Chapter 15

The merry glees are still;

 

The home where Evelyn lived with her parents was similar in finery and ornateness to Ainsley's family home though it was farther from the heart of London. Not much could be seen on the outside due to the winter evening hour but once inside the front door the building opened up into a three story landing with a maze of arches and balconies circling above them. A large crystal chandelier hung somewhere between the first and second floors, suspended in place by a long, thick chain descending from the ceiling. When the Marshall`s entered only certain members of the staff were gathered, footmen holding trays of champagne and maids positioning exaggerated arrangements of flowers.

“Lord Marshall! Lady Marshall!” A petite womanly form approached them, arms outstretched before her. She grasped Lady Marshall's hands, squeezing them in greeting before planting a kiss on her cheek. An imposing man loitered behind her, reaching out a hand to Lord Marshall.

“A pleasure to see you again, Lord Marshall. I gather we will be seeing an awful lot of each other in the coming months,” he said smiling as they shook hands.

“Lord Weatherall, allow me to introduce my children.” Lord Marshall turned. “You have met, Daniel of course. Here is my second eldest, Peter and my beautiful daughter, Margaret.”

Daniel was the next to offer a firm handshake and Ainsley followed suit. Margaret gave a slight curtsey when she was introduced and smiled demurely when both Lord and Lady Weatherall commented on the intricacy of her hair.

“I only wish I had another son,” Lord Weatherall pronounced, “In a few years time, our families could make a splendid showing in the House if another match between our houses could be made.”

Lord Marshall smiled, “Pity, isn't it. No other girls either, then?” he asked, indicating Ainsley who found his father's attempt at matchmaking rather irritating. His father was not entirely joking, despite his jovial tone.

“No, afraid not. It's a matter of fate that I had a daughter at all,” Lord Weatherall explained, giving a glance to Lady Weatherall. Ainsley saw his father's eyebrow rise which caused Lady Weatherall to laugh.

“Evelyn is my daughter from my first marriage,” she explained, “I was widowed whilst she was but a lamb. I married Ezekiel when she was twelve. Will's mother, the first Lady Weatherall, died when he was born.”

“Have no fear, Jonas,” Lord Weatheral said with a reassuring slap to the shoulder, “Our agreement on the dowry remains the same.” His boisterous laugh filled the entire three floors of the foyer. “She is my daughter through and through.”

“I do apologize, Lady Margaret dear,” Lady Weatherall said to Margaret, patting her gloved hands. “William has already promised himself but had I known, I'd have cast off that young lady and easily replaced her with you. You look so charming.” She smiled and placed a cupped hand on Margaret’s cheek.

Evelyn came down the stairs then and hurried to greet them. “Doesn't everyone look so dashing? I hope getting through traffic was not a chore,” she said. She looked everyone over with only a fleeting glance to her fiance before letting her gaze continue to flit about.

“Come, Lord Marshall, Daniel, Peter, we shall have a drink in my study before our presence is required.” Lord Weatherall said.

The three obliged, following him down a hallway to the right. Ainsley took up the rear watching his father and Lord Weatherall chatting ahead of him and Daniel. Congratulating each other on the match made, no doubt. Daniel seemed to be taking it all in stride, neither interested nor overly worried about the coming weeks before the wedding. In the very least, Ainsley thought, he should consider the years that stretch out well beyond the wedding day.

Ainsley glanced back down the hall, expecting to give Margaret a reassuring smile but he was surprised when he saw Inspector Simms and what he believed was another detective standing at the threshold.

Ainsley retraced his steps down the hall. “Inspector Simms, can I help you?” He tried to look calm but all he wanted was to demand why the detective was bothering his family here on all nights. He could barely look at Inspector Simms for answers without betraying their working relationship.

“My apologies, Lord Marshall,” Inspector Simms answered. “I was not aware of your relationship to the Weatheralls,” his tone apologetic.

“My brother is marrying their daughter. This is to be their engagement dinner.”

The other detective spoke up then. “Inspector Wright,” he said with an offered hand. “We have come to interview Lady Evelyn.”

Behind them guests were arriving and even though the detectives did not wear the standard Scotland Yard uniform, their attire betrayed their profession. Ainsley gestured for the footman who was walking past. “Excuse me, can you point me to a room where I can meet with these gentlemen? Perhaps somewhere we will not be disturbed by guests arriving to the gathering.”

The footman looked to the two men, knowing instantly who they were, and bowed slightly. “Yes, of course, follow me.”

Once safely installed in the library Ainsley turned to the footman before he closed the door, “Please inform Lord Weatherall of our sudden guests and summon Lady Evelyn to come at once.” The footman nodded with a “very well, sir,” and closed the door.

Ainsley straightened his evening coat as he turned to the detectives. Wright had busied himself by surveying the room.

