Sophia stood in the doorway, watching Addison standing transfixed by a painting. She suspected he saw the past in it and didn’t dare interrupt his perusals.
‘Please go to the carriage if you wish, Sophia. I’ll catch up with you later.’ He spoke—terse—his mind on some faraway place.
It meant going past the butler.
She did and the butler opened the door for her as if she were a queen, but they both knew she wasn’t.
She strode to the carriage, feeling like a pauper, choked by her awareness of the gulf between her station and his. She would have felt much better entering and exiting through the servants’ entrance.
His childhood home.
The driver of the carriage opened the door for her and the nod he gave her was friendly, more of a recognition of one servant to another.
‘I never realised the master came from such high steps,’ the driver said, awe in his voice.
‘Neither did I,’ she said, staring back at the façade.
She settled herself inside and viewed the other houses. She didn’t think she’d ever been on this street in her life.
Carriages moved past. And not one with a ducal crest, so she wasn’t necessarily in the most affluent part of Addison’s life.
Likely she was surrounded by earls and viscounts and bankers and didn’t even know it. More vehicles sped along than she’d ever seen on the streets in front of Addison’s house.
Addison moved into the conveyance, his lips firm as he sat beside her, and his hand casually taking hers. But he wasn’t relaxed. Not with the tension in his face.
But then, he’d been where his mother had lived. The reminder of the life where his father had visited. A duke.
She’d never seen his father, but when she caught a glimpse of Addison’s profile, she could easily see him as a duke’s son.
She would have felt so much better if he’d been a banker’s son, but even that was rather elevated.
Her husband had been a carpenter whose mother had taken residence in Humphrey Talbot’s upstairs rooms. Then, after the theatre had hired her husband to make some repairs, he’d decided the actor’s life was for him. And Sophia had not suspected him of being in a performance during their short courtship. It had been the best performance of his life.
She faced straight ahead.
‘Can we take a different direction?’ she asked. ‘I’d like to see where I grew up.’
He agreed and she gave the driver instructions, but she admitted to him that she wasn’t sure how reliable they would be. Travelling by carriage, instead of walking, made all the distances different.
Addison squeezed her fingers, supportive, and she didn’t know if it was to be close or if it was a way of combining his past and present.
The driver took them to West Lane and then turned to a familiar area. A light rain pelted the top of the vehicle. She wished the rain would have held off longer, because the thunder and raindrops had turned the day dreary and colder.
After directing the driver again, Sophia found where the structure stood, but loomed like a bad dream, except for the memories of her mother. Just rooms for different families.
She’d shared rooms with her parents and Merry. The winters were to be endured and summers could be escaped somewhat, but being with her family had made it all easier.
‘I mostly had a happy life when I was a child,’ she said, finding it hard to remember herself as content in those surroundings, but she had been. Her father had been forceful with his fists, but he’d mostly stayed away, working or drinking, arriving late at night. Her mother had always tried to make sure Sophia and Merry were asleep during those times and she’d often taken them for walks to keep the peace around them. ‘Everything seems smaller now than it did.’ And older. And tired. And hardly standing. ‘It was a long walk for us to go anywhere, but it was always an adventure.’
Then they switched direction and proceeded to the place she’d lived when she was married, except it had burned to the ground. Humphrey had lived on the first floor. She, her husband and her mother-in-law had lived above. She couldn’t summon any happy recollections.
Her mother-in-law had been such a wretch. They’d not spoken again after the woman had tried to get Sophia imprisoned, but it had always been like a conversation with a hungry vulture holding a scythe. Sophia had moved out the day after her husband’s death because there had been no alternative. She’d had to leave everything behind except what she could fit in her portmanteau, but she’d not left much.
She feared she would have followed her husband out of the window if his mother had had an opportunity and it would have been claimed suicide. Grief. An impossible scenario.
But she’d done as well as she could, which her own mother once said was what everyone always did.
