Chapter Three
The gloomy mews smelled of restless horses that had been cooped up in the heat for too long. The bulk of the house blocked out the gaslights from the streets outside, and the air was thick and humid. Bridles clinked and the muttered conversation from the coachmen told Riley all he needed to know. News of the murder had spread like an epidemic through their ranks. Riley scowled as he opened a gate that gave direct access to the mews. It was unlocked. All conversations stopped when the coachmen noticed Riley and Amelia approaching.
‘I am Detective Inspector Rochester,’ Riley told the dozen or so men. ‘My sergeant, I assume, has taken your names.’
All heads bobbed. There was a brief mutter of assent.
‘Did any of you see anything out of the ordinary at about the time Miss Ferguson was attacked? It would have been at around nine o’clock.’
‘We was all in the kitchen then,’ one of the coachmen said. ‘Supper had finished above stairs and we were invited in to partake of the leftovers.’
‘Convenient,’ Amelia said in an undertone.
Or a deliberate ploy on the part of a very clever murderer, Riley thought. If the man was a paid killer, he would know that the outdoor servants traditionally went into the kitchens to eat once the gentry had been served. Perhaps Lord Ashton’s intruder theory wasn’t so far-fetched after all. Riley had not dismissed the possibility that someone had been paid to murder the poor girl and that his best opportunity to gain access to the grounds unobserved would have through the mews when the coachmen were at supper. Only a couple of them would have been left in charge of the carriages and horses. An assailant could have slipped through the gate, into the gardens and thence onto the terrace without being seen from the mews. Riley turned and walked back to the unlocked gate. He swung it open and closed again. Silence. The hinges were either well maintained or freshly oiled. It was too dark to see them, but he resolved to have them checked at first light.
‘Who summoned you?’ Riley asked.
‘One of Lord Ashton’s footmen,’ their self-appointed spokesman replied. ‘He unlocked the gate and just motioned us all in. We was waiting to be called. Thought we’d been forgotten, so we did, and were sharp set so we didn’t hang about.’
‘Think carefully, all of you. Did the footman relock the gate once you’d all walked through it?’
Riley’s question brought confusion and loud, outright contradictions, resulting in agreement that no one knew for sure. Riley was aware that if he asked the footman in question he would insist that he did relock the gate. He was also aware that just as the aristocrats in the drawing room had banded together against his intrusion, the servants out here would make certain they backed up the footman’s assertion that he had locked the gate, whether he had done so or not. Ashton would be within his rights to dismiss him for dereliction of duty if he had been negligent about security, especially if that negligence could have resulted in the death of a young woman. The mews was shared by the half-dozen houses that had direct access to them. It was an increasingly common economy in an overcrowded city where space was at a premium.
‘Are only Lord Ashton’s horses and his guests’ carriages using the mews tonight?’ he asked.
‘That’s right,’ the loquacious coachman replied. ‘All the other houses what use ’em are closed up for the summer.’
That at least decreased the likelihood of anyone connected to them having taken advantage of the footman’s lapse, if a lapse had taken place. It was possible that the footman might have deliberately left the gate unlocked on someone’s specific instructions. The fact that only Lord Ashton’s house was currently occupied and that an influx of carriages showed he was entertaining might well have attracted the attention of opportunistic ne’er-do-wells.
Or equally opportunistic scoundrels with murder on their minds.
‘Very well,’ Riley said, convinced that the coachmen had told him all they knew, or at least all they were prepared to say in front of others. Experience had taught him that individual interviews after the event often elicited a surprising amount of recently recalled information. ‘Someone will speak with all of you tomorrow to see if there’s anything useful you can add. Something might occur to you that doesn’t seem obvious or relevant at the moment. Have any strangers been seen loitering around, that sort of thing.’ The mews led directly to a passageway that was just wide enough to accommodate a carriage, giving out onto the street through an elaborate archway. There were a hundred places where a person could conceal themselves until the appropriate moment, Riley thought gloomily. ‘In the meantime, not a word to anyone about tonight’s occurrences. I feel sure you are all as anxious as I am to catch the person who—’
‘That we are,’ said the spokesman. His fellow coachmen nodded vigorously.
‘Well then, a word out of place will make it that much harder for my men and me to get to the truth, especially if it’s plastered all over the newspapers.’
