The Counterfeit Heiress (6 page)

“Then I shall have no choice, upon my return from Paris, but to resume my attentions to Emily, whether she likes it or not.”

I suppressed a sigh. “Cécile, do you really believe something has happened to Estella?”

“It is irrational,
bien sûr,
but I feel compelled to look into the matter. I have been a poor friend to not have done a better job reaching out to her over the years. I could at least have met her once during her travels.”

“Did she ever invite you?” I asked.

“
Non,
but that was never her style. At any rate, I have had enough of London and long to return home.”

“You, Cécile, I shall miss.”

Jeremy smiled and blew me a kiss.

There was no time to dawdle with them. I returned to my work, leaving my friends to plan their Parisian adventure. As soon as I had uncovered the identity of the patient who had recently lost her baby, I collected Colin from the billiards room and set off to find the unfortunate woman. She lived in a neatly furnished house in Maida Vale with her husband. They had no children. The baby lost to them in the spring had been their fifth disappointment. My own past experience informed the way I planned to approach her, as I was all too keenly aware of the pain of losing a child.

Mrs. Hopwood received us in a dark sitting room, the curtains pulled tight, and a mirror above the mantel draped with black crêpe. A side table held a silver carriage clock whose hands had been stopped at 8:36. This must have been the time of the baby’s demise. Colin squeezed my hand as he sat next to me on the settee, and gave me a subtle nod of encouragement.

“It is good of you to see us, Mrs. Hopwood,” I began. “I am conscious of what a difficult time this is for you, but I am afraid we must ask you some questions about Mary Darby, whom I understand delivered your daughter this spring.”

“Delivered her and then took her,” Mrs. Hopwood said. “She denies this, of course, but I know the child was not dead. I heard her cries.”

“I am so terribly sorry,” I said. We had made inquiries at Scotland Yard before coming, and Colin’s colleagues there had told us that Mrs. Hopwood had gone to the police to accuse her midwife of kidnapping, but her husband had come forward, quietly, and explained to the detectives that his wife was speaking out of an unmanageable grief, and the matter had never merited investigation. I did not want to draw attention to this, but neither did I want to insult her. “I can only imagine the pain you feel. When did you last see Mary Darby?”

“I have seen her nearly every day since my little one was taken from me.”

“Every day?” I asked.

“She haunts my dreams.”

“I see. Have you spoken to her in person?” I asked.

“Would you not do everything in your power to see your child returned to you?”

“Of course I would. Did Miss Darby—”

“Mrs. Darby. She was a widow.”

“Did Mrs. Darby offer you any assistance in the matter when you confronted her?”

“She was sweet as anything the day my little one was born.” Mrs. Hopwood’s voice was reedy, almost breathless. “Told me she understood my pain, and that there would be other chances, but she knew that wasn’t true. She showed me the child, you know, after I’d heard her cries, and tried to tell me she was dead. I knew she wasn’t. She didn’t look like the others.”

“It must have been awful,” Colin said, leaning forward. “I am most grievously sorry for your pain.”

“There needn’t have been any,” Mrs. Hopwood said. “I heard the child cry, but Mary insisted she had to take her away, to keep her from me. She didn’t leave her with us and she would have if the child had been dead, wouldn’t she? She would have left her for us to deal with.”

Not knowing the details of what had happened on that sad occasion, and not wanting to further agitate the woman, I changed direction. “Did you see Mrs. Darby after that day?”

“I visited her, over and over, but she refused to see me. Wouldn’t offer so much as a word of comfort, because she knew she couldn’t. She knew she was the instrument of my pain.”

“How often did you try to see her?” Colin asked.

“It is so very difficult to remember.” Tears pooled in Mrs. Hopwood’s already red-rimmed eyes. “She spoke to me only once, and tried to give me something to help me sleep, as if that would take away the memory of what she had done.”

“So you did speak to her?” I asked. “Was this here or at her rooms?”

“She would not help me, so what choice did I have?”

I looked to Colin, not sure what to do. “You had to take matters into your own hands, Mrs. Hopwood, didn’t you?” he asked.

“I did. I followed her every chance I could, hoping she would lead me to my baby.”

