Imogen Robertson - Anatomy of Murder

“I would like to see in what hand he writes music. That fragment of ‘Sia fatta la pace’ you found in Carmichael’s study was likely his signature and seal. Well, now we may return to the usual pattern of life, though we have very little we can say against Manzerotti. His activity in this, all we can lay at his door at this point, is caught in two rather lost and searching minds and that scrap of music.”

“I would pay a fair proportion of my fortune to have that young woman’s brain under my knife,” Crowther replied.

He was spared the commentary of Mrs. Westerman by the flinging open of the street door and a great number of voices telling them all at once that Daniel Clode had arrived and they were all very pleased to see him. The principal descended the stairs with a smile and a blush at all the fuss his arrival seemed to be causing, and Harriet gave him her hand with great pleasure. She glanced at her sister and saw a bloom on her that made her both happy for Rachel, and perhaps a little jealous. Crowther’s retreat was prevented by Mr. Graves none too subtly closing the front door before he could escape.

“Excellent! Let us dine. You too, Mr. Crowther-you will be part of the party if you like it or no. And Mrs. Westerman, a man left a message for you during the afternoon. It is that Mrs. Wheeler’s friend will call during the course of the evening-if that means anything to you.”

Harriet acknowledged the message and made her way upstairs to dress. The light had almost faded from the day.

Molloy put all his weight behind it and released a thunderous knocking on the door of Adams’s Music Shop.

“Open up! Open the door, damn your eyes! I see a light in there and I will not stir from here till I have speech with you! Now open the door!”

Jocasta had made her way to Tichfield Street via the Pear and Oats and came up to join him now at a brisk pace, with Sam and Boyo at her heels. As she reached his shoulder there was a stir of movement in the shop and a young woman’s face appeared at the window.

“Jane! It’s Molloy here. Open up, girl!”

She did quick enough and held the door open with her foot, her hands being occupied with holding and guarding a candle flame. At the doorway to the parlor behind, Mr. Crumley appeared patting his mouth with a napkin.

“Molloy! What do you want here?” Jane said. “I know for a fact there isn’t a person here owes you a penny.”

“I need to know where Graves is. And better yet, Mrs. Westerman’s address in Town, if you know it.”

Jane scowled at him. “Of course I know it, but why should I tell you? What you got to say to either of them?”

Molloy breathed hard. “I hate to make it habitual but I’ve a warning and it touches on Westerman. You know me as a serious type, Jane. Do I look like I’m playing the fool to you?”

The girl made her decision quickly and stepped back into the parlor, leaving the door ajar.

“Wait there.” She returned with a handful of coins and thrust them into Molloy’s hands. “Berkeley Square-number twenty-four-and use this for a hack. Mrs. Westerman’s in the same place.”

Harriet heard the knock at the door as she was finishing dressing, and expected her sister to come in when she issued the invitation, but was surprised to find it was Daniel Clode who had entered the room.

“Mr. Clode!” she said, and dropped the comb she had been fastening her hair with in surprise.

The young man hesitated a second, then stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Mrs. Westerman, forgive the intrusion, but I wished to have some private conversation with you. I have been speaking to your sister.”

Harriet turned back carefully to her mirror and made another attempt with the comb. “If it is regarding an engagement with Rachel, you know you have my hearty approval, but I had hoped you might wait, given the state of my husband’s health, before speaking about that.”

He took a step farther into the room. “No, it is not that. But I suppose it touches upon it.”

Harriet finished with her comb and turned toward him. The candlelight made the red of her hair glint as if it had its own fire. She never powdered it when they dined at home. “If you come to bring further weight to bear on me regarding my behavior, I wish you would not trouble yourself. The business, it seems, is successfully concluded. We have, we think, found who is responsible and will inform those who need to be informed this evening. There our involvement in the matter will end.”

“No, not that either. Really, Mrs. Westerman, if you wish to know what I have to say, it would be as well to let me speak!”

Harriet was silent.

“Thank you. It is simply this. Miss Trench has, I feel, placed far too much weight on what damage any totally unreasonable remarks may be made from the steps you have taken in this, and in previous matters.” He blushed and looked at his boots. “Madam, I have the honor, in relative youth, to be one of the men trusted with the affairs of one of the great estates of the country. I handle many legal and financial matters for the estate of Thornleigh.” He lifted his hands and said with a sigh like a man abandoning a prepared speech, “Really, Harriet, you could dress as a heathen and ride a donkey from St. James’s to the Pulborough Hotel and you will do me not one ounce of damage. As long as my association with Thornleigh continues, I shall have to spend my best efforts avoiding the kindnesses of every person of quality in the neighborhood, rather than searching them out. Rachel underestimates the force of the Thornleigh name, seeing it embodied in Jonathan and Susan rather than in the estates and investments held in their names, and I have just told her as much.”

The image of herself dressed as a heathen and the loving exasperation in Clode’s voice drew a laugh from Harriet. “Oh Daniel, I thank you. But I fear I may be an awkward sister to have. Graves would probably agree with Rachel. He was angry with me yesterday.”

“Nonsense. Well, perhaps. But know this: Owen would defend you and your actions to the bitter end. To you he will voice his concerns, but if anyone else spoke of you in terms of less than respectful admiration, he would horsewhip them. As would I.”

Harriet felt a warmth creeping through her body. “And what of the damage I do my daughter?”

Clode grinned at her, and Harriet almost wished herself young again. “I understand Lady Susan herself has given you her own assurance on that point.”

Harriet stood and placed her wrap around her shoulders, then crossed the room to take his arm. “You are perfectly correct. Clode, I am glad you are here.”

“I hear the captain improves.”

“It changes from day to day. This morning he was well, but last week he called me a whore and a spy and drove me from his room.”

“I am very sorry to hear that, madam.”

She sighed then patted his hand. “But in general, I believe he improves. Now take me down to dinner. In a few hours all this shall pass away from us and we may concentrate on more suitable occupations. Crowther suggested at one point that if I couldn’t sit still, perhaps I could devote my energies to writing religious tracts.”

“Dear God!” said Clode. “I presume he was trying to read his paper at the time?”

Harriet laughed again.

“I’ve never ridden in a carriage before, Mrs. Bligh.” Sam knew the urgency of their journey, but the novelty of watching the streets pass at such a pace was too bright a thing not to be loved and held tight.

“Do not. .” said Molloy from his corner, and briefly removing a toothpick from his mouth “. . get used to it.”

Jocasta allowed herself a half smile in the darkness. “Tell Molloy what you found today, Sam.”