‘Some of those journalist chaps tried coming round here. We sent ’em off with a flea in their ear soon enough.’
‘Excellent.’ Riley slapped the man’s meaty shoulder, unsurprised that even tenacious newspapermen on the trail of a juicy story hadn’t dared to tangle with him. ‘Now then, which of you is Mrs Ferguson’s coachman?’
‘That would be me, sir.’
A small wiry man stepped forward, dressed in livery of green and gold. To Riley’s practised eye, it looked second or third hand. That deduction was supported by the fact that one of the man’s coat cuffs was frayed. Another, taller man in a similar uniform joined the first. Riley assumed he was the footman who presence would add necessary protection for two ladies travelling alone through London at night. The footman would be armed and, judging by the fact that he was considerably younger and larger than the driver, well able to look after himself if an altercation arose.
‘Your names?’
‘I’m Lloyd, sir, and this here is Jute.’
‘Very well, Lloyd. You will drive Mrs Cosgrove back to Chelsea now, if you please. I will accompany her.’
‘Right away, sir,’ Lloyd replied, scurrying off to ready his conveyance.
‘Lord, doesn’t Jute look upset,’ Amelia said as Riley helped her into the carriage and climbed in after her. Jute put up the steps and joined Lloyd on the box seat. Riley caught a brief glimpse of his profile in the light cast by the carriage lantern. He was a handsome young man with angled cheekbones, a strong jaw and a shock of thick brown hair curling beneath the brim of his hat. His features were rigid and there was genuine sorrow in the murky depths of his eyes. Jute, unless Riley missed his guess, was another young man who had fallen under Miss Emily Ferguson’s spell, and probably blamed himself for failing to protect her when she had been in dire need of his services.
Lloyd whipped up his horses and the carriage jolted off.
‘The coachmen seem to be taking Emily’s death personally,’ Amelia remarked.
‘Undoubtedly.’
‘Ashton’s attitude makes me ashamed to acknowledge him as a member of the ruling classes. He doesn’t give two jots about poor Emily. All he cares about is his stupid reputation,’ Amelia said with a mutinous scowl. ‘You don’t need me to tell you that Ashton was given a courtesy title by the queen in return for services to the empire. What those services were I can’t begin to imagine…’
‘Ashton is a private banker. At least his father was,’ Riley said. ‘He had a small country bank at the time of the crash in 1825. Ashton was a young man at the time, but it’s said it was he who saw the opportunity to improve the family’s circumstances at a time when men were blowing their brains out because they’d lost everything. He persuaded his father to buy up the debts of those who could be of use to him and…well, the results you saw for yourself tonight. The younger Ashton moved to London and started Ashton’s Investment Bank, using the names of those his father had rescued to gain similar customers. I very much doubt if those debts were ever repaid but that was never Ashton’s intention. Getting a title and a toehold into society was, and he succeeded. Young Terrance is being trained to step into his father’s shoes as chairman of Ashton Investments.’
‘Well, there you are then,’ Amelia replied, twitching her nose in a fashion that implied she was unimpressed. ‘It is as I supposed. He threw his money at the right people to get what he wanted for himself. Lord above knows, no one can accuse Ashton of lacking ambition. I am perfectly sure that he would pay homage to the devil himself it he thought it would advance his prospects. He comes from humble stock but puts on airs and tries to lord it over everyone. It strikes me that those with the most to feel superior about are usually the least pretentious. You are the son of a marquess—’
‘A younger son,’ Riley reminded her mildly.
‘Pah!’ She waved Riley’s assertion aside. ‘You can still trace your family’s lineage back generations, but don’t ever feel the need to shout about it. That is a sign of true nobility.’
Accustomed to Amelia’s propensity to chatter when she was angry or upset, Riley merely nodded at the appropriate points and allowed her to run on. ‘I don’t really need you to escort me home, of course, but I expect you want to pick my brains.’
‘These are dangerous times and a young woman alone at night is unsafe.’
‘Ever the gentleman, Riley. But you forget that I have young Jute on the box seat and I suspect that he and Lloyd are both armed.’
‘Undoubtedly.’ He allowed a small silence to stretch between them, during the course of which he made a mental note to have both coachmen questioned thoroughly. They would have had a unique knowledge of Miss Ferguson’s recent movements. ‘I was unaware that you were especially friendly with Mrs Ferguson.’
