Page 32 of Corpse in the Canal

“How very kind of you,” Constance said. “Oh, did you know you have a stray horse in your stable?”

Adelaide sighed. “No. Is it sick? Nelson—my groom—quite often takes in neighbors’ ill animals. I turn a blind eye and he thinks I don’t know.”

“But you didn’t know about this one?”

“No, I have been…distracted. Yes, you may have a cake, Clarence. But offer them first to Mrs. Grey and the gentlemen.”

David was tucking into his steak-and-kidney pie. But Solomon had the feeling he was listening to everything with more than his usual interest.

“Nelson says the horse is tired and needs to retire,” Clarence informed them, taking a bite of cake that engulfed him in crumbs and cream. He grinned through them. “Like old Fergus, who pulls the gig. Fergus isn’t sick. The new horse likes carrots. And apples.”

His mother cast him a tolerant glance. “So you have met the stray horse?”

“I saw him. Nelson wouldn’t let me pat him or feed him until he knows him better. He says old folk can be grumpy. I don’t think he meant you.”

“I’ll have you know Nelson is older than me,” Adelaide retorted. “Or, at least, I think he is.”

“I don’t suppose you saw this horse arrive in your paddock?” Constance said to Clarence.

Adelaide shifted in her chair again. When she lifted her teacup, her fingers seemed unnaturally stiff, but she did not try to prevent the boy from answering.

“No,” he said regretfully, and swallowed some cake. “Nelson said he must have come in during the night. He only found him in the paddock on Friday morning. Can I be a groom when I grow up?”

“You can be anything you like when you grow up,” Adelaide said.

“What are you, sir?” Clarence asked David.

Davd lowered his fork. “I suppose I am a painter. Just now.”

“Do you paint houses? Or pictures?”

“Pictures, though I’m open to suggestions. I used to be a sailor.”

“We sailed on a ship, once, didn’t we, Mama?”

“We did. It was a long voyage from Jamaica.”

“What brought you to England?” Constance inquired. She sounded merely interested. It was Solomon who really wanted to know.

A faint, enigmatic smile flickered across Adelaide’s face. “Widowhood. My husband’s business did not thrive without him, and he had always meant to come back to England, to Dare Hall. He inherited it only a few months before he died. It belongs to Clarence now.”

Clarence grinned around another mouthful of cake.

“Lucky boy,” David said, and Clarence nodded vigorously.

“Were you born in Jamaica too?” Constance asked Adelaide.

“I was. How long have you been married?” Adelaide’s gaze included Solomon too.

“Nearly eight months,” replied Solomon.

Adelaide smiled, a gentle, serious smile, aimed at him alone. “I am glad for you, Solomon. Congratulations.”

Solomon inclined his head, smiling back because he was glad of her genuine good wishes. The slight daze in which he’d accepted this reunion began to fall away, but it still felt odd to see her here, with her son, conversing civilly with his wife. But then, Constance was not making small talk. She was probing, her mind clearly on the mystery they were trying to solve. Which was where his should also be.

David set down his knife and fork and sat back in his chair, like a man whose hunger had finally been assuaged. And yet he was not relaxed. His eyes strayed to Adelaide with steady fascination, reminding Solomon of his own distant infatuation. His stomach gave an uncomfortable jolt.

Could Adelaide have been the one to shoot Percy Harvey? She was more than capable of it, if she had seen him as a threat. Which he probably was. A man like him was unlikely to voluntarily pass by a woman like her, and in certain circles widows were looked on as fair, if not grateful, game.