Social Graces (Victorian Vigilantes Book 5) Page 8

  ‘So I would imagine, if he refuses to acknowledge your sister even in death,’ Lady Torbay replied with a shudder. ‘I don’t suppose your family life was filled with much joy.’

  ‘It was not, and if I hadn’t had Connie irreverent example to follow I’m sure I would have run completely mad. She was a consummate actress, even from a young age.’ Sophia smiled at the recollection. ‘She had to be inventive if she wanted to escape Papa’s rigid rules and not suffer the consequences. She was the only ray of sunshine in that household and I missed her terribly when she left. We were not even permitted to mention her name. She wrote to me but the letters had to be sent to my friend’s home. I would not have been permitted to read them and they would have been burned unopened if Papa had known about them.’

  ‘You found excuses to visit your grandmother, but in actual fact came to London to see your sister,’ Mr Milton suggested, turning the full warmth of an encouraging smile upon her.

  ‘Yes, and it was at the opening of one of her plays that the possibility of writing reviews for the newspapers first occurred to me. I have always been good with words but on this particular occasion the man they sent from the Scorpion was taken violently ill.’ Sophia lifted one shoulder. ‘I saw my opportunity and seized it. The editor liked what wrote and asked me to do more. It went from there, really.’

  ‘And it afforded you a little income of your own,’ Lady Torbay said. ‘How very clever of you. It’s such a shame that you could not use your full name and allow the world to see that a woman is just as capable as a man when it comes to the written word.’

  ‘I don’t think my editor would have prevented me. He is modern in his outlook. It was more a case of keeping my activities a secret from my family. I need to amass a little more funds, and then I will be in a position to move away from home and make my own way.’ She lifted a fork to her mouth but didn’t take a bite. ‘Before I am turned out,’ she added in an undertone.

  The conversation became more general after that, but those who belonged at the table made sure that she, who did not, remained a part of it. Overwhelmed by their thoughtfulness, Sophia was still unsure what to make of it. Aristocrats did not welcome outsiders into their ranks. Formalities had to be observed or the entire class system would collapse. Everyone knew that. So why were they embracing her with such warmth? It was very confusing. Sophia was in such emotional turmoil that she was barely able to force any food past the lump in her throat.

  Events had moved so fast that her brain was struggling to keep pace with them. A few short hours ago she had been on the point of storming from her grandmother’s cottage with a vague plan to prove Chichester had killer her sister. Now…well, now she no longer knew what to think or whom to believe. Her suspicions had been aroused by Mr Milton’s sudden arrival, but at the same time she felt drawn towards him, which made her doubt her own judgement. How could she possibly feel an attraction for a man who worked for her enemy? But now it seemed that he was on her side.

  ‘Come along, Miss Larson,’ Lady Torbay said, pushing back her chair. ‘If you have eaten sufficient, we will settle you in your chamber and then join the gentlemen on their visit to your sister’s rooms.’

  Sophia nodded, put her napkin aside and rose from the table. Both gentlemen stood also, and Mr Milton pulled her chair back for her. She was flustered by their instinctive gentlemanly behaviour, not being accustomed to it, and thanked him a little abruptly. The butler who had admitted her to the house and then served them with luncheon opened the dining room door for her to pass through it. She thanked him as well and followed Lady Torbay up a winding staircase to the first floor of the magnificent house. She was unable to contain a gasp when her hostess opened the door to a sumptuous bedchamber that was almost as large as her grandmother’s entire cottage.

  ‘This is for me?’ she asked warily.

  ‘It’s daunting, I know. I felt the same way when I first came to this house but, to my shame, I have come to take it for granted.’

  A maid appeared from the depths of a walk-in closet and bobbed a curtsey. Sophia was embarrassed to see that she had unpacked her valise and was in the process of hanging up her serviceable garments. They barely took up a tenth of the closet’s space.

  ‘This is Annie. She will take care of you while you are with us.’

