“It’s not dated,” I pointed out. “And I’m not sure that’s even a C at the beginning of it. It might be a G. Marsden’s first name is Geoffrey. Peckham’s is Gilbert.”
They both looked at me.
“Well, they are,” I said. “Look at it. It might be a G. Her handwriting is excessively curly. And even if it is a C, she danced with Christopher last night, as well. And there’s Constance. Maybe she wanted to talk with her sister about everything that had happened.”
“I didn’t get the impression that her relationship with Constance was anything like yours with Kit, Darling,” Crispin said dryly, as if he hadn’t realized that I was trying to help him. “And it’s hardly likely she’d arrange an assignation with him, is it?”
“Maybe she thought, if she couldn’t have you, he’d make an acceptable substitute.”
Crispin didn’t dignify that inanity with an answer, just rolled his eyes.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” I told him. “If she told you the truth, and she really did want you and not just your title and money, she could have done a lot worse than Christopher.”
“She wasn’t telling the truth, Darling. It was all about making an advantageous match. And Christopher wouldn’t be interested in her even if she were telling the truth.”
“She might not have realized that—” I began, and was interrupted by Pendennis.
“You shared a room with Miss Peckham, Miss Darling.” I abandoned Crispin to attend to him. “Did she leave your shared room at all last night?”
I shook my head. “Not that I noticed, and I think I would have. We slept in the same bed, and I was awake rather a lot. I woke up when she came in, and I think I would have woken up if she’d tried to leave again, too.”
And it was a good thing that I could tell him all of that with a clear conscience, because out of everyone here, Constance seemed to have the strongest motive for murder. Lady Peckham’s demise might have been—most likely was—a tragic accident, but if someone had deliberately arranged for her to get a fatal overdose of Veronal, Constance was surely high on the list. She was familiar with her mother’s health, and knew about the medication Lady Peckham might need to take. Her mother had ignored her in favor of Johanna, which must have been both painful and infuriating.
And then there was Johanna, who had taken Lady Peckham’s attention away from Constance, and who had seemed to go out of her way to make Constance feel (and look) drab and unwanted. I could well imagine how any man Constance might ever have looked at with interest had been knocked flat by the lovely Flemish girl.
I hadn’t been fond of Johanna, and I had known her for less than three days. Constance’s well of animosity must have been fathoms deep after years of the same.
So no, of everyone present, I didn’t particularly want to point a finger at Constance. Not any more than I wanted to point one at Christopher or Francis, anyway.
Or at Crispin. Cufflink or no, there was no part of me that could reconcile the man sitting next to me with what had been done to Johanna de Vos.
“My money is on Laetitia,” I said. Crispin made a protesting sort of movement, but he didn’t end up saying anything. “She had Johanna’s room to herself, so nobody would know if she left it and went into Lady Peckham’s room, and she wouldn’t have known that St George turned Johanna down in the garden. Her room faced the front of the house, like mine and Constance’s, so she couldn’t have seen it for herself. I was in the lavatory, so she couldn’t have been there. To her, Johanna was still a rival. She had motive and opportunity, and I think we all had means. Ergo, I think Laetitia Marsden did it.”
Pendennis didn’t respond. “Is there anything else either of you can tell me about this note? Or the handkerchief or cufflink? Or anything else?”
I shook my head. Crispin did, too.
Pendennis nodded. “Don’t go anywhere, Lord St George.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Chief Inspector,” Crispin said, and while I’m sure he was trying to sound suave and insouciant, he only came across sounding snotty and young.
“Even if we leave here, you know where to find us,” I told Pendennis, and took Crispin’s arm before he could attempt to get away. “But we’re not going anywhere. Neither of us had anything to do with this. We’ll be around.”
Pendennis nodded. “Find me Laetitia Marsden, will you, Miss Darling? I sent Collins upstairs, so there’s no one else to send.”
“My pleasure, Chief Inspector,” I said brightly. “I’m already looking forward to it.”
I tugged Crispin behind me out the door before Pendennis could muster up a response to that.
Fifteen
NotifyingLady Laetitia that Chief Inspector Pendennis requested a moment of her time was everything I had hoped it would be. She paled, turned to her brother with an expression of panic on her face, and quavered, “Geoffrey?”
“Buck up, Letty,” Marsden advised, as if this was nothing to worry about. Laetitia grimaced, but got to her feet and made her way across the floor.
I stepped politely out of the way to let her through. “Good luck.”
She shot me a look, but it was more terrified than haughty, so I just smiled sweetly. Her gaze snagged for a second on Crispin, half hidden behind me and the door I was holding open, but she didn’t say anything to him, and I’m not sure he even realized that she was looking at him.
