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‘I will return home and set off immediately by post chaise. I will reach Cambridge tonight, break the news to my brother in the morning and return to London as soon as I am able to leave him, but certainly by the day after tomorrow. Frederick will understand the necessity.’
‘I will write to the rest of the family, Father,’ Adrien said. ‘I imagine the funeral will be at Tillingham Hall?’
Mr Prescott nodded. ‘The body must be interred in the family vault. At least it will not be too far for Frederick to manage, unless there has been a severe deterioration in his condition.’ He sighed heavily. ‘If that is all, Sir William?’
‘It is for now, thank you. I gather from what you say that Doctor Prescott is in very frail health?’
‘He is bedridden and will need to be carried to the carriage,’ Mr Prescott said, already on his feet. ‘I can assure you, Sir William, that he is in no condition to travel to London, let alone murder his nephew, if that is what you are considering,’ he added waspishly. ‘I bid you good day. Lord Radcliffe, Miss Lawrence. Adrien, kindly send instructions to the Hall so they may prepare for a large party of guests.’
‘Certainly, sir. I will see you out.’
As they left Sir William turned to Luc, eyebrows raised. ‘Indeed, it does seem unlikely that a dying academic could make the journey to London, or would have the motive to send an assassin in his stead.’
‘Has he sons, though?’ I asked.
Both men shook their heads. ‘Not legitimate ones, at any rate,’ Luc said. ‘Fellows of Cambridge or Oxford colleges are single. There is nothing to stop them marrying if they leave that post – many take holy orders and marry when they are appointed to a parish – but a Fellow is, by definition, unmarried.’
Adrien came back looking decidedly more strained, if that were possible. ‘I keep thinking of more things that must be done,’ he said, sinking into a chair. ‘I suppose that, after my father and Uncle Frederick, the next person who must be told is Arabella. Miss Jordan, that is.’
‘Percival Jordan’s eldest daughter?’ Luc queried. ‘Lord Jordan,’ he clarified for me.
Presumably a baron. Luke had been unable to explain to me why barons were only ever referred to as Lord Whoever and never as Baron Whoever, except in legal documents. He had simply shrugged and said that was the rule and added that they were the lowest rank of aristocrats, because baronets, the next in precedence, were not able to sit in the House of Lords.
I jerked my attention back from the labyrinthine byways of the English aristocracy to concentrate on what Adrien was saying. He clearly wanted some company when he broke the news and that was to be me.
‘Your cousin was what, in his thirties?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘Thirty two.’
‘How old is Miss Jordan?’
‘Nineteen,’ Adrien said.
‘A love match?’ I enquired, meaning it sarcastically.
He shook his head, taking the question at its face value. ‘The families know each other and her father’s estate is adjacent to Prescott lands in Buckinghamshire. It was very suitable.’
I gave him a hard stare. For someone in love himself, he was pretty insensitive about a girl being married off to man almost twice her age because it was suitable, but all I said was, ‘We had better go and do it now, before rumours spread.’
‘Thank you.’ He glanced at Luc as though to get permission to go off with me.
Luc stared blandly back. ‘Mama should have returned. I would ask her to accompany you, if I were you. She knows Lady J
ordan.’
We left Luc and Sir William and walked the few steps to Luc’s house to find that not only was Lady Radcliffe at home, but also the twins who seemed undecided about who they were happiest to see – me or Adrien.
After I had been bowed to and then soundly kissed and Adrien told all about the wonderful, huge, dog they had seen in the park and Nanny Yates had shooed them upstairs, I told Luc’s mother what had happened and asked if she could accompany us.
‘Of course. But not yet,’ she said with a glance at the clock. ‘It is almost half past one already and none of us have had any luncheon – and we can hardly arrive in the middle of their meal, either. Come and tell me what has happened while we eat.’
Chapter Four
The food did Adrien good, I could see. His colour came back and he summarised the situation coherently for Lady Radcliffe.
We set out as soon as the clock struck two and it took only a few minutes by carriage to Chesterfield Hill, just to the west of Berkeley Square. The house was smart, neat, with three stories above a sunken service area. Clearly there was some money here. The groom knocked and we all got down from the carriage, ready to follow Lady Radcliffe in.
As I expected, she gained admittance, despite the hour being early for visiting, and we were shown into a pleasant drawing room at the front of the house. Lady Jordan appeared within a few minutes.
