Page 37 of Corpse in the Canal

“Thank you, doctor. Mr. Harvey, with deepest sympathies for your loss, I have to ask you if you are able to give testimony as to your son’s movements prior to his untimely demise?”

Harvey rose to his feet and told what he knew of Percy’s return from London. Constable Wills added his discovery of Percy’s last change of horse.

There was little more to discuss, and the jury quickly delivered their verdict of murder by person or persons unknown. Proceedings were wound up. Harvey walked out in the midst of a sympathetic silence, surrounded by the protective figures of Sir Felix, Dr. Owens, and Mr. Thomas.

At least no one had brought up Adelaide Jenkins. And she’d had the good sense to stay away.

Harvey was waiting for them in the courtyard.

*

Not for the first time, Adelaide Jenkins wondered why she stayed here. Sheer stubbornness, perhaps. At least the vile Percy Harvey was dead, so there was a chance now that the rumors would die too. She hadn’t really believed the gossip she’d overheard at church that he had been murdered, but she had hoped, rejoiced even, that he was no more.

Unkind and shortsighted, she thought ruefully as she gazed out of her parlor window at Clarence, who was charging about the lawn with his wooden sword, dispatching enemy soldiers by the dozen.

Unkind because life was sacred, and because his parents seemed to love him. Shortsighted because, of course, the Harveys, and therefore the rest of the neighborhood, would believe his death was all her fault.

His murder. Solomon Grey had said so, and she did not doubt him.

She closed her eyes. Dear God, what unkind fate had brought him here, at this moment in time? Bad enough that he was intensely focused and almost preternaturally observant. But now he investigated for his living. She did not want that harsh, predatory light turned on her. Apart from anything else, there was Clarence to consider. Luke had wanted him to grow up as an English gentleman, and Adelaide meant to do her very best to see to that.

It was hard, though, when they all knew and despised her mixed origins. That was the root of the Harveys’ dislike. She could have kept and traded slaves in the worst of conditions and they would have smiled upon her, if it wasn’t for her African blood.

Percy had ignored their strictures and pursued her anyway.

At least she no longer had to worry about his striding up the garden path, barging past her servants, and…

Abruptly, her heart jolted. A man was striding up the garden path.

It can’t be him! His inquest is this afternoon!

And, of course, it wasn’t Percy. This man was taller, leaner, darker, and he moved with a looser-limbed grace that made her think of Solomon.

Her breath caught in sudden panic. It was Solomon. Early for tea, and without his stunningly beautiful wife, whom Adelaide would not trust further than she could throw her. Was he here to discuss old times? To ensure she did not speak indiscreetly to Mrs. Grey?

Clarence pelted toward him, and he paused. Adelaide clutched her heart as she saw that rare smile. He walked beside Clarence off the path and across the lawn, where they both crouched down, and Clarence opened his tin of painted toy soldiers.

Solomon admired them in the sunlight, and she was grateful to see him help setting them up. He had changed since their last encounter, surely…

Yes, he had. But she had made the same mistake again. This was not Solomon. This was his brother, whose disappearance in childhood had bothered him so badly. He wore a smarter coat with a respectable collar and tie, which might have been what fooled her. Whatever, she knew now it was David.

Was that relief she felt spreading through her veins?

Before she could be caught watching, she opened the French doors and walked out into the cool sunshine, drawing her shawl more closely around her.

“Mama, look, it’s Mr. Grey!” Clarence called at once.

His companion straightened and took off his hat to bow.

“But which Mr. Grey?” Adelaide asked lightly.

“The first one,” Clarence said.

He was quicker than she had been. But now that she’d seen Solomon again, the differences were obvious. David’s hair was slightly longer, his whole manner slightly less assured. Where Solomon’s eyes were hard and piercing, David’s were…old, yet gentle. They were still veiled, though, like Solomon’s. David had secrets of his own.

How had they found each other again?

“Mrs. Jenkins,” David said civilly. “I apologize for being so early. I was walking and came across your house by accident.”