‘We are such close neighbours, and with her husband away we find ourselves both alone, so it seems sensible to join forces. We sometimes visit the shops together and if we accept the same invitations she usually offers me a lift.’
‘You enjoy her society. I know you must or you wouldn’t bother with her, neighbour or not.’
‘I seldom bother with people who bore me, that much is true.’ She flashed Riley a smile. ‘And, as you are aware, I bore easily.’
Amelia settled herself more comfortably on the carriage’s rather worn seat, her thigh briefly brushing against Riley’s. He had disregarded the proprieties and sat beside her rather than with his back to the horses. The uneven stuffing in the cushion threw them together constantly. He wondered if the contact had been a deliberate ploy on Amelia’s part, but quickly dismissed that possibility. Amelia was one of the few unattached ladies of his acquaintance who showed no romantic interest in him, which was one of the reasons why he enjoyed her society. He felt safe with Amelia, and if he did occasionally entertain thoughts of taking their friendship further, his duties seldom left him with enough leisure time to act upon that half-formed resolve.
‘Mary Ferguson is easy company, albeit not the sharpest of minds,’ Amelia continued. ‘But I do know that she loved her daughter to distraction and had pinned all her hopes on her making a good match.’ She sighed. ‘Poor Mary. I cannot imagine how she will recover from this tragedy.’
‘She will need a friend at her side, at least until her husband returns.’
Amelia wrinkled her nose again. ‘And more so when he does. But of course I will do all I can to help her through these initial days.’
Riley peered at her profile in the dim interior of the carriage. ‘What did you mean by your comment about her husband?’
‘I don’t care for him, since you ask. He rather sets me in mind of Lord Ashton. He is bombastic and domineering. Not that Mary ever said as much, of course, but I saw them together a few times before he left for India and could tell immediately that he is the most dreadful bully.’
‘With Emily, too?’
‘No,’ she replied in a considered tone. ‘Not that I am aware. I think he sees…he saw the value of her beauty and sweet nature and viewed her as a commodity who would seal his family’s fortune, nothing more. Emily seemed to adore him and was always doing little things to try and please him. In terms of temperament, I would consider Ferguson capable of causing Emily’s death—although he is in India, and is the last person who would have anything to gain from her demise. Quite the reverse, in fact.’
‘Unless Emily had decided to marry a penniless poet.’
‘I don’t think she knew any. Besides, Emily would never defy her family’s wishes. She simply didn’t have it in her.’
Riley didn’t contest that statement, but he was well aware that even the most dutiful of daughters could be persuaded to put her own interests ahead of those of her family if she was passionately in love. ‘What else can you tell me about her?’ he asked instead. ‘I wonder why she didn’t accept an offer at the end of her season. She must have received several.’
‘She did. All three of the young men at Ashton’s this evening made her offers, as a matter of fact.’
‘Did they, by gad! And she turned them all down?’ Riley was astonished. ‘Terrance is a bit of a prig, but a very wealthy prig.’
‘Quite. Mary Ferguson confided in me that she hoped Emily would have a change of heart in that regard. As you have probably observed, the family are not well situated. I expect you’ve noticed that this carriage isn’t exactly the last word in luxury,’ she added as they were again jolted on springs that no longer sprang. ‘It’s old and overdue for replacement but I don’t think there are sufficient funds in the family’s coffers. I do know that Emily’s dowry is small but I think her mama hoped that her beauty would attract a rich suitor whose interest in her wasn’t pecuniary.’
‘So they were pinning all their hopes on their daughter.’ Riley lifted one shoulder. ‘Ferguson is a viscount’s younger brother, I think, which gives him the edge on Ashton and his courtesy title, so I can’t see Ashton objecting if his son offered for her.’
‘But I can see him taking exception to Emily if she had the temerity to reject his son’s proposal.’ Amelia clicked her tongue. ‘He is such a snob, and I wouldn’t put it past him to have arranged it, if only because his son was besotted and probably not paying full attention to increasing the Ashton fortunes.’
‘Why did you accept your invitation tonight, as a matter of interest?’ Riley asked, endlessly amused by the forthright manner in which Amelia expressed her views. ‘I know you dislike Ashton, so why put yourself through it?’
