Farrier's Lane (27 page)

Her face showed complete surprise. “Surely you cannot be suggesting someone from their social acquaintance killed him? That is absurd! You must have misunderstood something my husband said, Mr. Pitt. That is the only possible explanation.”

“I am afraid that is not possible.” Pitt shook his head, smiling at her sadly. “He was quite plain. If you will permit me to ask you a few questions?”

“Of course.” She looked puzzled.

“Mr. and Mrs. Stafford had been married for some considerable time?” he asked.

“Oh yes, at least twenty years, probably longer.” Her voice lifted in surprise.

“How would you describe their relationship?”

Her confusion increased. “Oh—amiable, I should say. There was certainly never any animosity between them, so far as I am aware. If you are thinking of a quarrel, I have to tell you I find it very difficult to believe, if not impossible.” She shook her head a little to emphasize the point.

“Why do you say that, Mrs. Livesey?” he pressed.

“Well …” She looked at him with some concentration. Her eyes were neither blue nor gray, but full of perception. He judged she was not a clever woman, but one with considerable judgment of others within her own social knowledge, and an excellent sense of what was fitting.

“Yes? I would greatly value your candor, ma’am.”

She hesitated only a moment more, he thought weighing words rather than debating whether to answer him or not.

“It was not a relationship in which either party had sufficient depth of emotion to quarrel,” she said at length. He thought from her expression she was measuring her words carefully. “It had long since declined to a more comfortable state,” she went on, “where respect and usage had replaced any acute involvement in each other’s day-to-day lives. Juniper always behaved discreetly, and fulfilled her social obligations. She is an excellent hostess, handsome to look at, well dressed, exceedingly well mannered.” A slight flicker crossed her face and there was a momentary tightness in her mouth. It occurred to Pitt that she was focusing herself to say things which she believed only grudgingly.

“And to the best of my knowledge, Samuel Stafford was an honorable man, not given to any excesses either personal or financial,” she continued, her expression relaxing a little. “She was always well provided for. If he—if he had any other … women in his life … he was so discreet about them I for one had no idea.” She looked at Pitt, waiting for his comment.

“Indeed. That is what I had heard elsewhere,” he agreed. “What about Mrs. Stafford’s other relationships?”

“Oh—well—I suppose you mean Mr. Pryce?” She colored uncomfortably, though it was impossible to say whether it was embarrassment or guilt because she was mentioning it at all.

“Was there any other?” he enquired.

“No! No, of course not!” The color in her cheeks deepened.

“When did she first meet Mr. Pryce, do you know?”

She sighed and stared out of the window. “I think she had met him several years ago, but the acquaintance was slight, so far as I am aware. They have come to know each other far, far better in the last year and a half.” She stopped abruptly, uncertain how much more to say. She was aware she had spoken unbecomingly vehemently, afraid she had betrayed something in herself, as indeed she had. She looked at Pitt with a furrow between her brows, waiting.

“In your opinion, Mrs. Livesey, what is Mrs. Stafford’s feeling for Mr. Pryce?” he said gravely. “Please be honest with me. I shall not quote you to anyone; the information is simply so I may learn the truth. In the interest of justice, I have to know.”

She bit her lip, considering for a moment before launching into her answer, her voice quick and hard. “She was infatuated with him. She did her best to be discreet, but to one who knows her as well as I do, it was quite apparent.”

“In what ways?”

“Oh, the edge in her manner, her dress, the things in which she developed an interest.” She laughed abruptly as if now she had begun she could not stem the tide of her feelings. “The things in which she lost all interest. The gossip she no longer cared to hear, the trivia which a year ago would have fascinated her, now she ignored. She began to behave as if she were far younger than in truth she was.” The pinkness deepened in her cheeks. “When a woman is in love, Mr. Pitt, other women know it. The signs are not especially subtle, and they are also quite unmistakable.”

Pitt felt uncomfortable without being certain why.

“And did Mr. Pryce, in your judgment, return this feeling?” He made a mental note to ask Charlotte if she thought she would notice such things about another woman.

