“Pearson. Yes. Do you remember?” I pressed.
My father frowned, and I could almost see him trying to sift through his memories, searching for it. “I … I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Perhaps?” He gave me a look full of such desperate hope that I felt horribly shameful for even bringing it up.
“Thank you,” I said as I patted his arm.
The door swung open then, and Tommy came charging into the room wheeling the tea cart. “We’ve brought cake!”
My father broke into a delighted smile then, and I could only hope that he would soon forget the discomfort I had caused him. Delia came in a moment later, looking slightly harried, and she immediately sought out my gaze. I gave her a slight shake of the head, and her face fell.
I then began pouring the tea and handing out cake. OnceFather and Tommy were happily occupied, I pulled Delia aside.
“I learned something very odd at Cecelia Wentworth’s just now,” I began and told her about the photograph and Lord Linden’s insistence that he did not know Oliver.
“Perhaps he was mistaken,” Delia said, voicing the same possibility as Cecelia, but I shook my head.
“No,” I said, even more certain now that the man was being intentionally duplicitous. “There is something else going on here. I’m sure of it.
Delia looked uncertain. “What are you going to do?”
I let out a sigh. “I’m not sure.” But that wasn’t entirely true, for I would need to tell Mr. Dorian about this. I could only hope he would keep his gloating to a minimum or else I would not be responsible for my actions.
Mother returned not long afterwards and seemed pleasantly surprised to find us all gathered together. After a little while, though, she asked Delia to take Father back to his room, as it was time for his nap. I was grateful to have a moment to speak with her and asked Tommy if he wanted to look at the library one last time before we left. He was out of the door in a moment, leaving Mother and me alone.
“Do you know if Charles Pearson ever came here to call on Father?” I asked, getting right to it. “Perhaps to ask for Delia’s hand?”
She sat back in surprise at the blunt question. “Your father doesn’t receive visitors anymore.”
I let out a huff of exasperation. “I know, but I spoke to Charles Pearson’s widow, and—”
“You didwhat?” She looked properly scandalized.
“Mother,” I began tersely, “you wanted me to investigate this murder, and that is the sort of thing it requires. We’re lucky the woman even agreed to speak to me.” I decided not to share the role Mr. Dorian had played in the meeting.
My mother wilted a little at this. “Well, what did she have to say then?”
“She showed me a letter from Charles claiming to have met with Father.”
“I suppose he could have,” she said slowly. “Depending on when he came.”
“And would he have been able to speak to him alone? Without you hearing about it?”
She grimaced. “Possibly. Sometimes he leaves his room while the nurse naps. And he always comes in here. He likes looking at the pictures,” she said with a little smile, gesturing to the collection of framed photographs on the sideboard.
Still, I needed to look for holes. “What about Morris or Mrs. Reynolds? Wouldn’t they have been about?”
“Not if he happened to come on one of their half days,” Mother said. “And Morris was tucked up in bed with a cold for a few days several weeks ago, so the footman would have been alone to man the door. He’s new, you see, and I … I haven’t shared the extent of your father’s condition with him yet.”
I recalled my own interactions with the footman and how bewildered he seemed when I asked about my father. I suspected it would have been quite easy for a man like Charles Pearson to charm his way inside.
“So then it’s possible Charles came to call on Father and actually got to speak with him, alone.”
“Yes,” my mother said on a sigh. “I suppose it’spossible. But I don’t understand why this is so important. You’ve seen what he’s like. Anyone would have realized he wasn’t well right away.”
Or he had caught Father in one of his more strident moods. Similar to the one I witnessed with Mr. Dorian. I tilted my head. “Did Father know Lord Mitchem?”
She let out a bemused laugh. “Of course. He knew every man in the cabinet. What is this about, Minnie?”
“It’s just … something he said to me the other day. It made me wonder if there was another side to him that perhaps we didn’t know about. Activities he was engaged in.”
