everywhere and the poor woman was run ragged. But from what she told us, Susan returned home less and less often this past year. To start with she used to return every week on her afternoon off with leftover food from Ashton’s kitchen, which was a treat for such a large family with limited resources. But according to the mother she got too big for her boots and her visits fizzled out.’
‘No friends in the area then?’
‘Unfortunately not, sir, and no one in the family knew of any young men who took an interest in her. When I asked Mrs Brown about that she described her daughter as being plain as a pikestaff with a sour temperament and an inflated opinion of her own self-worth.’
Riley felt a little sorry for the girl. She was certainly very plain, but she was probably lonely and eager to please. It was easy for Riley to image Terrance, his father, or perhaps both of them, using her for their own purposes. Peterson and Harper expressed their astonishment when Riley told them that Susan had been pregnant.
‘Were the family aware of her condition?’ Riley asked.
‘If they were, they kept it to themselves,’ Peterson replied. ‘Probably ashamed of her, but if they did know, it would explain why they didn’t want anything to do with her.’
‘Very likely.’ Riley turned to his sergeant. ‘I forgot to ask you, Salter, did you have a quiet word with Paxton and ask him to obtain samples of both Ashtons’ handwriting?’
‘I did, sir, and he said he would see what he could do.’
‘You impressed upon him the need to keep this between ourselves, I trust. If Farlow finds out there will be hell to pay—and worse, Paxton will find himself out of a job.’
Salter smiled. ‘That young man rather fancies himself as a sleuth, I think, and wants to prove his mettle.’
‘Good. As long as he’s careful.’
‘What now, sir?’ Salter asked.
‘Go home to your families, all three of you,’ Riley replied. ‘It’s late and there’s nothing more we can achieve here this evening.’
Riley himself did not go home immediately. Instead he took a cab through the early evening traffic to Brooks’s Club. He knew the porter there, who was able to confirm that Terrance Ashton had dined there the previous evening. Riley muttered a curse beneath his breath.
‘But he didn’t stay long, my lord. He was here early, straight from his work, I shouldn’t wonder, judging by his attire, and he left again after less than an hour.’
‘Can you recall what time he left?’
The porter scratched his chin as he considered the question. ‘It certainly wasn’t late because the club was still very quiet. That’s why I remember Ashton so well. He made quite a fuss when leaving. Said I’d given him the wrong hat.’ The porter puffed out his chest in an attitude of righteous indignation. ‘As though I would do such a thing. It’s more than my position is worth to muddle one gentleman’s hat with another. Very particular about their headwear are my gentlemen, as you would know yourself, my lord.’
Riley inclined his suitably hatted head and confirmed that indeed he did.
‘Anyway, he realised he’d made an error in the end, apologised and went on his way. It was before seven o’clock, I’m absolutely sure of it.’
Riley thanked him and permitted him to hail a cab on his behalf. A sharp whistle saw an appropriate vehicle stop at the door to the club within seconds. As he climbed into the conveyance and gave the jarvey Mrs Ferguson’s address, his mind was on what he had just learned. Terrance Ashton had caused a disturbance deliberately, he was sure of it, so that the porter would remember that he had been there. But where did he go after that and whom did he meet? Not Susan, because she would have been discharging her duties at Ashton House, most likely helping in the kitchens as the family’s dinner was served.
He would have had to return home at some point to change into evening attire. He had been appropriately dressed when Riley saw him at Lady Bilton’s, but Farlow had told Salter that he hadn’t seen him return to the house and hadn’t helped him change. Murray had already confirmed that there were ways for him to slip into the house unseen, and he could simply have come from the mews and made his way to the terrace. Riley had ascertained that he and Lord Ashton had their own keys to the gate, which was always kept locked. It was still insufferably hot, and all the doors would have been opened onto the terrace to let in any breeze on offer, allowing Terrance multiple points of access to the house itself. He would have known that with the family not at home, the servants would be safely tucked away in their own quarters and that he was unlikely to be seen.
If he was responsible for Susan’s condition, she would have made him aware of it and expected him to do right by her. Riley knew that in similar situations the party responsible often pensioned the girl off, ensuring she had enough to live on to support the bastard child. Either that or she was packed her off to the family’s country estate, where she gave birth away from prying eyes and then took up a position far from the city gossips.