‘Do you think people always do the best they can?’ she asked Addison.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I did what I wanted to when I got out of my parents’ vision and sometimes in their view. I wouldn’t listen to them. Then it stopped being an adventure and became an experience where foolishness becomes clear.’
He still held her hand and she wondered if he noticed her roughened skin from the mopping and cleaning.
‘Some people are consumed by drink before they feel its tentacles and then, when they grasp that they are there, it’s too late. It has them hugged too close.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘I was pulled into risk much the same. And I took it and almost perished for it.’
‘But you escaped.’
‘Yes. Though I am doing a similar adventure now, except within the bounds of utmost propriety. I take chances with properties and livelihoods. Perhaps the steadiness I had when I risked my own life makes this tame to me. And I’m able to distance myself and judge everything based on merit. The height of the peril itself doesn’t concern me. The chance for success factors does.’
‘Will you move back into the town house?’
‘My father asked it of me. Not demanded. But asked. I doubt he’s asked more than half a dozen things of anyone in his whole life.’
‘It would be like living inside a royal castle.’ But she wasn’t a princess. She’d never be accepted among these people. Doubtless even the other servants would stare down their noses at her. She was fairly certain of that. It would take years to earn a spot in their good graces.
He had no idea that the servants would slight her, or she would think they did. Wooten stood so correct and stonelike. She’d never know what he truly felt and it would always make her wonder. She would feel like a mouse encircled by hungry cats, licking their whiskers and watching for a mistake so they could pounce, rather like living with her mother-in-law had been.
‘The town house is for the wealthiest of people.’
‘If riches didn’t matter to us...’ he studied the scene outside the window ‘...then we might have no desire to better ourselves. As someone who lived a good many years completely without such yearnings, maybe it’s for the best to have them.’
‘The town house is more lavish than what I knew existed. But being content with what you have is good, too. I had so little when I was a child. But I had a mother who cared for me and our little, drab abode seemed so fanciful some nights when we were falling asleep and telling stories and entertaining ourselves with quiet songs or rhymes. And sometimes, we’d act out stories we made up. I always enjoyed that.’
‘Walls, roofs, windows,’ he said, ‘but some are results of a craftsman’s art and some are walls, roofs, and windows. A place to keep dry and warm.’
‘You belong among the art. I could tell as you walked around the rooms, reacquainting yourself with them, that you were comfortable there.’ She forced the sentence to end on a smile.
If she’d understood who Addison was when she first saw him, she would have bolted for the brothel door and put her hopes in a child. The place with oars and a man who hid under the bed.
Addison belonged in the town house.
She did not.
To let him go of her own volition seemed harder than she could manage, but she had the opportunity to move to Broomer’s.
The oars at the door didn’t make her feel intimidated. True, it was in a respectable area, but not one so deeply entrenched in perfection. One closer to the docks and the oars seemed to be a message telling the neighbours to accept them as they were.
Perhaps she could find a way to do the same, but when she searched inside herself, she doubted it. She’d never been a person who’d been able to stick out her jaw and barge forward. That wasn’t how she’d survived. If she’d been brave enough to lead with the chin, she would have been knocked, head first, into the nearest wall.
She wasn’t sure about living among the best. Addison’s true world, not the one he lived in. That was the error for him. The plain residence with ordinary people who went about their lives. Well, in truth, his plain world was a grand one to her and she was pleased to live in it.
‘It is a glorious home.’ She wished she’d never seen it. ‘In a world full of important people.’
Addison’s laughter rumbled in the coach. ‘Important people? I suppose. But normal people. Ones who have enough funds to purchase a bit of distance from others. The staff helps build a barrier, hiding the routine moments. My mother could afford to purchase things that cloaked her differently, giving her the appearance of a swan among crows Because our life was not always grand when glass was breaking,’ he mused to himself. ‘Mother never, ever broke the expensive porcelain or glassware. The anger was drama, not rage.’
