Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

WHITE'S CLUB

L ewis handed the footman at White's his card. "I am meeting Lord Soothcoor here for dinner," he said softly, with his winningest smile. He knew the footman was staring at his card, wondering if he should be let in as the card identified him as a Bow Street agent. He looked Lewis up and down, then back at the card. He handed the card to the club's butler.

Lewis knew his attire was fitting for the club. After the inquest, he'd gone back to his house to check on Daniel and write his reports for the Duke of Malmsby and Lord Soothcoor. He hadn't been there long when he received a note from the Earl of Soothcoor, asking him to meet him at White's for dinner and a discussion of a direction for the investigation.

He dressed in gray trousers and a dark blue cut-away jacket. His waistcoat was a blue, gray, black, and white jacquard print. His cravat was tied elegantly, but not too high. He wore one fob which connected to his pocket watch tucked into the left front pocket of his waistcoat. What they couldn't see, and would get him expelled, was the small arms pistol tucked at the small of his back. A muff pistol typically carried by a lady, but a size he'd found handy when wearing the fashionable cut-away jacket.

"Certainly, Mr. Martin, Lord Soothcoor is expecting you," the butler said.

Lewis nodded and handed the footman his greatcoat, hat, and gloves, then followed the butler through the main gathering room.

"Lord Soothcoor has reserved a private dining room; it is over this way," the butler said, as they walked among various pieces of furniture.

Suddenly a young man stood up, stepping out of the circle of his friends seated near the fireplace. "Lewis, what are you doing here?" the man asked, his tone belligerent.

Lewis stopped and turned in his direction. Why now, and why here, he thought. Jack Rockwell, Earl of Harleigh— and his half-brother. "Lord Harleigh," he said, bowing in his direction.

"You don't belong here," Harleigh said.

"Not as a member, no. Lord Soothcoor requested I meet him here. The butler is conducting me to him now." Lewis started to turn away.

"Oh God, now I'll have to see your ugly phiz at dinner. Quite ruin my appetite."

Lewis stopped, turned back, and laughed. "Not to worry, Brother, the butler has informed me Lord Soothcoor has secured a private dining room."

"Brother!" another man said. "Didn't know you had a brother, Jack— Has kind of the look of you though, through the chin and lips and that blond hair of yours, of course."

"He does not!" Harleigh denied.

"Why haven't we seen you about, before?" another man asked.

"Mr. Martin, is there a problem?" the Earl of Soothcoor said from the door to the private parlor.

"My brother has taken exception to seeing me here in his club."

"Half-brother!" Jack insisted. "Half."

"Ah," the first man who spoke said. "By-blow," he said sagely.

Lewis grinned at them all, raised a hand in farewell, and walked toward Soothcoor.

"I am sorry about that scene, my lord."

"Nonsense. I've sensed the connection since I met you. You resemble your father more than he does."

"Thank you, my lord. I take that as a compliment. The earl was a good father despite circumstances. Jack and I were raised together, and everything was fine until Father died."

"I take it the countess always resented you and turned her son against you?"

"Yes, especially as my father left me a competence. Not done, you know, leaving a competence to a by-blow," Lewis said with a smile.

"I had nearly the same situation happen to me, only my father was married to my mother. There was a time when my stepmother would have been happy if I and my next brother would have died so her prodigy could inherit. Thankfully, circumstances have occurred for her to learn the error of her ways," he said drily.

Lewis laughed. "No chance of that happening with the Dowager Countess of Harleigh and her son."

"Their loss. I am honored to know you, Mr. Martin."

"Thank you, my lord," Lewis said, bowing to the earl.

"Let's have dinner before we get down to murder discussions. Better for our digestion," Soothcoor wryly observed, as he sat down at the table and waved for Lewis to join him.

Their dinner conversation was surprisingly lively. Lewis found himself admiring the earl for his charitable interests, which seemed to be far-reaching and varied.

"How do you support so many charitable causes?" he finally asked, as the servants cleared away their dinner and left them with a bottle of brandy on the table.

Soothcoor smiled slightly as he leaned back in his chair. One strand of his straight, black-and-silver hair fell over his eyes. He pushed it away. "Guilt," he said.