‘Oh, I didn’t intend to but Mary begged me to bear her company. Emily is…was a proficient pianist and Mary was keen for her to show off her skill. Of course, we all knew that her real purpose was to try and persuade her to change her mind about Terrance. Ha, as though the prospect of being related to Ashton and living beneath that horrible man’s roof would sway such a sweet young thing.’
‘Having access to a large fortune brings out ambitions in the most unlikely people. Besides, I dare say Ferguson sent instructions regarding his daughter’s choice of a husband from India. And if his wife is as cowed by his opinions as you imply then she would be anxious to comply with those instructions.’ Riley took a moment to gather his thoughts. ‘Were Emily and her mother on good terms?’
‘They appeared to be so, but for Emily’s unwillingness to marry for money. Anyway, if they argued, which I doubt because they are both too sweet-natured to remain opposed for long about anything, then I wasn’t a-party to those disagreements.’
‘Everyone who has mentioned Emily Ferguson in my hearing agrees that she was a lovely girl, not given to vanity and eager to please.’
‘Which is unusual, I quite agree with you, but true for all that. Most females as lovely as Emily get carried away by all the praise heaped upon them and give themselves airs. But Emily wasn’t like that. She really was a naturally modest girl who found something to interest her in everyone she met.’
‘But does it not follow that if she knew of her family’s straightened circumstances, she would have been keen to make life easier for them by marrying a wealthy man.’
‘Mary told me that she had promised she would marry, and do so soon.’
‘She had a gentleman in mind?’ Riley asked, sitting a little straighter.
‘Not that I am aware. It was said more, I think, to reassure her mother that she knew her duty and wouldn’t neglect it indefinitely. She was probably enjoying being feted too much to rush into matrimony, sensible girl that she was. She might have remained modest but no one will convince me that she didn’t enjoy the attention. Her mother’s drawing room is like a hothouse, with all the flowers that arrive daily.’
‘Hmm.’ Riley subsided into momentary thought. ‘Was she especially close to any other young women? Someone whom she might have confided in if she had settled her interest upon a particular gentleman? Girls tend to trade secrets, do they not?’
‘Why ask me? My days of being a girl are long behind me.’
‘Amelia!’
‘Sorry,’ she replied, not sounding the least bit sorry. ‘Most of the girls she came out with have gone to the country for the summer.’
‘Gloria Dalton has not.’
‘Her family live permanently in London since her father is something to do with the government. She has spent a fair amount of time with Emily since the others left the city, come to think of it. I have seen them with their heads together on several occasions, although they weren’t as close beforehand. But I don’t suppose Gloria enjoyed being seen beside Emily since she wouldn’t get her share of the attention. She is not unattractive, but when directly compared to Emily…’ Amelia let the sentence trail off, and the two of rode in silence for a few moments—a silence broken only by the creaking of the coach and the clop of the horses’ hooves, muffled in the heavy night air.
‘And yet Miss Dalton has her sights set upon Terrance,’ Riley said eventually. ‘The field will be clear for her to comfort him now.’
‘I noticed her watching him this evening, but I don’t think her interest registered with Terrance. His entire attention was for Emily.’ Amelia sighed, falling against Riley’s shoulder as the carriage hit a pothole. Riley put out a hand to steady her and was slow to withdraw it from her slender shoulder. ‘The games the young must play. How glad I am to be beyond all that nonsense.’
Riley chuckled. ‘You are positively an old crone.’
‘There are advantages to being widowed at a relatively young age. I have freedom, financial independence, and can do more or less as I please without raising eyebrows.’
‘I cannot imagine you ever not doing so, regardless of the circumstances.’
Amelia’s short marriage was not a subject they had ever discussed in great depth. Riley hadn’t met Cosgrove but knew the marriage had been arranged for Amelia by her family and that they had exchanged vows the moment Amelia reached seventeen. She spoke of her late husband with no signs of regret, leading Riley to suppose that there had been little love lost between them. Perhaps her experience of marriage had not been a happy one, since she maintained a cynical attitude to matrimony and appeared reluctant to repeat the experience.
