Lessons in Solving the Wrong Problem - Charlie Cochrane Page 0,29
anyone else looking into the matter can show that it wasn’t an accident.” Beatrice, who might have been an actress, so efficient was she at conveying meaning through the use of inanimate objects, produced a handkerchief and blew her nose. She might as well have said aloud, “So don’t you go asking Richard about it.” As it was, she continued, “Henry would never want to besmirch Edward’s memory, especially when he is certain the boy had nothing to do with the death. As for William Saggers, what good would it do blackening the man’s reputation when he isn’t here to defend himself?”
Orlando considered the words afresh. The man. Curse the man. Were they all making a simple misassumption? “Did Henry ever consider that Lord Michael may have been referring to another person entirely? A poacher, perhaps, who’d startled his horse and made it shy?”
“I asked him that and he said if a miscreant had caused the fall, then his father would surely have ensured that the authorities knew about it. He’d had periods of lucidity in which he was able to put his affairs in order.” Beatrice sighed. “It’s so difficult to know what he meant, at such a remove.” She lifted the pot, swirling it gently. “Shall I ring for more tea? Or would a small sherry be in order?”
“The latter, please.” If the previous part of the conversation had been demanding, the upcoming one would be equally taxing. While his hostess rose, to pour them both a glass, Orlando said, “I feel there’s still much to discuss about William Saggers. We’re confused about how could he play billiards if he’d had a hunting accident that left him practically housebound?”
“Ah, now Henry told me all about that. I never met the man, but he was supposed to be very clever and had put in all sorts of adaptations to his home so he could carry on as near normal as could be managed. He had an Otis lift, all the way from America—Michael apparently used to love to ride up and down in the thing.” Beatrice placed the elegant little crystal glasses on the table. “So he also had a low-level billiards table and special cues made, to enable him to play from his invalid chair.”
“Lord Michael clearly felt an obligation to keep his weekly meeting with the man, given how foul the weather was likely to be that evening. Thank you.” Orlando eagerly took a sip of sherry, finding it an excellent variety.
“Yes. Although it apparently wasn’t simply a matter of duty. They’d been great friends for years.”
Time to take the fence Orlando had been dreading squaring up to. “Beatrice, you no doubt have an understanding of the ways of the world, as do I. We both know—for I’ve met them at the university—of men who prefer the company of their own kind, rather than women. Do I need to put it more plainly?”
“No, that’s perfectly clear.” His hostess sipped her sherry. “If you wish to know whether Henry’s father and Saggers had such a friendship, I’d say that—particularly going on Saggers’s reputation—they’d be the last men to do so. Before his accident he was said to have been a womaniser of note.”
Orlando wondered whether William had been able to find a way of carrying on that part of his life as normal, then decided he didn’t want to think about it. “Thank you for being so helpful.”
“My pleasure. Candour’s what we need. Now, had you asked the same question about Herron, I’d have said it was highly likely. There are many reasons men are bachelors but I’m convinced his aversion to women was more than simple dislike.”
Orlando made a mental note of the point, although he couldn’t see how it might be pertinent. “It would be useful to talk to the nurse maid who went to Herron’s sister. Perhaps to her successor, as well.”
“The second maid, Matilda, I happened to meet when we came to lay flowers on the boy’s grave at the same time. My old nurse was a Nanny Matilda, so the name has always stuck.” Beatrice rose, to ring for the butler. “They keep very efficient records, our people, as well as keeping their ears to the ground. Someone should be able to help with where those two women are, assuming they’re still alive. In the meantime, you can tell me all about your work at St Bride’s.”
Orlando, forcing a smile, resisted draining his glass in anticipation of the discussion. He didn’t want it