The Ashtons didn’t have a country estate and Terrence wasn’t as well situated financially as his father would have the world believe, so neither solution applied in these particular circumstances. Besides, Susan had romantic ideas and grand expectations. If she fancied herself to be in love and discovered that her feelings were not reciprocated, what would she have done? Her pride would have taken a denting and she would have been desperate for a means of support, to say nothing of revenge. If she had already colluded with Terrance to lure Emily into the music room and to her ultimate death, she was in a perfect position to make demands that Terrance would have no desire to fulfil.
Therefore she had to die, too.
Riley hardened his jaw. He was fairly certain that he now knew the identity of a double—triple—murderer. An innocent baby had died as well, he reminded himself. The devil of it was that he had no way of proving it.
Yet.
He arrived at Mrs Ferguson’s abode, where the door was opened to him by Jute.
‘The mistress isn’t at home, my lord,’ he said. ‘She’s gone to the country for a few days to stay with her husband’s people.’
‘Has she indeed.’ Riley very much doubted that but permitted the lie to go unchallenged. ‘Actually, it was you I came to see. Did you perchance happen to see anyone clamber over the wall into the mews after you returned to them following supper on the night Emily died?’
‘Is that what you think happened? Someone came in and—’
‘Never mind what I think. Just answer the question, if you please.’
Jute gave it some consideration. ‘I can’t say that I did,’ he replied, with a firm shake of the head.
‘Would you have noticed? I’m aware that you have to pass the time somehow during those long waits and likely play cards, or dice. That can be distracting.’
‘Some do, but those mews were crowded, not everyone joins in the gambling and if anyone had come over that wall, one of us would surely have seen him and raised the alarm. All I know is that I saw nothing out of the ordinary and I’m pretty sure that no one else did either.’
Riley thought Jute was telling the truth. They had failed to notice Grant tagging along with them when they went into supper, but he could see how that would have been possible. They’d all had their minds on food and drink. Many of the coachmen had young assistants and Grant could easily have kept his head down and blended in with the throng. For somebody to climb over a locked gate in full view of all the coachmen and their assistants would have been an altogether different matter.
Riley thoughts returned to the missing diary and he considered searching the summerhouse for it then and there. He decided against it. It had been a long day and Riley was feeling the effects of his lack of sleep. It wasn’t vital that he possess the diary immediately since it wouldn’t confirm his suspicions about the identity of the murderer. Besides, an easier way of laying his hands on it sprang to mind, providing him with a legitimate excuse to call upon Amelia.
He thanked Jute and walked the short distance to Amelia’s home. Norris admitted him to a house filled with the melodic sounds of a harp being played with passion and precision.
‘I will inform my mistress that you are here, my lord.’
‘No need to disturb her.’
Riley handed his hat to Norris, walked quietly towards the drawing room and leaned against the open door, watching the slope of Amelia’s shoulders and the way that the evening sunlight streamed through the windows onto her tawny curls. Amelia’s eyes were closed, and her fingers plucked the strings expertly, investing emotion into a Bach sonata that was lyrical, probing and just a touch melancholy. Amelia’s interpretation revealed more of her innermost feelings, Riley suspected, than she intended. There again, she thought herself to be alone. He knew he was intruding but, spellbound by the intensity of her playing, he was incapable of moving.
The final notes faded, Amelia opened her eyes, turned and saw him.
‘Oh,’ she said, blinking. ‘I did not know you were here.’
‘I am disturbing you, for which I apologise. Don’t blame Norris. I rather rudely pushed past him and enjoyed watching you.’
‘You are welcome any time, although I confess I am surprised to see you here now.’ She seemed to shake off the unsettled mood occasioned by her music and smiled at him as she rose to greet him. She wore an attractive, lightweight walking gown with a basque waist and revers collar in shades of blue and turquoise, implying that she had not long returned home after walking in the park. Her sleeves fell half way down her forearms, ending in wide lace cuffs that allowed her freedom of movement to play her instrument. ‘You look tired, Riley. Shall we sit in the garden? Today’s breeze has made the heat more bearable, I think. It gives me hope that this wretched heatwave might finally be about to break. Would you like tea, or something stronger?’
‘Something considerably stronger, if you please.’
‘Ah, it’s been that sort of day, has it? Norris, whisky for his lordship, and I will take a glass of wine.’
