Drury Lane Darling (12 page)

“He had no reason to give it to her. He didn’t know Nigel had actually offered for her, you see.”

A satirical glint in Breslau’s eye gave Pamela the hint she was off course entirely. “The young tend to plant themselves firmly at the center of things. Look a little further afield, Miss Comstock. Nigel’s heinous plan to desert you and marry Fleur isn’t necessarily the cause of this brouhaha.”

“I’m very happy to hear you say so! I couldn’t think of any other reason why the Raleighs would have murdered her. But you are intimating that Sir Aubrey gave her the bracelet, I think. Why would he do such an unprecedented thing?”

Breslau didn’t reply verbally. His eyes spoke of a reason that was best not discussed with a young lady. “You think there’s something between them?” she asked.

“No,
was,
many years ago, in Brighton. You did overhear the words
quarter day
when they were fighting in Sir Aubrey’s study,
n’est-ce pas
? And we all know what happens on quarter day.”

“He didn’t have any cash on hand, so he gave her the bracelet. Is she really so depraved that she’d turn her hand to blackmail, Breslau?”

“It was a suggestion merely. The deepest recesses of the female heart remain a mystery to me.”

“How can you love a woman like that?”

“Love
her!” Breslau nearly jumped from his seat.

“Don’t you? Every other man seems to. You stared at her as if you were memorizing her for all eternity. And you looked very sad at the badger sett, when you were holding her shawl.”

“I am fond of Fleur, both as a friend and as my leading lady—onstage, I mean,” he added.

Miss Comstock ignored this telling addendum. “What intrigues me about the whole affair is how her belongings got packed up and removed during the night. Who took away her clothes, and why? That would have been easy for Sir Aubrey. We should have searched the attics before leaving.”

“A corpse doesn’t need a change of clothes,” Breslau mused. “If a murderer had got clean away with his crime, why return and gather up her belongings? If it was only a common thief, he would have taken her money and jewels when he made his first call. Nigel told me last night that Fleur wore her emeralds when he first went to her room.”

“The clues don’t point to common theft. It looks very bad for Sir Aubrey, does it not? He might have hidden her body, and removed her belongings to indicate she had left willingly. He’s strong enough to have carried her corpse, too. A thief, on the other hand, would have taken the money and jewels and left the body.”

“There’s no murder case without a corpse. If the intruder killed her by accident, I can see his spiriting away the body, but the
clothes!
No, that doesn’t tally with an unknown intruder. And really killing her at Belmont doesn’t point to Aubrey. That would be the
last
place he’d murder her, if he planned to kill her, I mean. He would have followed her to London and done it there. Disappearance doesn’t necessarily mean murder, of course.”

“But if she’s not dead—if she left peacefully, I mean—why did she leave her belongings behind in the first place? Why all this game of cat and mouse with Nigel, pretending she was asleep?”

“It’s only conjecture, but for what it’s worth, we might consider kidnapping. There was a dismal, cold rain last night. If Fleur fell into a puddle, or was so soaked that her kidnapper feared she might take pneumonia…”

“Yes,” she agreed doubtfully. “He wouldn’t want her to die, or he couldn’t collect the ransom. But why not just grab a blanket and wrap her in that? Another flaw in the kidnapping interpretation is that there was no demand for ransom.” After a moment’s consideration she found another flaw. “Who would ransom her? She has no family. Maxwell mentioned that she is chronically short of funds herself. The only person I can think of is—you.” She examined him uncertainly.

“I’m flattered to have become the undisputed focus of your thoughts, Miss Comstock.”

“If that’s it, you shouldn’t have left Belmont.”

“If my role is to ransom Fleur, her kidnapper will soon find me.”

“Or she’ll escape,” Pamela added hopefully.

They discussed the case for another few miles, till they had tried all possible combinations of facts, and a good deal of conjecture. The increasing traffic warned them they were approaching London, and their thoughts turned in that direction.

“I hope I find the Fosters at home,” Pamela mentioned. “They aren’t expecting me till tomorrow.” Her relatives were by no means travelers. It was only the possibility of their being out visiting or shopping that she meant.

“I was a little surprised at your coming unannounced a day early.”

