As I moved to her, my expression must have startled her, because she looked at me in alarm. "Is everything all right? Has my aunt taken ill?"
"No, no," I said quickly. "Lady Derwent is well. I returned because I need to speak to you privately."
Her alarm eased, but only marginally. Tonight Mrs. Danbury wore a dress of blue and lighter blue stripes, bound by a wide sash, her bodice holding a row of false black buttons down the front.
"Oh, yes?" Mrs. Danbury asked. "What about?"
"The fact that you lied to me about my walking stick. You took it away with you when you left Inglethorpe's on Wednesday afternoon, did you not?"
She froze, and the cloth fluttered from her hands. "Why do you say so?"
"I am trying to understand what you did and why. I admit I am most puzzled."
Her color rose. Mrs. Danbury was different from the Derwents in that the she did not share their innocence. She had been married twice, and from what Lady Aline had gossiped to me, neither marriage had been very happy. Her second husband, Mickey Danbury, had enjoyed the beds of many women across London, while sparing little time for his wife. He had been a robust young man and had died breaking his neck while racing his horse from London to Brighton. And a mercy he did, Lady Aline had said.
The experience had and made Mrs. Danbury more world-wise than her uncle, aunt, and cousins, and yet she still managed to be a gentle-mannered lady.
"Captain Lacey, I am uncertain what to say to you." She gave me a cool look, reminding me that her station in life was a good deal higher than mine. "Of what precisely are you accusing me?"
"I want you to tell me what happened. I know you took the walking stick. And I cannot help but remember that Inglethorpe had been in the act of removing his clothing when Mr. Chapman burst in and killed him. For an assignation, I assumed. But Inglethorpe was not in a hurry. He removed his clothing and folded it. He would not have done that unless he'd been well acquainted with the woman with whom he was about to carry out the affair. A woman who would wait for him in the next room, or who hid there when Chapman came rushing in. Lovers of long standing, who no longer need to undress in a frenzy of passion."
Her cool look turned to a glare. "Are you implying that the woman was me? How dare you? Shall I call my uncle, and tell him what you have said? I hope to heaven he will show you the door."
"A man was murdered," I said in a hard voice. "The weapon was the sword in my walking stick, which you were seen taking away with you the day before. For God's sake, tell me what you did, and please tell me that you had nothing to do with Inglethorpe's death."
Her breath caught. She looked at me a long moment, lips parted, eyes moist. "I had nothing to do with it," she said, losing her defiance. "Nothing at all, I swear to you. When I left Mr. Inglethorpe, he was alive. I never knew he'd been murdered until my uncle told me of it later that day."
So she had been there. My heart sank. I had hoped that Mrs. Danbury would tell me that the walking stick had been stolen from her and that she had no idea how it had ended up in Inglethorpe's reception room.
My throat tightening, I said, "Begin from the beginning, and tell me. You discovered my walking stick left behind on Wednesday, and you took it away with you. Did you realize it was mine?"
Mrs. Danbury rested her hand on top of the harp, half-shielding herself with the instrument. "Yes, of course. When I saw that you'd left it behind, I caught it up and rushed to take it down to you. But when I reached the street, you'd already gone."
True. I had leapt into Lady Breckenridge's coach, eager to hear what she had to tell me about Lord Barbury.
Mrs. Danbury went on, "So I brought it home with me."
"And then the next day, you took it back to Inglethorpe's."
Color flooded her face. "Yes."
"I must wonder why you did so."
"Because…" Her flush deepened, and she looked ashamed. "Oh, dear heavens, Captain. I was a fool. Mr. Inglethorpe told me he would have another gathering at his house on Thursday, and that I could return and partake of more of his magic gas. I did not want to; it made me rather sick, as I told you. But he said he had invited you as well. So I thought, the next day, I'd simply bring your walking stick with me and give it back to you."
"But when you reached Inglethorpe's, you realized he had deceived you."
Her gray eyes sparkled in anger. "The odious man had me wait in his reception room; I did not realize at first that I was the only person to arrive."
"When did you discover your mistake?"
"When he returned to the reception room and closed me in with him. I wanted to leave right away, but he bade me stay."
"But the servants swore in court that they saw no one. Who let you in?"
"Inglethorpe answered the door himself. He must have been waiting for me. My footman had knocked on the door, then nipped down the scullery stairs to the kitchens. When Inglethorpe appeared instead of his butler, I grew nervous. I meant to call my footman back, but Inglethorpe came outside and drew me in."
Thus explaining the mud on his indoor shoes.
"I am beginning to be happy you had a weapon with you," I said. "What happened then?"
"Mr. Inglethorpe asked, rather rudely, why I was carrying a gentleman's walking stick. I explained that you had left it and that I had brought it to give you. He looked annoyed and snatched it away from me."
My voice became a growl. "Did he?"
"That was not the worst of it. He pulled the sword partway out, and he…" Her face turned scarlet. "He made lewd gestures with it."
Bloody bastard. I wished Inglethorpe alive gain so I could have the joy of pummeling him. I hoped he was roasting in hell.
"I'm sorry," I said. "The man needed calling out."
"I was mortified. I tried to leave, but he blocked the way. Then he began talking about my late husband, Mickey, and how he'd always admired him. He said… Oh, dear lord, I can hardly repeat it."
"Do not, if it distresses you. I believe I can guess the gist."
"No, I want to tell you. I cannot bear to keep it inside any longer, and of course I cannot relieve my feelings talking to my uncle or aunt. Mr. Inglethorpe said he'd always wanted to take Mickey to bed, but now that Mickey was gone, I would do." Tears of mortification welled in her eyes.
My rage grew. "Mr. Inglethorpe is lucky he is dead."
"I could not think what to say or do. I had gone there out of my own foolishness. Mr. Inglethorpe was between me and the door, and he began taking off his coat and waistcoat. He was very careful and deliberate about it, almost taunting me. I had never been so disgusted and afraid in my life."
My hands curled to fists. "Please tell me you got away."
Mrs. Danbury nodded. "When he turned to lay his clothing on a chair, I ran. He grabbed for me and nearly had me, but mercifully, I was too quick. I ran out of the house. I climbed into my carriage and told the coachman to go, quickly." She laughed, tears choking her voice. "I left my poor footman behind. He ran up the scullery stairs as we pulled away, swearing like a sailor. But I was afraid to stop, and the poor fellow had to walk home."
She twisted her hands, her laughter dying. "Later when I heard Mr. Inglethorpe had been killed with the swordstick, I did not know what to think. I was afraid to mention my part in the matter; I was afraid the magistrates would believe I killed him. I swore my servants to silence and I lied to you and to the coroner. I am sorry, Captain, but I was so afraid."
"Of course you were," I said, gentling my voice. She'd been foolish, but not guilty of evil. "But it no longer matters. Mr. Chapman confessed to murdering him, and you no longer need to worry."
She sniffled as she drew a handkerchief from her sleeve. "It has been horrible. I expected the magistrates to arrive and arrest me any moment. And at the inquest, I dreaded the moment when one of the others would announce that they'd seen me take the walking stick. I can only thank heaven that no one did."