Amelia’s skirts swished around her legs as she led the way through open French doors onto a pretty terrace overlooking a garden that was a riot of colour. There was an iron table and chairs situated beneath an arbour and Amelia indicated it with a wave of one hand. Riley waited for her to seat herself and then took the chair next to hers, leaning back in it and feeling the weight of responsibility lift from his shoulders in her undemanding company.
‘What is it?’ she asked, after their drinks had been delivered and Riley had taken a generous sip of his without saying a word.
A warm smile fuelled his eyes. ‘Does there have to be a reason for my visit?’
‘I hope that by now our friendship transcends such customary formalities. Be that is it may, you are in the middle of a murder investigation and under a great deal of pressure to bring the perpetrator to book. Much I would like to think my company is too beguiling for you to resist taking time out from those duties, I know you well enough not to delude myself.’ Her responding smile was full of mischief. ‘You want something from me, so you might as well tell me what it is. Mary has gone to stay with her husband’s family, or so she says, but I don’t believe it for a moment. I imagine she has gone to her paramour instead and is finding comfort in his arms, in which case, good for her.’
‘You’re babbling, Amelia.’
‘Am I? Sophia’s influence must be rubbing off on me. I walked with her in the park this afternoon.’
‘Oh.’ Riley permitted his surprise to show. ‘I was not aware that you two were planning an excursion.’
‘She hinted very strongly that she would like to have, as she put it, a more mature friend in whom to confide.’
Riley guffawed. ‘That’s Cabbage for you. She has yet to learn the meaning of discretion. I hope you were not offended.’
‘Not in the least. I am not so ancient that I don’t recall being fourteen myself, and when I was that age anyone over thirty seemed positively decrepit.’
‘What did the two of you talk about?’
‘Ah well, if I were to tell you that I wouldn’t be a very trustworthy confidante, would I now?’ Amelia responded, a sparkle in her eye.
‘She is not unhappy, I hope. I trust you would tell me if that was the case. Her parents tend to neglect her.’
‘Sophia enjoys life too much ever to be downhearted for long. She is simply experiencing the awkwardness that all girls go through at her age. She’s still half a child hankering after the questionable delights of adulthood. I have invited her to spend the afternoon with me tomorrow. She has expressed an interest in learning to play the harp.’
‘It’s kind of you to indulge her.’
‘I enjoy her company. She makes me feel young again.’ Amelia took a sip of her drink and smiled at Riley over the rim of her glass. ‘As a matter of interest, why do you call her Cabbage? She likes the name very much, by the way. I think it makes her feel special.’
‘She is.’
‘She tells me it’s a form of endearment in France, which of course it is. Mon petit chou.’
‘She was my brother’s first child, and he hoped for a boy. When she was born, the disappointment was considerable and I felt for her. I suppose I took a liking to Sophia because she wasn’t to blame.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘The first time that I saw her she was a few days old, wearing a multi-frilled bonnet and, well, filly everything. Her small face, in the middle of all those frills, was red as she squealed with indignation. She put me in mind of—’
‘One of those frilly cabbages.’
‘Precisely. My relationship with my brother, who is much older than me, had never been congenial. He looked upon me as an inconsequence and took no interest in me whatsoever when I was a child. His wife Celia is cut from the same cloth. I have never cared for her society, but when she looked at her daughter with total disinterest and assured Henry that next time she would give him a son…well, I was disgusted and feared for Sophia’s wellbeing. I was pretty sure that she would be neglected, and from what she tells me, it appears I was right. She has all the material benefits of a girl in her position, but little parental interest is taken in her. Her upbringing has been largely left in the hands of servants and her governess.’
‘You seem to have made quite an impression upon her. She adores you.’
‘She is trying to think of a way for us to be married,’ Riley said, laughing.
‘Undoubtedly. But I have distracted you from your purpose. You didn’t come here to talk about your niece.’
‘I thought you might have heard.’ His light-hearted mood turned sombre. ‘I am no longer investigating one murder, but two.’
‘Heavens! No, I had not heard.’ Amelia looked shocked. ‘I assume the two cases are connected.’
‘Since the second death also occurred at Ashton House, it seems probable.’
‘Another death at the Ashtons? Who?’
‘Susan, the housemaid.’ Riley paused. ‘And I have just learned that she was pregnant.’
‘Oh, the poor, stupid girl!’ Amelia shook her head, truly distressed. ‘But I suppose if one of the Ashtons forced himself upon her…well, we both know that it happens. It ought not to but it does, and the girl involved really has little choice if she wants to keep her position.’