“I shan’t mind if I’m alone with the servants for a few hours, except that I won’t be much help to you.”

Breslau, long inured to young ladies discovering unlikely excuses for his company, felt no sense of imposition on this occasion. Heartened by her sudden show of interest, he said, “Between the two of us, do you not think we might find an excuse for you not to stay with your Aunt Foster?”

Pamela stared, aghast. “Not stay with her! Breslau, what are you suggesting?”

He realized he had misread her, but having made the suggestion, he played it out. “That you stay with me, in my very well chaperoned house in Belgrave Square. Two maiden aunts are visiting me at the moment.”

“How odd it would look! Very singular,” she charged, but added more gently, “would it not?”

“Not at all. How are you going to help me find Fleur if you’re sequestered in some out-of-the-way house where we can’t easily meet and talk?”

Pamela squirmed in discomfort. His plan sounded delightful, but it strained the bounds of propriety. “If I go to Aunt Foster, she won’t hear of my not staying with her.”

“Then it will be best if you come directly to my house and drop her a note telling her you’re in town. We might find a moment to visit her.”

“I don’t know what Mama would say.”

“Are your parents quite set on this match with Nigel?”

“Well,” she admitted bluntly, “I am twenty-two years old and have no other parti in sight. It’s high time I was bounced off.”

Breslau smiled politely. “I’m inclined to agree with you, Pamela. As you said yourself, however, Nigel is scarcely breeched. A few years’ seasoning would do him a world of good. You don’t mind my calling you Pamela? As you are to visit me, it seems not encroaching. You
do
remember my name? Westbrook, but my friends call me Wes.”

“I haven’t said I would! I scarcely know you. We only met yesterday.”

“True, but already last night you knew me well enough to call me Wes. Do you know me less well today?”

“The strange thing is, I
do
feel I know you less well.” She frowned. “I thought you were…” She came to a confused pause.

“Do continue. There’s nothing I enjoy discussing more than myself.”

“That’s exactly what I mean! That’s the way you seemed yesterday, so horrid and satirical and proud.”

“But in England, you must know, we consider pride one of the virtues. An Englishman without his pride is like a sky without a sun.”

“Or a dog without fleas. How could a girl possibly—I mean, I didn’t even bother trying to—to—”

“I noticed,” he said blandly. “My fleas were quite upset that you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“We both know what you mean, Pamela. Let us not belabor the obvious. Dare I hope your feelings have undergone a change?”

“I’m not sure they have,” she said tartly. “The only reason I wanted to come to London with you was because of the marquise, you know.”

Breslau patted her fingers. “Cheer up. The excitement isn’t over. You may yet have the pleasure of taking the stand at a murder trial.”

“I shall now answer a question you asked a moment ago, Lord Breslau. My feelings have not undergone a change where you are concerned. You’re as odious as I first thought.”

Breslau’s playful manner evaporated. The eyes that gazed unblinkingly into hers were serious. “I’m not, you know. I’ve merely chosen a bad moment for frivolity. It’s possible Fleur is in serious trouble, and till we learn the truth, I shan’t pester you with any more nonsense.”

For a quarter of a mile the only sound was the clatter of the horses jogging along and the running of the carriage wheels. Pamela was almost sorry she’d protested against his playful manner. The silence made it too easy to think, and what she thought was that she shouldn’t stay at his house. There was no real excuse for it, yet she felt keenly that the visit would be much more exciting if she stayed with him.

“My Aunt Foster lives on the corner of Half Moon and Curzon streets,” she said as the carriage entered London.

Breslau showed her an impassive face. “Is that where you wish me to take you?”

She bit her bottom lip uncertainly. “I really should.”

“Last chance,” he tempted with a charming smile. “I plan to go to Drury Lane this evening and make enquiries.”

“What will you do this afternoon?”

“Go to Fleur’s apartment, call on some of her friends, lunch at a little restaurant near the theater. I daresay your Aunt Foster would rather you not accompany me on such outings, though I guarantee no harm would befall you.”

Her Aunt Foster would swoon at the very thought of her calling on an actress. Every fiber of her body was eager for the excitement. If she visited her aunt, the best to be hoped for was a visit to some elderly friend, or a drive to Bond Street.