‘There is a divide between the master and the staff in most houses. You do not see it.’
‘I do.’ Quietly spoken. Almost too soft. ‘I won over Cook easily enough. With Beldon and Crisp and her niece, I was an intruder below stairs.’ His lips firmed. ‘Under my roof. But they were right.’
‘You let them go. At least Crisp and Beldon. And I gathered you wanted Ina gone, which was a good decision.’
‘I would not have if I could have trusted them. I saw errors. Mistakes in bookkeeping that they didn’t know I ever watched. After the first butler, the ledgers were stored in a closet near the entrance. An easy place for me to inspect them when I visited the kitchen late at night. I insisted. My house. My rules.’
When the coach stopped at Addison’s, Sophia stepped out of the carriage, and saw the front door. With the firm pressure of his hand, Addison pushed her forward.
His house. His rules.
True, she could enter by the front door here, but she would be relegating him to the servants’ entrance in his life if she did the same elsewhere. She would have tentacles in him and be holding him from the opulence he’d been born into. He didn’t even see the obstacle growing around him.
Addison took Sophia’s arm after he escorted her from the vehicle. Humphrey opened the door, then greeted them.
She slipped from his grasp, following Talbot to the servants’ quarters.
‘Sophia, would you please follow me as I’d like to speak with you privately,’ Addison said.
She hesitated. Humphrey stopped, studied the situation and continued on his way.
‘We can talk in your room if you’d prefer,’ Addison said.
They seemed to be at a stalemate.
Sophia gathered her skirts in a grip which would leave wrinkles in the clothing, and hurried up the stairs in front of Addison. But he had a feeling she was keeping something from him and he wasn’t certain of what it was. And he didn’t think Sophia was particularly good at evading questions. They needed to talk. They’d done too little of it.
The knowledge slapped him across the face...the only thing that had done so in his life.
He’d been intimate with Sophia, close with her. But how much of himself had he truly shared? And how much of herself had she revealed?
In his library, he saw a tray had been left for him and he moved to it, and cut an apricot tart in half. But he put it down before handing it to her.
‘Are you thinking of going to Broomer’s?’
She released her grip on her skirt and the crumpled cloth fell into place—so many steps past the top of the stairs.
‘I may be.’
‘Please don’t, Sophia.’
‘Can you not see where you are going?’ she asked. ‘Can you not see where you belong? Where I belong? And what if I were to fall in love with you?’
She walked over and rested her forehead on his shoulder. He didn’t embrace her, still hearing her words.
‘I could not do that to you. I could not jeopardise your future. I could not stay with you if I felt more for you than you felt for me. I could not move into such a grand residence without feeling inferior. I could not live like I did before with a sense of circling vultures all around me.’
‘You are overreacting.’
‘If it were five years ago, perhaps I would be naive enough to think I could. But that innocence died in me fairly quickly.’
‘I will not have a mistress in that house, Sophia.’
‘I understand that. And I don’t think you realise how flawed my past is. Society would not accept me. And if they found out who you had as a housekeeper they would talk. And I can’t raise a single finger to the world in a rude gesture like you can. I. Am. A. Housekeeper. And in truth, that is far more than I ever expected.’
He took her shoulders. ‘We have time to think this through. We don’t have to make any decisions today. Please don’t go to Broomer’s.’
He saw her uncertainty.
‘Please.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘Please.’
Before she could answer, he heard a vehicle’s wheels screeching as a brake was applied.
A cacophony of shouts and noises erupted at the entrance. Humphrey’s voice reached them.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs. He stepped in front of Sophia, moving her behind him for protection, wishing now she’d not stayed.
The library was the room with the open door and the footsteps ran to it first. Two men burst inside, dishevelled in their haste, and he recognised them instantly.
‘Father told us,’ the future Duke shouted.
‘I’m sorry, sir. These heathens rushed past me.’ Humphrey ran in last, a broom in his hand, ready to swing. ‘I’ll escort them down the stairs.’
