“My dear Miss Hardcastle,” the actress said dryly, “this is a theatre. There is always someone about who’s behaving oddly.”
They laughed a little, puncturing what had become a very somber mood indeed.
Julia continued, “As I said, since Mr. Thorn began accompanying her, Effie has seemed to be free of the more undesirable sort of admirers. Do not ask me to name any of them, however, for I’ve no such protection and must keep my attention on my own coterie.”
“And what about outside the theatre?” Kate asked.
Julia’s eyes lit up. “I never saw the man, but I did hear from Nell Burgoyne, who’s playing Gertrude, that Effie had seen some strange man outside both her house and the theatre at different times. Neither of us had seen the fellow, though, so I didn’t think any more of it.”
A knock sounded at the door, followed by the dresser from earlier poking her head through. “I told Rupert that Effie isn’t here yet, Julia. He’s on a rampage. I thought I’d better warn you.” She excused herself and ducked back out.
“You’ll have to excuse me, ladies.” Julia rose from her chair. “I really must prepare for tonight. Do let me know if there’s anything more I can do to help.”
“Thank you for speaking so frankly with us, Miss Todd.” Caro offered the other woman her hand. “And please don’t hesitate to be in touch if you recall anything else.”
Caro and Kate were silent as they retraced their steps back to where they’d entered the building.
As soon as they were in Kate’s carriage, Caro said, “How much of what she told us was truthful, do you think?”
“I’d say there’s a kernel of truth in all of it,” Kate said thoughtfully. “I don’t think she was lying about being innocent from having Effie removed. She didn’t strike me as the sort who would willingly admit to being poor. Especially not given how hard she’s worked to rid herself of her Manchester accent.”
“You heard it, too!” Caro whooped. “I’m glad I didn’t imagine it.”
“It was faint but definitely there,” Kate confirmed. “But she most certainly dislikes Effie intensely.”
“Intensely,” Caro repeated. “She has a way of biting her lip when she’s feigning sincerity. She did the same when she said smoking was a filthy habit. Which she clearly doesn’t believe because I’ve read of her expressing how much she enjoys it.”
“One thing is certain,” Kate said firmly. “We need a list of the regular admirers who hover around Effie after performances.”
“And we need to attend tonight’s opening so that we can see their reactions when it’s announced she won’t be playing Ophelia as expected.” Relief filled Caro that they were finally getting somewhere in their investigation.
“I can’t help but hope I’ll get home to find that Andrew has found both Effie and her carriage while we were speaking with Julia.” Kate’s smile was rueful, as if she knew such a wish was doomed to be fruitless.
“You know I wish the same.” Caro reached out to grip her friend’s hand. “But you heard what Julia said. I can think of nothing that would infuriate a man obsessed with a woman more than to have all access to her denied to him unexpectedly.”
She only hoped that such a man would also value the object of his obsession so much that he’d refuse to harm a hair on her head.
But Caro was all too aware that she was the one indulging in wishful thinking now.
Chapter Five
After Frank confirmed with Eversham and Val that the advertisement Effie had autographed had not been in the carriage with them, the two men went back downstairs. He’d been all too eager to leave earlier, but from Frank’s easy acceptance of Val’s suggestion to rest, it was clear that his cousin had reconciled himself to the fact that his injuries precluded such activity for the time being.
“Where are you off to?” the detective asked Val suspiciously when they left the house together. Or perhaps he wasn’t suspicious at all. Now that he considered it, that was the man’s usual expression. “I should have thought you’d wish to keep watch over your cousin.”
Settling his hat upon his head, Val, stepped out onto the street beside Eversham. “I can hardly sit by his bed and stare at him for hours, can I? I’d like to keep busy. So, I thought I’d head to my club and see if I can run down Langham. I’d like to get a perspective on the greenroom from someone other than my cousin.”
Eversham looked at him sharply. “You don’t believe him?”
Thinking of his earlier lack of trust in Frank, Val grimaced. “I do, actually. We will, of course, confer with him afterward, but it occurs to me that Frank might see all of Effie’s admirers as threats since he’s a man in love. Langham might be able to give a more even-handed list of names.”
“Because he’s only there for a mere mistress?” Eversham asked wryly.
“Because, aside from you, he’s the most rational fellow I’ve ever met,” Val corrected.
Eversham laughed as they reached the edge of the square where they would part ways. “I suppose I’ll see you tonight at the theatre.”
Bidding him goodbye, Val continued on before catching a cab to St. James’s Street and getting out at White’s.
He didn’t spend a great deal of time at the club since it was a place he still associated with his father and brother rather than himself—though his elevated standing necessitated him spending more time there now than he liked. He still preferred a more relaxed atmosphere. But like most gentlemen of rank, he had memberships at all of the usual places and was greeted by several friends as he entered the reading room to see if he could run down Langham. He was often to be found there with a stack of the day’s papers and a glass of brandy in the afternoon.
Sure enough, he saw the man’s large frame slouched in a burnished leather chair with a coil of cigar smoke rising above the open newspaper before him.
Adopting a similar pose in the seat opposite Langham’s, Val gestured for a waiter to bring another glass of brandy for Langham and a whisky for himself. He didn’t usually drink more than one dram in an afternoon, but he could hardly put the other man at ease while sipping tea.
Langham lowered his newspaper—The London Weekly, to Val’s disappointment—just enough to show his eyes and nose. “Wrackham.” The duke nodded. “What can I do for you?”
Joshua Fielding, Duke of Langham, had never been one for small talk. He said what he meant and meant what he said. And he didn’t waste time with trivialities. It was a measure of his good looks and impeccable wardrobe that he was as popular with the ladies as he was, Val thought, because it was assuredly not his charming personality.
“I’ve a matter of some delicacy to discuss with you, your grace.” Val accepted his glass from the waiter, who’d also returned with Langham’s brandy. “I know I can count on your discretion.”
Sighing, as if he could have been enjoying the execrable writing of those hacks at the Weekly, Langham lowered that inferior rag enough to see that Val had been courteous enough to order him another drink. Wordlessly, he folded the paper and put it down on the table. Then taking up his glass, he said, “Discretion might cost you more than one brandy, Wrackham, but I’ll decide after I hear your story.”