A Body in Berkeley Square (14 page)

Mr. Turner placed his hands behind his back.
"I've offered a large reward for the conviction of the felon who
killed my son. I understand from Grenville that you believe there
is doubt that the colonel who's been arrested actually committed
the murder."

"I'm trying to ascertain whether he did, but
I am skeptical," I answered. "This might seem a strange question,
sir, but could you tell me if there is anyone who could have been
angry enough at your son to want him dead?"

Turner shook his head. "If Henry had been
called out and died in a duel, I would understand it. This--the
senseless killing--while he sat in a chair, at a society ball of
all places, confounds me. No, Captain, I do not know whether he
angered anyone in particular. My son had a wide circle of
acquaintances, and he was not always the most polite young man,
unfortunately. The young seem to find extreme rudeness to be
fashionable."

He glanced once at Grenville, as though
debating whether Grenville's famous disdain were to blame for the
rudeness of young people today.

"Did he speak of anyone with particular
emphasis?" I asked. "Or did he fear anyone? What I mean is, he must
have known the person who killed him. He died without much
struggle. The only comfort I can offer you is that he died almost
instantly. It took him by surprise. He certainly would not have had
time to feel fear or pain."

Mr. Turner's eyes were moist, but his mouth
was tight. "I am afraid that Henry did not speak much to me about
his acquaintance. His friends will attend his burial, tomorrow.
Perhaps they will know whether Henry was afraid of anyone."

Mr. Turner excused himself before long, and
Grenville tactfully suggested that he and I walk in the garden
since it was such a fine day. We strolled along the flower beds,
and the head gardener, who looked as morose as his master, pointed
out the garden's more unique characteristics. The entire landscape
had been laid out by Capability Brown, the brilliant garden
designer from a century ago.

By the time we'd walked to the folly at the
end of the grounds and back again, the dinner hour had arrived. Mr.
Turner joined us for the meal, although his wife did not appear.
Tuner was still quiet and apologized for his lack of conversation,
and Grenville and I assured him that we understood.

It was not until Grenville and I had
returned to Grenville's bedchamber to drink brandy alone that I
could mention Mrs. Bennington.

When I ventured surprise that Grenville had
told me he would be visiting Marianne when in fact he had gone to
see Mrs. Bennington, his dark brows furrowed. "Does it matter?"

"It mattered a great deal to Marianne."

"My visit to Mrs. Bennington is my own
business, Lacey."

I knew he resented my intrusion, but I did
agree with Marianne on one point. Grenville had far more wealth and
power than either of us, and if he chose to use us ill, there was
not much we could do to stop him. However, I intended to prevent
him from using Marianne ill if I could.

"I doubt it meant anything to Marianne,"
Grenville said, trying to sound offhand. "She was simply trying to
plague you. I suspect she does not care whether I live or die."

"Not true. She was quite distressed when you
were hurt in Sudbury."

He scoffed, an inelegant noise.

I tried another tack. "I remember when you
took me to Covent Garden to see Mrs. Bennington perform. You did
not sing her praises as everyone else in the theatre seemed
to."

"What are you talking about? I said much
that was complimentary."

"No, you simply did not disagree with what
others said. That is a different thing."

Grenville gave me a tense glance. "Why this
sudden interest in my opinion of Mrs. Bennington?"

"I am merely curious. She was at the
Gillises' ball, and afterward, you sought her company. At her
house?"

"Very well, Lacey, if you must know the
entire story, no. I fully intended to visit Clarges Street, but as
I journeyed home, I happened upon Mrs. Bennington's carriage--it
had broken an axle, and she was wild to get home. I let her ride to
her house in my carriage, and I stayed with her until she'd calmed
down. Then I went home. That is all."

I drank brandy in silence, while he grew red
in the face. He was annoyed, and trying to stifle it.

"I would like to meet Mrs. Bennington," I
said.

"What the devil for?"

"If nothing else, to ask her what she
observed at the Gillises' ball. If she saw something that would
point to solving Turner's murder, I certainly want to hear it."

"I tried to ask her," Grenville said in a
more even tone. "She noticed very little. She believes she saw her
husband speak to Turner, but she cannot be certain."

