Ashwood reached for the pile of papers on the table. “Before Sloane speaks, there is something I need to tell you. Something I’d prefer to say before Miss Sands arrives.”
Dante’s heart sank.
He prayed Ashwood didn’t have evidence against Henry Watson.
Ashwood flicked through the pages. “This is a list of names taken from a book found beneath the boards in Manning’s house in Gower Street. For obvious reasons, Sir Malcolm has the original.” He glanced at Dante. “Henry Watson’s name is listed, so is his address in Winchfield. The village is located two miles from the murder scene.”
Hellfire!
“So, Watson owed Manning money.” If only the Lord would strike Dante down, so he never had to tell Beatrice the news she’d been dreading.
“They found account ledgers, but they only date back twelve years,” Ashwood said. “We’ve no way of knowing if Watson struggled to pay his debt, or if there was a debt at all. The names were simply listed alphabetically in a book.”
Dante looked at Sloane. He wanted to ask about Farthingdale. Had the new owners kept his parents’ belongings? Might they let him visit, tour the house and grounds? He could manage that with Beatrice by his side.
“What did Mrs Pickering say?”
Sloane consulted his notes. “As Cole quite rightly pointed out, we were wrong about the incident at Farthingdale. I’ve sketched a timeline, but the crux of it is that Coulter came to see Daphn
e D’Angelo in December 1804. The gentleman gave his name and spent two hours there. Daphne escorted him to his carriage, and they agreed to speak again when Alessandro returned from Italy.”
Dante was confused. “But in Mrs Pickering’s first statement, she spoke of an argument, said my mother threw the gentleman out.”
“That’s a separate incident that occurred in the following September, three months before they died. Alessandro was in Italy. Mrs Pickering said he visited his homeland once a year, but had to make the extra journey because of a business matter. He’d already delayed the trip because your mother was struggling after losing their unborn child. They didn’t expect to be blessed with another, and she took it quite hard.”
Dante coughed. The choking feeling came upon him, as if he were being throttled from within. He glanced at the decanters on the drinks table. The amber liquid glistened against the crystal, but Dante closed his eyes to the temptation and let the pain wash through him.
The men were not ignorant of Dante’s plight. They sat silently, waiting for him to gather his wits and catch his breath.
He met Sloane’s gaze and nodded for him to continue.
“As I said, your mother received another caller while Alessandro was away. The gentleman refused to give his name. After an argument, Daphne threw him out. She told the housekeeper the man was a devil and a crook, and that she would write to inform Mr Watson. She said if he should call again, Mrs Pickering was to get the gamekeeper to fire a lead ball at the man’s arse.”
Dante managed a smile. Just like Beatrice, Daphne D’Angelo would have fired the shot herself had she a weapon. He glanced at the empty seat beside him. If he lost Beatrice, the void would be as huge as the one left by his parents—perhaps infinitely bigger.
“Was Mrs Pickering able to describe the caller?” Someone else must have learnt about Coulter’s claim. What other motive could there be for blackmail?
“He was tall, a man of good breeding, though he arrived on horseback, not by carriage. Mrs Pickering took it upon herself to have a groom saddle a horse and follow the fellow.”
“Was he local to the area?” Cole asked.
“The groom followed him to a coaching inn five miles away, learnt the man hailed from Hampshire but nothing more.”
“Hampshire.” Dante sat back, his mind assembling all the likely possibilities and coming up with only one. “Ashwood, see if Manning has John Sands listed in his notebook.”
Ashwood scanned the pages before stopping abruptly. “Yes, John Sands of Winchfield. Forgive me, D’Angelo. I received this list an hour ago, and the sergeant at Bow Street only mentioned Henry Watson’s name.”
Had John Sands read his brother-in-law’s notebooks, blackmailed Dante’s mother to gain funds to pay his debt to Manning? It made sense. But how did the crook come to know Manning in the first place?
He might have voiced his opinion were it not for the fact someone had taken to hammering the front door knocker repeatedly.
Mrs Gunning shouted for the person to wait as she marched through the hall, ranting beneath her breath. Then a muffled conversation ensued, but the female voice sounded panicked.
Miss Trimble burst into the room, and they all stood.
“Miss Trimble?” Daventry stepped forward and took hold of the woman’s trembling hands. “What is it? Have you come from Howland Street?”
Her cheeks were red from the cold, and she fought to catch her breath.