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“Other than your clergyman, no.”
“Chambers?” Tragmore sat up straighten “He called on Elizabeth again? Was he alone?”
“Yes sir, just as he was on the two previous occasions.” Larson glanced at his notes and shrugged. “He arrived shortly before four in the afternoon, evidently for tea. The butler ushered him into the drawing room, the maid put the flowers in a vase, and—”
“Flowers?” Tragmore jumped on
that revelation. “The vicar brought flowers?”
Larson started, clearly taken aback by the vehemence of Tragmore’s tone. “A mere formality, my lord,” he hastened to assure him. “Nothing more lavish than any casual caller would offer.”
“Nothing lavish. Were they yellow, perchance?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, they were.”
“Yellow roses,” Tragmore muttered, bitterness and satisfaction lacing his tone. “How charming.”
“My lord, if you’re suggesting that anything indiscreet transpired between the marchioness and the vicar, I must assure you—”
“I don’t pay you to assure me, Larson,” Tragmore snapped. “Nor do I pay you for your interpretations of my wife’s behavior. To refresh your memory, I pay you to uncover information and to relay it. Bear that in mind.”
“Very well, my lord.”
“The roses. You saw the vicar present them to the marchioness?”
Larson nodded. “I did. I was, as always, concealed in the hedges just outside the drawing-room window. I don’t dare move about during daylight hours. The duke has numerous guards stalking the grounds.”
Impatiently, Tragmore waved away Larson’s meandering explanation. “What happened after Chambers gave Elizabeth the flowers?”
“She gestured for him to take a seat, which he did. He stayed only long enough to drink one cup of tea, then took his leave.”
“Did he sit beside Elizabeth?”
“No, my lord.” Larson rustled the paper in his hand. “As I’ve indicated in my report, the vicar sat in an arm chair, the marchioness on a settee. They made not the slightest attempt at physical contact. They simply chatted.”
“Could you hear what they were saying?”
“Not through the closed window, no. But judging from their serene expressions, I would suggest the vicar was offering counsel to Lady Tragmore. A qualified opinion, my lord. Not an interpretation,” Larson added.
Tragmore leaned forward, gripping his knees. “I want you to think very carefully, Larson. Were any of the servants present during the vicar’s stay?”
Larson shifted his substantial weight. “If you’ll forgive my impertinence, sir, I’m quite good at what I do, which is the reason you hired me. I needn’t think carefully to recall what transpired. It’s all recorded on paper.” Again, he indicated his written sheet. “To answer your question, the only person other than the butler who entered the drawing room during the vicar’s visit was the maid who brought them refreshments.”
“And did she remain throughout his stay?”
“No. She served them tea and scones, then took her leave.”
“Then they were alone. Excellent.” Tragmore came to his feet with a flourish. “ ’Tis just the additional proof I require.” He shoved some bills in Larson’s hand. “Another fortnight should be enough time to fulfill my purpose.”
“Does that mean you want me to continue surveying the estate, my lord?”
“It does indeed. And pay special attention to the vicar’s comings and goings, innocent though they may seem.”
“Very well. It’s your money, sir.”
“Yes.” Tragmore’s eyes glinted. “It is, isn’t it?”
With a puzzled shrug, Larson stuffed the bills in his pocket. “Shall I report to you next week at the same time?”