Riley went on to tell Amelia everything he had found out that day, including the clumsy attempt to make Susan’s death appear like suicide.
‘And if anyone other than you had been called in to investigate, it would most likely have been deemed as such.’
‘Probably. Anyway, my assumption is that Susan was attempting to blackmail Terrance when he declined to stand by her and the baby. After all, she supposedly coerced Emily into the music room and then lied to us about her involvement.’
‘How will you prove it?’
Riley lifted one shoulder. ‘I intend to have an expert look at that letter and compare it to both the Ashtons’ hands. Then I shall lean on whichever of them I am told is more likely to have written it.’
‘Will that be enough?’ Amelia appeared dubious. ‘I can’t see either of them confessing and because of who they are, a jury is unlikely to convict without a confession. One would hang and the other would be disgraced. They will stick together and concoct some story that Danforth will make you accept as gospel. All the time Lord Ashton has your superior’s ear, he feels as though he is untouchable.’
‘My chief inspector is currently trying to make me charge Emily’s young man with the crime.’ He went on to explain about Harry Grant and how he had managed to confirm his account of his activities on the fateful night. ‘He is a child prodigy in many respects. Very passionate about his music, and about Emily, but totally unworldly and impractical. And in my opinion totally incapable of murdering anyone. But I haven’t told Danforth that or it will get back to Ashton in double quick time.’
‘You still have the boy in custody?’
‘For his own safety. But I don’t have much time, another day at the most.’ Riley stared at the garden without actually seeing it. ‘At which point I fear the most dreadful miscarriage of justice might happen, and I will be powerless to prevent it.’
‘Grant will be charged with a murder he didn’t commit and poor Susan’s death will be deemed a suicide.’
‘Precisely.’
‘Well then, we can’t allow that to happen.’ Amelia spoke briskly. ‘How can I help? I presume you do need my help, which is why you are here. Or is my whisky of better quality than yours?’
‘You are easier on the eye than Stout.’
She laughed. ‘Your compliments are not very…well, complimentary.’
‘I don’t want to overstep the mark.’
‘Heaven forbid that you should.’
Riley sent her a quizzical look, wondering what she meant by that remark. Wondering at the same time why he had instigated the flirtatious exchange. ‘I keep coming back to the timescale involved in Emily’s murder,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t understand why she waited in the music room for so long, unless Susan offered a compelling reason for her to do so. Even so, we know she was still alive a good twenty minutes after being called from the grounds, because Leith and Murray heard her in there talking to someone.’
‘Murray?’
Riley explained about Leith’s involvement with the young footman and their passionate interlude beneath the terrace.
‘Goodness. I was there all the time and oblivious to the goings-on.’
‘I am very glad you didn’t come across those two,’ Riley said with feeling. ‘I very much doubt if their exchange began and ended with a simple kiss.’
‘Oh, well then, I am doubly sorry that I missed it. I and no prude and I’m sure it would have been educational.’
‘Emily was heard talking to a woman,’ Riley said, shaking his head at a smiling Amelia. She would be the death of him yet, the infuriating tease. He had no intention of discussing the details of sodomy with her, even though he could tell she was amused by his deliberate change of subject. ‘No woman would wait that long for a young man who supposedly loved her to come and declare himself, would she? It would be the height of bad manners to keep her waiting, and would hardly be likely to endear him to her.’
‘In a similar situation, I would not wait five minutes,’ Amelia said.
‘The music that Grant left for Emily to find wouldn’t have delayed her for that long,’ Riley said, preferring not to dwell upon the depressing prospect of another man proposing to Amelia. A small voice inside his head told him there was an easy way to prevent that situation from arising, but Riley wasn’t prepared to consider it quite yet.
Perhaps not ever.
‘Whoever sent for Emily was delayed because the men, one of whom murdered her, were playing billiards?’ she asked.
‘They all agreed that was the case, but something that Leith said this afternoon struck a chord.’ Riley shifted position on his chair and draped one arm negligently along the back of Amelia’s. ‘He said he played Terrance at billiards before going onto the terrace to meet Murray and was thrashed in ten minutes flat. But I actually don’t think that any billiards was played at all. Certainly not any proper games.’
‘They have colluded and agreed to say that it was because they knew suspicion would fall on all of them if they did not. They were in competition for Emily’s favours after all.’