“I cannot say quite why I believe so, but I do, quite definitely.” The edge returned to her voice. “His courtesy towards her had a sharply personal quality. There was a look in his eyes which was unmistakable. All woman desire to see that look in a man’s face some time in their lives.” She smiled very slightly as she said it. “It is better than all the diamonds or the perfumes in the world, and headier than champagne to the mind. Yes, Mr. Pitt, Mr. Pryce came to return her feelings.”

“Came to?” He searched her face and saw the emotion and the anger in it before she masked it. “Do I understand you to mean that her feeling preceded his?”

She did not evade his eyes. “If you mean did she pursue him, Mr. Pitt, yes, I regret to say it, but she did. One weekend
in particular, we were all houseguests in the country. I could not fail to be aware of it.”

“I see.” He shifted his position on the large chair. “Mrs. Livesey, can you tell me what a man and a woman in such a position might be able to do about it, what their options would be? And the penalties for being indiscreet?”

“Of course. Their options, if they were to remain in society, are very slight,” she said decisively. “Either they behave with entire moral correctness, and do not see each other except where it is unavoidable, and then only when there are suitable other persons present …” Her shoulders stiffened. “People are quick to malice, you know? You cannot defy all social conventions and remain unscathed.” She was still watching Pitt, judging his understanding. “Or else they give in to their passions, but do it at the houses of mutual friends, on weekend house parties, and similar occasions, but with sufficient discretion that no one is forced to be aware of it.”

“That is all?”

“All?” She frowned. “What else could there be?”

“What about marriage?”

“Juniper Stafford is already married, Mr. Pitt.”

“Divorce?” he suggested.

“Unthinkable. Oh—” Her face looked suddenly bleak. “Are you imagining that either Juniper or Mr. Pryce may deliberately have poisoned Judge Stafford?”

“Do you not find it possible?”

She thought for several moments before replying very quietly. Now the preoccupation with society and all the small protocols and jealousies was gone.

“Yes—yes, it is possible. I …”

Pitt waited.

“I hate to say such a thing,” she finished lamely. She looked acutely uncomfortable. “Juniper is not … wise, in her emotions.”

“Do you believe Mr. Stafford was aware of the relationship?” Pitt asked.

Mrs. Livesey pushed out her lips. “Oh—oh, I doubt it. It is not the sort of thing men notice, unless they are predisposed
towards jealousy. And he was decidedly not of such a nature. One can tell.” Again she looked at him to see if he understood. “He did not watch her, or seem aware of whom she was with. There are differences in behavior that are not apparent to a man, unless he too is in love. Had they been newly married—perhaps …” She tailed off unhappily.

“Do you suppose other women of her acquaintance were more observant?”

“Undoubtedly,” she replied with a rueful smile. “Adolphus Pryce is a most attractive man, and unmarried. He is the center of much attention. His smallest act will be remarked and analyzed. A considerable number of feminine eyes are upon him.”

“Then Mrs. Stafford will not be popular,” Pitt observed with a mixture of humor and pity.

“Hardly,” she agreed vehemently, then was instantly self-conscious and rushed into explanation. “There are not sufficient eligible gentlemen to go around. For one woman to have two is a breach of all fairness.”

Pitt looked at her broad figure and aging face and wondered what thoughts for Adolphus Pryce, or his like, had passed through her mind. How much did she resent the passions that Juniper had indulged in herself—and inspired in him?

“You did not say anything to Mr. Stafford which might have led him to realize his wife’s regard for Mr. Pryce?” he asked aloud. “Even inadvertently, and in sympathy for his situation, perhaps?”

The anger lit her eyes, then was dimmed again as he explained himself.

“I did not,” she said decisively. “I find it is best to refrain from any interference in other people’s affairs. It never helps.”

“No, I imagine not,” he agreed.

He had probably learned all he could from her. The affaire had lasted between a year and two years, and was discreet, but not unknown, certainly to other women. There was every possibility some busy tongue had told Judge
Stafford, but if so he was not likely to have reacted violently or with great distress. Every new piece of information brought him back either to Juniper or Adolphus Pryce, or conceivably to both of them.

