The Dead Duke Page 3

  “Then I am glad Mr Chiverton has friends he can rely on.”

  The matter resolved, they finished their tea and shortbread in companionable silence and then took Ewan’s curricle to Mr Fillinister’s address. He was more than happy to take them to the playhouse where some of the troupe’s actors and manager were discussing a new production. Ewan had attended performances at the theatre and been backstage to speak to the actors, but had never been here at other times. The vast, brightly coloured stadium was filled with empty seats and large abandoned stage, patches of darkness coming from the higher seats in the galleries at the sides of the room, the orchestra pit a dark hole opposite the stage. The whole arena seemed to have an air of dejection, as if longing to be filled with lights, people and applause once more.

  “We are thinking of doing A Knight’s Tale by Geoffrey Chaucer,” Mr Laughton, the group’s manager, said in a polished English accent, when introduced to them. He was a middle-aged man with a face that must once have been strikingly handsome and a confident manner. Ewan had seen but not spoken to him before. “But you are not here about that. Joe says you want to help Kenina, so you’re very welcome to speak to anyone here. Is there anything I can tell you?”

  “Did you know of the duke’s relationship with Miss McNeil?” Miss Campbell asked.

  He smiled at her. “Yes, of course. Duke Raden came to see every performance by Kenina and often went backstage afterwards to see her. He was clearly smitten.”

  “What was he like?” Ewan asked.

  “Generous, friendly. Everyone here liked him.” He fell silent, a vertical line deepening between his eyebrows, then continued in a quieter, more sombre tone. “We couldn’t believe it when we heard about his death. I honestly can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm him. I think a burglar must have tried to rob the house, encountered the duke and killed him in a panic. It’s the only thing I can think of that’d make sense.”

  Unfortunately the theory did not match what the sergeant had said about the house being undisturbed and no fight occurring when the duke was killed. The actors in the arena with him said much the same thing: that they had never seen the duke in a bad mood and that he was as free with his praise as he was with his money. They ventured behind the stage area where a few more people sat about in dressing rooms, or did carpentry, or other work.

  A young seamstress who said her name was Joanna had more to say as she sat stitching a dress. “Miss McNeil would never have done such a thing. It’s evil of anyone to say she could be guilty. She loved Duke Raden. I never once heard any disagreement between them, just the opposite. In fact, he was going to marry her, I’m sure of it.”

  “You heard him speak of marriage?” Miss Campbell asked, a note of surprise in her voice.

  “Well, I never heard him propose exactly, but he said how much he loved her and that he never wanted to be parted from her. Their courtship was the most romantic thing I ever saw – I didn’t think things like that happened outside of plays, where people would do anything for each other.”

  They left her, Ewan lost in thought over her words and nearly walking into a familiar figure.

  “MacPherson!” Alex exclaimed with a grin. “I didn’t know you were visiting. Where’s Eddie?”

  “Oh, er, no, Chiverton is not with me,” he said and gestured to Miss Campbell. “I am here with Miss Campbell to look into the death of Duke Raden. Miss Campbell, may I introduce Mr Aldridge to you.”

  She curtsied and Alex bowed to her, his playful side hidden behind a formal politeness more appropriate in front of a lady. Ever the quick-witted actor, he could adapt his behaviour in an instant to suit any situation, fitting in with people from every station in life. It occurred to Ewan that it was Chiverton’s acquaintanceship with Alex that had introduced Ewan to more of the world than its wealthiest inhabitants, giving him an interest in the lives of working-class people that made him now wish to get justice for them.

  Alex said, “It’s truly good of you both to take this matter on. Joe’s beside himself and no one here believes Kenina would ever have done such a thing. It makes no sense.”

  “How long have you worked in this group, Mr Aldridge?” Miss Campbell asked.

  “Almost since its beginnings. I was ten when I joined, taking on any child roles in the plays. Kenina and Joe are the only ones who’ve been working longer for Bill Laughton than me. We’re like a family, so this murder’s a horrible shock to everyone.”

