‘What killer?’ Sir Andrew, set down his knife and fork and stared around the table. ‘What is this?’
Guinevere explained. Bella, Jared noticed, became even paler, Mr Quenten showed every sign of interest, shock and animation and his wife looked as though they were discussing the price of mackerel.
‘The man will talk once you get your hands on him,’ Sir Andrew said. ‘Unless he’s a maniac there will be someone behind him, that’s for sure. Catch him, put him in the hands of a man with the knack for interrogation and between fear of a beating and the inducement of transportation rather than the noose, he’ll spill the lot. I’ve a friend amongst the magistrates in Westminster and he knows a Runner or two who have skill in extracting information.’
‘We are alarming the ladies,’ Jared said. ‘They can have no idea how brutal and effective such questionings can be. But that aside, once we find him the evidence will follow. We have dates, we have places and a mountain of circumstantial evidence to bury him under. Since the incident with the carriage I have been putting the pieces together. All we have to do is lay our hands on Bainton.’ He glanced around the table. ‘I have already put measures in place to hunt him.’
‘Confoundedly distressing for you, Mrs Quenten,’ his father observed. ‘Old family servant of yours and so on. Any indications that he was unreliable?’
‘None,’ she said coldly. ‘I have always found him most loyal.’
I’ll wager you have, Jared thought. ‘But let us speak of more pleasant subjects. I understand you have a racehorse that is favoured for the next York meeting, Sir Andrew.’
The conversation turned to racing and to horses in general. Quenten looked quite at his ease, Jared thought, more and more convinced that the man had no idea what his wife was about.
With dessert finished Bella rose from her seat at the foot of the table and the other ladies followed her out. There was an immediate air of relaxation, as though the five men had all freed several waistcoat buttons. Even Quenten seemed to relax in the absence of his wife. The butler placed the decanters and nuts on the table and, obedient to a wave of the Earl’s hand, ushered out the footmen.
Jared sat back, poured himself a glass of port as the decanter passed and did his best not to worry that Guinevere was alone with Lettie Quenten and Bella with her uncertain loyalties. Dover was helping to brin
g in the tea tray and he would lurk discreetly, but even so he was glad when his father got to his feet after only two glasses.
‘Shall we rejoin the ladies?’
Time for the next little nudge. Jared nodded to his father and the Earl and Sir Andrew strolled across the drawing room until they were behind, but at a little distance, from the sofa where Mrs Quenten sat silent beside Bella.
Sir Andrew gave an exclamation and turned towards the Earl. ‘I’ll forget my own name one of these days. Huntingford, I’ve a confession – I‘ve done something to the lock on that little sitting room door – the one out onto the terrace. Don’t know what, must have leaned on the handle too hard. Meant to mention it to you earlier and it’s a bit late for a locksmith now.’ He was speaking quietly, but his voice had a certain penetrating clarity.
‘Oh, that door is always a problem, I meant to have the entire lock changed. It’s stiff enough to hold closed for the moment, I’ve no doubt.’ The Earl beckoned for a footman. ‘Durrant, make sure you turn the key on the corridor side of the small sitting room door tonight, that’ll be safe enough. There’s nothing of any value in there,’ he added to Sir Andrew.
His father’s mutterings were never exactly discreet, Jared thought appreciatively. He had not heard what was said, only read it on the Earl’s lips but he was sure Mrs Quenten would have been able to hear. He just hoped they were not being too obvious setting up their trap, but he suspected she was too obsessed to be wary. He kept on talking to Theo whom he had manoeuvred round so that he had his back to the room.
Bella poured tea, Sir Andrew seated himself beside Mrs Quenten and made valiant attempts at conversation. Theo wandered over and kept up a stream of superficial chatter about sporting matters with the Earl while Jared leaned over the back of his father’s chair, dropped in the occasional comment and watched the room. Guinevere was left to talk to Mr Quenten who darted nervous glances at his wife whenever Guinevere laughed or leaned closer to him.
Under the cat’s paw, Jared thought. Poor devil. Either he has no idea what his Lettie’s about, and he seems dull enough for that to be possible, or he has been dragooned into at least complacence, if not actual involvement.
Mrs Quenten stood up. ‘I shall retire, if you will excuse me. Bella dear, how may I go out onto the terrace? I cannot sleep unless I have taken a short stroll in the fresh air.’
‘This way.’ Bella stood up and led the way. ‘I will go up myself when I have shown you. Good night, everyone.’
Dover opened the door then slipped through behind them carrying a tray of dirty cups. He was followed shortly afterward by Theo, yawning and apologetic.
Dover was back ten minutes later with a jug of hot water to refresh the tea urn and Jared strolled casually across the room to speak to him under cover of handing over his own cup.
‘She sent her ladyship away, said she would only be a minute and she was. I pretended to just come along as she came back in and went to lock the door but I had a look outside once she was clear. There’s a small cairn of white pebbles by that sitting room door.’
Jared released a breath he had not been aware he was holding. ‘Hooked.’
‘I’d say so, sir. My lord, I mean.’
‘Sir will do.’ It was taking getting used to. So far Jared had failed to respond to at least three members of staff using his title until they repeated themselves. ‘I’ll be up within half an hour. Tell Sir Andrew.’
Dover took himself off, holding the door for Sir Andrew to leave. Mr Quenten announced that he would be to his rest and within minutes Jared was alone with his father and Guinevere. ‘My bed chamber, sir. Guinevere, I suggest you go to your room, keep Faith with you and lock the door.’
‘You may suggest what you like, but I am joining your council of war, Jared.’ She smiled at his father who beamed back at her. The old devil approved of Lady Northam, it seemed.
Chapter Twenty Five
His assorted troops distributed themselves around Jared’s bedchamber leaving an armchair for Guinevere. ‘There is a jib door concealed in the panelling on each side of the small sitting room,’ he said without preliminaries. ‘In daylight they are obvious once you look, but at night they are not. Dover has arranged screens in front of each. Dover and I will be behind the door to the library, my father and Sir Andrew behind the other into the garden room. We will keep them locked until we hear someone in there and then open them slightly. Dover has oiled the locks.’