“I’m assuming all this is for you,” Samantha said. She’d moved to an escritoire where various items littered the surface. Picking up a glass bottle, she turned, one eyebrow raised in question.
“It’s for the pain and to help me sleep. My physician gave me every concoction available, in case one worked better than the other. I’ve been alternating between them as per his instructions.”
“Where does it hurt?” Adrian asked.
“My upper back.” He winced, leaned forward a little, and rearranged the cushion he’d been resting against. “Though I’ve lost sensation in my legs, my spine feels like it’s been twisted. It plagues me day and night.”
“I’m sorry.” Well aware of how crippling back pain could be, Adrian sympathized. Each time he’d taken a whipping, the simple act of wearing a shirt had caused him severe discomfort. Andhiswounds had been superficial. There had been nothing mechanically wrong with him, as was surely the case with Lawrence. “Maybe you broke it during the fall.”
“My physician has suggested this. He claims the only possible remedy is rest.” Lawrence produced a humorless laugh and made a sweeping motion with his hand that seemed to include his entire body. “As if I’m able to do anything else.”
“Let’s hope your situation improves with time.” Adrian closed his notebook, then tucked it and the pencil he’d used to make a few notes back into his jacket pocket. “Again, thank you for agreeing to speak with us.”
“It was my pleasure.” Agony tugged at Lawrence’s face and he winced. “Would you please hand me the laudanum bottle before you go? It will save me from waiting for one of the servants to answer my call.”
Samantha, who had remained by the escritoire, picked up the glass bottle farthest to the right and delivered it to Lawrence. He thanked her, proceeded to open the bottle, only to pause and say, “When you catch Eleanor’s killer, as I’m confident you shall, I hope you’ll show him what you’re capable of, Mr. Croft.”
Adrian met his gaze squarely. “It’s not me he should fear, but rather Eleanor’s father.”
The edge of Lawrence’s mouth twitched. “Of course.”
“Should you think of any additional details that could be of use to our investigation, do let us know.”
Lawrence nodded and Adrian crossed to the door. Samantha joined him and he reached for the handle, prepared to make his departure when Lawrence said, “There is something, though I’m not sure it’s of much significance.”
“What is it?” Adrian asked, half turning to glance in Lawrence’s direction, his hand still on the handle.
“Eleanor had another suitor last year. He was rather eager, but then she and I announced our engagementand from what I gather, he stopped calling on her. But then I had my accident, and she mentioned he’d tried to convince her to break things off with me. She refused, insisting she’d honor her commitment to me, even though I told her we could find a way out of it if that was what she truly desired.”
“Did this other man give her trouble?” Adrian asked.
“Not as far as I know, though she did say he voiced his displeasure with her.”
“Could be worth looking into,” Adrian mused. Especially since no one at Orendel House had mentioned this person. “What’s his name?”
“Michael Hutchins. His father runs a book shop. The Story Collector, if I recall correctly. I think it’s located on St. Thomas Street, though I’m not entirely sure. I didn’t want to press when Eleanor told me about it. You understand?”
He hadn’t wanted to come across as overbearingly jealous, Adrian gathered. He thanked him for the information, promised he’d look into it and keep him informed, then pulled the door open and followed Samantha from the room.
“You didn’t seem very sympathetic toward him,” Adrian observed once they’d left Lawrence’s home. They walked to the edge of the pavement and proceeded to wait for a hackney to appear.
“He struck me as too self-serving. I dislike his reason for wanting to marry Lady Eleanor.”
“It’s not so dissimilar from other upper class people’s motivation. Few marry for love but he at leastseemed to care about her.” She made a soft sound at the back of her throat just as a hackney pulled up. Adrian gave the driver directions to The Story Collector and opened the door for Samantha. He climbed in after her and took his seat on the bench beside her. Closing the door he asked, “You disagree?”
“I’m not sure Lawrence was being sincere.” The carriage rolled into motion and she angled herself so she faced Adrian more fully. “There was something in his voice when he spoke about her. An elusive hint of emotion I can’t quite figure out.”
“I noticed no such thing.” He tried to think back on Lawrence’s tone and mannerisms during their conversation. “What I saw was a man in genuine pain. As far as I could tell, he was deeply affected by Lady Eleanor’s death.”
“Maybe.” They were quiet a moment before she said, “I find it curious that Lady Eleanor’s family made no mention of Mr. Hutchins. It’s almost as if they weren’t aware he’d pursued her.”
“I had the same thought.” He stretched out his legs and pondered the details of their discussion with Lawrence. “Whatever the case, we’ll get to the bottom of it. Maybe finding Hutchins will help fill in a few missing pieces.”
“You think there’s a chance he’s the one who killed her?”
“I’ve no idea. I certainly don’t want to make assumptions before I meet the man in person.”
“Lawrence mentioned him as though he were anafterthought. It almost seemed like he gave us the name purely to offer up some small bit of additional information. However insignificant it might be. If we’re not careful, it could distract us from following the real trail.”