  A maid all of her own. Sophia had never known such luxury. ‘There will be little for her to do. As you can see, I did not bring much with me since I didn’t expect to find myself…’

  ‘That will be all for now, Annie.’

  The maid gave another bob and left the room, no doubt eager to tell the rest of the servants about the charity case that Lady Torbay had taken in.

  ‘I can lend you some things—’

  ‘Oh no, thank you but you have already done more than enough.’

  ‘Well, if that thought makes you uncomfortable, perhaps some of your sister’s gowns would fit you.’

  Sophia smiled. ‘Most of her clothing is a little too risqué for my taste. Connie had no qualms about exhibiting herself, but I cannot be that brazen.’

  ‘I know how theatrical types conduct themselves, and so quite understand.’

  Sophia glanced in the mirror and groaned at the state of her hair. As always, some of her curls had escaped and she hadn’t given the matter a thought. Had she really sat through luncheon looking like a scarecrow?

  ‘Here, let me.’

  Lady Torbay motioned a sitting position. Sophia complied, astounded when the countess grasped a brush and quickly and efficiently tidied Sophia’s hair.

  ‘I used to have to do my own, and I became quite adept at it,’ she explained. ‘I have not always been a countess, you know.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful. It’s just that—’

  ‘It’s just that you don’t know whether to trust us or not, I expect.’ Lady Torbay examined Sophia’s hair, nodded her satisfaction and put the brush aside. She then sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. ‘I am sure you must know that I was accused of murdering my first husband. Had it not been for Jake, I would most likely have hanged. He and some of his contemporaries feel that justice can sometimes be blind and, as happened to me, the most convenient suspect is charged because the police have neither the wits nor the will to uncover all the evidence. And once charges are brought, juries seldom find in favour of the accused.’

  ‘You were very lucky that Lord Torbay believed in you, and then fell in love with you too.’

  ‘Oh, that didn’t happen overnight. Actually, he invited me to join his vigilantes.’

  Sophia widened his eyes. ‘You? A woman? He was sufficiently enlightened to realise you could be of help to him?’ A small smile touched her lips. ‘No wonder he was so accepting of my journalist efforts. The few men who know how I support myself are not nearly so understanding. In fact, they are downright condescending.’

  ‘I can imagine, but Jake is not a bit like that. Nor are any of the gentlemen whom he calls upon to help him with any of the cases that he takes on. He taught me how to defend myself, and how to fight with a sword.’ Lady Torbay chuckled. ‘We used to practise here, downstairs in the ballroom. Except Jake used his left hand, to make it a more even competition.’ She pouted. ‘Very demeaning, until I finally managed to get the better of him and he was forced to revert to his stronger right hand.’

  ‘Good for you!’

  ‘I tell you all this only so that you will see we are on the side of justice and will not close ranks with Chichester if he proves to have murdered your sister. I expect you were wondering about that.’

  ‘Yes, actually I was.’ She paused. ‘This quest for justice you just described, is that why Mr Milton has taken up a profession in the law?’

  Lady Torbay shrugged. ‘Most likely. He is the Viscount Milton’s younger son, and as you will know, younger sons are usually obliged to fend for themselves. Elder sons too, nowadays.’

  ‘Ah, I assumed he must be well connected. He has a presence about him that
those born into the upper classes seem automatically to assume like a mantle.’

  ‘I tend to agree with you, but I hope you won’t feel intimidated by any of us, Miss Larson. Oh bother, may I call you Sophia?’

  ‘I wish you would.’

  ‘Good, that’s settled then. And you must call me Olivia.’

  ‘I can’t do that!’

  ‘Of course you can.’ She stood and Sophia followed suit. Lady Torbay—Olivia—handed Sophia her bonnet, which she tied beneath her chin. ‘Come along now, we’d best not keep the gentlemen waiting all the afternoon,’ she said, linking her arm though Sophia’s and leading her towards the door. ‘I wouldn’t put it past them to go without us if they lose patience.’

