Emma sat down abruptly and gripped the arms of the chair.
“Tell me everything, dear,” she said. “Right from the start.”
Louisa gave her a quick summary of events.
Emma listened intently and then sat back. “This is astonishing. Absolutely stunning. And here I thought you’d set off for a romantic tryst. I was so happy for you, dear. I admit I was somewhat concerned because the man in question was Anthony Stalbridge. Nevertheless, I thought it was a good sign that you were starting to emerge from your shell.”
“I have told you on numerous occasions that I have no plans to emerge from my shell. At least not in the sense that you mean.”
“Rubbish. You just haven’t found the right man.” Emma frowned. “But enough of that. What is your opinion of this business about Hastings being a murderer?”
Louisa drummed her fingers on the desk. “To be honest, I do not know what to think. There is no doubt that Hastings has a financial interest in Phoenix House, and it seems clear that he is also a blackmailer, but I am not at all certain that we can leap to the conclusion that he murdered Fiona Risby.”
“I agree. Her death was, by all accounts, a suicide.” Emma considered briefly. “But there is that necklace Stalbridge found in Hastings’s safe. Emeralds and diamonds set in gold, you say?”
“Yes. It looked quite valuable. At this point, however, I have only Mr. Stalbridge’s word that it belonged to Fiona. Even if that proves to be true, it no longer constitutes proof of Hastings’s guilt now that it has been removed from the safe.”
Emma gave a ladylike snort. “Stalbridge was right about one thing: Leaving it in the safe would have served no purpose. If Hastings really is guilty of murder, he is hardly likely to allow the police to search his house.”
“And even if it were found in the house, I’ve no doubt that Hastings would be able to provide some explanation. He could always claim that the necklace belonged to his first wife, who had admired the Risby necklace and had ordered an exact copy from a jeweler.”
“Not that Victoria Hastings would have worn a copy of anyone else’s jewelry,” Emma said dryly. “She was a lady who set the fashion. She did not follow it.”
“I recall that you mentioned she was noted for her sense of style.”
“Yes. She was a very beautiful woman.”
Louisa quickly opened her notebook to the pages labeled VH. At the start of the investigation into Hastings’s business affairs she had asked Emma for some background information on Hastings and his first wife. She had also interviewed the lady’s maid who had worked for Victoria Hastings.
There were not many notes on Victoria. At the time she had not considered the first Mrs. Hastings important, but in hindsight a couple of phrases took on new meaning.
She ran her finger down a page of her own cryptic handwriting and paused.
“You mentioned that she was one of the few women you had met who knew how to swim,” she said.
“She was the only woman I ever met, aside from myself, who knew how to swim,” Emma stated. “It is not a skill that many females ever learn.”
“That would seem to lend credence to Mr. Stalbridge’s theory that she may have been murdered. Why would a woman who could swim choose to jump off a bridge as a means of suicide?”
“Any woman, skilled swimmer or not, who leaped into the river fully clothed would likely drown,” Emma pointed out. “A fashionable lady often wears nearly forty pounds of clothing. The sheer weight of her skirts and corsets would draw her down to the bottom as surely as if she were chained to a boulder.”
Louisa shuddered. “True.” She consulted her notes again. “You said you did not know her well.”
“No. I don’t believe she had any family connections of her own to speak of. I met her occasionally at various social affairs, but that was the extent of our acquaintance.”
“Her maid told me that Hastings was in the habit of discussing his business affairs with her. It is rather uncommon for a husband to do that. He must have admired her intelligence.”
Emma nodded. “She seemed to me to be a very shrewd woman. I can well imagine that she had a head for financial matters.”
Louisa closed the notebook again and leaned back in her chair. “There is something that worries me about Mr. Stalbridge.”
Emma raised her brows. “I am pleased to see that your intuition is functioning well. Tell me, what is it that alarms you? Aside from the fact that he knows how to break into a safe, of course.” She paused for emphasis. “I trust you do realize that is a rather unusual talent for a gentleman?”
“I admit that skill does raise a few questions, but what concerns me the most is that he appears to be obsessed with the notion that Fiona Risby did not commit suicide. I got the impression last night that he would go to any lengths to prove that she was murdered.”
Emma gave a small shrug. “I expect it is because he would like to clear his own name.”
Louisa stopped drumming her fingers. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“You were not moving in Society last year at the time of Fiona’s death. You did not hear the rumors that circulated.”
“What sort of rumors?”
“There was gossip to the effect that Mr. Stalbridge was about to end his engagement to Miss Risby at the time. Some said that the prospect of facing the humiliation of being jilted was what drove Miss Risby to take her own life.”
Louisa shuddered. “Any woman who is rejected by her fiancé certainly finds herself in a dreadful situation as far as Society is concerned. But would she resort to suicide?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. A jilted woman becomes something of a pariah in the Polite World. There are those who would have expected her to retire from Society altogether, as though she were a widow in the first year of mourning.”
“Was she from a wealthy family?” Louisa asked. She told herself it was the journalist in her that was interested in the answer. She had no personal curiosity about the woman Anthony had chosen for his bride.
“Yes, indeed,” Emma said. “The Risby fortune is quite substantial. The fact that Fiona was an heiress would certainly have gone some distance toward easing her plight. There were bound to be other suitors. Also, she was very lovely. A charming young lady, indeed. I’m sure her father could have found another eligible gentleman for her. Nevertheless, the experience of being cast aside by Stalbridge would have caused enormous distress for her and her family.”
“I see.”
Of course Fiona Risby had been rich, beautiful, and charming. What else? Louisa picked up a pen and did a little staccato on the desktop.
“The marriage was considered an excellent match,” Emma continued. “Both families were exceedingly pleased. The Stalbridges and the Risbys have been close friends for years. Their estates in the North march side by side.”
“I see,” Louisa repeated. She realized she was tapping the pen tip with such force now that she was leaving little marks on the blotter. She made herself put the writing instrument down.
“I should mention that there were other rumors last year,” Emma continued somberly. “Rumors that were far worse than those concerning a broken engagement.”
Shocked, Louisa straightened. She did not take her eyes off Emma’s face. “Surely no one suggested that Mr. Stalbridge actually murdered Fiona Risby.”
“I’m sorry to say that there was some speculation to that effect.”
“What? Why would he do such a thing? What possible motive could he have had?”
Emma looked at her very directly. “There was talk that Mr. Stalbridge discovered Fiona in the arms of another man.”
A little shiver went through Louisa. “Surely you didn’t believe he murdered her?”
“My dear, if there is one thing that I learned in the course of my travels, it is that any man or woman, regardless of social background or degree of civilization, may be driven to murder under certain circumstances.” Emma met her eyes in a very somber look. “The only question is which circumstances will motivate a particular individual.”