‘Quick on the uptake as always, my darling.’ Amelia looked as surprised at the endearment as Riley himself was when it slipped past his lips. ‘They had plenty of time to agree on a common account before I arrived. Perhaps Lord Ashton insisted upon it. All three young men are dependent upon parental approval and their fathers wouldn’t take kindly to their names being linked to a murder, however tenuously. If I am right, it means that any one of them could have been anywhere at any time after they left the gardens and the company of the ladies.’
‘Yes, I can quite see that. But how will you prove it?’
‘I shall speak with Peter Granville again. He, I am absolutely convinced, had nothing to do with Emily’s death. He is also a solicitor, sworn to tell the truth. If I discover that he is not, I could make life very difficult for him in the legal profession.’
‘You still haven’t explained what you need from me.’
‘Emily’s missing diary.’
Amelia shrugged one slender shoulder. ‘What of it?’
‘Grant mentioned that she often took refuge in the summerhouse at the bottom of the Ferguson’s garden whenever she required solitude.’
‘Of course! How dense of me not to have thought of it before now. She was often in that summerhouse.’ Amelia’s eyes were wide with excitement. ‘You imagine the diary is hidden in there somewhere and would like me to find it for you.’
‘If you can think of a convincing reason to search for it, what with your friend being away. I could go in there myself, of course, but my official presence would arouse suspicion.’
‘Oh, don’t worry. If it’s there I shall find it. I remember very well all the places young girls hide things that are important to them. And Jute will let me in there without asking questions.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You imagine it will give you the proof you require that Emily planned to accept Terrance’s proposal.’
‘But no proof that she actually did so, not if she intended to make her decision that evening at Ashton’s—which is what Grant implied and what compelled him to follow her there. That’s why it isn’t vital that I see it immediately.’
Amelia frowned. ‘But if she planned to accept Terrance, why would Terrance murder her?’
‘Perhaps he didn’t.’ Riley’s face was grim. ‘He was definitely deeply in love with her, but not in a position to save her family’s fortunes. However, a man so violently in love wouldn’t let that deter him. He’d probably convinced himself that the bank’s setbacks were temporary, simply because he’s grown up accustomed to having money and lacks the imagination to suppose it could ever run out. Prudence, I suspect, was advising Terrance on how best to recover their position, without their father’s knowledge. She has more brains and common sense then both the men in her family put together.’
‘I certainly agree with that assessment,’ Amelia said. ‘I feel quite sorry for the poor girl.’
‘Ashton wanted his son to marry a girl with a decent dowry and a better pedigree. He encountered his son on the terrace, presumably just after his proposal had been accepted, and they argued about it. Ashton told Terrance to withdraw said proposal and Terrance refused. So Ashton took matters into his own hands. He tried to persuade Emily not to go ahead, without telling her why. He would never make such a humbling admission to his son’s prospective bride—or anyone at all, for that matter. Emily refused. He grabbed her by the wrist and when she still wouldn’t see reason he lost his temper and punched her in the stomach. We know he has a temper that he can’t always control when someone defies him. He panicked when he realised what he had done and knew Emily wouldn’t keep quiet about it. And so, he quietened her himself. Permanently.’
Amelia paled. ‘I cannot find fault with your logic,’ she said, ‘since I wouldn’t put anything past him. But at this stage everything is conjecture and you have no proof.’
‘Not yet, but there must be something I’ve overlooked. There almost always is.’
The sun had finally gone down and a welcome breeze rustled through the trees that bordered the quiet garden. It was turning into a perfect summer’s night. ‘Will you stay to dine with me, Riley?’ Amelia asked.
‘Tempting though the prospect is, I must decline,’ he said, standing. ‘I want to see if I can catch Peter Granville in his lodgings before he goes out for the evening.’
‘Of course.’ She stood too. ‘I shall search for the diary first thing tomorrow and send word if I find it.’
‘Thank you.’
He grasped her shoulders and dropped a light kiss on her lips, pulling away again before temptation got the better of him and he turned the gesture into something more meaningful. He strode back through the house, collected his hat and walked through the front door that Norris opened for him, conscious of a bemused Amelia watching him go. Her hand, he noticed as he glanced back, was again raised to touch the lips he had just so imprudently kissed. He waved to her, but she remained immobile, not returning his gesture, her shape outlined against the falling light of the summer’s evening.