"Guilt? What have you to be guilty of?" Lewis asked.

Soothcoor laughed. "Not me, my dear fellow, my peers in the House of Lords, primarily. If I can't get them to provide the government money needed to help people struggling to live, I get it from their own pockets," he said. "I'm sure I would have more to work with if I had government funds; however, I will take from their personal coffers just as readily— And once a year I publish the accomplishments and challenges of the charities and list the benefactors. No one wants their name missing from my list."

Lewis laughed. "Well done. But I suppose we must finally get down to business, as distasteful as it is. What was your opinion of how the inquest went today after Mr. Gedney supplied new jurors?" Lewis asked.

Soothcoor compressed his lips as he shook his head. "I was extremely disappointed in Dr. Brogan. He does not manage Mr. Gedney appropriately."

Lewis nodded. "I agree. However, I believe the problem is he doesn't know how to. I don't think Dr. Brogan wanted to be the coroner; he was more or less forced into the position. He is a doctor, not a legal professional, and doesn't understand the legal profession and what should be done in the case of a murder such as Mrs. Southerland's. He is not a bad man, just without knowledge."

Soothcoor nodded. "And, as he inherited Gedney with his position, he has used— without question— Gedney to tell him how things need to go on."

"Truth from the mouth of Mr. Reginal Gedney," Lewis said, raising his glass.

Soothcoor snorted. He took a sip of brandy. "Is there a coroner in London from whom Dr. Brogan could learn?"

Lewis rubbed his chin as he thought. "I don't deal with coroners throughout London, but maybe Mr. Vincenze in the City."

"I'll make the suggestion to Dr. Brogan," Soothcoor said. "I am not satisfied with the inquest closing on the verdict: Death by Misadventure by person or persons unknown."

Lewis agreed. "But now that the inquest is over, a real investigation can begin."

"Without Mr. Gedney," the earl said.

"Yes." Lewis took his notebook and a pencil out of his jacket pocket, opened it, and laid it on the table in front of him. "What can you tell me about Mrs. Southerland's past?" Lewis asked.

"You think the murderer could be someone from her past?" the earl asked.

"That is one of several areas that should be explored— to some degree or another."

Soothcoor frowned. "Explain, please, the areas to explore."

"Mrs. Southerland was wearing Lady Guinevere's short cape. It was made in Austria and has distinctive embroidery along the edge."

"Are you suggesting Lady Guinevere was the intended victim? What about the height difference between them?"

"No, I'm not suggesting that; I'm saying it is one of the areas that must be investigated, as Malmsby has received threatening letters from individuals afraid of the new inventions he champions."

"Luddites?"

Lewis shook his head. "No, but probably those who would follow in the footsteps of the Luddites. And, what was not mentioned at the inquest is that Mrs. Southerland had been standing on the first step when she was attacked. It wouldn't have made her as tall as Lady Guinevere, but taller than she is."

"Ah, now I comprehend why this area of possibility can't just be dismissed."

"Then, there is the possibility Mr. Simmons did cause someone to take such a dislike to Mrs. Southerland and her house that they took the matter in their own hands to dispatch her, and the last possibility is— of course— a footpad. Of all the scenarios I have put forward, the last is the least likely, to my mind; however, it must be examined, and based on the witness testimony this afternoon, Mrs. Southerland's neighbors did not take exception to what she did."

"Two gentlemen came over to me privately afterward to let me know they each had a servant at their house that came from Mrs. Southerland's, and they thought them excellent help," Soothcoor said.

"I believe that, after talking to Lady Guinevere. They took seriously their calling to educate these women for success— whether that be in service or in a shop."

Soothcoor nodded. "If you wish to know more about Mrs. Southerland's past, the best person for you to talk to is my stepmother's former housekeeper at Soothcoor Mansion. She contacted me yesterday and offered she take charge of Mrs. Southerland's House for Unfortunate Women until I can find a replacement. Under the circumstances, you can imagine my delight in the offer."

Lewis's brow's furrowed and his frown deepened. "Someone has already approached you to step in to help? Did this person know Mrs. Southerland well?"

