The woman in question gave the man seated on the other side of her a solid jab with her elbow when he tried to take over the armrest. She turned back to Frederick. “Three things. First, this is a burletta, not a play. This is a non-patent theatre and isn’t licensed for performing plays. Second, my maid Jane doesn’t like going out after dark. She’s not overly fond of daytime excursions, either. Her bones ache.” She gave him a withering look. “And I’m too old to care about keeping up appearances.”
Frederick could hardly argue with that. With everything he’d learned about Lady Mary, her reputation would hardly be affected from attending aburlettaalone. “And the third thing?”
“Hmm?” She frowned at the man seated in front of her. He was being abominably rude keeping his top hat on inside. “Oh, yes. Third, I already told you why we’re here. According to Miss Abbott, Lady Richford had plans to come here the night she died.” Lady Mary picked up her walking stick, a sleek black one tonight, that had what looked like a small, curving tusk at thetop instead of a knob. With the precision of an expert billiards player, she took aim and poked the hat in front of her. It flew off the man’s head and spiraled down several rows. “Oh, how clumsy of me,” she said when the man turned, eyes bulging. “I do hope you’ll be able to retrieve it after the show.”
When the man looked like he might cross words with Lady Mary, Frederick leaned forward and clapped his hand on his shoulder. “It’s not worth it.” He squeezed his fingers, feeling the collarbone shift slightly, hoping to convey just how little Frederick wished for any further engagement.
The man took the hint, nodded quickly, and turned back to face front, jerking his shoulder from Frederick’s grasp.
Frederick sat back. “I don’t see the relevance. Even if Lady Richford had attended, I can just as easily account for her movements with lead and paper. I don’t need to follow in her footsteps.”
Lady Mary peered at him over her spectacles. “There was something in Miss Abbott’s voice when she mentioned it. Something significant. AndIam sharing what information I get withyou.”
Did he detect a note of censure in her voice? Sighing, he faced front. Lady Mary had provided the ticket. He was out nothing but several hours from his evening. He eyed the pamphlet an usher had shoved into his hand as they’d made their way to their seats.The Country Wife– a modern retelling. Scenes would be interspersed with comedic skits from some bloke named Gervis, with a special aria performed by Lucia Amato.
Perhaps the performance would be entertaining.
When the curtain rose, however, his hopes were dashed. The acting was overly melodramatic, themoderntwists trite and reductive. The comedy fell flat and Lucia was sorely off-key. The play wasn’t even acted out in whole. Only about half the scenes were portrayed, and not even in chronological order. He flippedopen the lid of his pocket watch and wondered how soon he could make his escape.
Lady Mary applied her pointy elbow to his side. “Pay attention,” she whispered.
“Why? Is there going to be an examination later?”
The glare she gave him was probably well earned. “No, but I think I understand why Miss Abbott was smirking. Look at Alithea.” She handed him a pair of opera glasses from her reticule and pointed.
He directed the glasses to the left side of the stage. Alithea was in the middle of a deep swoon, her acting as overwrought as everyone else’s. He lowered the glasses and shrugged.
“That is the reason Lady Richford was to attend.” Lady Mary pursed her lips. “She wanted to see her son perform.”
Her son? Frederick examined the stage once more but didn’t see Edgar Bannister. “Where?”
She pointed again, back at Alithea.
“What?” His raised voice earned a disapproving look from the woman in front of him. “That woman there?” he asked in a lower tone.
“He is quite skilled, at least in appearing as a woman.” Lady Mary tapped her thumb against her lips. “His acting still needs improving.”
Frederick looked through the glasses once more, this time noticing the shoulders were a bit broader than the typical woman’s, the hands and feet too large. He lowered the glasses, tipping his head to the side. It was quite common for men to perform female parts, but he’d never seen it so skillfully done. Mr. Bannister had a talent for it.
Like mother, like son, he supposed.
Lady Mary stood. “Let’s go.”
Frederick was happy to acquiesce. When they reached her carriage, he held the door for her. “It would be easier for a man to roam your club if he were disguised as a woman.”
“My thought exactly.” Lady Mary took his proffered hand and climbed into the carriage. “Will you return to the club with me? I believe we have more to discuss.”
As he had no other plans for the evening, he joined her in the coach. He checked his watch again. Eight thirty-four. “The performance ends around ten in the evening.” At least according to that pamphlet. “Lady Richford wasn’t killed until after midnight. There would have been plenty of time for Bannister to get to The Minerva Club to do it.”
Lady Mary sat back, her chin dropping onto her clasped hands. “Yes.”
“You don’t like that theory?”
She stared out the carriage window. “A murder is awful regardless, but a child killing his parent? It’s unnatural.”
Frederick had been with the Runners too long to feel surprise over any act. “Many things are unnatural, yet they happen just the same.”
She didn’t respond to that. They drove to her club in silence, each pondering their own thoughts. The doorman took their overcoats, greeting Lady Mary cheerfully.