‘I’m not a heathen. I’m the heir.’ His brother whirled to Humphrey, then jumped back when he saw the broom.
‘Pity.’ Humphrey sniffed, giving a wide, slow swing. ‘They let anyone inherit these days.’
‘Not if he has anything to do with it.’ His brother addressed Addison. ‘You traitor. Once a bastard always a bastard. Never forget that.’
Addison shrugged. ‘I don’t have a problem with it.’
His eldest brother rushed forward, flinging a punch. Addison ducked, caught the fist, clasped it and used it to push the heir back into his younger brother Benedict.
‘I will escort them out,’ Humphrey said. ‘If you will start them down the stairs, face first.’
‘They’re my brothers,’ Addison said, resignation in his voice.
‘We all have family members we’d like to hide,’ Humphrey mumbled.
‘I know you! I saw you at Drury Lane. You were in some comedy that put me to sleep,’ Edward said.
Humphrey gripped the handle tighter. ‘“There be madness in my broom, but there is a method to it. God gave you one face, but I will happily make you another.” As Shakespeare would have said if he’d met you.’
‘Down, Humphrey,’ Addison ordered. Then he spoke to his brothers. ‘If you wish to stay, you will treat my butler politely.’
‘Did you realise you have an actor for a butler? And not a good actor either,’ Edward asked.
‘He’s a fine butler and I will keep him,’ Addison answered, knowing Humphrey could never reach the heights of service, but it wasn’t his brother’s decision. ‘As I have to do with my brothers.’
Addison stepped closer to Humphrey, took the broom and commanded him with his eyes.
Humphrey left, the essence of high dudgeon. Addison tossed the broom near the wall.
‘When this servant leaves, we have a discussion to attend to.’ Edward shot a glance at Sophia.
He’d be damned if he’d let his brother dismiss Sophia.
Addison heard her moving away. He reached out, caught her arm and pulled her close, taking her hand to his lips for a kiss, meeting her eyes and imploring her not to resist. She didn’t. He stood at her side. ‘She is welcome to hear any discussion between us.’
‘Your mistress?’ Edward said the words as an oath.
All the years of his mother being the Duke’s mistress resurfaced, and Addison stared at his brother. And he could not introduce her as his housekeeper as he had to Wooten.
‘Betrothed.’ He spoke softly. It would have carried more weight had not Sophia gurgled. He shot her an exasperated look.
He could not let his brothers relegate her to the status of a mistress and she could end the betrothal at any time she wanted.
Her lips firmed, but she managed to get the edges of them up.
‘Father has told us nothing about this,’ Edward said.
‘It’s recent,’ Addison answered. ‘I have yet to inform Father. And she has yet to decide.’
‘Well, now that you’ve got your paws on His Grace’s funds, I can understand this woman accepting your offer of marriage.’
‘She didn’t know about Father’s lease.’ Addison kept Sophia close, speaking with his brothers, yet really paying more attention to her. ‘Now you’ve done it. You ruined the surprise.’ He would have preferred her to have given a semblance of happiness, but then perhaps she’d not really heard what he said.
‘You’re stealing Oldston’s funds. My inheritance.’
Edward was ready to charge again, but Addison held out a palm, stopping him.
What he wasn’t stealing was Sophia’s heart. He could see it on her face. No pleasure shone through at being introduced as his betrothed. She appeared more choked than ecstatic. A splinter of coldness pierced him. She was serious about her dislike of marriage and it didn’t only brush the surface. He knew she found him appealing, knew she enjoyed his presence, their moments together, and yet, at the merest hint of a betrothal, she appeared to have been plunged in a cold vat of seawater.
His brother’s shouts captured his attention and he had to glare at Edward to keep him from rushing forward with his fists. But blast it, he wanted to reassure Sophia.
‘We’re not—’ she said.
