“I found his body there,” I said as calmly as I could. “As did your son.”
“No!” Clement was on his feet. “I didn’t find him. I foundyoufinding him.” He pointed a stiff finger at me.
Mrs. Morgan rose, anything genial in her vanishing. “Are you saying my son killed Colonel Isherwood, Captain Lacey? If you have come to accuse him, you will bring me evidence and allow me to send for my solicitor. Or did you, wealthy men about town, decide to badger a pathetic widow?”
There was nothing pathetic about this woman. She stood straight-backed and stared us down.
I set aside my tea and climbed to my feet. “Please. I am accusing no one. I want to get to the truth, because you can see the precarious position I might be in. I do not believe I killed Isherwood, but to prove this, I need to find out who did.”
Mrs. Morgan’s brow furrowed. “You don’tbelieveyou did? Do you not know?”
“Unfortunately, no. I remember little about the night.”
She gave me another look, this one full of disapproval. “Strong drink is the very devil, sir.”
Grenville broke in. “Captain Lacey believes he was given a substance that clouded his mind.”
“Does he?” Mrs. Morgan’s skepticism rang out. “Does he believe Clement did this—drugged him and set him over the body of a man my son killed? I’ll thank you to consider your words, sir.”
“I do not believe Clement murdered him, either,” I said quickly. “I wish to clear his name as well as mine.”
“Why?” Mrs. Morgan demanded, as though it were a reasonable question. “Why should the likes of you stick your neck out for the likes of us?”
“Because I am interested in the truth.” I grew stern. “I do not want to see an innocent lad hang for something he did not do. I do not care if the Regent himself murdered this man—I’d prosecute him with all my might.”
Grenville had risen when Mrs. Morgan did, but remained a distance from us, trying to be the most unthreatening person in the room.
“You will find, madam, that Captain Lacey is a most honorable fellow,” he said. “He is a champion of the downtrodden—not that the description belongs to you, Mrs. Morgan.” Grenville bowed to her. “But he will work to make certain the correct person is punished for the crime, not the most convenient one.”
The words were delivered in a smooth tone and one that slightly disparaged me.He will always act honorably, even at detriment to himself, Grenville was implying.Drives his friends mad.
Mrs. Morgan was not entirely reassured, but her anger wound down a bit.
“I wanted to ask Clement what he’d observed Monday evening during the supper and after,” I explained. “He as footman would see all the guests, would know who went in and out and what servants were in the back stairs. He would know exactly when the Regent—and every other guest for that matter—left that night. I hope he can be my eyes and ears for what went on before Isherwood’s demise.”
Mrs. Morgan studied me, her indecision plain. Then she closed her eyes briefly and sat down once more.
“I don’t trust many, Captain. That includes you and Mr. Grenville. But I have also learned how to judge people quickly. You seem sincere—though in my experience, every confidence man does at first.” She lifted her chin. “I will provide you some information, before you pry it of a busybody. I knew Colonel Isherwood. When we first moved here, he wished to court me ... not as a wife. I rebuffed him. I did not like him.”
“I commend your taste,” I said, resuming my seat. “I did not like him either.”
“Mum?” Clement came forward, aghast. “What do you mean, not as a wife? You mean as his fancy piece?”
Mrs. Morgan scowled at him. “Is that difficult to believe? I am not in my dotage, and there has been more than one gentleman who wanted me on his arm. But I am neither desperate nor a fool. He tried to tell me how many gifts and riches he’d give me, as though I were an empty-headed ninny. I turned him away.” She hesitated. “I am afraid I had to turn him away quite often. He was persistent … and threatening.”
“He was ever a blackguard,” I said. “If he were still walking, I’d call him out for that.”
Grenville stepped forward. “We can all agree the man was abominable. Pray keep that story to yourself, good lady, lest you be accused as well.”
Mrs. Morgan’s eyes flashed. “I imagine if every person Hamilton Isherwood angered or disgusted were accused, there were be a long parade before the magistrate. But I take your warning, sir. Clement could also be pointed at as a lad defending his mother.”
Clement’s eyes widened. “I didn’t even know.”
“If a magistrate wants a culprit, and quickly, he might not care,” Grenville said. “Let me sum up—we have three suspects standing in this room. Captain Lacey, found over the body, sword in hand. Clement, on the spot and fond of his mother. Mrs. Morgan, who was bothered by the colonel and possibly frightened of him. I am beginning to be happy I went off to that soiree, as deadly dull as it turned out to be.”
“Others were at the dinner,” I said. “Lord Armitage and his wife, who have a fairly wild history. Bishop Craddock, who argued with Isherwood about the relevance of the army now that Bonaparte has been defeated. Quite strongly, I recall. I didn’t know many of the others. Alvanley and a few of his friends I’ve met at Tattersalls.” I frowned, trying to remember. “Alvanley introduced a French count.”
“Comte Fernand Desjardins,” Grenville said as he sat down and lifted his teacup. “He is an emigre—at least, that is his story. Came to England with his parents when he was a lad. They’d managed to get much of their money and belongings out of France before the Directorate came into power, and lived very well. Desjardins inherited the lot when his father passed away. He’s a bit of a dandy—enjoys luxury and mixing in the highest circles. Even now that Louis has been restored to the crown, Desjardins seems in no hurry to move back to France.”
