A Very Messy Business In Belgravia

Chapter Eight

The following morning brought a brief note in Gabriel Carrington's handwriting.  Amalthea read it quickly, then glanced up at her maid, Alice, who was busy sorting the last of her rejected clothing into manageable piles.

"Mr Bracewell, Aunt Emily's solicitor, can spare us some time over his lunch hour today.  It's good of him to see us this quickly.  He has so many demanding clients, members of my own extended family included, that he's always impossibly busy.  We are to meet at his offices on Chancery Lane.  Gabriel says he will call here first.  I suspect he has something more to tell me about the case."

As was becoming increasingly common these days, Amalthea was correct.  Less than two hours later, she and the private detective were sipping tea in the drawing room while he told her about his return visit to the Grey residence the previous afternoon.

"Nobody saw anything, unfortunately," he confirmed.  "Mid-afternoons are typically quieter around the house."

Amalthea was unsurprised.  The same was true of most households, as it was the brief period of time between the end of luncheon and the start of preparations for dinner.  Gabriel continued.

"Lord Grey was in his study, and Lady Grey was in a small, private sitting room.  Both were alone, and both rooms were upstairs on the first floor.  As far as the servants were concerned, they were dispersed throughout the property.  I have been able to rule out the staff who appeared downstairs immediately after the incident, and those who were confirmed to be on the lower floors, for example the kitchen staff and scullery maids."

"Could someone have broken in from outside?" Amalthea asked.

"It's possible, but unlikely.  I found an open window in one of the unoccupied rooms directly off the landing, but when I looked outside there was no easy access to the ground.  That makes me think it was either a coincidence or a clumsy attempt to point us in the wrong direction."

"I see."  She stood.  "I suppose we ought to be leaving."

As she smoothed down her skirts, Gabriel's eyes were drawn to the dressing on her right hand.

"How is your injury?" he asked.

She waved off his concern.

"A mere trifle."

***

The offices of Bracewell & Watson were every inch those of a traditional London solicitor, sandwiched between two other law firms which shared the same building.  There were other larger, more prominent firms in the area, but few that had the provenance of this one, the two current partners having taken over from their respective fathers.  Both men were now in their late fifties, and it was expected that their own sons would inherit the partnership in due course, just as they had.

Mr Bracewell was perhaps the more jovial of the two, but his lack of gravitas was more than made up for by the subservient manner he adopted when dealing with members of the upper classes.  Even now, he was practically fawning over Amalthea, much to Gabriel's disgust.

"What an absolute pleasure to see you, Lady Claremont.  Why, only the other day I was singing your praises, and those of your late husband of course, to my dear son, Reginald."

Amalthea smiled graciously.

"That's very kind of you, Mr Bracewell, but entirely undeserved, I assure you."  She glanced over at Gabriel, whose patience was clearly starting to wear thin.

"We really mustn't take up too much of your precious time, Mr Bracewell, as I know your legal services are always in demand."

The man visibly preened.