  Ewan hadn’t known that Alex had grown up amongst the actors. It must have been a strange childhood, travelling around Britain and putting on performances. The group had been based in Scotland for a while now, just moving between the theatres in Edinburgh, Glasgow and Inverness, with permanent bookings in all of them. Ewan and McDonald had been with Chiverton at the theatre when he met Alex, the spark between them instant, even though Ewan had not immediately understood what it meant. Ewan would have seen the other actors on the stage including Kenina MacNeil at the same time but – as much as he tried – could recollect none of them, having been to hundreds of similar performances before and since.

  “How would you describe Miss MacNeil?” he asked.

  “She has a caring nature, enjoying looking after all of us. The duke – well, he wasn’t her first such relationship but I never saw her in love like that before. Her life must have fallen apart when he was killed.”

  “You did not see her before she went on the run?”

  “No. I only heard what had happened from Joe. Duke Raden was a good man: he didn’t deserve such a fate.”

  They left the theatre and returned to Miss Campbell’s house to talk further.

  “If the Duke had really intended to marry Miss McNeil then it would have caused a considerable scandal,” Miss Campbell mused as they took their usual seats in the library, the room warmed by a blazing fire. It had been cold both outside and in the theatre, with a late autumn chill that soaked into one’s bones, so the heat was welcome. “If his daughter is unmarried then I assume she has inherited all the duke’s estate and wealth.”

  “You mean, she might have killed her father rather than see him re-marry? Surely she would have had a better reason to kill Miss MacNeil than her father?”

  “You could be right, but I would like to speak to her more than ever.” She tailed off as her cousin sailed into the room.

  Ewan hastily got to his feet to bow to her and got the briefest of curtsies in return.

  “I will not interrupt your discussion. I was simply fetching a book I wanted.” She did so, expression cool as she left without another word.

  The rift between Miss Campbell and Lady Huntly was clearly worse than it had been yesterday, Ewan realised, dismayed, and it was entirely his fault.

  Chapter Seven

  ISHBEL SAT around the large table surrounded by men and women dressed in silk and velvet, many of them having powdered their hair or worn a wig for the occasion. She found herself contrasting this formal dinner with her meeting with the actors earlier today, with their practical clothes and easy manners, surviving only by hard work. Edinburgh’s finest lords and ladies seemed delicate and incapable in comparison.

  Harriette had asked a week ago – before the investigation ever began – that Ishbel attend Lord and Lady Mulligan’s dinner party with her and Lord Huntly. Ishbel had hoped that her attendance here might thaw Harriette’s anger a little, but there was no sign of this so far. Ishbel had begun to make enquiries about gaining employment as a governess or school teacher and had discovered several positions she was capable of doing well. It would change her life but she found she was not too worried about the prospect; in fact a large part of her would be relieved beyond measure to walk away from the aristocratic world and its harsh rules. However, it would give her less time to spend with Mr MacPherson and she might have to cease attending university lectures altogether, both of which would be a painful sacrifice.

  Ewan – Mr MacPherson was here tonight but seated too far away from her to be able to conver
se with. He looked handsome beyond words in his finery, just as comfortable in this setting as he was amongst the actors or other working class people. Was it easier for men than for women to move freely between the different classes of society or was he unique?

  His friends, Mr Chiverton and Mr McDonald, were also present tonight and Mr Chiverton had been given the seat opposite her own. She wondered if he was aware that she knew his secret; from the calm, friendly way he had greeted her earlier, with a compliment and a smile, she thought not. She was not quite sure how to speak to him now; she would never condemn him for his feelings about men, but she did not understand them.

  Her attention, which had been lost in her own thoughts for the last five or ten minutes, was caught by the mention of a familiar name: “... Tinbough yesterday for the first time since his son’s arrest.” Mr Allen was speaking. He was a thin man of around thirty with an over-familiar way of looking at ladies who, for some unknown reason, was popular at such gatherings as this.

