“You don’t believe me,” said Mr. Crampton. “But I have to assure you, I did not kill Anne. If you wish to lay that at my feet, you must understand that I cannot allow you to do that. However, I feel it would be better if the nature of my relationship with Anne did not come out.”
“Why?” said Jane. “You’re not married. It would not be a scandal for a man like you. I rather expect such dalliances are expected.”
Mr. Crampton’s smile faltered for the first time.
“As it happens,” said Byron, “we know you didn’t kill Anne, because we know that the reason she died was because she drank a sleeping draught that had been spiked with laudanum, one that was meant for Mr. Hardy.”
Mr. Crampton’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you saying? Anne’s death was an accident?”
“Essentially,” said Byron. “But someone did intend to murder Mr. Hardy.”
“And you think I would have hurt that man?” said Mr. Crampton. “Why?”
Jane decided not to answer that question. She turned to look at Byron.
Byron glanced at her and then at Mr. Crampton. “Mr. Hardy had a tendency to threaten certain men with ruin if they did not do his bidding. He threatened Mr. Beaumont. He threatened Mr. Seward. We understand he threatened you.”
Mr. Crampton’s smile slid off his face. “Oh, this is just like you, Byron. Really. Why have you brought her into it?”
“She and I are solving this murder together,” said Byron. “She’s very sharp, she is.” He smiled at Jane.
She couldn’t help but smile back.
“Well, how am I to speak freely in front of her?” said Mr. Crampton. “I don’t suppose you’ve told her what happened between you and me.”
“No,” said Byron. “And we don’t need to get into any specifics.”
“I am not going to admit that I was blackmailed,” said Mr. Crampton.
“But you were,” said Byron.
“I didn’t kill Mr. Hardy,” said Mr. Crampton. “He didn’t come after me, anyway. It wasn’t me. It was…” He looked away.
“Oh,” said Byron. “That’s still going on, then.”
“I cannot dismiss him, can I?” said Mr. Crampton. “He is the one who weaponizes secrets against me.”
Jane was very confused.
“Is he here?” said Byron. “Perhaps he did it.”
Mr. Crampton sat back in his seat, his eyes widening. “Oh, dear. You might be right.” He let out a breath, one so loud it seemed to echo off the ceiling, and then he shot out of his seat and began to pace on the carpet in front of them. “He is here. How could he not be? He goes everywhere I go. I am barely ever able to escape him. He is the person who dresses and undresses me, after all.”
“Pardon me,” said Jane, who was putting this all together, “but are we speaking of your valet?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Crampton.
“Oh,” said Jane. Then, swallowing, “You and your valet are… together?”
“His valet and positively everyone,” said Byron, waggling his eyebrows at Jane.
Jane drew back.
“His name is Mr. Lovell,” said Mr. Crampton. “And if there is a soul on God’s earth who is nothing but blackness, it is him.”
Jane was astonished. “What?”
Byron was also seemingly astonished. “What?”
