“Then you don’t know anything about his marriage?”
“Such as?” Griz asked.
“Was it a love match? A marriage of convenience?”
“I don’t know,” Griz said. “It must have happened twenty years ago, when I was in the schoolroom. How did he die?”
“Opium poisoning. Did you ever see or hear about his taking opium for any purpose?”
Griz shook her head. “Was he ill?”
“Apparently not. He was also stabbed, after death, with the vagrant’s knife.”
Griz frowned. “That is certainly a mystery. Especially when the vagrant is dead too.” She looked up suddenly. “Actually, I met St. John a few times at Zenobia’s. He was a friend of hers.”
“Just a friend?” Constance asked, then added apologetically, “Rumor has her as his mistress.”
“I should be surprised.”
“Because he was faithful to his wife?”
Griz nodded.
“What about his wife?” Solomon asked. “Wasshefaithful?”
“Oh dear, I have no idea. I never really moved in such circles. My sister might know. Or my mother. I could ask them.” Her lip twitched. “Subtly, of course.”
“Thank you. I don’t suppose you are acquainted with an elderly widow called Mrs. Willow? And her sister, Miss Morton? They live in Grosvenor Crescent, near Constance’s establishment.”
“I don’t think so,” Griz said cautiously. “I never really went out much in Society, you know. I’ll add it to my questions for my sister. I should see her tomorrow. Anyone else?”
“Gareth Neville,” Constance said, and Griz wrote that down, too. “Also…” She fished the purloined dressmaker’s account from her reticule and passed it to Griz. “Would you say this gown is reasonably priced?”
Grizelda’s mouth fell open. “No,” she said emphatically.
“Even at Veronique’s?”
“I’ll add it to my list for Azalea.” Griz paused, her pen still poised. “Neville. Nevvy… I used to volunteer at a soup kitchen in the East End. There was a Nevvy that came in there sometimes.”
“What was he like?” Constance asked eagerly. “How did he speak?”
“He didn’t much. Quiet fellow with a sweet smile, never any trouble.”
“He died of consumption,” Solomon said to Dragan. “I don’t suppose you ever treated him? He went to St. Peter’s Hospital, where apparently they gave him opium.”
“Not to my knowledge. I have no connections to St. Peter’s, I’m afraid. The opium would probably have eased his passing. Lung disease is tragically common in people living or working on the streets.”
“If he was about to die of it, could he have walked from St. Giles to Mayfair? Without help?”
Dragan lifted his shoulders. “Anything is possible. I have seen people achieve the supposedlyimpossible with wounds that should already have killed them. Some of it is down to spirit and sheer determination.”
*
“Spirit and sheerdetermination,” Solomon repeated in the carriage as they went on toward Bloomsbury. “Why was Nevvy so determined to reach your doorstep? Or wherever he went first?”
“Perhaps he is related to the Willows or the Mortons and they didn’t want to own him…” She threw up her hands in mock surrender. “I know, sheer speculation again.”
“He could have been trying to get to St. John.” Solomon said, joining in. “Though, if they did know each other, it makesmore sense that they were together. Perhaps the St. John family moved them both from their own doorstep.”