‘Let’s discuss it in private, Sweeting. I misspoke.’ Addison tried to soothe her and he would beg her forgiveness later.
‘Oh, you misspeak all the time,’ Edward shouted. ‘And end up in gaol and everyone thinks you a saint for it.’
‘Are you already married?’ Benedict inserted, moving closer to his brother. ‘He could do it, Edward. He could get a Special Licence and likely keep it a secret so Father wouldn’t find out.’
‘We are not wed,’ Addison said, more to comfort Sophia than anything else. ‘And are not likely to wed soon as she is still undecided.’
That seemed to bring life into her eyes.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Edward said, a growl after the words. ‘You’re trying to control my inheritance. You cannot expect me to believe it wasn’t your idea. You came to the estate during the anniversary celebration and acted as if you owned it.’
‘My father’s estate. I’ve agreed to nothing. And have you ever known the Duke to do anything he did not decide to do on his own?’
Neither brother spoke.
‘Father never could think regarding your mother, or you.’ Edward’s hands fisted at his sides. ‘Our mother died and within days we couldn’t find him. He set up his mistress in a house nearby and off he ran. Then when you were born—’
Benedict nodded. ‘He called us in and told us we had a brother, but that we must keep it among family for the time being.’
‘He did?’
‘Yes. The same thing he told half of London,’ Edward said, his lips twisted into a snarl. ‘“I have a son. I have another son. But keep it among yourselves. It’s not something to talk about.” Then he took me on a carriage ride to Uncle’s house and said, “My Vera had a boy.” He said he’d wanted you named after Grandfather, but Vera insisted against it.’
Addison hadn’t known that.
‘Then when you were every bit the hellion and a disgrace, I told Father how you were acting,’ Edward said. ‘And he told me not to mention it again and then I had to listen to an hour of instruction about pious behaviours that befit the future Duke. And I was a perfect son. Perfect, but never good enough for him. You nearly got strung up for all to see and it hurt Father, yet he welcomed you with open arms.’
‘I could tell when Father heard of your indiscretions. We got the sermon,’ Benedict muttered. ‘It’s a wonder any of us survived.’
Addison mused. ‘One year must have been particularly rough for you.’
‘We were sent to a tenant’s farm and had to pick up rocks in the fields,’ Benedict agreed. ‘But that was the last time we received your punishment.’
‘I apologise that you were chastised for my errors.’ He went to the pull. ‘I’ll have the maid bring us some wine. I’ve some good vintages that may help make up for the sermons.’
‘Nothing will,’ Edward said.
‘You’ve not tasted this wine...’ Addison took the pull and tugged it. ‘The major renovation I made here was to see that the wine could be stored properly.’
‘We could listen, Edward. You know His Grace can be strong-willed. And you’re usually thirsty.’
Edward glared, unspeaking.
Addison released the pull. ‘The proposal is to lease everything to me—the houses and the estates—for twenty-five years. I make the decisions regarding major purchases and make sure invoices are paid, and the profits are to be divided among the two of you, the Duke or Duchess, and me. He wants to protect his wife in the event that he should pass on. If I die in advance of him, the lease becomes void and reverts to him. I would also agree to let tenancy of the ducal estate remain in his domain, his wife’s and the two of you.’
‘That does have some merit,’ Benedict said. ‘And Father does care for Her Grace and she does treat him well. And Addison is our half-brother.’
Edward sneered in response. Addison knew that it would be almost impossible to divide the properties should his father pass on, even the unentailed ones. Benedict and the Duchess would likely get nothing but a pittance. Edward, as a duke, would get the total amount of the entailed.
‘It’s said you’ve done well with investments,’ Benedict said. ‘So it’s possible Edward’s inheritance could be more.’
‘It’s possible.’
The room quietened as Edward pondered that.
In a few moments, Merry arrived, answering the bell, her cap askew.
