After half an hour we had a timeline (vague), a list of what we knew about the crime (not much) and a board full of People Who Might Be Involved (too many).
Carola’s summary of the Prescott families made it rather clearer who stood to gain the title, at least. She read it out to us.
‘The fourth Viscount fathered five sons, one of whom, the second, Archibald, was a soldier. He does not appear to have married and was killed in India. The eldest, Clarence, the father of our murder victim, inherited from the fourth Viscount, only to die of a stoke aged fifty-six in 1806, which meant his son Henry, “our” Viscount, had only held the title for a year.
‘The new Viscount will be the third son, Doctor Frederick, only fifty-two, but, from what you report, not likely to last the year. That leaves Adrien’s father Alexander as the heir apparent.’
‘No,’ Luc interjected. ‘Heir presumptive. If Frederick were to marry, he might father a son.’
‘But he is a sick man,’ James protested.
‘I am not aware that consumption results in impotence,’ Luc said wryly.
‘But who is going to marry a dying man – and an infectious one, at that?’ I asked.
Carola grimaced. ‘Many women would like to be a viscountess and would be prepared to overlook that. Assuming that he doesn’t marry, or does, but fathers no son, then Alexander is the heir and, after him, his eldest son Marcus.’ She peered closely at the tiny print of the Peerage. ‘Ah. He already has two infant sons. After Marcus there are three more sons, of whom Adrien is the youngest.’
‘And if there is some disaster that wipes them all out?’ I asked.
‘Horace, the youngest brother, aged forty-five, inherits. And he has three sons.’
‘Good grief,’ I said faintly. ‘No daughters anywhere?’
‘Apparently not,’ Carola said. ‘Henry VIII would have been green with envy.’
‘So, that gives the heirs likely to have a motive as Doctor Frederick, Mr Alexander and his eldest son, Marcus,’ I said. I pinned up Carola’s chart and then wrote out “Suspect” slips for the three men.
‘All Alexander’s sons would benefit, I imagine,’ James said. ‘Their father will control a vastly increased property and probably various manors which can be divided up amongst them, even if only on life tenancies.’
‘With his cousin’s death Adrien has lost his position,’ I said, chewing the end of my pencil. ‘He needs income and he wanted to make contacts and find influential sponsors for his own political career. His marriage to Miss McNeil depends upon it.’
‘If I were his father, knowing I would inherit in the near future, I would employ him as my secretary – he knows his way around all the business of the viscounty – and I would make sure Adrien had a good enough estate to ensure his marriage. He would be a fool not to want an alliance with a man as wealthy as McNeil for his son. And McNeil will view Adrien’s prospects very differently now.’
‘So, he has a stronger motive than the two brothers immediately senior to him.’ Carola told me their names: Charles and Bertram, and I wrote all three on slips and added them to the Suspects board. ‘Oh dear. Who else is there?’
‘The sacked footman, Campbell,’ Luc said. ‘And the mysterious male bastard. But he cannot possibly inherit.’
Even so I added Mysterious Male Bastard to the board, frowned at it and amended it to Mysterious Male Prescott offspring (barred from inheriting).
‘And Miss Jordan. I am certain she did not want to marry the Viscount.’ I thought about it a bit. ‘But I just cannot imagine her creeping in through the window with a bread knife.’
We all stood and looked at the boards, then sighed, more or less in unison.
‘I hate having Adrien up there,’ I said. ‘But, on the other hand, we can assess any circumstantial evidence against him and, if there is any suspicion cast on him, we will be in a good position to defend him.’
‘I will go and ask him to dinner.’ Luc stood up. ‘I imagine he needs to get out of that house for a while. Could someone lock up the boards in the study?’
‘I’ll come with you,’ I said.
Adrien met us in the hall of the Viscount’s house. He looked strained and about ten years older. ‘Dinner? Thank you, I would be exceedingly grateful. I cannot believe how much work is involved in a sudden death.’
‘There’s no need to change,’ Luc said. ‘Family only.’
Adrien smiled at the implication that he was family too, and I was more than ever desperate to take his name off the list of suspects. ‘That would be a relief – all my clothes are at my lodgings and I have the suspicion that, if I go home, I will just fall on the bed, close my eyes and sleep for a week.’
‘Are there no other members of the family close by who can assist you?’ I asked. ‘Your father has gone to Cambridge, but presumably your Uncle Horace and some of your cousins are still in London.’ I knew it was unlikely that any of the family had travelled on a Sunday.
‘Yes, they are all still in Town,’ he said. ‘But frankly, I don’t think they would be much help. By the time I had explained what needed doing it would be easier to do it myself.’ Someone rapped the door knocker and he turned with a sigh. ‘Now who is that?’