The chamber I entered was a drawing room filled with furniture in the same style as that of the reception room. This room was still formal but more comfortable, with pillows strewn about, books waiting on low shelves, gas lamps lending a glow even on this sunny afternoon. Apparently Lady Fontaine did not share Mrs.Bywater’s alarm at the expense of lighting.
Hannah followed me in and gave Lady Fontaine a precise maid’s curtsy that would do whoever had trained her proud. “Mrs.Crowe, your ladyship.”
The thin woman in black looked me up and down. Her gown was simple in style, no bustle or stiff skirts, with a ruffle-trimmed bodice the only extravagance. Her iron-gray hair was likewise dressed in an uncomplicated braided coil. Lady Fontaine’s face was sharp, her nose beaked, her eyes brown and watchful.
At the moment, that assessing gaze ran over me, not liking what it saw.
“She doesn’t look like much,” Lady Fontaine said to Hannah.
Hannah bobbed another curtsy. “Lady Mortimer swore by her, your ladyship. Said she did wonders to ease her mind about her late husband.”
I hoped Hannah had not laid on her praise too thick. As Lady Mortimer had passed on, Lady Fontaine would not be able to check Hannah’s claim, but Lady Fontaine could presumably quiz Lady Mortimer’s acquaintances about the fictitious Mrs.Crowe.
“Lady Rankin as well,” Hannah went on.
I hid my unease, as a reference to Lady Rankin was literally closer to home. But then, of those who’d worked for Cynthia’s sister, besides myself, only Mr.Davis, Sara, and Elsie remained. Mrs.Bywater would have no idea if Lady Rankin had employed “Mrs.Crowe,” and Cynthia would go along with the ruse once she learned of it.
Lady Fontaine sniffed. “Lady Rankin was a tart. Behaved as though she couldn’t lift a finger but kept as many trysts as she pleased. Does her sister still run about in trousers?”
“I believe so, your ladyship,” I said with feigned sorrow.
“That whole family is scandalous,” Lady Fontaine answered decidedly. “I have nothing to do with them. But I suppose if Lady Mortimer approved of you, you’ll have to do.”
I contrived to look modest. “Thank you, your ladyship.”
Hannah must have won Lady Fontaine’s complete trust, because despite her apparent misgivings, the woman gave me a nod.
“Why were you lingering in the hall?” Lady Fontaine asked abruptly. “Fagan has become a useless lout. He’ll have to go, if indeed he didn’t murder my brother. That is what you are here to tell us, Mrs.Crowe.”
“It wasn’t Fagan’s fault I remained in the hall.” I felt sorry for the man now that I’d seen his true grief, and it was easy to come to his defense. “I wished to stand in the precise spot your brother met his unkind fate. To absorb the vibrations, you see.”
“Ah, yes.” Lady Fontaine’s eyes softened the slightest bit. “I shiver mightily whenever I have to pass the staircase. I’ve barely been able to go downstairs since it happened.”
“I’ll fetch tea.” Hannah snapped off another perfect curtsy and glided from the room.
Lady Fontaine continued to study me. “I suppose you will need candles and other accoutrements. We’ll have to draw the draperies for the candles to even be noticed.”
“Not at all,” I said with feigned confidence. “The spirits are here, whether it is midnight or broad daylight.” I gestured at the windows, through which May sunlight poured. As the days had warmed, the coal-smoke pall which usually coated the city had lessened.
Lady Fontaine gave me a minute smile of satisfaction. “Exactly what I always say. You don’t need a crystal ball and black cloths to impress the departed. They float freely in the ether and are beyond caring about such things.”
“Indeed,” I managed.
“Well, make yourself comfortable, Mrs.Crowe. Marjory will return with tea, and we can make a start.”
I gave her a nod and wandered about the drawing room, as though looking it over for the best place to contact the departed Lord Peyton.
I had to wonder again about the curtains, which were as wide open as the ones on the landing. Had Lord Peyton been the one who liked the drapes closed, and now that he was gone, Lady Fontaine preferred to see out?
This chamber was in the front of the house, and a glance from its two tall windows showed me the road that encircled Belgrave Square and the iron railings enclosing the park across that street. Trees and shrubbery promised tranquil walks in the green space, an oasis in busy London.
I turned from the windows and examined the rest of the room. It was fashionable these days to load mantelpieces and tables with photographs of family, but there weren’t many photographs in here.
One of the few I saw was of Lord Peyton, standing stifflyupright. It must have been taken in his younger days, the picture now faded as many from the early era of photography did. A photograph of a slender young woman stood next to it, and I realized with a start that she was Lady Fontaine.
The younger woman had been pretty, if not lavishly beautiful. I wondered if Lady Fontaine’s marriage and her ailment of stealing everything in sight had etched the lines of bitterness now on her face.
I noted that as she watched me, she remained in the center of the room, far from the few knickknacks on the tables near the walls. I wondered if Lady Fontaine had learned to do so to keep her compulsion under some control.
