prepared to.’
‘We haven’t considered them, have we? “The butler did it” is such a cliché.’
‘It is?’
‘Detective novels of the nineteen twenties and thirties,’ I explained. ‘I’ll lend you some to read. But what about the staff? It sounds as though the Viscount was a stickler for proper behaviour. He may have been more of a domestic tyrant than Adrien realised. Or perhaps he was an utter hypocrite and was looking for a meek little housemaid to take to bed as light relief from Madame.’
‘I agree, we should speak to all of them, not just Grainger. But some of them will be called to the inquest tomorrow, so we can build on the Coroner’s questioning.’
‘Who else is there?’ I asked. ‘I suppose Horace the youngest brother and his family are too remote from the title to have that as a motive.’
‘There might be some other point of friction,’ Luc said. ‘But I cannot think what it might be. We can ask Adrien but, if there had been any blazing rows or deep estrangements, I feel sure he would have mentioned them by now.’
‘And Jerald seems to have been indulged with small loans of money,’ I pointed out.
‘True.’
‘I suppose the second son of the old Viscount, the soldier who was killed in India, didn’t marry and have a son?’ I mused. ‘Now that would be dramatic – the true heir turns up brandishing their birth certificate and their parents’ marriage lines and everyone else is moved down the line of succession. What if he is the Mysterious Illegitimate Male who called on Henry last week, and he isn’t illegitimate after all?’ I leaned back, closed my eyes and tried to imagine how that might play out.
‘The military man had kept his marriage a secret, for some reason. His son arrives from India and, before they reveal themselves – not expecting to be the heir, merely wanting to find out about this unknown family before they present themselves – they discover that the current Viscount is about to marry. It makes them think about their own position and they realise that if he dies before he has a chance to father an heir, then they inherit. That would give them an even stronger motive than Adrien’s father has.’
‘How likely is it that an unknown heir is out there?’ Luc asked, clearly sceptical. ‘And why on earth would he be the relative supposedly born on the wrong side of the blanket? Either he’s legitimate or he isn’t.’
‘How long ago was he killed? The General, was it?’
‘Colonel,’ Luc said. ‘The Battle of Assaye. Late September in eighteen hundred and three.’
‘Not quite four years ago.’ I counted off on my fingers. ‘How long does it take to travel from India?’
‘Four or five months would be exceptionally fast,’ Luc said. ‘It can take a year. Bad weather, storms, a damaged or poor ship – I have heard of people abandoning the vessel they are on and waiting in Cape Town for months for one they felt more confident about.’
‘It is possible, then,’ I said, well into my fantasy by now. ‘It would take a while for news to reach his family, if he had one. Then they would be in mourning. Then someone has to make the decision to come to England, make preparations – raise money, perhaps – travel to a port and so forth. And it is possible that they have been in this country for a while, finding their feet. Or plotting,’ I added darkly. ‘That’s why he pretends to be illegitimate to start with, in order to investigate the family.’
‘I think it highly unlikely.’ Luc seemed more amused than scornful. ‘Surely, if there was a legitimate family in India they would have been known to the military authorities – the Colonel would have definitely left a will with his regiment’s clerks. And any legitimate wife would have written to the English family as a matter of courtesy, even if she had been left well-provided for and was in no need of support.’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ I said reluctantly, seeing my wildly romantic tale reduced to a heap of improbabilities. ‘It was just such a dramatic theory, especially if he had married an Indian woman. That would have made a stir in the ton.’
Luc shrugged. ‘Not particularly. It happens less now, but the East India Company used to positively encourage their senior officers to forge legitimate local connections through marriage. Many of the noble families of England have members who are part-Indian.’
I was theorising based on Victorian and Edwardian attitudes to India, I realised, and, if a respectable Indian bride would have been acceptable, then there went any motive for secrecy. ‘You are right,’ I said with a sigh. ‘If there was a legitimate heir, they would have made themselves known by now.’
We watched as two small children accompanied by a huge fluffy dog and a distracted nursemaid came past, heading for the small herd of cows grazing in the distance. That wasn’t going to end well…
‘There is no sign of theft or forced entry, no threatening letters besides the one in the clock, no mention of arguments, disputes or enemies.’ Luc was almost taking to himself, working through possibilities. ‘We need to find this footman, but I think we should also find out more about Adrien’s oldest brother, Marcus, and their father. They have the most obvious motive and Alexander was the last person we know of from outside the household who was in that room.’
‘And there is no explanation for that mysterious note summoning him.’
‘Yes, that needs investigating. I wonder if it actually existed.’
‘There seems to be a lot of loose ends and nothing to catch hold of.’ The pessimism was back. ‘We can hardly expect Adrien to tell us anything incriminating about his father and brother and the note at the reception is too vague to follow up.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Luc said, and got to his feet. ‘We can go to the Palace and see if anyone knows how it was delivered. It’s on our way back in any case.’
‘Palace?’ I glanced around, distracted by distant shrieks. The large fluffy dog was racing away pursued by the herd of cows and the children were screaming their heads off. ‘Cattle can be dangerous. Do you think we ought to move those children? Ah, no, the dog’s vanished and the cows have given up.’ They appeared to have instantly forgotten their outrage and were cropping the grass again with bovine indifference. I tried to imagine their attitude if they were transplanted to the modern day Green Park with picnicking office workers, skateboarders and joggers. The thought cheered me up a little.
‘Palace?’ I repeated as we emerged into Cleveland Place.
‘Earl,’ Luc said with a grin. We walked past the beautiful red brick Tudor front of the Palace, so unchanged in my time that it always made me feel uneasily as though I was in both centuries at once, around a corner and then across a courtyard.