Soothcoor laughed. "Fairly well! She is her sister-in-law! Her brother was Mr. Southerland. As Mrs. Southerland was her sister-in-law, she said she knew how things worked at the charity house. She is also the person who recommended Mrs. Southerland to me."

Lewis straightened, pleased. "That is excellent news. And she may well be just the person to help us decipher the note Mrs. Southerland wrote before she left."

"What do you mean ‘decipher the note'?" Soothcoor asked.

"After Mrs. Southerland received the note mentioned at the inquest, she hurried to leave. First, however, she wrote a note using a pencil. She was so excited, she pressed hard on the under paper. Lady Guinevere was able to shave pencil graphite over it to pull out some of what was written."

"You did not mention this at the inquest."

"No," Lewis replied.

Soothcoor looked at him silently.

Lewis explained, "Neither Lady Guinevere nor I believe Mr. Gedney would act upon this information as it is incomplete. However, once it was presented at the inquest, it would become a matter of record, and we might lose any advantage we might gain from having this partial note."

"May I see it?" asked the earl.

"Certainly, my lord." Lewis removed the paper which he had protected between blank pieces of paper, from an inner jacket pocket. He handed it to Soothcoor.

My darling, yes! I have p ayed for his. I don't know wheth r t lau or cry. Take this note to butler at venor Squa . He'll s th t e. Foll i n ucti

"When she first started writing she pressed harder than when she continued. This is all that came through with the graphite," Lewis explained.

"The Grosvenor Square address could be the Soothcoor Mansion," Soothcoor said slowly. "However, the house is vacant. No servants are there. That is where my stepmother primarily resided until last spring. Now she makes her Appleton Estate her primary residence, though it is seven miles outside of London. I have decided to sell the Grosvenor property. Lilias and I are looking to purchase a smaller house on Berkley Square."

"Would Mrs. Southerland have known this?" Lewis asked.

"I don't know. She did know that Lady Soothcoor and I have been living in Lilias's townhouse that she had before our marriage."

"Can you think of anyone else whose house is in Grosvenor Square that might be where Mrs. Southerland would send someone?"

"No. This might also be a question for the sister-in-law who has temporarily taken over the charity."

"Yes, you mentioned her before. What is her full name?" Lewis asked, pulling his notebook toward him.

"Miss Millie Southerland."

Lewis looked up. "She never married?"

"No." Soothcoor held up the paper Lewis had handed him to the candlelight. "A few more letters can be seen that could not be captured by the graphite."

My darling, yes! I have prayed for this. I don't know wheth r t laug or cry. Take this note to butler at Gro venor Squa e. He'll see th t e. Follow his instructi ns

"That does fill in a few places but not enough to know the intention. I am curious by the salutation," Lewis said.

"As am I," agreed the earl.

"I will call upon Mrs. Southerland's house tomorrow to speak with Miss Southerland."

"I suggest you take Lady Guinevere with you, or she is liable to sneak out to go there on her own. I don't envy Malmsby trying to keep track of her," Soothcoor said drily.

Lewis nodded. "I will do so. Thank you for dinner this evening." He rose from his chair. Soothcoor followed him to the door. "I know you will be expecting regular updates. So will Malmsby. Will it concern you if I copy one letter for the two of you?"

"Nonsense," Soothcoor said as he opened the door. "Do what is more expeditious; however, I will expect to hear from you tomorrow."

"And so you shall, my lord," Lewis said, bowing to the earl.

In the main room, his half-brother, Jack, still sat at his table, his cronies gone to other activities. It was obvious to Lewis that Jack was well into his cups.

"Come, Jack. Let me see you home."

"I don't need your help."

"Maybe not. At least let me be your escort."

"Escort? I don't need an escort," he protested.

"Yes, you might, from footpads who take advantage of drunk members of the peerage."

"I'm not drunk," his brother protested, as Lewis helped him to his feet. He hiccupped then stumbled, trying to get his feet underneath himself. "You don't have it all, you know," he said slyly.

"Come on, easygoing," said Lewis. He signaled to a hovering waiter to assist him. Together they got Jack to the entrance hall where a footman took over from the waiter and helped Lewis get Jack's coat on him.

