Page 25 of A Murder in Bloomsbury

“That was in the past,” I said. “What she wrote about in her poem reflected the present. But I sense that somehow the two are connected.”

“Did she say so?”

“She said that was the start. Why else would she bring up Everthorne Manor when she spoke to me? She must have seen something, heard something.” I gazed straight at him. “Lydia was frightened. Genuinely frightened. But she was resolute about publishing the poem. She wanted the world to know.”

“And that same day, she was dead. Someone with a great deal to lose had reason to stop her."

“I believe so,” I said. “The question is who.”

We walked in silence for several paces.

"What happened at the manor a decade or so ago?” I asked. “I understand Mainwaring was at Everthorne that fateful night. I spoke with him at a recent supper party. He knows more than he admitted."

His jaw tightened. "Mainwaring was William's closest friend at Oxford. If anyone knew the truth, it would be him. What did he say?"

"He was evasive. When pressed, he could not meet my eye."

He stopped and faced me. "You have heard the story, I imagine. About me."

"I have heard several versions. None of them complete."

"Including mine." His bitterness was so finely controlled it was almost invisible. "I was drinking heavily that night. A habit I have since abandoned. I know I did not touch Emily. But I cannot account for every hour, and I cannot name who did. My father decided that my uncertainty was less important than William’s future. So I took the blame, took a commission, and spent the next decade trying to become someone worth being."

"Your brother. William. Was he⁠—"

"I don't know." The words came quickly, with the sound of a question asked a thousand times without answer. "He was in the conservatory where Emily was found. But so were others. My father never told me the truth, and William—" He stopped. "William is dead. Whatever he knew or did, he took it with him."

We strolled a few minutes in silence while I pondered what he’d said. It wouldn’t do to pursue that painful subject with him. At least not at the moment. But there was another question that had been turning in my mind.

"At Highgate, you introduced yourself as Julian Ashcombe. But you signed your note Everthorne. How shall I address you?"

Something shifted behind his eyes—not quite surprise, but the faint recalibration of a man who had not expected to be read so closely.

"Julian Ashcombe is who I am," he said, after a pause that lasted a beat longer than politeness required. "Everthorne is what I inherited. I confess I have not yet reconciled the two."

"Then which does the world get?"

"The world gets Everthorne. It is what they expect. But it has never felt quite right."

An idea occurred to me. "What about Thorne? Less formal than the title and maybe closer to who you are?”

"Thorne." He turned the name over, trying it on. Then something eased in his expression—as though a knot had been loosened rather than untied. "Yes. That suits." The smile he gave me then was a different smile altogether—not the careful, contained one of a man on his guard, but something warmer, more approachable. "Thank you, Lady Larkspur."

That he had accepted the name I offered was a minor thing. But it warmed me nonetheless that he’d valued my suggestion.

"Lady Larkspur! What a delightful surprise."

I turned to find Lord Peregrine approaching from the Egyptian rooms, his expression one of mild and unconvincing astonishment. Peregrine was never surprised to find anyone anywhere. He simply performed delight as a courtesy.

"Lord Peregrine. What brings you to the museum?"

"The Assyrian reliefs. I am developing a theory about the palace at Nineveh that will bore everyone I know within a fortnight." His gaze slid to Julian. "But forgive me. I am intruding."

"Not at all. Lord Peregrine Montfort, may I present Lord Everthorne?”

The two men regarded each other with the careful courtesy of people taking precise measurements.

"Lord Everthorne." Peregrine extended his hand. "I have heard a great deal about you. Very little of it from reliable sources, so I shall form my own opinion, if you don't mind."