I did wonder quite sarcastically who that might be.
“Sir Laughton has been good enough to accompany me,” she continued. She glanced over at her attorney. There was that smile and I was again reminded of Alice’s Adventures and that Cheshire cat.
“He has delivered an important correspondence regarding the matter,” she explained.
“Just so,” Sir Laughton commented with a look at Sir Avery.
Sir Avery nodded and indicated a piece of thick stationary on his desk. I briefly caught the royal seal.
“I have received a note from his Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales no less, that I am to take every precaution to guarantee the safety of Mr. Brodie until the situation can be resolved. And Sir Laughton is to confirm to His Royal Highness that it has been duly received and noted.” Avery’s mouth thinned.
“And what precisely does that mean?” I asked. “What is to be done?”
“I have already notified Scotland Yard that my office is assuming full responsibility for Mr. Brodie, and he is to be transferred here without delay.”
I exchanged a look with Munro. At least Brodie would be safe from any further injury on the part of Abberline, and his current injuries could be looked after.
“Lady Montgomery, Sir Laughton, I presume this concludes our business.”
“Quite so,” my aunt replied. “And I will expect confirmation once he has arrived. By telephone will do.” She stood then, smiled, and swept past us with Sir Laughton.
“How did you manage that?” I asked as we returned to Alex Sinclair’s office, Rupert ever hopeful for food.
My aunt patted my hand. “When one lives long enough, one learns very quickly how to deal with fools and imbeciles—not Sir Avery of course. He is intelligent and very shrewd in his own way. And quite handsome as well, don’t you think?”
“About Brodie…” I reminded her. She held up a hand.
“I am aware of most of it, and the situation with Abberline will not be tolerated. Brodie is...very important to our family, and I will not believe that he is guilty of this murder.
“The Chief Inspector has proven himself to be disgusting, underhanded, and without the brains God gave a turnip. And too dull-witted to understand that he should not threaten me, or mine.”
This with a voice that had sharpened like steel. I had seen it before, but I must say that I was impressed. I thought of the turnip. They had no brains, which was a perfect description.
“I have done nothing more than ‘call out the cavalry,’as Templeton would say after her trip to the western United States,” she added. “Of course, in this instance, that consists of Sir Laughton and that directive from His Royal Highness.” She turned to her attorney.
“We must be going. The hound did insist on accompanying us—such odd behavior.” She paused, “I do hope Mr. Hastings has returned. I was tempted to drive the motor carriage. However Jamison talked me out of it,” she continued. “It’s quite open to the elements, and he explained that all sorts of disgusting things might be churned up from the street. I didn’t want to spoil my gown, and my riding costume is not the presentation I wanted to make.”
Of course, I thought.
Munro assured her that Mr. Hastings remained with the coach and team. I didn’t mention that I was relieved that she had left the motor carriage at Sussex Square.
After they had gone, we went to Alex’s office. The hound had gone in search of food. Considering the age of the Tower and all sorts of crawling creatures that might still be found, there was no telling what he might return with.
Lucy had returned as well from her search for any additional information in the newspaper archive.
“I found something very interesting,” she said, opening a leather case. She retrieved a note pad.
“There was an article about the funeral for the young man, Stephen Christopher Matthews. The odd part is that there was no period of mourning like one might expect for someone from a family of the Matthews’ position and all.” She scanned through her notes.
“The article made reference to his death—but nothing about murder, on 2 April, 1881, at the age of twenty-one. Then, something odd in that same article. Remembrances were to be made to Mrs. Adelaide Matthews of Kent. There was no mention of Sir Edward Matthews.
“I thought that was quite odd as well and went back to the Registry Office and searched the family names.” She turned over the page.
“There was an entry for Edward Matthews that included date of birth, his parents and a sister. I found her date of marriage, and the names of three children.
“I then searched for Adelaide Matthews, his wife, and found her family name of Lewiston under the registration for their marriage on the fourteenth of June, 1859, and a record for when they lived in Kent. But there were no entries for the births of any children.”
“There could have been a simple mistake,” I suggested. “Perhaps it wasn’t recorded at the time.”