Riley examined his feelings, wondering how he would feel if Amelia suddenly declared her intention to remarry. He decided he wouldn’t be at all happy about it, and realised for the first time that the wriggling worms of jealousy were ugly, tenacious and persistently inconvenient little beasts. But since, to the best of his knowledge, Amelia had no plans to reembrace matrimony Riley decided not to torture himself by dwelling upon the possibility. Whoever became his wife—if indeed anyone ever did—would soon discover that Riley’s job was his mistress. She would need to be independent, adaptable and willing to cope with prolonged absences without falling into ill-temper or feeling resentful. She would need to be someone rather like Amelia…
‘I felt a little out of place this evening.’ Amelia’s voice recalled Riley’s wandering attention. ‘I wanted to stroll outside once supper was over to take the air and remove myself from the tedious conversation of the older set. But I thought the young ones might think I was trying to chaperone them.’ Amelia gave a little laugh. ‘It was not that long ago that I required the services of a chaperone myself, and went to extreme lengths to escape from them.’
‘Do tell,’ Riley encouraged.
‘Not a chance! Adolescent indiscretions are generally excruciatingly embarrassing and ought never to be revisited.’ She sent Riley a sparkling smile. ‘Anyway, in the end, I compromised by wandering off to the end of the terrace on my own and leaving the children to play their games unobserved.’
‘Did you see Emily return to the music room alone?’
‘No, I was round the corner.’
‘Shame. Did you hear the woman who called her name?’
‘Actually, yes. She called several times, quite loudly. Well, it must have been loud because I was a distance away and wouldn’t have heard otherwise.’
‘Did the voice call for Emily or Miss Ferguson?’
‘Emily.’ Amelia thought for a moment and then nodded decisively. ‘Definitely Emily.’
‘Did you recognise the voice? Was it Mrs Ferguson’s?’
Amelia thought for a moment and then shook her head. ‘Sorry, but I can’t honestly say that it was. Although, I cannot think of anyone else present who would have addressed her so informally, other than the rest of the young ladies and they were with Emily at the time.’ She gave a wry little smile. ‘Not terribly helpful, am I.’
‘You are helping more than you realise.’ Riley looked out of the window for a moment as he considered his next question. His mouth was parched and dry, and his eyes felt as though someone had thrown dust in them. Symptoms of fatigue, he knew from experience. The streets were largely deserted but the air that wafted into the carriage through the open window was still cloyingly hot. He sensed a subtle change from the unrelenting humidity and lived in hope that the long heatwave would soon break. But perhaps it was just the lateness of the hour, which would soon become the earliness of the day. ‘Were there are tensions amongst the young men this evening?’ he asked, returning his attention to their discussion.
‘What do you mean by tensions? There are always subtle tensions at these events.’
‘I’m a humble policeman clutching at straws, Amelia. Indulge me.’
Amelia laughed. ‘There is absolutely nothing humble about you.’
It would be so easy to turn their conversation down a flirtatious path, but Riley resisted, mindful of the fact that he had a murder to solve. ‘If the three young men in attendance this evening had offered for Emily and had not abandoned hope of winning her regard, presumably there was a degree of not-so-friendly rivalry amongst them to have her to themselves. You just referred to the stratagems young people invent in order to have a few snatched minutes alone. I cannot persuade myself that something of that nature wasn’t attempted this evening.’ He thought of the two almost empty champagne glasses in the music room. ‘Musical evenings are, as you know, often dreary and almost always excruciatingly painful. I imagine only the knowledge that Emily was to attend this one managed to persuade our three lovesick swains to present themselves. There are more congenial amusements on hand for the young, rich and unattached.’
‘You are far too quick on the uptake for my liking—and you are right, as usual.’ Amelia flashed a mischievous smile. ‘All three of them trailed behind Emily like puppy dogs. I thought they would resort to fisticuffs when it came to deciding which of them would turn the pages for her when she played the piano.’
‘Much to Miss Dalton’s dismay, no doubt.’
‘Well yes, none of them were nearly so keen to provide the same service for her.’
‘Which cannot have gone down well with Gloria. Which of them did the honours?’
‘For Gloria?’ Riley nodded. Amelia closed her eyes in an effort to recollect. ‘Mr Granville, I think.’
‘She wouldn’t be the first young woman to convince herself that if her rival was out of the way, the path to true love would be clear for her.’
‘Good heavens! Surely a woman didn’t commit the crime? Oh lud, I sound like Ashton but really, if she was strangled—’
‘Someone with a great deal of passion committed the crime…or commissioned it.’