“And when you saw her leave Devonshire House last night?” he asked.

“Devonshire House? I can’t say she’s ever been there, Mr. Hargreaves. She’s not nearly that fine a lady. No, no Devonshire House for her.”

“But you found her near the river?” Colin pressed.

“No, she was most often at that theater in the West End. I never saw her near the river.”

“Which theater, Mrs. Hopwood?” I asked.

“The one not far from St. Martin-in-the-Fields,” she said. “They are putting on a production of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
I think she may have got the idea to steal my baby from being part of something so concerned with fairies and magic and all sorts of evil things.”

“Did you ever see her with the baby?” I asked.

“No. I would have taken her back if I had. You must believe me,” she said. “I would not leave my little one abandoned. Why will no one help me find her? Will you help me?”

Colin rose to his feet. “I assure you, Mrs. Hopwood, I will personally do everything I can to assist you through this dreadful time. If I may be so bold, I should like to send my private physician to attend to you. He is a man of great intelligence and skill and will be able to help you learn what happened to your daughter.”

“I don’t want something to make me sleep.”

“No, of course not,” Colin said, his voice gentle and soothing. “I shall tell him as much.”

We took our leave from her and were met by a servant in the corridor near the front door. “Sir, I sent for Mr. Hopwood the moment you arrived. He is outside, hoping to speak to you. He didn’t want to disturb my mistress, you see.” She opened the door. “He is there, just across the street.”

“Please walk with me,” Mr. Hopwood said as we approached him. His gray hair and lined face suggested he was considerably older than his wife. “Mrs. Hopwood does not often look out the window, but I do not want to take the chance of alarming her in case she does. No doubt you have ascertained that she is greatly disturbed?”

“Yes, I am afraid so,” Colin said.

“There is no question of kidnapping here, sir,” Mr. Hopwood said. “Our daughter died within moments of being born.”

“Your wife heard her cry?” I asked.

“She did, but it was only once. I held the child myself. There was no life in her.”

“I am so sorry,” I said.

“We have suffered a series of disappointments, as so many do, but my wife, I am afraid, has come undone from it. She blames the midwife, though there was no indication the woman had done anything wrong. She took it into her head that she spirited the baby off, when in fact I had asked her to do so in order that my wife might be spared having to face another dead infant in the house waiting for burial.”

“Did you have a funeral?” Colin asked.

“We did, but Mrs. Hopwood was in no condition to attend. She took, shortly thereafter, to following Mrs. Darby, harassing her. It’s rather an embarrassment, and I do not know what to do to stop her. She has refused medical attention and I fear may require institutionalization.”

“She has agreed to let my physician see her,” Colin said, “but the matter is more serious than you may know. Mary Darby was murdered last night.”

“Dear Lord,” Mr. Hopwood said. “You don’t think—”

“At the moment we are gathering all information pertinent to the investigation,” Colin said. “Is it possible your wife attacked her?”

“I should like to say no, but her behavior has been so erratic of late…”

“Were you home last night, Mr. Hopwood?” I asked.

“I was not. I have taken to spending several nights a week at my club. In the circumstances it seemed the best thing.”

“Quite,” Colin said. “Which club?”

“The In and Out. I had a commission in the navy before taking a position in the City. I am employed as a banker now.”

“Do you know if Mrs. Hopwood was at home all last night?” I asked.

“She had no plans to go out, but I cannot say with confidence what she did. You are welcome to speak to our servants, but I would request that you allow me to send them down to meet you at the public house two streets over. It is best if Mrs. Hopwood is not further agitated.”

“Of course,” Colin said, and took from him the details of the establishment in question. Soon we were settled at a table there. Colin ordered a pint of ale for himself and half a pint for me.

“This is rather exciting,” I said, sipping the bitter drink. “I’ve never before been in a public house. Is this what they are all like?” The walls were paneled in dark wood, and a surly barman had handed our beverages to Colin so that he might bring them to our table. The pleasant scent of meat pies filled the premises, and I was about to suggest ordering some when one of Mr. Hopwood’s servants approached us.

