"I'm so sorry to bother you again, but I have a few more questions about Mr. Francis. Did he ever tell you anything...special...about himself? Perhaps by way of explaining why it was so important for him to have a child?"
"Don't all men want children?"
"Probably," I said. "But he gave you no particular reason for his desire?"
"No, Lady Ashton. He was always very kind to me but kept his thoughts to himself. Took great interest in what I was doing, and, of course, in Edward, but almost never told us anything about the rest of his life. No surprise there, though."
"Have you noticed anything strange around your house since his death?"
"Whatever can you mean?" she asked.
"Has anything or anyone struck you as suspicious?"
"You don't think that someone in my household —"
"No, no. It's just that I have reason to believe that the person who killed Mr. Francis might have an interest in Edward."
"You think my son is in danger?"
"I can't be sure," I said. "But I think it would be best if you and the boy went away for a while."
"We don't have anywhere to go." I had to strain to hear her voice.
"Don't worry. I know of a place where you will be perfectly safe."
"I don't know that I should trust you," she said.
"I can well understand that, and I fear there's little I can do to reassure you. Forgive me, but you and Mrs. Francis held dear the same man. She knows me well enough to trust that I am capable of solving his murder. Please, Mrs. White, I'm only trying to protect your son."
"I'm not sure what to think," she said, and tugged at her already ragged cuticles.
"Inspector Manning of Scotland Yard can vouch for me. Would you like me to send him to you?"
"Mr. Francis would want me to keep the boy from harm."
"Will you go?"
She looked as if she wanted to sigh but that the effort would be too great for her frail body. "Yes. What else can I do? I can't very well stay here if I've been warned of danger, and I wouldn't know where to take him on my own. But I would like to speak to the inspector."
"I'll ask him to come as soon as possible. I shall need you to be ready to depart tomorrow. Tell none of your servants, and don't bother to pack. I'll arrange for clothes and whatever else you need to be purchased for you. If there's anything to which Edward is especially attached, you may bring it, so long as it won't draw attention to the fact that you're leaving."
"You're certain this is necessary?"
"No, I'm not. But if there is danger, and we do nothing, the consequences could be more dreadful than either of us can imagine."
Inspector Manning called on Mrs. White a few hours later and reported that he had little difficulty convincing her that she was doing the right thing by following my advice. After talking to her, he seemed to take my role in the investigations more seriously.
My suspicions regarding Lady Elinor troubled me greatly, particularly because, if they were correct, Isabelle's life would be thrown into turmoil. I hated to think that a woman who had been a family friend for so many years could be guilty of such a crime, but it seemed increasingly likely that she was responsible for the deaths in Richmond. I needed firm evidence, and decided to visit Floris, the store from which the shaving lotion that had killed both men had been purchased. Mr. Floris himself spoke to me. He was, understandably, hesitant at first. But when I explained the nature of the case on which I was working, he agreed to help. Together, we combed through his records. A mere two days after the story of the pink-diamond theft appeared in the papers, someone bought one bottle of lavender shaving lotion. The receipt, unlike the others, did not list the name of the purchaser, so Mr. Floris called for the clerk who had written up the sale.
"Oh yes, I do recall this," he said, smiling. "She ordered a number of items for herself, too, but wanted this to be kept separate. I believe it was a gift for a gentleman."
"Do you remember her name?" I asked.
"I'm afraid I don't."
"Could you describe her?"
"Middle-aged, I think. Fair hair."
"Would you recognize her if you saw her again?"
"I think so. It wasn't the first time I'd helped her."
"There must be a receipt for the other things she bought," I said, and continued to make my way through the stack of sales records, stopping when I found a name I recognized. On the same date, from the same clerk, Lady Elinor Routledge had purchased two bottles of eau de toilette and four combs.
"I never would have suspected her!" Margaret exclaimed as we sat in my library that evening. Davis had opened an excellent port for us and, though I know he did not approve, brought what was left of Philip's stock of cigars for my friend.
"I'm not absolutely certain that she did it. What I've got to do now is — " We were interrupted by the arrival of Ivy. I had not spoken to her since our argument and was shocked that she would come to me after things had gone so badly between us. She was dressed in a ball gown fashioned from red silk and would undoubtedly have created a winning impression at whatever party she attended were it not for the fact that her eyes were swollen, and her cheeks streaked with tears. My first thought was that Mrs. Reynold-Plympton had talked to Lord Fortescue, who, in turn, had talked to Robert.
"Ivy! Whatever is the matter?"
"Oh, I'm having a rather difficult evening, that's all." She tried to smile. "You know how the Season can overwhelm one."
"You need port," Margaret said, and handed her a glass. "Are you off to a party this evening? Where's Robert?"
"We were to go to Lansdowne House for a ball. But Robert decided that it would be better for me to stay home."
"Why?" I asked.
"He's afraid my health isn't what it ought to be," she said. "And he was going to have to spend the evening discussing politics, so he thought there was no need for me to come."
"What would make him think that?" Margaret asked, blowing rings of smoke. "You're strong as a horse."
"He just didn't want you to be bored if he was off with Lord Fortescue and his crew all night," I said.
"How could I possibly be bored at a ball? No, I think that there's some other reason." She looked at Margaret, as if weighing whether to continue, then emptied her glass in a single drink. "I think he has a mistress, and she is going to be there tonight. He knew that if I saw him dance with her, I would be able to read the infidelity on his face."
"Dearest, no, that's not it at all," I said.
"And to think that he would keep me at home instead of telling her to stay away. I suppose she's married, too. Maybe her husband was insisting that she go."
"No, Ivy, truly this is wrong. I know —" I stopped.
"Well?" Margaret asked. "Continue, please. What do you know?"
"I know that Robert is not having an affair," I said, and out spilled the details of my own suspicions and my confrontation of Mrs. Reynold-Plympton.
"Emily!" Ivy cried. "How could you?"
"I know. Forgive me, Ivy, I shouldn't have, but I could not bear to think that Robert was neglecting you."
"I know I've been upset with you, but I realized that I've nowhere else to turn. You've always been my dearest friend." She rested her head daintily in her hands. "And though I am horrified at what you've done, how can I fault you for it? I've been worried about this for weeks, and you have eased my mind, Emily."
"I'm glad of that, but I should never have done it without talking to you first."
"I would never have agreed to let you do it."
"I can be very persuasive, Ivy," I said.
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Margaret said. "Enough! What are we to do about Lady Elinor?"