I pushed my feet closer to the fire. "Who is
this Mr. Bennington? Is he known for anything but marrying a famous
actress?"

Grenville seemed to relax. "Bennington is
one of those Englishmen who enjoy living most of the time on the
Continent. Both she and Bennington are a little vague about how
they met, but from what I understand, Bennington saw Claire perform
one night in Milan and asked her to marry him the next day."

"A love match?"

"No, I do not think so," Grenville said.
"The marriage was sudden, but I cannot believe love had anything to
do with it. Bennington is sardonic about Claire if he speaks about
her at all, and Claire never mentions her husband or even notices
when he's in the room with her. I imagine that they came together
for mutual convenience."

"Money?" I asked.

"That is the usual reason, but who knows?
Bennington seems well off. Perhaps she needed money, and he wanted
something pretty to look at." Grenville's mouth twisted in
distaste. "Although he does not dance attendance on Claire, nor
does he seem inclined to be possessive of her."

"Is it an open marriage, then?"

"I do not know why you should think so,"
Grenville began, then he caught himself. "Admittedly, they live
almost separate lives. I imagine that they appeared at the
Gillises' ball at the same time entirely by accident."

I had begun to construct a scenario in which
Mr. Bennington killed Turner in a fit of jealousy when Turner had
made up to his young wife, but at Grenville's answer, I discarded
the idea. If they'd married for convenience and lived separate
lives, Bennington might simply look the other way at his wife's
affairs, and she at his.

"Did Mrs. Bennington know Henry Turner?" I
asked.

"She says not," Grenville answered. "She has
no reason to lie about that."

"But he was found murdered, and she is an
actress. Perhaps her first instinct would be to lie."

Grenville gave me an unfriendly glance. "I
know what you are doing, Lacey. You need a suspect other than
Brandon. Do you plan to suspect everyone at the ball?"

"Every person in that house had the
opportunity to murder Henry Turner. Including you."

"True. I was close to the room when he was
found. I could have slipped in and out without anyone noticing.
Although most people notice what I do.
Some
person usually
has their eye on me, which makes things dashed difficult at times.
I cannot take a private walk across a remote country meadow without
it being reported in full in every London newspaper the next
day."

"The curse of fame," I said.

"You wonder why I travel to the corners of
the earth. Escaping newspapermen is one motive. But you are
correct, I could have killed Turner. I had no reason to murder him,
however, except that his cravat knot was appalling. But I am
reasonable enough to simply look away and swallow when I see such
abuse of a cravat."

He spoke lightly, but I sensed his tension. I
also noted that he'd turned the conversation neatly away from
discussion of Claire Bennington.

"Who else would have reason to murder him?" I
asked. "Either because of his cravat, or something else?"

Grenville at last began to show interest. He
dropped his dandy persona and went to the writing desk to search
for paper and pen and ink.

"Suppose I make a list of all present at the
ball who knew Turner and who might have reason to dislike him?" He
began writing, his pen scratching softly. "The most obvious person,
of course, is Imogene Harper. She found Turner, she admitted that
she searched his pockets for her love letter to Colonel Brandon,
and Lady Breckenridge confirms that she saw Mrs. Harper doing so.
Turner was apparently blackmailing Mrs. Harper about the letter,
which gives her quite a strong motive."

"Yes, but why kill him in so public a place
as a ballroom?"

Grenville waited, pen poised. "Because she
was angry and frightened, and in such a crush, there would be a
chance someone else would be accused of the crime. As indeed,
happened."

"Yes," I said. "Who besides Mrs. Harper?"

"Lady Breckenridge?"

I raised my brows. "She did not know Turner
well."

"So she says. And she was quite close to the
room when Mrs. Harper went in. I remember seeing her standing very
near the door. Not speaking to anyone, just looking about."

"Donata is an unlikely murderess. If a
gentleman angered her, she would dress him down, in no uncertain
terms, no matter who listened."

Grenville chuckled. "The lady has a sharp
tongue and a sharper wit. I include her only because she was so
near the room. And she told you she'd seen Mrs. Harper bend over
Turner--Lady Breckenridge might have invented the story to make you
more suspicious of Mrs. Harper. However, I admit that such a thing
seems unlikely."