"Hail a hack, please."

"Immediately, sir," said the footman. He left the door open as he ran down the steps to hail the hack, then came back to help Lewis get him downstairs, out the door, and up into the carriage.

"I can walk," Harleigh protested, trying to pull away from Lewis. "Never talked to old Scruthers, did you?" Harleigh laughed. "Mother saw to that." He started to slide off the carriage seat. Lewis pulled him up and sat next to him, holding him in place.

"Does Lady Harleigh still live with you?" Lewis asked.

Harleigh snorted, his head lolling around. "As if I could get rid of her. Doesn't like my wife. Too bad. I love Cornelia!" Jack exclaimed loudly, he hiccupped, then his head dropped to his chest, and he began to snore.

Lewis wondered what Jack had been talking about, saying he didn't have it all, then mentioning Mr. Scruthers, his father's solicitor, and saying his mother prevented Mr. Scruthers from speaking to him. Mr. Scruthers wrote to ask how and where he wanted the funds invested from his inheritance, but Lewis had not been invited to the reading of the will, nor had he visited Mr. Scruthers.

He leaned his head back against the seat cushions. A mistake? And why had Jack been so antagonistic at White's? Typically, if they ran into each other, head bows were exchanged, but no words, which had suited Lewis. Lewis rubbed his forehead. He was tired this night after staying up late in Daniel's room, watching over the boy. He needed sleep.

When they reached the Earl of Harleigh's London house, the coachman helped Lewis get Jack out of the carriage and up the front steps.

Lewis rang the bell several times before it was answered.

"Your master enjoyed himself a bit much this evening," he said with a grunt, as he guided Jack's nearly limp form into the house as the coachman ran back to his carriage.

An older woman came down the stairs holding a candle. "You! What did you do to my son?"

"I brought him home."

"How dare you ply him with drinks." Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. "What was your intent you hateful, devious creature?"

"What's going on?" said a pretty, younger woman coming down the stairs.

"Nothing," the older woman said. "Go back to bed, Cornelia."

The younger woman in a pink dressing gown ran lightly down the stairs, ignoring the older woman. "Jack! Jack!" She cupped his face in her hands. She looked at Lewis. "Is he hurt," she asked, worriedly.

Lewis shook his head. "Not at the moment, but no doubt he will have a devil of a head in the morning."

"Oh, drunk," she said, stepping back. She looked at him sadly.

"If I step away from him, he will fall to the floor. Do you have footmen or grooms to carry him upstairs?" Lewis said, as he maneuvered Jack against the wall.

"I shall get Gurney and Ross," said the butler. He disappeared into a back hallway.

"Was he at a… a…" the woman tried to ask, blushing.

"He was at White's with some of his friends," Lewis said. This woman must be his wife. She was a pretty little thing. He hadn't realized his half-brother had married; however, since their father had died, they had not been close. Looked like Jack had done well.

The woman's brow furrowed, looking at him as if seeing him for the first time since he'd arrived with Jack. "You look like Jack," she said, confusion evident in her blue eyes and on her porcelain complexion.

"Yes," Lewis said. He didn't want to say more. He didn't know what, if anything, Jack would want to say about their relationship.

"He is just another blond guttersnipe," the dowager Ccountess said, sneering. She locked her arms across her chest. "What is it you want, Mr. Martin. Whatever it is, you will get nothing!"

"I wanted to ensure Jack got home safely, my lady, whether you choose to believe that or not. Ah, here are your servants to carry Jack to bed."

The two burly manservants went under Jack's arms to half carry him, half lead him upstairs.

"Thank you," Lewis said as he stepped away. "Now that you have him, safe at home, I shall take my leave."

He opened the front door. Behind him, he heard his stepmother mutter, "Good riddance."

"Mama, why?" he heard Jack's wife ask as the door closed behind him.

He looked up and down the street. The carriage was gone, and this was not a street hacks traveled for fares. "No good deed goes unpunished." He pulled his scarf up higher on his neck and pulled his hat down. Tucking his gloved hands in his pockets, he began to walk the two blocks to a busier thoroughfare and hopefully an empty carriage.