Riley felt as though he spent half of his working life of late rattling around London in worn-out hansoms. This one deposited him outside Granville’s lodgings in Moon Street where, for a consideration, the jarvey agreed to wait.
Granville opened the door himself in response to Riley’s knock. His man was nowhere in sight.
‘Ah, Lord Riley.’ Consternation flickered through his expression. ‘I thought I would be seeing you again. Come in. How can I help?’
Riley followed the man into his parlour, declining an invitation to sit and another to take refreshment.
‘Why did you lie to me?’ he asked in a stern voice.
‘Lie?’ Granville assessed Riley with a combination of bravado and fear on his face. Riley kept his own expression impassive. ‘What are you implying?’
‘There was no fierce competition at the billiards table, was there?’
Granville paused for a significant moment and then visibly deflated. ‘No, there was not. None of us had the heart for it. We were trying to behave in a civilized manner when all we really wanted to do was bash one another’s brains out in an effort to win Emily, by default if you like.’
‘Whose idea was it to lie about it?’
‘Terrance’s, but I think his father suggested it. I wasn’t happy about it because I knew I had nothing to hide. I didn’t kill the poor girl. But of course I couldn’t prove it and nor could any of the others, who were also proclaiming their innocence. Anyway, the shock wore off and our first thought was then to alibi one another.’
‘Was there are billiards at all?’
‘One frame. Terrance and Michael played. Terrance is by far the best player out of the three of us, but Michael didn’t have his mind on the game and was quickly beaten.’
Riley nodded. Leith had told him the same thing. ‘And after that? Think carefully before you answer me. It’s vital that I know the truth.’ He drilled Granville with an icy look. ‘You don’t need me to tell you that it’s a serious offence to impede a criminal investigation. Being untruthful could affect your career and even cost you your liberty.’
‘I did not…I…’
‘If I had known the truth from the outset, who was where and when, there is every possibility that a young woman might still be alive today.’
Granville looked shocked. ‘Emily, but—’
‘No, not Emily. A maid in Ashton’s household.’
‘Good God!’ He fell into a chair and dropped his head into his splayed hands. ‘Someone else is dead. How? When?’
‘That doesn’t concern you.’ Riley paused. ‘Not now. But there is an outside possibility that your honesty could have prevented her death, and if I prove that is the case I will have you for it.’
Granville looked mortified. ‘This matter is running out of control.’ He looked up at Riley, his features rigid with tension. ‘What do you need to know?’
‘After Terrance and Michael played that one frame, who went where?’
‘I stayed in the billiards room and practiced a few shots. In truth, I was grateful for the peace and quiet. I had no desire to join the older set in the drawing room, I was tired of the polite bickering that had sprung up between the three of us and I knew that I didn’t stand a hope in hell of getting Emily alone. I told you the truth when I said I’d resigned myself to failure in that regard. It seemed to me that she had settled her interest elsewhere, and I don’t mean upon one of us.’
‘What made you so sure about that?’
‘It’s hard to say. She was polite but distant with all of us, I suppose. She treated us all exactly the same. If she had decided to accept one of us, there would have been tell-tale signs.’
‘Very well. You remained in the billiards room the entire time?’
‘Until Terrance came dashing back into the room, as white as a sheet, and told me the dreadful news.’
‘Which is when you decided to lie about your whereabouts?’
‘I didn’t lie,’ Granville replied. ‘I was in the billiards room the entire time, and you won’t find anyone who will say otherwise.’
‘Returning to the time that Leith and Ashton left the room. Did they go together?’
Granville closed his eyes in an effort to recollect. ‘No, Leith went first. Terrance lingered for a while and gave me the benefit of his advice when I miscued a shot. Damned impudence! Anyway, he left shortly after that and I didn’t see him again until the alarm was raised.’ Granville looked up at Riley in a supplicating manner. ‘Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t more forthcoming, but we had a gentleman’s agreement. This doesn’t have to come out, does it? The pater will bust a gut if—’
‘That rather depends upon the willingness of the murderer to confess.’
Riley didn’t intend to offer platitudes that would lessen Granville’s guilt. He was tired of being lied to and manipulated.
They spoke for a while longer but it was evident that Granville had nothing more to say that would help Riley. He returned home to a meal and an early night. Tomorrow, he told himself, he would find a way to get to the truth and bring the murderer or murderers to book.