“A porcelain vase disappeared from Mrs. Cooper’s home on the night of her death. Also missing is a necklace. A gold chain with a jade pendant in the shape of a rose.”
A choking sound escaped him. “Oh yes, the necklace. I can see how this must look.”
“You had better explain your actions. Why did you misrepresent yourself to Mrs. Cooper? And what happened on that last Thursday night in August?”
“Very well.” He adjusted his position, resting an elbow on the chair. “Ten years ago, my wife spent several weeks in town at the home of her sister. During a dinner party, someone entered my wife’s guest chamber and stole her necklace, a beloved antique that had been passed down in her family.”
“Do you refer to the pendant your daughter is wearing tonight?”
“Yes. My sister-in-law assumed one of her servants had to be the guilty party. She directed her butler and housekeeper to question everyone in their respective charges and to search the rooms below stairs, but they did not recover the necklace. However, one of the footmen reported having seen Mrs. Cooper descending the stairs during the party. When he approached her to enquire whether he could be of service, she became flustered. She asked to be directed to the ladies’ withdrawing-room, and he obliged her. There had been no reason for any guest to have been on the second floor.”
He grimaced. “My wife lamented the loss as she associated the jade pendant with her grandmother. She never doubted that Mrs. Cooper had stolen the necklace, but she could not make an official complaint without proof.”
No doubt the woman had stolen from my aunt Lady Matlock in a similar manner and robbed many of her acquaintances over her lifetime.
“Five or so years ago, my dear wife succumbed to an aggressive form of cancer. Not long thereafter, I read the notice inThe London Chronicleof the jeweller in Piccadilly who had accused Mrs. Cooper of theft. I did not doubt her guilt and attributed her eventual acquittal to the strength and influence of her wealth, standing, and family name.
“Nevertheless, the episode with the necklace faded from my memory until this past summer when I patronised my favourite bookseller on Bond Street and overheard the shop girl address an elegantly attired lady in her sixth decade as ‘Mrs. Cooper’. Although I had never met the woman, she fitted the description my wife had provided. This circumstance afforded me a rare opportunity, for I had been wearing a white peruke that I had purchased earlier in the day.”
“Why did you buy a wig?”
He shrugged. “I suppose you could call it an impulse. I had never worn one before, but the shop boy declared it would be an improvement over this.” He passed his palm over his pate. “At any rate, the peruke disguised my usual appearance, and it occurred to me that I could employ an assumed name to determine whether Mrs. Cooper possessed my wife’s necklace. I thought that, if I formed a friendship with her, she might wear the pendant in my company. So, I approached her and presented myself as Mr. King, an old friend of her deceased husband. We shared a pleasant conversation, and she granted me permission to call upon her. Thereafter, we met at her home twice a week for most of August. Then, on that final Thursday evening, she wore my wife’s necklace.”
Mr. Rowe raised a handkerchief to a trace of perspiration on his temples. “We had dined and returned to the drawing-room before I summoned the nerve to reveal my identity and accuse Mrs. Cooper of having stolen my wife’s heirloom years before. By then, Mrs. Cooper had dismissed the butler for the evening.
“Although I had expected her to be angry at my revelation, the force of her response took me aback. A tremor afflicted her hands, and her face took on such a startling shade of carmine that I thought she might be suffering the throes of apoplexy. Then she stood, unclasped the pendant’s chain, and threw it at me. She told me to take the lousy necklace and be gone. I obliged her. And as God is my witness, that is the entirety of my involvement with the lady.”
“You maintain that you never touched her?”
“That is correct. When I left the house, Mrs. Cooper was furious but very much alive.” His intent gaze locked upon me. “You believe me, do you not?” He threw his hands up. “I did not harm her!”
With Hayward’s words of praise for the man echoing in my head, the suggestion of him being my neighbour’s murderer seemed implausible. Yet if Mr. Rowe did not kill Mrs. Cooper, then who had committed the crime? I scrambled for any remaining unanswered questions. “What happened to the missing vase?”
“I have no knowledge of the vase. Perhaps the killer stole it.”
“What time did you leave Mrs. Cooper’s house?”
“Well, I arrived at six and remained for no more than two hours.”
I pressed my knuckles to my lower lip. Someone could have entered the house after Mr. Rowe left. And since Mrs. Cooper had dismissed most of the servants for the evening, that person may not have been observed.
Mr. Rowe held me in a steadfast stare. “Pray tell me, what do you intend to do now?”
“You are an esteemed member of the community, and I am inclined to believe you. Nevertheless, I am honour-bound to notify Mr. Notley, the Bow Street runner, of your testimony. He may see fit to question you further.”
He rubbed his hands over his trousers. “By Jove, he may assume that, because I had been to Mrs. Cooper’s house that evening, I must be the one who murdered her.”
“I have observed him to be a skilled and thorough investigator, so I expect he will follow all the evidence. I suggest you compose a written account of everything you have told me. I shall forward your statement to Mr. Notley and indicate that you have been cooperative and made no attempt to evade the subject or conceal the truth.”
“Very well.” In a laborious movement, he stood and trudged to a mahogany desk. “The Bartons keep writing supplies here, so I shall compose my account now.” He raised a pen, gesturing towards the door. “You may as well join the others. I shall find you later.”
Upon my return to the drawing-room, Elizabeth caught sight of me, parted from Miss Barton and my sister, and strode in my direction. My pace accelerated as I went to meet her.
“There you are.” Her glittering irises distracted me, disrupting my respiration. “Noah said you left with Mr. Rowe.”
“Yes, we had a matter of business to discuss.”
She took a backwards glance. “Cassie will have the card tables brought out soon, but I thought we might take a walk in the garden.” Her smile took on a teasing disposition. “Unless, of course, you are keen to play whist.”