  Both gentlemen were standing at the foot of the stairs, together with the butler, who appeared to be a party to their conversation.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Olivia said, probably sensing Sophia’s confusion. ‘Parker has been with Jake for years and is more a friend than a servant. I often joke that Jake had to seek Parker’s approval before he proposed to me.’

  Sophia’s mouth dropped open. ‘Surely not. Lord Torbay doesn’t strike me as the type who would require anyone’s permission to do anything. He seems very forceful.’

  ‘Oh, he is, but he is also inordinately fond of Parker, as am I. He involves himself in aspects of our investigations that he is better able to undertake than any of us are. He is tough, resourceful and entirely dependable.’

  ‘A very good person to have on one’s side, I would imagine,’ Sophia said, eyeing the formidable butler with newfound respect, thinking Olivia’s revelation explained the efficient service at luncheon that lacked formality.

  ‘And very discreet, too, as all butlers should be.’

  ‘I see.’

  But Sophia didn’t—not really. She had never known quite such an unusual household—one in which a servant seemed to be on equal terms with his master and a waif like her was treated like a distinguished guest.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Mr Milton asked, smiling at her. ‘This will be quite an ordeal for you. You need not go through with it if you would prefer not to.’

  ‘I am not as fragile as you seem to think.’

  Sophia ignored his proffered arm and marched through the door that Parker held open. She noticed confusion briefly cloud Mr Milton’s eyes and regretted her incivility. He was going out of his way to be of service when, having assured himself that Lord Chichester was not a suspect in her sister’s murder—at least not in Superintendent Dowd’s eyes—he had discharged his duty and need not have troubled himself further. She was unaccustomed to having such a forceful and distractingly handsome gentleman take up cudgels on her behalf. Fiercely independent and suspicious of his intentions, her reluctance to depend upon him—upon anyone—had caused her to be impolite. She wanted to apologise, but she couldn’t find the right words.

  When Mr Milton, seemingly undeterred by her lack of manners, offered his hand to help her into the carriage that awaited them at the front steps, she took it and thanked him with distracted politeness. He smiled that infuriatingly wicked smile of his, causing the most extraordinary sensations to coil deep within her core, and said that the pleasure was entirely his. He then sat across from her and Olivia for the duration of the journey to Haughton Street, keeping the conversation flowing, making a point of including Sophia in it and not seeming to take umbrage at the monosyllabic responses she offered.

  ‘We are here.’

  Lord Torbay’s voice jolted Sophia from her reverie. She had been staring out the window until that point, absently watching the city’s populace trudging about their daily business on a blustery day, trying not to think about anything at all. Concentrating instead upon tamping down the feelings of grief and despondency that were in danger of swamping her as she readied herself to face this latest ordeal. She knew that her sister’s body would no longer be in the apartment, but would still be able to see it in her imagination if—no, when—she found the courage to enter her bedroom.

  Had she really intended to live in those same rooms without anticipating nightmares when even the thought of returning to the room where Connie had met her grisly end was sufficient to make her shudder and squirm? Clearly she hadn’t been thinking at all. But then again, if her only alternative had been to remain beneath her unfeeling grandmother’s roof…A grandmother who didn’t show an ounce of grief at Connie’s murder and didn’t waste an opportunity to criticise her behaviour even after death, perhaps it was not so very surprising.

  Sophia reminded herself that she was strong. Growing up in such a rigidly strict household had forced her to stand her ground and resist the pressure placed upon her to live up to her parents’ expectations for her. But that strength of will had not prepared her for the loss of a sister whom she looked up to and admired for having the courage of her convictions. A sister who had persuaded Sophia that she could think for herself and make her own decisions. She straightened her shoulders as she put aside lingering doubts and concluded that she desperately needed help if she was to find justice for Connie. Her new friends were in an ideal position to supply that help and Lord Torbay had the authority to make people listen.