“Well?”

“The Fosters aren’t actually expecting me yet,” she said.

“Then you must come with me. You wouldn’t want to land in on them unannounced. We’ll go directly to Belgrave Square. You will want to freshen up before lunch.”

A smile of relief broke, and Pamela had difficulty keeping her voice normal. “You’re right, of course. It wouldn’t do to land in unannounced on my aunt. I’ll land in on yours instead. Are they very stiff, Breslau?”

“Where do you think I got this horrid disposition? The whole family is starched daily.”

“Then I’m glad we shan’t be spending much time with them. What is the restaurant like? Will I see many actors?”

“Mrs. Siddons still drops in from time to time. Would your mama object to your meeting her?”

“Oh, no! Mama is not so bad as Lady Raleigh and Mrs. Foster. She would be thrilled to death. It’s Papa who would hit the roof.”

All restraint vanished, and the remainder of the trip was highly enjoyable. Lord Breslau had the pleasure of hearing himself called Wes, and the added pleasure of a gasp of surprise when the horses drew up in front of one of the finest mansions in London.

When Pamela spoke, she had trained her voice to nonchalance. Only her staring eyes betrayed her. “Is this where you live?” she asked.

“It is, but as you pointed out, we shan’t have to spend much time here. The restaurant is much less pretentious.”

Miss Comstock’s eyes were as big as saucers, and her heart was thumping in agitation when Lord Breslau took her elbow and escorted her to the front door.

Breslau House was every bit as intimidating as its exterior suggested. After Pamela had been shown to a chamber and refreshed her toilette, she descended to a saloon the size of St. Michael’s Church at home. Sofas and seats were ranged around the walls like the waiting room of a superior hotel lobby. Two elderly ladies of forbidding aspect, dressed all in black, sat near the grate. Their heads turned in unison and they stared toward the doorway. Pamela felt an unworthy urge to take to her heels. Suddenly Breslau appeared behind her.

“Stage fright, Miss Comstock?” he teased. “Come now, show your metal. You have an audience of only two, both of whom are eager to be pleased.”

That was her salvation. The ladies, pensioners of Lord Breslau’s, vied with each other in showering questions and compliments on her. They could conceive of no reason for her visit except that she was Breslau’s intended, and were determined to find favor with her.

“From Kent, you say? The flower garden of England,” Miss Agatha exclaimed.

“I knew it from your complexion,” Miss Anscombe nodded wisely. “Kent gives the finest flowers and complexions.”

When the smiles and compliments became excessive, Breslau rescued her. "Miss Comstock is a friend of the Raleighs’. I am delivering her home for them, as I have to go to Kent soon on business.”

“I see!” The ladies exchanged a satisfied nod, and damped their enthusiasm down to an acceptable level.

Breslau explained that he and Miss Comstock would not be home for lunch. The aunts expressed a lukewarm interest in having the pleasure of meeting at dinner.

“There, now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said as they went to the carriage.

“Are they always so effusive?”

“Only when they fear they are meeting my wife-to-be.”

“Is that what they thought!” Her amusement was hardly less than her genuine shock.

“You see the danger in associating with an eligible bachelor of good morals.”

“Or even one of uncertain moral fiber.” She smiled boldly, and to his considerable consternation immediately dropped this promising subject. “Are we going to Fleur’s apartment first?”

“My groom went there while we freshened up. Fleur’s maid said she’s not at home, and hasn’t been since leaving for Belmont. We’ll drop around after lunch to see if there’s been any news.”

Pamela found it hard to concentrate on the case when there were so many interesting sights to be seen in the city. Breslau had changed from traveling carriage to city chaise, which bowled along the Strand at a smart pace, passing other elegant carriages. Bows and nods were exchanged through the windows. The ladies’ toilettes made Pamela realize that what passed for high style at home was quite inadequate to the job in London.

“I feel like a country mouse,” she admitted. “And to think I left my lovely new rose gown at home, hardly worn.”

It gave Breslau an excuse to examine her closely. His smile suggested he had no aversion to country creatures, especially when they came with such sparkling eyes. “Why did you not bring it to Belmont?”