‘You!’ Edward shouted, jumping to the wall behind him, fingers splayed. ‘Thief!’ he sputtered, voice shrilling as he spoke to Addison and pointed at Merry. ‘She picked my pocket.’
‘I never picked your pocket,’ Merry gasped, eyes wide. ‘I never took one penny from you I didn’t earn.’ Her voice firmed. ‘And trust me, I earned it, by just giving you a smile.’
‘I will see justice done.’ Edward glared at them all.
‘I will refund any money taken from you,’ Addison said.
‘That’s not enough. I want her arrested. Transported.’
‘Drawn and quartered?’ Addison asked.
Edward gave him the ducal scowl and Addison shot it back to him, and if his mother had been correct, no one could give that particular glower better than him or his father.
‘Then let’s get someone here who knows what punishments might be merited.’ Addison said, knowing his neighbour would be gracious. ‘There is an official nearby who can help us. Fetch him and he’ll help sort this out.’ He gave his eldest brother direction.
Edward left. Benedict shrugged and followed after him.
‘Did you know my brother?’ Addison asked Merry.
She nodded. ‘Before Mrs Wilson’s. A private arrangement.’
He glanced at Sophia. ‘Amazing. A woman with good morals from the brothel.’
‘I do have good morals.’ Merry straightened her cap. ‘I don’t always use them. But they can be exemplary on occasion.’
Addison spoke to Merry. ‘Did you pick his pocket?’
‘It’s possible.’ She stared at a corner of the ceiling. ‘You’d think he would have had more funds than that.’
‘How much? Err on the high side. He will be repaid.’
‘A few pence. I took it to let him know I could and to get rid of him.’
‘A few pence?’
‘Yes. I didn’t want to see him again.’
‘Leave me to sort this.’ Addison shut his eyes. When he opened them Merry was gone.
His eyes raked Sophia. ‘Were you an actress?’
Sophia gasped, much louder than any he’d heard before. He braced himself.
‘No. The newsprint lied. The theatre didn’t hire me.’
He put one hand to his temple and tensed. ‘The newsprint? Is there anything else I should know?’
‘I did not murder my husband,’ Sophia near shouted. ‘No matter what his mother claims.’
He stared at her.
‘I didn’t kill my husband,’ she said, softly this time. ‘I didn’t. He jumped out of the window on his own.’
Addison swore under his breath, imagining his future. All the respectability. Gone. ‘If the bankers find out—If the Duke does—’
‘His mother wasn’t there. But she claimed to be. She said I pushed him and she saw it.’
He reassessed what he’d heard, considered it again and knew he’d not made a mistake.
He saw the respect swirling away. He’d worked so hard since gaol to live a pristine life. He’d been careful of drink, of women and not been to a gambling hell once. Blast it, on most Sundays he went to services and stayed awake. And he was careful to appear appropriately interested at the service and be discreet. If he had a business idea, he pencilled a note on the paper he kept in his prayer book.
‘I didn’t mean for this to happen,’ Sophia said.
He could have said the same. His brothers could spread tales faster than newspapers could be printed. This would not sit well with his father or the banker.
A clattering came again from the front door. They both waited.
Edward and Benedict rushed in again, with a third man. Sophia gasped.
‘I found your constable friend,’ Edward said. ‘Where’s the lightskirt? I want her arrested. Now.’
‘Ophelia is the pickpocket?’ The constable shook his head, speaking to Sophia. He’d obviously recognised her. ‘And that actor who opened the door? He swore you didn’t kill your husband, but it would have been hard for him to see you from the stage floor where he spent the night.’
‘I did not kill my husband,’ Sophia said. ‘I assure you of that. And I believe my mother-in-law burned down Humphrey’s home.’
Edward and Benedict stared.
‘Well, that has a ring of truth,’ the constable said. ‘I told his mother no court would sentence you guilty and she threatened to burn my residence if I didn’t arrest Ophelia.’