  Brave, independent, spirited Connie, whose beauty and tempestuous character had inspired Sophia’s otherwise dreary, restrictive life, was gone forever. Her light had been extinguished far too soon and left the world a darker place as a consequence. Sophia wiped away a tear. She had been so set upon revenge that the enormity of her loss had only just struck home. But she couldn’t weaken now. There would be time enough for tears when they had unearthed the truth and, with Lord Torbay and Mr Milton generously fighting her corner, there was now a very real possibility that they would do so.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  It was Mr Milton who asked the question as he handed her from the carriage. Needless to say, he had noticed the tear she tried to wipe away. His fingers briefly closed around hers, sending shivers of awareness trickling down her spine, and she missed their reassuring presence the moment he released them again.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ This time when he offered his arm she placed her hand on it. ‘You must excuse me if I seem distracted. This is all a little overwhelming.’

  ‘I should think considerably less of you if you were not emotionally distraught. So much has happened in a short space of time and you have had no opportunity to adjust. Or to grieve, either.’

  Somehow it didn’t surprise Sophia that his words so closely mirrored her earlier reflections. ‘You understand,’ she said softly.

  ‘I hope so.’

  Her attention was diverted when Lord Torbay thrust open the outer door of the building that housed Connie’s rooms. The last time she had been here…no, she mustn’t permit her thoughts to drift in that direction. She took a deep breath as she stepped into the now familiar lobby with its flagstoned floor, a wilting arrangement of flowers on a low table and a desk behind which Stoker, the odious porter, stood frowning at his elite visitors.

  ‘Can I be of service, sir?’ he asked Lord Torbay.

  Sophia stepped forward, put up her chin and took control. ‘The keys to my sister’s rooms, if you please, Mr Stoker.’

  ‘Oh, Miss Larson, I didn’t recognise you.’ He hesitated, looking decidedly shifty to Sophia’s admittedly biased eye. ‘Well, I ain’t too sure as I should. Lord Chichester is the one what—’

  Lord Torbay moved to stand beside her. ‘I am Torbay,’ he said in a tone Sophia hadn’t heard him employ before. ‘Explain your reasons why Miss Larson should not have access to her sister’s property. And whilst you’re about it, explain if you can what makes you suppose you have the right to make that decision.’

  ‘Well now, look here, sir…’ He appeared to shrink in on himself beneath Lord Torbay’s ballistic stare. ‘I mean, me lord. Lord Chichester wouldn’t like me letting just anyone…but, since this lady is Miss Saville’s sister…well, I don’t see how he can object.’ He reached behind him and
snatched a set of keys from a board with neatly labelled hooks. Lord Torbay took the keys and handed them to Sophia.

  ‘You told Miss Larson that no one called upon Miss Saville after Lord Chichester had left here. You accused that gentleman of her murder, but you now appear intent upon protecting his interests. How can you explain that?’

  Sophia would be interested to hear his explanation, too. She wouldn’t put it past Chichester to have warned—or bribed—Stoker into not allowing anyone access, presumably because there might be something inside the rooms that pointed to his guilt. The police had already examined them, but given Dowd’s slipshod methods, he must have felt reasonably confident that he was untouchable. Perhaps Chichester was anxious to retrieve the valuable jewellery he had given to Connie once the dust had settled. Connie had often complained about his penny-pinching ways, and was surprised by his occasional fits of generosity. Generosity that she cynically described as a desperate attempt to dissuade her from joining Felsham’s Repertory Company.

  ‘Well, I was in shock, like.’

  ‘You didn’t seem terribly shocked to me,’ Sophia said. ‘More intoxicated, if you want my opinion.’

  Stoker opened his mouth and then closed it again, leaving a noxious smell of stale ale wafting in the air to support her assertion.

  ‘You didn’t leave your post here, even for a few minutes, after Lord Chichester quit the building?’ Lord Torbay asked.

  Stoker sniffed. ‘That would be more than my position’s worth.’

  ‘I see.’ Lord Torbay fixed the hapless individual with a look that implied he didn’t believe a word of it. ‘Then if I make enquiries at the tavern which we passed on the corner of this street, the landlord will assure me that you didn’t show your face in there that day?’