‘Lady Radcliffe, what a pleasant surprise. Oh. And Mr Prescott and –?’
‘Miss Lawrence. Lady Jordan, I fear we are the bearers of some very bad news for Miss Jordan. May we sit down?’
Our hostess looked confused, rather than worried, but we all sat. Lady Radcliffe told her directly, without any vague euphemisms. ‘I very much regret to tell you that Lord Tillingham has been attacked. He was found dead this morning.’
Lady Jordan gaped at her, then gasped, then fell back in her chair.
Lady Radcliffe removed a phial from her reticule and handed it to me. ‘I thought we might need this.’
I wafted it under Lady Jordan’s nose until she sat up, waved me away and groped for a handkerchief. ‘Oh, how horrible! Was it footpads?’
‘Lord Tillingham was murdered in his own home. We do not know by whom or for what reason,’ Adrien said.
Lady Jordan burst into tears. ‘How can I tell Arabella? The poor child!’
‘Would you like me to break it to her?’ Adrien asked. ‘We have known each other since childhood, she might find it easier coming from me, perhaps?’
Not the most tactful way of putting it, but Lady Jordan simply waved him towards the door. ‘Oh, you dear boy. She is in the little sitting room at the back on the first floor.’ She went back to sobbing.
I left Lady Radcliffe to try and soothe her and followed Adrien out. ‘You have known her that long?’ I asked as we went up the stairs.
‘Oh yes. We all knew the family – they are such close neighbours in Buckinghamshire. She has two sisters and three brothers. In here.’ He tapped on a door and opened it. ‘Arabella, may we come in? This is Miss Lawrence, a friend of mine.’
Arabella Jordan was small, slim, brunette and sweetly pretty. She smiled and rose when she saw Adrien and held out her hands to him. ‘What a nice surprise to see you, Adrien. Oh, I suppose you have a message from Lord Tillingham?’ The smile vanished, leaving a cool formality behind.
‘I have come from him,’ Adrien said. ‘Bella, I have bad news and there is no easy way to tell you except straight out. Will you not sit down?’
‘Tell me.’ She stared at him, wide-eyed, still on her feet. ‘What has happened?’
‘Lord Tillingham – Henry – has… has died.’
‘Oh.’ She sat down abruptly, then clapped her hands over her mouth and closed her eyes. I expected sobs, gasps, but after a moment she opened her eyes then lowered her hands slowly, as though she might need to hold back words again at any moment. ‘Who killed him?’
It took us both aback. Adrien just stared at her, so I said, ‘What makes you think he was murdered?’
She flinched at the word but said, steadily enough, ‘He was perfectly healthy. We are in London, so he would not be riding fast or going shooting or anything like that. So, it was an accident?’
She seemed far too calm, but I knew that shock takes people in many different ways. ‘No. It was not an accident and you are quite correct, he was murdered.’ I expected her to fall apart at that but, although she went white and she gave a little gasp, her back straightened and her fists clenched in her lap.
Adrien, who had half-risen from his seat, his hand held out as though to comfort her, sat down again. He knew her well and, it seemed, he found her reaction even more confusing than I did.
‘Do they know who did it?’ she asked again. No, Did he suffer? Or, What happened? Or even, Are you absolutely certain? In my experience (fortunately very limited) and from my police training, I knew that the most common reaction to news of an unexpected death was denial, not this immediate acceptance of a quite shocking fact.
‘We have no idea who was responsible. Have you some idea who might have killed your betrothed?’ I asked bluntly.
If anything, she became paler. ‘No. Of course not. How could I? How would I have any idea who his enemies were?’
Then it seemed to hit her. She made a choking sound, put her hands over her face and burst into tears. Adrien shot out of his chair and went to take her in his arms and she collapsed, sobbing wildly, on his shoulder.
I went downstairs and found Lady Radcliffe and Lady Jordan. ‘She is very distressed,’ I told them. ‘Adrien is comforting her.’
If Lady Jordan had rushed out to chaperone her daughter, left alone with a man, I would not have been surprised, but she nodded and stayed where she was. ‘Such a good friend,’ she said vaguely.
‘Would you like me to stay?’ Lady Radcliffe offered.
‘No. No, thank you for coming. I appreciate such thoughtfulness.’ Lady Jordan still sounded utterly miserable, but at least she seemed rather more focused now.
‘Do let me know if there is anything I can do,’ Lady Radcliffe said.