Part 2 (2/2)
”Where did you hear that?”
”You always tell me to listen to servants' gossip. The Running Footman where a lot of them drink is an amazing source of information.”
”I suggest you take yourself there this evening and try to find out what you can about the family.”
”May I have some money to entertain, sir?”
”Of course,” said Harry, hurriedly pulling out his wallet. He drew out a large white five-pound note. ”Will this be enough?”
”More than enough. I will bring you the change.”
”You may keep any change for further bribery.”
”Do you think, sir, that Lady Rose and Miss Levine will be safe?”
”Why?”
”The murderer may think that Miss Tremaine told Lady Rose much more than she actually did.”
Harry s.h.i.+fted uneasily. ”I am sure they will be all right. I wonder about Lord Berrow. He's in his fifties, is he not?”
”I believe so. He is a widower. Gossip says he drove his wife to an early grave with his womanizing.”
”Indeed! So what was saintly Dr. Tremaine about to even consider handing his daughter over to such a man?”
”Lord Berrow is very rich.”
”Ah. Do you not find our society very corrupt, Becket?”
”It is not for me to say. Will you be going out this evening?”
”Yes, I may as well call on my fiancee. Her father has accused me of neglect.”
Harry had to wait quite a long time while the earl and countess argued over whether he should see their daughter. ”I was hoping this deuced engagement would just fizzle out,” said the earl.
”We should have sent Rose to India. Mrs. Fanshawe's daughter, who is mortally plain, went out and secured the affections of Colonel Brady. Nonetheless, perhaps if Rose sees more of Captain Cathcart, she will realize her folly. She does seem to be forming a tendre for Sir Peter.”
And so they discussed and argued while Harry paced up and down the hall.
At last he was summoned and told that he might have fifteen minutes alone with Rose, provided the door of the drawing-room stayed open.
Before leaving them, Lady Polly watched as Harry rushed forward and, seizing Rose's hands in his, kissed them both. When she had gone, Rose, blus.h.i.+ng, s.n.a.t.c.hed her hands away and demanded, ”What do you want?”
”I am concerned for your safety. As Becket has just pointed out to me, your life might be in danger. Do be very careful.”
”I am tired of being careful,” snapped Rose. ”I am tired of dressing and undressing and sitting down to enormous banquets which might alleviate some of the misery of the poor of London.”
”I thought you might be interested in finding out the ident.i.ty of the murderer?”
Rose's blue eyes lit up with sudden interest.
”How could I do that?”
”This Lord Berrow. If I go to interview him, he will probably clam up. But if you were to meet him socially and start to talk about poor Dolly, then he might tell you more than he would tell either me or Kerridge.”
In Scotland Yard, Kerridge was being told that his application to search the rector's town house had been refused and he also got a blistering lecture on his lack of sensitivity in proposing to add more grief to an already grieving family.
He felt tired. He had earlier interviewed Lord Berrow, who had simply stared insolently at him and then threatened to report him to the prime minister.
Harry heard a movement on the landing outside the drawing-room, gathered Rose in his arms and kissed her gently on the forehead just as Lady Polly entered the room.
”You may go now,” said Lady Polly. ”I have cancelled my daughter's social engagements for the next two days. After that, I will apprise you of her calendar and I expect you to be on hand to escort her.”
”Delighted,” said Harry and bowed his way out.
Outside, he could still somehow smell the light flower perfume that Rose wore and he swore so loudly that a lady walking her dog stared at him in outrage.
Two days later, Brum, the butler, brought in the morning post as usual on a small silver tray and placed it at the earl's elbow as his lords.h.i.+p was eating breakfast.
Rose looked at the little pile of letters. Had she been a man and not a girl, she thought angrily, any letters addressed to her would have been given to her unopened. Not that there was really anything personal addressed to her, but she lived in hope that perhaps Harry might write to let her know how the case was progressing.
The earl put down his knife and fork and riffled through the letters. Then he rang the bell. ”Give these to Mr. Jarvis,” he said to Brum. ”Nothing of interest here.”
”There is one letter addressed to Lady Rose,” said Brum.
”Is there? I didn't notice. Let me have it.”
”I really think I am capable of reading it myself,” said Rose.
Her father paid no attention. He lifted up a letter and stared at it. Then he held out his hand and Brum handed him a letter opener from the tray.
”Harrumph, let me see. Good Gad!”
”What is it?” asked Lady Polly.
”Give me that letter, Pa!” shouted Rose.
”You go to your room, miss. You, too, Levine, and get Cathcart!”
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