“My master has sent me to you,” he said. “My name is Will Mundy, and I have worked for the Hopwoods these eleven years. We’ve not a large staff, there are only the three of us, but we take good care of the family.”

“I do not doubt it,” I said. “We understand the situation has been difficult these past few months, particularly for Mrs. Hopwood.”

“Her heart is right broken, madam.”

“Do you know if she was home last night?” Colin asked.

“She was most of the evening,” he said. “Nearly all of it, in fact. Cook had gone to bed and Molly and me, we was reading the evening paper belowstairs. Mr. Hopwood lets us have it when he stays at his club.”

“And you saw Mrs. Hopwood?” I asked.

“She had gone to bed, you see, hours before, but then we heard a commotion on the stairs, and I went to take a look. It was the mistress, still in her nightdress. I asked her if she wanted a cup of warm milk to calm her nerves, but it was like she didn’t even see me. She walked straight past me to the front door.”

“Did she go outside?” Colin asked.

“I blocked her way, sir,” he said. “I meant nothing improper, of course, but I couldn’t let her leave the house like that. Not in her nightdress.”

“No, you could not,” Colin said. “So she remained inside?”

“I turned her round and put her in the direction of going back upstairs and waited until I heard a door close. I figured she had gone back to her room.”

“Had she?” I asked.

“I don’t rightly know, madam. I thought she had, and I went back downstairs. But then, must have been about ten minutes later, we heard a clatter on the servants’ stairs, and she rushed down right past us and out the door before I had the chance to even try to stop her.”

“Was she still in her nightdress?” I asked.

“She had put on a cloak, but I could not tell you what she wore beneath it.”

“Did you follow her?” Colin asked.

“As quickly as I could, but got no farther than seeing her get into a hansom cab. I have no idea where she went after that.”

“What time was this?”

“Round about midnight, best as I can say.”

“Did you notify Mr. Hopwood?” Colin asked.

“I know we should have at once, sir, but we couldn’t get the telephone to work, and we thought she would come back quickly.”

“Did she?”

“No,” Will said. “So around two o’clock in the morning, I went to find the master and left a message for him at his club.”

“Did he come home?” Colin asked.

“Not until the morning.”

“Was the message delivered before then?” I asked.

“I told them at the club it was urgent.”

“When did Mrs. Hopwood return home?” Colin asked.

“Just after dawn, sir. She was in a state, her hair wild and her cloak torn.”

“Do you have any idea where she had been?” Colin asked.

“None. I’m sorry not to be of more use. Cook said to tell you she has nothing to add. She slept through all the excitement.”

“Thank you, Will,” Colin said. “Will you send Molly to us straightaway?”

Molly had nothing to contribute beyond corroborating Will’s story. She was nervous and upset, afraid she might lose her position if she did not get back to the house quickly enough. We reassured her as best we could before sending her on her way.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she said before scurrying out the door, “living in a house like that. I fear we’ll all be mad before Christmas.”

“Well?” I asked my husband once she had gone.

“Mr. Hopwood, I presume?” he asked. “Clearly he has been somewhat less than forthright.”

Estella

iv

“I am afraid you have taken me for a fool, sir,” Estella said to her caller, the man she had let herself come to trust, whom she had believed valued her for the previously unbeknownst-to-her business acumen he insisted she possessed. “I have taken Dr. Maynard’s Formula, and found it to be nothing more than worse-than-usual-tasting laudanum. I have no interest in investing in such a thing.”

He felt as if the world were crashing down around him. He had added laudanum to the mixture in an attempt to assuage his fear that she would feel no effect when she sampled the tincture. It was a mistake he would long regret. She ordered him to leave the house at once and to never call again. A burly servant bustled him out the back door. Always before he had used the front.

Estella cringed to think of it after he was gone. She had been so foolish, so trusting, so stupid. Monsieur Pinard would have identified this man as a charlatan in an instant, she knew, and she wished she had had the sense to consult with him in the matter. Fortunately none of her friends knew of the now spoiled business arrangement. She had mentioned it once, to Cécile, but only in passing, and her friend was unlikely to remember the conversation. Estella would suffer no more mortification because of it, except in her own head.