A Lady's Guide to Gossip and Murder. Dianne Freeman
damp story.” He shuffled through a few pages on top of his stack and pulled one out. “‘ In an attempt at gallantry, Clifford Worthington leapt from his carriage to rescue a lady’s hat from certain destruction as it blew along the path toward the serpentine. He managed to save the hat but not himself. The hapless gentleman tripped over a rock and dove straight into the water himself.’ ”
“Goodness, I am familiar with that story.” I frowned, trying to bring the details to mind. “Oh, yes. It was very embarrassing. Mr. Worthington is the father of my late sister-in-law. I can’t imagine what possessed him to attempt such a silly feat. The man is approaching sixty and quite stout. I wasn’t the only one laughing at the image of him running to catch up with the blowing hat.”
I couldn’t contain a smile at the thought. “Mrs. Worthington was furious. But that story was the buzz of town several months ago. If Mary had hoped to blackmail the man over this little on-dit, she left it too late.”
He waved a hand at the file. “So far everything I’ve read has been of this nature, a bit salacious or embarrassing, but generally well known.”
“Strange.” I dug a little deeper into my stack and pulled out a page with a story I could easily decipher. “Here is something I’m sure His Grace, the Duke of Manchester, would wish to keep quiet. It links him to M.A. and whoever she is, he would never want Miss Zimmerman to hear about it. Though, for my part, I think somebody should inform her of what a scoundrel he is. He’s only chasing after her money.”
Charles leaned his head against the back of the chair and stared up at the ceiling. “Yes, he’s only ever interested in women with money. This other woman is probably just a flirtation.”
“I doubt that would make a difference to Miss Zimmerman if she found out. It would still be an insult to her.”
“Why would he do it then? Do you think the story’s true?”
I gave him a one-shoulder shrug. “It’s believable, I’ll say that much. He can’t seem to help himself. He must marry money, but he can’t resist female attention.” I turned my gaze back to the file, but he wasn’t finished with the subject of the young duke.
“How do you know he must marry money?” He leaned forward to reach a bowl of fruit on the desk. I waved him off when he offered it to me and watched him choose an apple for himself.
“I suppose because he doesn’t hide the fact that he has little, if any, money of his own.” A little warning bell sounded in my head. Something was inconsistent here. I frowned at Charles who stared, his eyes wide and innocent. “He has no money,” I said. “In fact, he is likely deeply in debt. How could he pay a blackmailer?”
“Well, I don’t suppose he could. One does need money to pay a blackmailer. Or for anything else for that matter. One can’t pay for anything if one has no money. Terrible situation to be in.”
I held up a hand to stop him so I could think. “Manchester couldn’t afford to pay blackmail, so why would Mary even bother?”
“Would she know that?” He sunk his teeth into the apple with a loud crunch.
“I rather think so. It’s common knowledge.” I scanned the note again. “She’d be wasting her time blackmailing him.”
“Maybe she didn’t. She wasn’t one to waste her time.”
“Then why keep the note? Why take note of it in the first place?” I waved a hand toward his file. “Why gather any of that useless gossip?”
Charles had a mouthful of apple and held up a finger for me to wait. Since I didn’t really believe he had an answer, I posed another rhetorical question. “How did she come by all this information?”
This time he merely raised his shoulders. “No idea,” he said from the corner of his mouth.
“Well, at this point I can’t see Manchester as a likely suspect but I suppose I should place him in the possible stack.”
“Have you found any likely suspects?”
I gave him a scowl. “You’ve been next to me this whole time, Charles. You know I’ve read only two notes. The first page, yes. The second, doubtful. Why?”
He unfolded himself and rose to his feet. Stepping over to the fireplace, he tossed his apple core onto the grate. As it was unlikely George would have a fire in that grate for the next month or two, it was probably not the best place for food detritus, but I held my tongue.
He turned to face me. “I just keep wondering if Mrs. Archer was really blackmailing anyone.” He gestured to the file he’d left on the chair. “I’ve seen nothing in that file but gossip, most of it well known. I’ve even heard it before.” He waved a hand in my direction. “You’ve found one possibility and another that’s completely impossible. A blackmailer isn’t going to bother with an impoverished peer.”
“What other reason would she have for keeping all these notes? And you have only just begun to read your file as have I. We may run into many likely suspects.”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, stared down at the carpet as he outlined the pattern with the toe of his shoe. “I suppose I really didn’t know her well enough to make a judgment about what she would or wouldn’t do, but Mary Archer a blackmailer? I don’t believe it.” He raised his gaze to mine. “How would she even go about it?”
A good question. “I suppose she could have contacted her victims through the post.”
“Her victims!” He raised his hands and face toward the ceiling. “Her victims. How ridiculous that sounds.”
Though not without sympathy, I was beginning to lose patience with the man. “Forgive me, Charles. I’m aware these people are not all innocents, but I don’t know what to call them other than victims.”
He waved a hand in my direction. “Apologies, Frances. I understand how odd it is that she collected all this information, but we all have idiosyncrasies. I can’t keep two thoughts in my head at the same time. You, it seems, dabble in solving crimes. The fact she collects gossip and scandal does not make her a blackmailer.”
“Perhaps, as we examine these files, we’ll find another reason for them. But remember, if she wasn’t blackmailing anyone, that makes you an even more likely suspect to the police.”
He twisted his lips into a sad half smile. “Point taken. I just wish there were another way to prove my innocence than ruining a dead woman’s reputation.”
He moved back to his seat, and we both continued with our reading. Over several hours and a few cups of tea, I’d gathered a small stack of possible blackmail victims while Charles continued to find none. While we shared the silence of the room, I pondered his questions. Where did this woman find the audacity to threaten so many prominent people with exposure unless they paid for her silence? This was so different from the woman I thought I knew.
And where did she find her information? Mary didn’t move about in society much, at least not as of late. Since her husband died, she lived a subdued life in a quiet part of town. I assumed she had a small income from her own family. Enough to allow her to live alone, but it would hardly provide for attending social events.
I worried my lower lip while I considered Charles’s defense of Mary. He’d made his case well. He’d planted a seed of doubt. And that was another thing that bothered me. He had made a good case. With barely a word of the gibberish I’d become used to hearing from him. Perhaps he was not as foolish as I’d thought.
Chapter 6
Several hours later, I left Charles in possession of George’s library since I could no longer focus on the words before me. Back home, I found Hetty relaxing on the sofa in the drawing room with a glass of some amber liquid.
When Aunt Hetty first arrived in London, I’d been surprised by her taste for strong spirits. I’ve since found