  “I have not seen poor Lady Tinbough at any of this week’s entertainments,” the newly married Lady Morgan said. She could not be more than sixteen years old but spoke freely of anything that came into her head now that she was no longer under her mother’s control. “Does anyone know when the trial is to be held?”

  All eyes turned towards Ishbel and Mr MacPherson. “A date has not yet been set,” she replied. The arrest had only been made by the two of them four days ago. They were still waiting to hear exactly what charges Lord Inderly would face.

  “It is such a terrible disgrace for the family,” Lady Morgan responded with relish. “I doubt we will ever see poor Lady Tinbough again.”

  “Lady Tinbough has done nothing wrong,” Harriette said from a couple of seats further down the table, with a quelling look at the younger woman. “She is naturally distressed at the moment but will certainly attend functions in the future.”

  “One cannot help but feel that the matter should have been dealt with privately,” Mr Allen said, throwing a challenging look at Mr MacPherson. “It would have been far kinder.”

  “Not for the family of the dead girl,” Mr Chiverton told him, his manner decisive but amiable. “No one, not even someone from the highest of families, can be permitted to go about committing crimes. If it were otherwise, how safe would any of us feel?”

  “Very true,” Lady Mulligan said and, as hostess of the gathering, her words ended the public discussion.

  Two seats down from Ishbel, however, a French woman who had just arrived in Edinburgh asked to have the matter explained to her. There were a number of French families settling here now, fleeing from their own country now that a revolutionary war was likely to begin at any time. Ishbel braced herself as a hushed conversation began, explaining what Lord Inderly had done and Ishbel’s own involvement in the matter.

  The French woman looked to be around fifty-five and wore a necklace with an enormous diamond that had received many admiring comments earlier. When she had heard everything about the case, including a number of false statements Ishbel had longed to correct, the lady said in perfect, accented English, “In France a young unmarried woman of good family would never dream of involving herself in so sordid a business. It would destroy her reputation and any chance she had of making a good marriage, but perhaps this mademoiselle does not come from a decent family.”

  The words were pitched to reach her ears and Ishbel’s cheeks burned as she clenched her teeth together so stop herself responding to the insult. To do so would only increase the gossip and lengthen the conversation. And Harriette would never forgive her.

  “Miss Campbell, what a charming dress you are wearing,” Mr Chiverton said from across the table and she lifted her head to look at him. He had clearly also heard what was said against her, she realised, embarrassed but grateful. “I believe that shade of blue would suit my younger sister very well.”

  Ishbel had not met Mr Chiverton’s sister, who was not yet out in society, but if she had the same blond hair and large blue eyes as her brother, any colour would likely suit her. Ishbel mentioned the modiste who had made the dress for her, sparking a long dull conversation about clothes and hats, for which she could not have been more happy.

  It no longer mattered to her that she could not understand Mr Chiverton’s feelings regarding men and women. If he could consistently be so kind and good-natured, in the face of so many people acting in the opposite manner, then she was glad to consider him a friend.

  Chapter Eight

  EWAN TRIED to show an interest in the conversation of his dinner companions while becoming increasingly concerned about what was being said at the other end of the table to make Miss Campbell look so uncomfortable. He feared it was something to do with Lord Inderly’s arrest and wished he could intervene.

  Lady Huntly had aimed a poisonous glance at him after the slight to Lady Tinbough and he thought, once again, that he should have properly considered the consequences of him and Miss Campbell taking on the new case, particularly when it had the potential to be far more scandalous than the previous investigation.

  He had thought only of himself. He had wanted to continue to see Miss Campbell and the case had been a perfect method of doing so. He had also wanted to keep resolving criminal matters. It had seemed a worthwhile use of his time and alleviated a boredom with his life that he had not previously been aware existed. However, if it damaged Miss Campbell’s reputation and her relationship with her cousin, then they should cease immediately. Unfortunately he had not yet found a way to get Miss Campbell to change her mind once it was fixed on a course of action and, now that he had brought the crime to her attention, she was clearly determined to solve Lord Raden’s murder.

