Page 45 of The Sprinter
Poor Lady Featherstone. She really did look defeated.
“Certainly you are mistaken,” Grace said. “Why, I have no suspects at all and you already have three.”
“Four,” Lady Featherstone said dejectedly.
Mr. Vance and Lord Mullhill had entirely thrown over the mystery and were now on to considering the various horses who would likely turn up for the two-thousand guinea stakes at Newmarket. Grace really wished they would take pity and help the lady.
She supposed it was up to her, if there was any help she could offer. She did feel Mr. Leslie was the most likely culprit, if only she could divine why he would risk his neck when there was no need.
But perhaps that was it. Perhaps there was a need. Mr. Leslie was the only one who knew Mr. Fortque was suicidal.
What if he wasn’t? What if the voice the neighbors heard was not Mr. Fortque at all?
The neighbors had never heard two voices in the office, only one. They presumed Mr. Leslie was too soft-spoken and they presumed they heard Mr. Fortque because that gentleman identified himself by name.A lady has broken Mr. Fortque’s heart. Who spoke of themselves like that outside of the king and queen?
The pieces began to come together quickly. Now, Grace must just get Lady Featherstone to see it.
“My lady,” Grace said softly, “do have a look at this, and this also.”
She directed Lady Featherstone’s attention to the salient facts. Then she said, “I wonder if it were ever Mr. Fortque’s voice at all. And I wonder how a clerk retires at thirty-two.”
As if the clouds parted and shined the rays of the sun down upon Lady Featherstone, she saw what Grace had seen. She turned over the paper and grabbed a stick of lead. “Hold my lorgnette against my eyes, my dear, while I write out the solution.”
Chapter Thirteen
Grace held LadyFeatherstone’s lorgnette so she could see what she was putting down. She also read along as the lady wrote, making sure she kept heading in the right direction. Lady Featherstone finished with a flourish and raced to Lord Ryland, waving the paper over her head.
Mr. Vance and Lord Mullhill looked on with incredulity.
Grace laughed and said, “You did say speedily, Mr. Vance?”
Lord Ryland dinged his glass to gain the attention of the room. “Ladies, gentlemen, it is my honor to tell you that Lady Featherstone has solved what has been the most complicated mystery I have ever put forth.”
There was a rather enthusiastic round of applause, as it seemed most in the room understood how much Lady Featherstone strived every year, only to be denied.
Lord Ryland continued. “The solution hangs on one particular deduction and that was, it was never Mr. Fortque ranting and raving about being disappointed in love. It was Mr. Leslie all along, working to set up his partner’s character as suicidal so he might murder him and gain control of the business. He had been substituting what had been fine goods with cheap plate to widen his profit margin and pocket the difference. Mr. Fortque was on the verge of discovering it.
Grace smiled as there were various murmurings along the lines ofnaturally, that is what I was thinking.
“He was caught out and blackmailed by Mr. Remel, the newly-hired clerk next door, when Mr. Remel encountered Mr. Leslie in the corridor and asked him a question about the accounts. Mr. Remel instantly recognized the voice as the one he’d heard as Mr. Fortque. The investigators began to unravel the whole thing when the clerk could not account for his newfound money, which he had been paid by Mr. Leslie to keep him quiet. Mr. Leslie will hang in two weeks’ time.”
“Brava, Lady Featherstone!” the duke called out.
Lady Featherstone beamed and Grace could not be more delighted for her. To Grace, the mystery had meant nothing. She had her own mystery to think about by way of Lord Gresham’s bizarre behavior. But to Lady Featherstone, this was a pinnacle of her investigative career.
Lord Ryland had bade Lady Featherstone wait where she was as he strode to meet a footman at the doors. The footman carried a cream velvet pillow, and upon it was a rather spectacular broach containing a large emerald surrounded by diamonds.
Lord Ryland presented it to Lady Featherstone and said, “This broach was designed by Louis David Duval for Catherine, Empress of Russia, to add to her emerald collection. The emerald itself was mined at special request by Mr. Duval, and many that were sent to him for inspection were rejected, until this one was selected for its color and clarity. It can be supposed that the empress favored emeralds as they are thought to sharpen the wits. Our Lady Featherstone has shown us that she has no need ofthatsort of help, but I hope she will enjoy the decoration all the same.”
As the broach was pinned to her dress, Grace almost feared Lady Featherstone would faint. She did not quite hit the floor, though she did need assistance to a chair and a vinaigrette was procured to bring her back to her senses.
The rest ofthe evening had gone on jolly. Mr. Vance and Lord Mullhill may have ignored the mystery, but they fully understood their duty at this important moment in Lady Featherstone’s career. The supper was one of congratulations and wondering how she did it.
Lady Featherstone regaled them with all of her thoughts about the neighbor, about the nephew, about the clerks, and about the mysterious lady, as if she had interrogated them all personally. Suddenly, the neighbor was found to be a nervous creature incapable of taking any decisive action on behalf of his bird, Mrs. Welk was discovered a motherly figure who would not injure a fly, the mysterious lady was just now married to somebody else, and the unfortunate nephew was dead from drink. That none of those ideas had been contained in the mystery seemed of no account.
As she observed the rather astonished faces gazing at her, Lady Featherstone merely patted her broach and murmured, “It’s all in the training, you see. Do not be dejected that you did not win this year. You were up against far more experienced investigators.”
Grace was rather tickled that the lady seemed to be inventing her own memories.
