The Custom House Murders (Captain Lacey Mysteries #15) - Ashley Gardner Page 0,82

from Alvanley and others that he was not a confrontational man himself. Rather, he’d infuriate others until they came after him.

In your scenario with this Mr. Warrilow, it could be that Fitzgerald went to him—for whatever reason you will no doubt by now have uncovered—and provoked the man into attacking him. Whereupon, Fitzgerald struck out to defend himself, and felled him.

I am not certain of this, of course. Fitzgerald preferred duels, where he could claim to have settled the argument honorably. Afterward, he’d be quite pleasant to all, apologizing to his opponent and footing the doctor’s bill for whomever he shot.

I know of no one in Antigua who was acquainted with him. Once Fitzgerald’s father, finally tired of his embarrassing son, sent him off, no one heard of him again. He did not correspond with Alvanley, Brummell, or any of his friends. He simply vanished.

You say he was companionable and hospitable when you visited him. Also much more rotund. He apparently cut quite a dash in his day. But we all thicken as we age, do we not? And perhaps a long time in the tropical heat has mellowed him.

I will be interested in what else you have learned from him and about the rest of this business. When you arrive, we will have a very long talk. No matter that I have about twenty-five guests arriving for a hunt—we shall snub them and closet ourselves to thoroughly hash out this problem. I will tell Gautier to decant plenty of the best brandy.

The letter turned from the topic after that, telling me that Marianne was settling in nicely and savoring her new role as lady of the manor. Grenville closed, expressing delight we’d be arriving soon, and I folded the letter.

Peter was asleep in my arms. I carried him to the nursery and tucked him in, then returned to my own bed. I half-hoped Donata would join me, but she’d been subsumed into her family, and I doubted I’d see much of her in the coming days.

LATER I REALIZED how much I enjoyed that respite in Oxfordshire. My cares fell away, and contentment set in. I continued to worry about Eden—both wondering if my old friend had turned criminal or whether he would be the next victim—and about Denis and his war with Mr. Creasey.

I had given Denis his wish—I was well out of his way. Brewster was on hand to look out for me, but he had an easy time of it here, as I stayed home in the earl’s great house if I wasn’t out riding.

I’d tried to convince him to bring Mrs. Brewster along, but my Em, Brewster said, expressed horror at being exposed to the countryside, and had moved in with a friend in Islington until Brewster’s return.

Brewster had messages during our sojourn from his cronies in London that Denis was keeping himself out of sight. However, both he and Creasey were fighting each other in myriad ways. One of Creasey’s purloined shipments from the London docks vanished from under his nose, and rumor had it that Denis had seized those goods and already sold them on through his networks.

Denis had been very calm when he’d explained to me how Creasey was robbing cargo, which I now believed meant he’d already been planning his vengeance. I hoped that the two men would leave some parts of London standing.

Those worries became faraway and small as our visit commenced, receding to the back of my mind. I concentrated on riding with Peter, who was a natural horseman, and fearless. Anne took her first steps not long after we arrived, excitedly rushing toward Peter when he and I returned from a gallop. To the delight of her parents and grandparents, she toddled three paces before she collapsed to her backside, laughing in excitement. Donata’s mother, the cool Lady Pembroke, who let little disturb her sangfroid, gathered up Anne and told her she was a clever, clever child.

Donata’s father, a warm-hearted and intelligent man, which I’d discovered after I ceased being intimidated by him, indeed indulged me in the occasional game of chess. I used these matches and the two books I’d brought with me to refresh my memory of the game, and taught Peter the basic moves. As I’d suspected, he caught on quickly.

A few weeks passed in this golden haze, then we departed for Gloucestershire. Packing for this move was not as arduous, as we would stay only a short time at Grenville’s and then return to Oxfordshire