  He glanced again, helplessly, in Miss Campbell’s direction and, to his surprise, heard her discussing clothing with Chiverton and several others. She must be bored witless by such a conversation but gave no sign of it and the subject was soon taken up by the rest of the guests.

  “Some people think that we French have the finest modistes in the world,” the young lady seated next to him said. “What do you believe, Monsieur MacPherson? Is my dress beau?”

  “It is a lovely gown,” he said politely.

  “And does it suit me well?” She was making eyes at him, smiling from behind her fan.

  She was a pretty woman and he realised for the first time that he had no way of communicating the fact that he loved someone else and was thus unable to share a flirtation with her. He was not engaged to Miss Campbell and, unless her views on matrimony changed, might never be. Trying to put the right mixture of politeness and lack on encouragement in his tone, he said, “You look beautiful, mademoiselle.”

  “Ma mere said I should wear a woollen shawl but I would rather be cold than ugly. Your weather is bad, is it not?”

  “It is certainly cold at this time of the year,” he agreed, “and damp.”

  “I should not say this to a Scotland person, but I liked London better, however mon pere had acquaintances here, so we will live in Edinburgh.”

  “Then I hope you will develop a fondness for our home.”

  “Develop..?” She looked confused and he realised she had not understood the phrase.

  “I hope you will like it better soon.”

  “Yes. When I have good friends of my own I will be happy here.” She smiled at him, a hopeful look in her eyes and he felt sorry for her, alone in a new country, but he could think of no way of offering to be her friend without giving the impression that he was free to be more than that.

  The meal came to an end and the assembly moved to the drawing room for a piano recital. Ewan at once sought out Miss Campbell to find out what had been said to her earlier.

  “It was nothing,” she reassured him. “A lady made a comment about it being unladylike for me to be involved in the solving of crimes. I am sure I will hear a great many more such opinions and will take equally little notice of them. Mr Chiverton was very kind, though, and distracted every
one from that subject.”

  Ewan would have expected no less from his friend and focused on her other words. “It is not too late for us to stop looking into the Duke’s murder or for you to take a lesser role in the investigation to protect your reputation. It would help you to mend matters with your cousin.”

  “I wish to solve the murder with you and would rather be scorned by every lady and gentleman in Edinburgh, including my cousin, than be afraid to live my life the way I want.”

  He nodded, unsurprised by her words. “Perhaps the matter can be easily resolved. I regret to say it but so far we have found no other suspect than Miss McNeil.”

  “We have only spoken to a handful of people,” she countered. “And the duke’s daughter is a possible suspect.” She looked around the room with sudden interest. “I wonder if she could be here this evening. Harriette would probably refuse to tell me so but perhaps one of your friends has been introduced to her. What was her name: Lady Sarah..?”

  He frowned, trying to remember. “Hartley? Hillborough?”

  “Hillsted. I am almost certain it was Hillsted.”

  Lady Mulligan interrupted them, speaking loudly from the other side of the room to introduce the pianist. Ewan and Miss Campbell found seats from amongst the rows of chairs that had been laid out for the occasion and Ewan managed to catch Chiverton’s eye and make a slight beckoning gesture. With an amused expression, Chiverton collected McDonald from his conversation with two unmarried ladies and their mothers, and the two of them took seats beside Ewan. The pianist had approached the piano by this time, though, so Ewan had to wait nearly an hour for a break in the proceedings before he could speak to them.

  As the first half of the performance ended and polite applause sounded for the pianist, Ewan leaned closer to his friends and said, “Do either of you know a Lady Sarah Hillsted? Is she here?”

  “The duke’s daughter?” Chiverton said at once while McDonald looked blank. “I have only heard of her but I do not think her name is Hillsted.”