“I am very sorry to disturb you, madam, but I must ask you some questions about your late husband, Mr. Pepper.”
Ellershaw’s stepdaughter, whom I must call Mrs. Pepper, despite her being now one of a small army of women bearing the name, appeared most distressed at the mention of her late husband. “Oh, Mr. Pepper. He was the best of men, sir. The very best of men.”
I could not but note the unlikelihood that three such different women should deliver their observations of the same man in precisely the same words. “Madam, begging your pardon, but did the late Mr. Pepper ever describe himself in those very terms?”
Her color heightened prodigiously, and I knew I had struck the nail true. I could hardly be surprised, however, that a man who should think so well of himself that he might marry three women (at the least) should be freighted down with vanity. “Mr. Pepper,” she explained, “was a most remarkable man, and he would have been less remarkable had he not possessed the insight to witness his own superiority.”
I bowed from my seat, for I could not but applaud her sophistry. “It must have been a great blessing to him to be possessed of so devoted a wife.”
“I pray it was so. But tell me, sir, how I may be of service to you and what your business might be with my late husband.”
What indeed? It occurred to me that I should have thought this matter through with greater care, but I had grown so comfortable with interrogating the widows Pepper that I had not rehearsed to myself the very particular difficulties of this particular interview. I knew nothing of the light in which Mr. Pepper had represented himself to this lady, so I could not take that approach, nor could I enter the harbor from the angle of my position at Craven House, for I presumed that my connection to Mr. Ellershaw could run the ship aground. The previous two widows had been, at least to my opinion, unsophisticated enough that I could paint my fictions with broad strokes, provided they were confident. However, I could not but perceive at least some cleverness in this lady’s eyes.
I therefore chose to adopt a course as close to a probable truth as I could easily devise upon such short notice. “Madam, I am something of a private constable,” I began, “and I currently conduct an inquiry into the untimely death of Mr. Pepper. There are those who believe his drowning not to be an unfortunate accident but rather an act of unspeakable malice.”
The lady let out a gasp and then shouted for her girl to bring her a fan. At once a marvelously painted gold and black fan of oriental design was in her hand, waving back and forth most violently. “I won’t hear of it,” she said, her voice an urgent staccato. “I can accept that it was the will of providence that my Absalom might be taken so young, but I cannot think it would be the will of a human being. Who could hate him so?”
“That is what I wish to learn, Mrs. Pepper. It may be that there is no more to this than meets the eye, but if someone has harmed your husband, I believe you would rather know the truth.”
She said nothing for a long moment and then abruptly ceased her frantic fanning and set that agent upon her side table. Instead, she picked up my card and examined it once more. “You are Benjamin Weaver,” she said. “I’ve heard of you, I believe.”
Again, I bowed from my seat. “I have been so fortunate as to receive some public notice. At times, sadly, the notice has not been laudatory, but I flatter myself that, on balance, I have been treated kindly by the Grub Street tribe.”
She worked her jaw slowly, as though masticating my words. “I am hardly familiar with these matters, but I cannot believe that a man of your skills can be retained cheaply. Who then inquires into Mr. Pepper’s death?”
I saw now that I had been right to be wary of her intelligence. “I serve both the great and the low. Though not averse to earning my bread, neither do I shy away from righting wrongs perpetrated against the poor.”
This bit of puffery mollified her not at all. “And whom, in this case, do you serve?”
It was time to put my plan to the test. I should either be struck dead upon the battlefield or carry home the victory. “It is ever my policy to keep such matters private, but as the man in question was your beloved husband, it would be inexcusable to stand upon ceremony with you. I have been hired by a gentleman of the silk industry who believes that Mr. Pepper may have been struck down with malicious intent.”
“The silk industry?” she asked. “What concern can his fate be to such as they?”
“Mrs. Pepper, forgive the delicacy of this question, but in what manner did your late husband make his way in the world?”
Her color rose once more. “Mr. Pepper was a gentleman,” she said with great force.
“He had no-?”
“He was to come into money of his father’s estate,” she said, “had not a pack of rapacious solicitors conspired to convert his inheritance into a private pool of wealth from which they might dip.” She once again worked the fan mightily. “He applied all the money of my dowry to his legal fees, but they would not give him justice, and since his death they have been so bold as to deny the very existence of the case.”
“Forgive me once more for the indelicacy of the question-”
“Let us say that you will know I have forgiven the indelicacy of all your questions unless I ask you to leave, at which point you will know that no further forgiveness is forthcoming. In any event, if you truly mean to find justice for Mr. Pepper, then you ask these questions for my own cause as well.”
“You are too kind, madam. As to my question, I have made some inquiries about town, and I have heard the sad rumor that your marriage was not approved by your family.”
“There were those in my family who forbade the marriage, but I had allies as well, who provided me my dowry secretly that Mr. Pepper’s cause might be best pursued.”
I nodded. If Mrs. Ellershaw had taken her daughter’s side in this clandestine marriage, it might explain at least a portion of the rift between that lady and her monstrous husband.
“Again, a most delicate question, but may I inquire into the worth of the dowry?”
From the look upon her face, I had no doubt that our interview came very close to ending precisely there, but she apparently thought better of it. “I hate to speak of such things, but the amount was fifteen hundred pounds.”
With some effort, I kept my face impassive upon hearing this massive sum.
“And this amount was lost to legal fees?”
“As vile as it sounds, so it was. These solicitors are skilled at nothing but lies and tricks and delays.”
I made some sympathetic comments meant to mask my disbelief. “Can you not conceive of any reason why the silk workers of this city might take an interest in the cause of your husband’s unfortunate accident?”
She shook her head. “I cannot think of it.”
“He never spoke to you of silk engines? You never observed him making notes upon such things, contemplating projects, anything of that nature?”
“As I have said, he was a gentleman born, pursuing his just inheritance. I believe you mistake him for a ’Change Alley projector.”
“Then the error is mine,” I said, with my third bow of our session.
“What did these men tell you, sir? Why should they take an interest in Mr. Pepper?”
I could only hope that she knew so little of how these affairs were conducted that my untruth would not surprise her. “I have not inquired into that.”
“And do they believe they know who would do him harm?”
Here I decided to take a considerable risk. If this lady chose to take my accusations to her stepfather I would have exploded my disguise, and I shuddered to think of the consequences for my friends. “Out of respect for you and your loss, I shall tell you, but I must have your word that you will tell no one. There are networks of communication and rumor, channels of intelligence that will undermine my pursuit of justice, perhaps even endanger my life, if what I tell you now is revealed prematurely. No matter the anger this accusation engenders within you, you must keep it locked in your breast.”