Mr. Romano muttered something in Italian that sounded very much like a warning, and I shot Mr. Dorian a cross look, but he only shrugged. “It’s a fair question. And though the marriage may have been in name only, you are still legally his widow.”
Mrs. Pearson pursed her lips as she shot him an irritated look. “I came here for several reasons. One of which was to see Charles to discuss our divorce.” Then she paused as her eyes filled with regret. “In fact, we were supposed to meet the day after he was killed. It had been ages since we last saw each other, and I was so looking forward to it.”
But Mr. Dorian was predictably unmoved. “What do you think prompted this change on his part?”
Mrs. Pearson looked confused. “Well, the proposal, of course.” Then she turned to me. “He intended to ask for Delia’s hand.”
This made me think slightly better of Charles. At least he hadn’t intended to ruin Delia completely. But Mr. Dorian let out a scoff. “That’s convenient.” I shot him another warning look, but Mrs. Pearson shook her head.
“He did,” she insisted, then turned to me. “He even spoke to your father about it.”
Now that was truly surprising. “What? When?”
“I’m not sure exactly, but he mentioned it in his last letter. Let me find it.” She stood and went to a small writing desk and shuffled through a stack of correspondence. “Ah, here itis.” Mrs. Pearson scanned the paper. “I received this just days before his death. We were arranging a time to meet, and he mentioned that he had gone to see Mr. Everly and got his blessing.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. Absolutely no one else in my family seemed aware of this. Not even Delia herself. “May I see it?”
She nodded and handed it to me. The letter was written in the same casual tone favored by the author and mostly related to deciding a time and place to meet. But there, at the end, was the mention of his visit:
I went to Delia’s father last week to get his blessing, as I want everything to be aboveboard this time, which I know you can appreciate. The old man gave me a devil of a time at first, as any good father would, but I wore him down in the end.
I stared up at her. “I don’t understand. My father is not a well man, and I’m certain my mother has no knowledge of this.”
Would it even be possible for Charles Pearson to visit my father without anyone knowing? I truly wasn’t sure.
Mrs. Pearson frowned in concern as she took back the letter. “I don’t know what to say. All I know is what is written here.”
“What about money?” Mr. Dorian asked, once again completely ignoring the emotional undercurrent of the conversation. “We have reason to suspect that Charles Pearson may have run into some financial difficulties.”
Mrs. Pearson let out a disapproving tsk. “Charles was always short of funds. He didn’t know how to properly manage money. Men like him never do,” she said to me in a confiding tone.
“But, as his widow,” Mr. Dorian continued, “don’t you stand to inherit everything?”
“I suppose I do, but I’m quite certain anything he doeshave is tied up in that collection of his,” Mrs. Pearson said evenly. “If anything, Charles owedmemoney. The inheritance from his father, the one he was in such distress over, turned out to not be anywhere near as large as he expected. Of course, by then he had already overextended himself. Luckily, I was doing very well and agreed to help him pay his debts.”
“What about his business?” I asked.
“I think he lost more money doing that than he ever made. Poor Charles,” she added with a sigh. “Things just never seemed to go his way. That was why I was so happy for him when he mentioned your sister.”
But I couldn’t share in this as I was growing more and more certain that Charles Pearson had targeted Delia in part because of her dowry. And had possibly gotten her pregnant to make sure she went through with the marriage.
Mr. Romano said something in rapid Italian, and Mrs. Pearson let out a gasp. “Oh, goodness. I nearly forgot.” Then she addressed me with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, but we have an engagement this afternoon.”
“Not at all,” I replied. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with us. It has been very … enlightening.”
“Of course. And if there is anything more I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“That is very kind.” I rose from my chair and turned to Mr. Dorian, but his gaze was still firmly fixed on Mrs. Pearson, and I didn’t much care for the look in his eye.
“Just one more thing: where were you and Mr. Romano on the night of the murder?”
Mrs. Pearson raised an eyebrow. “As I told the police, we were attending the opera and have a number of alibis to prove it.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “I don’t suppose you have any relation to Inspector Dorian, do you?”
To my surprise, Mr. Dorian’s ears turned pink, and he turned away. “He is my brother,” he mumbled.
I met Mrs. Pearson’s eyes, and she gave me a satisfied little smile. “How very interesting.”
I thanked her again and tugged Mr. Dorian out of the room before he could embarrass himself any further. I could feel both her curious gaze and Mr. Romano’s mighty scowl upon us as we fled the suite.