"We are looking for people who knew Turner
well," I said.

"Indeed. Lord and Lady Gillis, then. They
invited him."

"Lord Gillis says he knew Turner only in a
vague way. The friend of a friend of his wife's, he told me."

"Yes, Lady Gillis is the connection there,"
Grenville said, writing. "You did not meet Lady Gillis. She can be
a charming woman when she wishes, and she is very much younger than
Lord Gillis. About Turner's age, I put her."

"Hmm," I said. "And Bartholomew puts her
arguing with Lord Gillis earlier that day about someone she'd
invited. I wonder who the object of this argument was."

"We can but ask her."

"Any other names?" I said.

"Leland Derwent," Grenville said. "He and
Turner were at Oxford together. Leland often mentions this, usually
in a tone of apology."

"I doubt Leland Derwent would commit murder."
Leland was one of the most innocent young men I'd ever met. He
looked upon life with the unworldly eyes of a puppy and had the
enthusiasm to match. I dined regularly with his family, where
Leland listened to my stories of the war in the Peninsula with
flattering eagerness.

"I would agree with you," Grenville said.
"The thought of Leland Derwent as a murderer stretches credulity. I
saw Leland speak to Turner at length that evening, however,
angrily, and he was quite troubled when Turner left him."

"I see." I didn't like that. "Very well,
write his name, and we will ask him about this conversation with
Mr. Turner. Mr. Bennington next, I think."

Grenville hesitated, looking annoyed, but he
nodded and wrote again.

"You said it was accidental that he and Mrs.
Bennington were there together," I said. "Were they invited
separately, or together?"

"I do not know, but thinking it over, I
wonder why Bennington came at all. He tends to sneer at social
gatherings.
Where we stand about and pretend interest in the cut
of Mr. Teezle's coat and whether Miss Peazle's come-out will be a
success,
he says."

"And yet, he arrives at a grand ball and
stays most of the night."

"Precisely," Grenville said. "I must wonder
why."

"Very well, make a note of him. Any
others?"

Grenville tapped his lips with the end of the
pen. "It is difficult to say. Turner was not well liked. Snubbed
people at Tattersall's and so forth. But he always paid his debts
at White's when he lost and everywhere else for that matter, and
always stopped short of mortally insulting a fellow so that he
would not be called out. Not very brave, was our Mr. Turner."

I half listened to him, while I contemplated
what I'd learned from Lady Aline, Louisa, and Lady Breckenridge.
"What about Basil Stokes?" I asked. "Louisa and Lady Aline
mentioned him, but I know nothing about him."

"Stokes?" Grenville raised his head in
surprise. "Why would you suspect him?"

"Because Louisa said he stood very close to
Colonel Brandon when they entered the house. I am looking at the
possibility of someone stealing Brandon's knife--picking his
pocket. Louisa said the closest persons to them in the crush were
Mrs. Bennington and Basil Stokes."

Grenville shrugged and made a note. "Very
well, then, Basil Stokes. We will easily find him at Tatt's or the
boxing rooms--he is mad for sport."

"In all frankness, I cannot imagine why Mr.
Stokes would murder Turner, but I hate to leave any stone
unturned."

"If nothing else, we'll get good tips on what
horse will win at Newmarket or which pugilist is likely to be a
champion this year. Now, what about this French gentleman who
assaulted you?"

I took a sip of brandy, letting the mellow
taste fill my mouth. "I had not forgotten him. He had a rather
military bearing, an officer, I would say, not one of the rank and
file."

"He was not at the ball," Grenville said. "I
would have noticed a lean man with close-cropped hair, a military
bearing, and a thick French accent. I knew everyone there. There
were no strangers."

I cradled my brandy goblet in my palms. "Lord
Gillis likes military men, which was why he invited Colonel Brandon
and the Duke of Wellington. Supposing this Frenchman had been a
guest in the house but did not come down for the ball. Suppose he
was someone Lord Gillis had invited to stay so they could discuss
old military campaigns. The Frenchman spies Turner entering the
house for the ball and kills him--for reasons of his own. The
French officer took Imogene Harper's letters, but if he had not
looked at them closely, he would not know what they were. Perhaps
he thought they were something of his that Turner had taken."