“We had no idea your brother was celebrating his engagement tonight,” Simms explained. “My apologies.”

“Justice does not wait because an aristocrat decides to have a party,” Wright injected.

“What is this in regards too?” Ainsley asked, “My mother has returned and I doubt the young Lady Weatherall has anything to add to your investigation of her disappearance. In fact I don't believe she was aware of it.”

“I am no longer investigating your family,” Simms explained. “We have come in regards to a brunette female found stabbed in an east end rooming house—” Simms' deliberate voice was cut off by the clicking of Wright's tongue.

“We are not in a position to explain further,” Inspector Wright explained. “I am sure you can understand.”

Ainsley looked to Simms, who simply nodded slightly. They were referring to the woman he thought had been killed by a piece of a broken mirror. Simms thourough explanation was for Ainsley’s benefit.

Evelyn entered the room, smiling, perhaps expecting a gathering of guests. Her smile faded quickly when she saw who it was. She looked to Ainsley, licking her lips anxiously. “You needed to speak with me, Mr. Marshall?”

“This is Inspector Simms, and Inspector Wright of Scotland Yard—”

“What is the meaning of this?” Lord Weatherall bellowed from the door, his jubilant demeanor disappearing immediately at the sight of the detectives.

“Lord Weatherall, Inspector Simms.” Simms offered a hand which Lord Weatherall just looked at, refusing to shake it. “This is my partner, Inspector Wright. We are investigating the murder of a young lady by the name of Clara Buxton.”

Lord Weatherall scoffed, annoyed at the questioning. “You will find no one in this house who knows a woman by that name.” Lord Weatherall turned to leave. “If you will excuse me gentlemen, I have guests arriving. If you would be so kind as to use the servant’s door on your way out.” He was gone before anyone could protest.

When Ainsley looked to the detectives he saw they were not overly displeased.

“I think Lady Evelyn knows exactly who Clara Buxton is,” Wright ventured, a self-assured smile gracing his lips. “Don't you Evelyn?”

Evelyn looked to Ainsley. There was a look of recognition in her eyes, and Ainsley felt she either knew the woman or felt a pity for her. “Do you wish me to leave, Lady Evelyn?” Ainsley asked but she shook her head quickly. “Please stay,” she said in a near whisper. “I would feel better if you stayed.”

“I could bring Daniel for you.”

Again she shook her head. “I'd rather not trouble him, if you don't mind.”

“Lady Evelyn, please take a seat.” Simms offered.

Evelyn took a step closer to Ainsley, positioning herself just beside him but ventured no further. “I'd rather stand if you please.” Ainsley thought he saw her shaking, and it pained him to see her so upset on such a night. Surely the detectives could have come in the morning when there wasn't the ever present risk of public embarrassment. He wanted to reach out to her, or give her a look of reassurance as he would do with Margaret but he knew such familiarity would bring more questions from the detectives, so he remained quiet as they questioned her.

“Lady Evelyn, do you know the woman in question?” Inspector Simms asked calmly.

“I do Inspector,” she said, surprising both Ainsley. “That is, I did, when we were young.”

“She is your cousin, is she not?” Inspector Wright interjected.

Evelyn glanced to Ainsley, and he noticed she was twisting her fingers roughly in front of her. “I have not seen her in years. Was she truly murdered?”

Simms nodded. “I am afraid to say it, but yes.”

“She knows it,” Wright laughed approaching her with a marked determination. “She was there.”

“I most certainly was not!” Evelyn backed away and Ainsley stepped between them.

“Inspector Wright that is quite enough!” Ainsley said boldly, holding out a hand to prevent him from coming further.

Simms walked towards them, as if he would pull Wright away but he didn't need to. Wright stopped in front of Ainsley and peered around him at Evelyn. “This will go easier if you tell us the truth.”

“I don't know what answer you expect me to give. I was not there. I have not seen Clara in nearly ten years. I doubt I would know what she looks like if I did.” She swallowed and her eyes went to the floor. “Inspector Simms, may I ask how she died?”

The detective hesitated, not because he was afraid of revealing evidence but most likely because he felt her delicate state could not handle the shock. “She was stabbed, Lady Evelyn, in the stomach.”

Evelyn raised a hand to her mouth and the tears came freely then. Ainsley turned to her, offering his silk handkerchief.

“I thought the lady had not seen her in ten years,” Wright pressed, “Why such emotion for a woman you barely knew?”

Ainsley sneered at the detective. “I think your time is done. Evelyn, you do not need to answer any more questions. I will speak with the detective's superiors first thing in the morning.” If Ainsley's threat affected Wright he did not show it. Ainsley opened the door and guided Evelyn out with a hand gently laid on the small of her back. “Inspector Simms, remind your partner to whom he is speaking.”

