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Now, at last, she could turn. ‘Good morning, Your Grace. Your Grace,’ she exchanged a seated bow with Sophie. ‘Good morning, Mr Hunt.’
r /> ‘Ma’am.’ Jared looked utterly relaxed, as though attending inquests was a rather tiresome daily ritual for him, but the dark eyes were sharp and focused. After a polite, unsmiling, inclination of the head he turned to look forwards.
The smell of a large number of people, many sketchily washed and crowded into a hot chamber, began to make itself unpleasantly apparent. After ten minutes the jury came in, whispering together as they shuffled along the benches and got settled. One or two looked excited, several others were decidedly pale after what was probably their first close view of a dead body. The Coroner sat down, his clerk beside him, and rapped on the table with a gavel.
‘Silence! This inquest into the death of Augustus Quenten, Viscount Northam, is now convened by me, Edward Runcorn, Coroner for Westminster. The jury having been sworn in and Nicholas Williams appointed foreman they have viewed the body and have heard it identified by Doctor William Felbrigg as Augustus, Viscount Northam. I call Miles Tonkin, the first finder, to the stand.’
Tonkin took his place in the chair set facing the jury, was sworn in and turned composedly to look at the Coroner who took him through his evidence of trying to wake his master and what he had done when he realised that he was dead. The clerk scribbled busily.
Twite was called, his evidence sparse and straightforward, then, ‘Lady Northam, will you kindly come forward.’
Guin moved to the witness chair, put back her veil, placed her hand on the Testament and repeated the oath. There was a murmuring from the jurors and the sound of people moving, craning forward, from the audience. The Coroner glowered and they settled down.
Guin answered quietly, her gaze fixed on Mr Runcorn’s face. She recounted how she had been informed of her husband’s death and what she had done that morning. She agreed that she had been a widow when she married Lord Northam and that yes, there had been a substantial age difference between them.
‘And was it a happy marriage?’ Mr Runcorn asked.
‘I believe so. It certainly was on my part. Lord Northam was a kind, considerate and generous husband. As for him, he told me that his motive in marrying again was to secure companionship. I hope I was able to give him that and a comfortable domestic life.’
‘And your first marriage was a short one?’
‘Tragically, yes. My first husband suffered a fall from a window. I regret to say that drink had been taken.’
She expected an inquisition about that but, to her surprise, Mr Runcorn merely made a note.
‘Lord Northam had recently employed a Mr Hunt as a bodyguard for you, I understand. How did that come about?’
Guin explained the circumstances, interrupted several times by gasps and whispers from the audience. The adder, in particular, caused quite a stir.
‘And none of these attacks succeeded in causing any actual harm to anyone?’
‘Physically, no. Mentally, both my husband and I were alarmed, anxious and puzzled. It was very distressing. My husband was convinced that someone was trying to kill me, which is why he consulted Mr Hunt.’ That caused enough of an uproar for Mr Runcorn to threaten to clear the room if he did not get silence.
When Guin was able to make herself heard she added, ‘As Mr Hunt pointed out to us, we were too close to the situation to see it clearly. As murder attempts the attacks were unfocused and inefficient and the intent seemed to be to alarm and upset us rather than to kill or maim. This, once it was explained, we agreed with, however it left us as confused and worried as before.
‘That was the situation immediately before… before…’ She found she had lost her voice, that the reality of why she was here had finally hit her. I was in shock, she thought. That was why I was so calm, why I could even… with Jared, I could… She fumbled for the black-bordered handkerchief that Faith had pressed into her hand that morning.
‘Sir, Lady Northam is in distress, she cannot continue.’ It was the Duke. He was on his feet and Sophie was at her side.
‘Lady Northam has not yet finished her evidence, Your Grace. However, she may return to her seat and recover herself while we hear other testimony.’ The Coroner sounded less than pleased, but at least he had given her some respite.
Guin allowed herself to be taken back to the Duke’s seat beside Sophie, who held her hands while the Duke took her place on the other side of the aisle, flustering Mrs Cutler by bowing slightly to her. She was not acting in the slightest, she realised, although Sophie, who was making rather a show of patting her hands and offering handkerchiefs, probably thought she was.
Doctor Felbrigg was called to the witness chair next to repeat his identification and to give the results of the post-mortem examination.
‘Breath slowly, deeply, focus on that,’ Jared murmured beside her as the room began to blur around the edges. How had he realised she was feeling faint? She was holding herself so still, trying so hard not to listen…
Guin did as he said and gradually things returned to normal and the doctor was standing up.
The rest of the servants were questioned in turn. Thomas told of the delivery of the sweetmeats and confirmed that the package was intact and appeared to be normal. ‘Nowt was wrong that I could see from the outside, sir. I do think I’d have noticed summat if there was.’ He looked nervous, Guin thought, and his usual careful accent was escaping him.
The manager of Parmentier’s shop, seeming much put out at any suggestion that his firm had the slightest blame in the matter, testified that the contents of the box were as usual, a selection avoiding marchpane and any very hard centres. No-one, he swore, could have interfered with the box up to the point it left the shop and the delivery boy, produced to give evidence, swore he had not let it out of his sight for a moment.
Mrs Cutler, stolid and confident, agreed that they had arsenic in the house as rat poison and that it was all accounted for. She listed, at great length and mind-numbing detail, every possible noxious or even faintly dangerous substance on the premises and declared that every one was in its proper place, properly secured and in the expected quantities. Her expression, as she faced the Coroner, suggested that anyone suggesting the case might be otherwise in any household under her supervision would get the sharp edge of her tongue. ‘I have my inventories here, sir, should you be wishful to examine them.’ She gestured towards a pile of ledgers and a sheaf of papers.
‘Thank you, that will not be necessary. At present,’ he added ominously. ‘Call Mr Theo Quenten.’
Theo looked ill, Guin thought. And no wonder. His father was dying, his uncle had been murdered and presumably his own debts and whatever trouble they were causing him had not gone away either.
