Page 41 of The Masterful Mr. Montague

Transparently unrattled, Penelope nodded. “We—by which I mean Barnaby and Stokes, assisted by myself and Griselda, and also, in this case, Mr. Montague, who you all also know—are trying to unravel a puzzling case which we believe has led to two murders. The first victim was Lady Halstead, who lived in Lowndes Street, and the other was her man-of-business. Griselda and I have spent the last hour learning what we can about the Halsteads and the Camberlys, Lady Halstead’s children and their families, from more general sources, and have now come to see if you can tell us more about both the Camberlys and the Halsteads from a social perspective.”

Four of the five faces looked blank. Lady Celia said, “Exactly who are these people, dear?”

Penelope grimaced but answered, “Mortimer Halstead and his wife Constance—Mortimer holds some reasonably senior position at the Home Office—and they have two children, Hayden and Caroline. The Camberlys are Mr. and Mrs. Wallace Camberly—he’s a Member of Parliament, and they live in Belgrave Square and have one child, a son, Walter.”

Horatia, Celia, Louise, and Helena all exchanged looks. Lady Osbaldestone, meanwhile, was frowning in concentration, as if dredging the depths of her memories—memories that extended fathoms deep.

After glancing at Lady Osbaldestone, Helena met Penelope’s eyes. “Sadly, we can’t help—those people do not move in our circles. However, I suspect darling Caro would know at least something of them—she and Michael are still so very heavily involved in government circles.”

“And,” Celia said, “you might ask Heather, especially about the Camberlys. Now that Breckenridge—Brunswick, I should say—has acceded to the earldom and assumed his father’s seat in the Lords, he’s become much more heavily involved in politics.”

“Indeed.” Lady Osbaldestone nodded. “And now Michael Anstruther-Wetherby has his seat in the Commons, he would know something of Camberly, too.” Lady Osbaldstone’s black gaze settled on Penelope. “Of course, I used to move in both political as well as government circles, but that was long ago. I can’t tell you anything about Mortimer Halstead or the Camberlys, but I remember Sir Hugo Halstead quite well, and I’m sorry to hear of his wife’s death.”

Penelope looked her interest. “You knew them?”

“Not to say knew, but he was in the Foreign Office, so of course I met him. He was considered a very sound man.”

“Can you tell us more about him—about them?” Penelope asked.

Lady Osbaldestone faintly arched her brows. “He spent most of his active years in India—he was a large, quite jovial, agreeable gentleman who was one of those people others trusted on sight. You can imagine how helpful that was in dealing with the natives. He was seconded to the East India Company for many, many years, and also assisted the Office of the Governor-General. His wife—I’ve been trying to think of her name, and I think it was Agatha—was a quiet lady, but pleasant company and a good foil for him. She accompanied him on his postings and was by his side for most of his service. At the time of Sir Hugo’s retirement, they were considered an exemplary couple who had made a very real contribution to King and Country.” Lady Osbaldestone paused, frowning again. “The only comment I recall regarding the Halstead children was that they bred true for looks, but sadly not for character.”

The front doorbell pealed, then feminine voices echoed in the hall. A minute later, the door opened and a youthful-looking matron of middle years led in a bevy of others. “Our apologies, Mama-in-law—we were delayed leaving Osterly Park. I will leave it to you to guess by whom.”

Horatia laughed and accepted a kiss on her cheek, then signaled to Grantley to produce more chairs. “As it happens, my dears, you’ve arrived at precisely the right time. Penelope here, and Griselda—who is Inspector Stokes’s wife—have presented us with a social query that we are unable to answer but on which several of you might have some insight to offer.”

Griselda’s head whirled as introductions were made; as had happened with the older ladies, the younger matrons showed no awareness of any great distinction between her class and theirs, at least not in this setting.

Grantley and two footmen ferried in more chairs and two fresh teapots, and finally everyone was seated and supplied with tea and cakes. Horatia fixed the newcomers with a commanding eye. “Mortimer Halstead and his wife, Constance—he holds a senior position with the Home Office—plus son, Hayden, and daughter, Caroline. Also Mr. Wallace Camberly, MP, and his wife, and their son, Walter. Whatever you know of these people, do share.”