In the hallway Evelyn nearly collapsed in his arms forcing him to hold her up while he guided her toward another room, moving farther away from the guests who were steadily arriving for the engagement party. Not sure which rooms were behind the doors, he found the nearest one, opened it and guided Evelyn in. He was pleased to find it was Lord Weatherall's study that was now empty though the lights were still lit and the fire warm. Ainsley led her to one of the plush chairs and knelt before her.

“I should never have allowed them to speak with you, at least not without Daniel present.”

Evelyn snapped her hand around Ainsley's wrist. “Don't tell him. I beg you, please.” Her stare bore into him, wide and pleading. “I couldn't live if he knew.”

“Knew that you had a cousin?”

“If he knew I had gone to that place, that boarding house. It was horrible, but when I left she was alive. I had no idea she was dead, let alone murdered.”

“Then why did you tell the detectives you haven't seen her in ten years?”

Evelyn swallowed and her eyes drifted before coming back to search Ainsley's face. “I felt that is what Father would want me to say. He wouldn't want me to admit to knowing someone like that, not when he had forbidden all of us from even speaking of her.” Evelyn hesitated, putting a hand to her forehead. “She came here a week ago asking for money. She said she had gotten herself into trouble and needed help. I knew she wouldn't be asking if it weren't life or death but Father didn't see it that way. He thought she was trying to capitalize on Mother's new found fortune. He sent her away, not so nicely, and told her to never come around again.”

“But you went to see her?”

Evelyn nodded. “Yes.” She began to cry again, the redness marring her perfect skin. “I went, gave her what money I could but when I left she was alive, I swear it.” She looked up to him, her eyes wet and her cheeks blotched. “Please don't tell Father. He will think me wretched for disobeying him and Daniel would not marry me if he knew my past.”

Ainsley involuntarily smiled at this. Would Evelyn marry Daniel if she knew his family's secrets?

“Your secret is not mine to tell,” Ainsley answered in a reassuring tone.

The door opened behind them and they both turned to watch as Margaret slipped in. “Was that Inspectors Simms?” she asked. Her eyes found Evelyn in the chair, evidence of distress bore on her face and Margaret's eyes softened. After a slight pause, and a sideways glance to Ainsley, Margaret spoke. “What did they tell you about Mother?”

Ainsley stepped between them preventing Margaret from moving closer and saying more, perhaps revealing their family's secret.

“Margaret, Evelyn has just found out her cousin was murdered,” he explained.

Margaret stammered. “Oh...my. How dreadful.”

Ainsley turned to Evelyn, who seemed too engrossed in her own tragedy to have noticed Margaret's slip about Lady Marshall.

“Why don't you take a minute,” he offered his hand and assisted Evelyn to her feet. “Margaret can help you freshen up in your rooms, if you like.”

Evelyn nodded feebly and slipped her arm into Margaret's. At the door she turned, peering at Ainsley over her shoulder.

“Thank you, Peter,” she said with a demure smile.

The pair exited and Ainsley remained, a hand shoved in his pocket, the other scratching his chin and jawline.

Her initial tactic was to lie to both detectives, he remembered, but she had confessed to him quickly enough once they removed themselves from the room. His position in society, not to mention his relationship to her future husband, would deem him the most undesirable confidant. She could not possibly know his involvement in the case, if she did she would be just as wary of him as she rightfully was of Wright and Simms.

Ainsley drew closer to the side table, a decanter nearly empty of port remained along with three crystal glasses. He poured the remaining contents from one into another and managed to serve himself nearly a full glass from the decanter. He drank eagerly while picturing Margaret and Evelyn preening themselves before a mirror. No doubt Margaret would apply a certain amount of powder to hide Evelyn's tear stained cheeks.

How could Ainsley know if Evelyn's story was true? She could have very well been present during the girl's murder. The body was positioned on the bed in such a loving way, someone close to her, riddled with guilt no doubt, must have laid her out so thoughtfully. Could Evelyn posses the strength to move such dead weight? Of course. Ainsley grew angry with himself for such a thought. Recent experience had taught him that women were just as capable of murder as men.

His mind wandered, drawn back to Picklow and the young woman, Lillian, he had met there. He wondered how she fared, and then the guilt hit him. It was a feeling that he had evaded for some time since returning to London. Of all the times for these notions of guilt and responsibility to burst forth it had to be then, when he should very well be dancing, asking each young maid for a turn as his duty required. Instead he was stiff with remorse, cloistered in the study holding back what could be a flood of tears were he not careful.

One more gulp finished his port and he placed the glass on the table. He straightened his evening coat on his shoulders and checked the position of his tie, all the while steadying his breathing, pushing back any thought of Lillian, her sisters and the horrors he witnessed while away from London. It was done, he told himself. They could not be saved.