“Thank you, Mrs. Livesey,” he said politely, forcing himself to smile. “You have been of great assistance to me. I hope you will keep the matter as discreet as you have so far. It would be an evil thing to malign Mrs. Stafford’s reputation, or Mr. Pryce’s, if it turns out they are quite innocent of any part in the judge’s death. There are plenty of other possibilities; this is merely one it is unfortunately my duty to explore.”

“Of course,” she said hastily. “I quite understand, I assure you. I shall treat it with the utmost confidence.”

He hoped she did, and was as wise as her husband believed, but as he rose and took his leave, Pitt was not entirely sure. There was an unhappiness in her which hungered for something beyond her reach. And he knew she had no love for Juniper Stafford. How much of her assessment of Samuel Stafford was actually her knowledge of her own husband?

    The next person he sought was Judge Granville Oswyn, one of the other five appeal judges who had sat on the case of Aaron Godman. His opinion of that matter might help to clarify it further, and as a colleague of Samuel Stafford, he might have been aware of his personal relationships. Pitt needed to know if Stafford was aware of his wife’s infatuation, and if he cared perhaps more than Livesey or Mrs. Livesey believed. Perhaps it was a futile search, but he must make it.

But when he arrived in Curzon Street at Judge Oswyn’s house he was informed by the parlormaid who answered the door that the judge was traveling on business, and was not expected home until the following week, and Mrs. Oswyn was calling upon acquaintances. However, she was due to dine out this evening, so no doubt would be home before long, and if Mr. Pitt cared to wait, he might do so in the morning room.

Pitt did care to wait. He had nothing else to pursue of greater importance, and spent an agreeable forty-five minutes with a pot of tea in the comfortable morning room, until he was summoned again and conducted to the soft sepia-and-gold withdrawing room where Mrs. Oswyn eyed him with mild interest. She was a faded woman with fair brown hair, a plump figure, a face which had probably been pretty in her youth and was now lit by an amiability of character which had mellowed it until it held a gentleness which was remarkable.

“My maid tells me you are engaged in enquiring into the death of Mr. Justice Stafford?” she said with arched eyebrows raised. “I cannot think of any way in which I might assist you, but I am perfectly ready to try. Please be seated, Mr. Pitt. What is it you think I might tell you? I knew him, of course. My husband sat on the court of appeal with him on many occasions, so we were socially acquainted with both Mr. Stafford and his wife, poor creature.”

He looked at her expression and thought he saw in it a pity which was more profound than the mere words which anyone might have said of a woman who was so recently widowed.

“You feel for her deeply?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

She waited some moments before replying, perhaps judging how much he already knew. She made up her mind.

“I do. Guilt is a most painful feeling, especially so when it is too late to make amends.”

He was startled, not only at the thought, but at her extraordinary frankness.

“You think she was in some way responsible for his death?” He tried to retain his composure.

She looked amazed and a little abashed. “Good gracious, no! Most certainly not! I do beg your pardon if I allowed that impression. She was obsessed with Adolphus, and he was with her, but she was not in the slightest way responsible for Samuel’s death. Whatever makes you think such a fearful thing?”

“Someone is responsible, Mrs. Oswyn.”

“Of course,” she agreed, folding her hands in her lap.
“One cannot pretend murder does not happen, much as one would like to. But it would not be poor Juniper who did such a frightful thing. No, no, not at all! She is guilty of having been unfaithful to him, of feeling an unlawful passion, a lust, if you will, and of indulging it instead of mastering it. That is guilt enough.”

“Was Mr. Stafford aware of her indulgence?”

“Oh, I think he knew perfectly well there was something.” She regarded him steadily. “After all, one cannot be completely blind, even though there are times when one would prefer to, for one’s own comfort. But he chose not to look at it too closely. It would have done no good.” She regarded Pitt steadily out of round, soft eyes. “He would not see what was better unseen; and when it was all over, it would have been so much easier to forgive and forget if he had never known the details. Very wise man, Samuel.” She shook her head a little. “Now Juniper, poor woman, will never find that forgiveness, and when this dies—as I daresay it will, these passions usually do—then she will be left with nothing but the guilt. It is all very sad. I told her so—but when one is in love with such obsessive emotion, such a hunger, one does not listen.”