"Did he speak of anyone with particular emphasis?" I asked. "Or did he fear anyone? What I mean is, he must have known the person who killed him. He died without much struggle. The only comfort I can offer you is that he died almost instantly. It took him by surprise. He certainly would not have had time to feel fear or pain."
Mr. Turner's eyes were moist, but his mouth was tight. "I am afraid that Henry did not speak much to me about his acquaintance. His friends will attend his burial, tomorrow. Perhaps they will know whether Henry was afraid of anyone."
Mr. Turner excused himself before long, and Grenville tactfully suggested that he and I walk in the garden since it was such a fine day. We strolled along the flower beds, and the head gardener, who looked as morose as his master, pointed out the garden's more unique characteristics. The entire landscape had been laid out by Capability Brown, the brilliant garden designer from a century ago.
By the time we'd walked to the folly at the end of the grounds and back again, the dinner hour had arrived. Mr. Turner joined us for the meal, although his wife did not appear. Tuner was still quiet and apologized for his lack of conversation, and Grenville and I assured him that we understood.
It was not until Grenville and I had returned to Grenville's bedchamber to drink brandy alone that I could mention Mrs. Bennington.
When I ventured surprise that Grenville had told me he would be visiting Marianne when in fact he had gone to see Mrs. Bennington, his dark brows furrowed. "Does it matter?"
"It mattered a great deal to Marianne."
"My visit to Mrs. Bennington is my own business, Lacey."
I knew he resented my intrusion, but I did agree with Marianne on one point. Grenville had far more wealth and power than either of us, and if he chose to use us ill, there was not much we could do to stop him. However, I intended to prevent him from using Marianne ill if I could.
"I doubt it meant anything to Marianne," Grenville said, trying to sound offhand. "She was simply trying to plague you. I suspect she does not care whether I live or die."
"Not true. She was quite distressed when you were hurt in Sudbury."
He scoffed, an inelegant noise.
I tried another tack. "I remember when you took me to Covent Garden to see Mrs. Bennington perform. You did not sing her praises as everyone else in the theatre seemed to."
"What are you talking about? I said much that was complimentary."
"No, you simply did not disagree with what others said. That is a different thing."
Grenville gave me a tense glance. "Why this sudden interest in my opinion of Mrs. Bennington?"
"I am merely curious. She was at the Gillises' ball, and afterward, you sought her company. At her house?"
"Very well, Lacey, if you must know the entire story, no. I fully intended to visit Clarges Street, but as I journeyed home, I happened upon Mrs. Bennington's carriage-it had broken an axle, and she was wild to get home. I let her ride to her house in my carriage, and I stayed with her until she'd calmed down. Then I went home. That is all."
I drank brandy in silence, while he grew red in the face. He was annoyed, and trying to stifle it.
"I would like to meet Mrs. Bennington," I said.
"What the devil for?"
"If nothing else, to ask her what she observed at the Gillises' ball. If she saw something that would point to solving Turner's murder, I certainly want to hear it."
"I tried to ask her," Grenville said in a more even tone. "She noticed very little. She believes she saw her husband speak to Turner, but she cannot be certain."
I pushed my feet closer to the fire. "Who is this Mr. Bennington? Is he known for anything but marrying a famous actress?"
Grenville seemed to relax. "Bennington is one of those Englishmen who enjoy living most of the time on the Continent. Both she and Bennington are a little vague about how they met, but from what I understand, Bennington saw Claire perform one night in Milan and asked her to marry him the next day."
"A love match?"
"No, I do not think so," Grenville said. "The marriage was sudden, but I cannot believe love had anything to do with it. Bennington is sardonic about Claire if he speaks about her at all, and Claire never mentions her husband or even notices when he's in the room with her. I imagine that they came together for mutual convenience."
"Money?" I asked.
"That is the usual reason, but who knows? Bennington seems well off. Perhaps she needed money, and he wanted something pretty to look at." Grenville's mouth twisted in distaste. "Although he does not dance attendance on Claire, nor does he seem inclined to be possessive of her."
"Is it an open marriage, then?"
"I do not know why you should think so," Grenville began, then he caught himself. "Admittedly, they live almost separate lives. I imagine that they appeared at the Gillises' ball at the same time entirely by accident."
I had begun to construct a scenario in which Mr. Bennington killed Turner in a fit of jealousy when Turner had made up to his young wife, but at Grenville's answer, I discarded the idea. If they'd married for convenience and lived separate lives, Bennington might simply look the other way at his wife's affairs, and she at his.
"Did Mrs. Bennington know Henry Turner?" I asked.
"She says not," Grenville answered. "She has no reason to lie about that."
"But he was found murdered, and she is an actress. Perhaps her first instinct would be to lie."
Grenville gave me an unfriendly glance. "I know what you are doing, Lacey. You need a suspect other than Brandon. Do you plan to suspect everyone at the ball?"
"Every person in that house had the opportunity to murder Henry Turner. Including you."
"True. I was close to the room when he was found. I could have slipped in and out without anyone noticing. Although most people notice what I do. Some person usually has their eye on me, which makes things dashed difficult at times. I cannot take a private walk across a remote country meadow without it being reported in full in every London newspaper the next day."
"The curse of fame," I said.
"You wonder why I travel to the corners of the earth. Escaping newspapermen is one motive. But you are correct, I could have killed Turner. I had no reason to murder him, however, except that his cravat knot was appalling. But I am reasonable enough to simply look away and swallow when I see such abuse of a cravat."
He spoke lightly, but I sensed his tension. I also noted that he'd turned the conversation neatly away from discussion of Claire Bennington.
"Who else would have reason to murder him?" I asked. "Either because of his cravat, or something else?"
Grenville at last began to show interest. He dropped his dandy persona and went to the writing desk to search for paper and pen and ink.
"Suppose I make a list of all present at the ball who knew Turner and who might have reason to dislike him?" He began writing, his pen scratching softly. "The most obvious person, of course, is Imogene Harper. She found Turner, she admitted that she searched his pockets for her love letter to Colonel Brandon, and Lady Breckenridge confirms that she saw Mrs. Harper doing so. Turner was apparently blackmailing Mrs. Harper about the letter, which gives her quite a strong motive."
"Yes, but why kill him in so public a place as a ballroom?"
Grenville waited, pen poised. "Because she was angry and frightened, and in such a crush, there would be a chance someone else would be accused of the crime. As indeed, happened."
"Yes," I said. "Who besides Mrs. Harper?"
"Lady Breckenridge?"
I raised my brows. "She did not know Turner well."
"So she says. And she was quite close to the room when Mrs. Harper went in. I remember seeing her standing very near the door. Not speaking to anyone, just looking about."