“Mrs. Camberly’s name is Cynthia, and she was a Halstead—she’s Mortimer’s sister,” Penelope explained. “And there’s also a Maurice Halstead, who someone here might have heard of, and also a William, the youngest brother.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of Maurice,” the lady who had led the others in, Patience Cynster, said. She frowned. “But heavens, that was long ago, when I was first out in society. I was warned he was one to avoid.”

Penelope nodded. “The description we have is of a rake, an ageing roué, definitely a gamester and general profligate, but he’s thought to be harmless enough and can be charming.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Louise put in. “I remember him in the sense of warning the twins away from him.” She frowned. “But as I recall, he tended to hover on the outskirts of society, as it were.”

Penelope nodded encouragingly. “That sounds right.”

Several of the younger matrons had met the Camberlys, albeit only in passing. “My impression, for what it’s worth,” Honoria, Duchess of St. Ives, seated to Griselda’s left, said, “is that they are both exceedingly ambitious. Camberly for himself, for his advancement, and his wife to assist him in securing that.”

“And through that, securing her own advancement in the social ranks.” The lady who spoke was the Caro who had been referred to earlier. She nodded at Penelope. “I’ve met the Camberlys several times, and there’s no doubt that Camberly is pushy, but I would also say he’s careful and intelligent enough not to overreach. He’s building a solid reputation but is greedy for every little crumb of kudos and status he can legitimately garner to bolster his name. I expect he thinks to push for an undersecretary’s post after the next election.”

“What are they like as people?” Penelope asked.

Caro wrinkled her nose, took a sip of her tea, then, lowering the cup, said, “Not the sort of people you wish to claim as friends. Camberly is ruthless. Behind his easy smile and polished-to-a-gloss manners, he is utterly fixed on his goal, and one senses he would have no qualms over doing whatever he must to achieve it. His wife is equally ruthless, but in addition there’s an element of pettiness and spite there . . .” Caro paused, then concluded, “I can’t quite put my finger on what it actually is, but it’s very much a case of her viewing everything through the prism of what it might mean for her. I’ve come across the son only once, and, as often happens with overbearing parents, he’s something of a cypher and fades into the background.”

Penelope looked hopeful. “And the Halsteads?”

Caro pulled a face. “I’ve only met them once, and that in passing at a major function, but I have heard whispers about them from others—the sort of gossipy comments that are always floating about within government departments. I can’t vouch for their veracity, but if it will help, and I suspect you have other sources to check what mine have related, then . . .” Caro drew breath and went on, “I’ve heard that Mortimer, and Constance, too, are also ambitious, but with less reason, and far less likelihood of it coming to anything. Mortimer Halstead is known as something of a mediocre man—a pedant who is not intelligent enough to respond to new or unexpected situations. He’s considered sound in the general sense, but everyone, except presumably he and his wife, believe that he’s reached his level of competence and did so long ago, and is unlikely to move further up the Home Office tree.”

Shifting her gaze to Lady Osbaldestone, Caro said, “I have heard some wonder why he didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps into the Foreign Office, where the name would have counted for more, but it seems that Mortimer has absolutely no wish to ever leave these shores.”

“Actually,” Penelope said, setting her teacup on her saucer, “from the descriptions Barnaby and Stokes, and also Barnaby’s father, have given us of the Halsteads and the Camberlys, which mesh with everything you’ve said, I hypothesized that for all four Halstead children, their characters and dispositions might be the result of overblown competitiveness between Mortimer and Cynthia, who are older and close in age, stemming perhaps from their childhood, and the consequent effects that might have had on Maurice, forcing him to take the position of black sheep to gain attention, which in turn made William—the youngest brother—step outside society altogether.”

Lady Osbaldestone viewed Penelope with something approaching pride. “How very astute of you, my dear—for I’ve just remembered the only criticism I ever heard leveled at the Halsteads, mère and père, and that was, in fact, that their offspring had been allowed by the Halsteads to develop as a group in a quite unhealthy way. The specific criticism was that the potential of the Halsteads, the fruit of their union as it were, had been allowed to disintegrate, to decay and come to nothing, through lack of attention, indeed, put even more bluntly, through parental neglect.

“You see”—Lady Osbaldestone fixed her black gaze on Penelope’s face—“while the Halsteads spent their productive years abroad, they left their children in England, in the care of nannies, governesses, and tutors at their country house, often for years at a time. For Sir Hugo, of course, had ambition, too, and his was all for his work, and Agatha supported him in that.”