‘Ophelia?’ Edward gasped, suddenly picking up on the name, eyes gleeful. ‘This is the murdered Hamlet’s wife?’
‘He only played Hamlet the one time,’ Sophia said. ‘And I had to answer to the name Ophelia since our betrothal or he would go into a rage. And all his friends called me that. Everyone in the theatre did. They didn’t know my real name.’
‘I’ll pay you,’ Edward said to the constable, clapping his hands. ‘To arrest Ophelia and—the other one.’
Benedict chuckled. ‘I’m going to be the favourite son.’
‘No, you won’t,’ Edward snapped. ‘But Father will hear about this.’
‘Please see that he does,’ Addison agreed. There was no way this would not find its way back to the Duke with both his brothers present. And the constable, too.
Benedict slapped his brother on the back. ‘I think you should tell Father about Addison,’ he said, grinning at Edward. His laughter erupted. ‘And I will tell him about your funds getting stolen. That way, he doesn’t get too much upsetting news at once.’
‘No one will be arrested under my roof.’ Addison’s command slashed into the air.
‘Come on, Benedict,’ snapped Edward. ‘It doesn’t matter if she’s arrested as long as Father knows she should have been.’
His brothers left, clattering down the stairs.
‘Tell me what happened,’ Addison commanded Sophia.
She gulped in a breath. ‘It was terrible.’
‘Let me,’ the constable said. ‘It was my most interesting job. I remember it like it was yesterday. The theatre owner said the man was always dancing off chairs and heights, trying to prove he could act, but he couldn’t. Apparently, he couldn’t land that well either.’
‘Humphrey lived in the rooms below us,’ she explained. ‘He rented the ones above to my mother-in-law as she wanted her son to be near the actors.’
Addison recalled the story. ‘I remember reading that Ophelia pushed Hamlet out the window and his mother had tried to stop it, but feared for her own life.’
The constable agreed. ‘The mother went to the newspapers with her side of the story. They printed it without verifying a word.’
‘My husband was upset that night because the theatre owner had threatened to let him go if he didn’t remain in character onstage. Hamlet was to die a still death. Not a tumbling one. He jumped out of the window to show just how he thought Hamlet should die. He’d done it before, many times. He could fall and roll. But I heard a cat screech on the roof. I thought he rolled over it on the rooftop and it caused him not to alight as he usually did.’
‘That’s likely the way it was,’ the constable said. ‘He’d not amounted to much, but people said he could tie himself up almost like a worm. All the actors said he was a right fine acrobat. Learned it from moving around on the boards when he was a carpenter.’
‘Is that the truth?’ Addison asked Sophia. ‘About the death?’
She nodded. ‘I didn’t kill him. His mother said she was there. She’d been to the theatre with us, but went to the tavern afterward with a male friend.’
‘True. The mother did say you pushed him, but he was bigger’n you. I couldn’t find you later, Mrs Marland, but when I was working on another case, I found someone who said the older Mrs Marland was in the tavern until someone arrived to tell her there’d been an accident. I found the man who’d left the theatre with her. Turns out the tavern owner didn’t want her to burn his place, so he kept his mouth shut about her being there, ’specially since you didn’t end up in Newgate. He said he would have shoved both the mother and son out of the window if he’d had a chance so he figured you might have. But she’s died of drink and meanness now so he’s not worried.’
‘I didn’t push him,’ she answered.
‘Didn’t think you did,’ the constable added. ‘Didn’t then. Don’t now. That man who told me the mother died informed me the old Mrs Marland grumbled all the time about her son’s wife and wanted to make her suffer.’
‘If anyone pays you to say anything else, you will answer to me,’ Addison said.
‘I’m on the side of the truth.’ The constable held his hat, nodded to her. As he left, he grumbled, ‘And if the son was a worm, the old woman was a snake.’
Addison watched her after the constable left. ‘No one you brought here was what they seemed. Even the cat was a villain. He attacked you on the stairs.’