‘Well yes. As you say, it wasn’t a spur of the moment act, despite Ashton’s determination to make it appear so.’
‘It seems convenient that everyone can account so precisely for their whereabouts at the vital time.’ Riley thought of Danforth’s delay in calling him in and cursed. His superior’s tactics had provided Ashton and his guests with ample time to recover from their shock and perfect their stories. ‘The young men were all playing billiards and the girls had returned to the drawing room. That requires further investigation,’ he said, thinking aloud.
‘I wish I could be of more help. If I had known poor Emily was going to die, I would have taken a great deal more notice of where everyone was at the vital time.’
‘You have helped immeasurably.’ Riley paused. ‘Ashton discovered the body, so he tells me.’
‘Yes, I think he wandered outside with the intention of smoking a cigar. Either that or he was snooping on the young people.’
‘But the men were playing billiards and, presumably, the young ladies had returned to the drawing room.’
‘To be honest, Riley, I can’t recall where everyone was. When Ashton and Terrance broke the news to us—’
‘Terrance?’ Riley spoke sharply. ‘Ashton led me to believe it was he who discovered the body. Besides, Terrance would have been playing billiards with the other two.’
Amelia lifted a shoulder. ‘Sorry, I didn’t stop to think. The shock, you understand. My attention was all for Mary, who fainted when she heard the news.’
‘Of course.’ But still, Riley thought, he had already established that not everyone had been where they said they were. At least not all of the time. ‘Did Ashton try to tell you all what to say to me when I arrived?’
‘Not in my hearing. I went upstairs with Mary and helped her into bed. Then I stayed with her until the doctor came to give her a sedative.’
‘Which meant you were away from the others for some time.’
‘Yes, I suppose I was.’ Amelia turned gleaming eyes upon Riley. ‘Do you imagine they are all in league somehow? One of them committed the murder in a fit of pique and the rest of them are covering up for him?’
‘You have an overactive imagination. I would say it was unlikely. Even so, Ashton will have told everyone what to say in order that the least possible culpability attaches to his name.’
Amelia pursed her lips in disapproval. ‘Almost certainly, but we shall not allow Ashton’s pride to stand in the way of justice.’
Riley flexed a brow. ‘We?’ he asked.
‘Well, of course. I assume you require my help, Riley. After all, I was actually there and I am the only person who appears as keen as you are to establish the truth. The others just want to pretend the murder didn’t happen and distance themselves from it as quickly as they can. Good, I’m glad we are agreed,’ she added, even though she hadn’t paused for long enough to permit Riley to accept her offer of assistance. But for Riley, the excuse to spend time in Amelia’s beguiling company, regardless of her ability to help with his investigation, was more enticing than it ought to have been, making the decision for him. ‘I shall apply my mind to the events of the evening, simply to be of service to you.’
Riley smiled, sorely tempted to kiss the smile from her lips. ‘As always, I am obliged to you.’
The carriage came to a halt outside Amelia’s house. Riley waited for Jute to jump down and lower the steps before alighting and helping Amelia down.
‘Will you come in?’ Amelia invited. ‘I know it’s late but—’
‘Best not. I have an early start tomorrow. If you intend to be home in the morning—’
‘I thought I would return to the Ashtons. As you reminded me earlier, Mary will need a familiar face.’
‘That’s thoughtful of you. Lloyd,’ he said, turning to the jarvey. ‘Have the goodness to collect Mrs Cosgrove at eleven in the morning and return her to Ashton House. Remain there until I arrive. I shall wish to speak with you both,’ he said, encompassing Jute with his eyes.
‘Right you are, sir.’
The carriage drove off, leaving Riley and Amelia on her doorstep. He lifted her gloved hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. ‘I shall see you tomorrow and have someone take your official statement. Since we are friends it had best not be me.’
‘Am I a suspect?’ she asked. ‘How exciting.’
Riley’s lips twitched. ‘You are top of my list,’ he told her.
He waited until her door had been opened by her servant to admit her safely and then turned to saunter home. He covered the short distance to Sloane Street deep in thought about the impossible murder Danforth expected him to solve.
Or very possibly hoped that he would fail to solve, giving him the opportunity Riley knew he was waiting for to scupper his career.