Margaret Easton was as lovely as Caroline had described: slightly taller than her sister, with hair a dark chestnut rather than Caroline's dull mousy colour. She was well dressed in a brown coat with fur trim, and held herself with more careful poise than her younger sister. Only their eyes were the same: dark, round and lively.
"Lady Margaret," John nodded politely, "a pleasure to meet you."
"And you, Doctor Watson. Caroline has told me…so much about you."
"Not all my secrets, I hope," John said with what he prayed was a relaxed laugh. He gave Caroline a quick glance.
Lady Margaret looked between them then straightened her gloves, "Caroline, I will be waiting in that hat shop in one half hour. That is all we have before we need to return home. Do not be late." She tilted her head at John. "I trust you to keep her out of trouble, Doctor Watson. Good day." And with that she swept gracefully out of the tea shop.
Caroline had sent John a note with Timmy, the boot boy, as soon as she and the Lestrades had arrived in London. 'My sister and I will be hat shopping at two in the afternoon on Monday. Will you be able to meet for me for tea? Margaret will oblige.'
"I bribed him to bring the note," she giggled as they sat down, "with chocolates and a half crown."
John smiled, "And your sister, did you bribe her as well?"
"Margaret indulges me."
"You didn't tell her, I mean, she doesn't think..."
Caroline opened her eyes quite wide and said solemnly, "I told her we were engaged."
"WHAT?" John glanced around at the startled faces of the other patrons, smiled feebly and patted Caroline's hand.
"Don't be silly. I told her that I'd made a friend and that I was helping you. Unbelievably she trusts me. Now, I really think we should order something, and I want a bun."
John laughed, "You really are a child sometimes," but he meant it kindly.
"So, tell me what you've learned," she exclaimed as soon as the waitress had brought the tea. "Was it you who told Mrs. Darling that her husband had mistresses?"
"Yes. She took it differently than I expected, I must say."
"She and my aunt have been on the telephone about it all morning. We don't have a telephone at home in the castle, or I'm sure that Aunt Alice would have called my mother as well. As it is, she's written a very long letter. At least Mummy will have a way to read it now. Who else did you speak with?"
John related his conversations with Jane about the letters being returned and how she pointed him in the right direction with Mrs. Darling.
"I met with Mrs. Charles this morning," he continued. "I'm getting disturbingly good at inviting myself into people's houses. After much pointless small talk and too much weak tea, she let slip that their money woes would soon be over."
"From Anderson's death?" Caroline asked, sounding excited, hopeful and confused at the same time.
"I thought that too, and I was trying to figure out if it was because they were no longer being blackmailed, but when I asked if it had something to do with Anderson's death, she seemed to not even remember him. No, she went on to say that they were finally free of Sir Neville!"
"Sir Neville" exclaimed Caroline.
"Yes! That was my reaction too. Somehow they must have gotten the money they owed. AND she said that it happened the weekend of the murder."
"I wonder where on earth they could have gotten the money to pay Sir Neville?"
"Borrowed it from someone else? But then they'd have to pay that back as well, and she seemed to suggest that they would have the money to send their sons back to a good school. At any rate, it had nothing to do with Anderson. I doubt that he leant them the money. Although, if Anderson was playing Shylock, that would mean that they wouldn't have to pay it back…" He shook his head in frustration. "No, she genuinely didn't remember Anderson. If their problems were tied up with him, she would have remembered."
They sipped tea in silence for several minutes.
"Were you able to learn anything from the staff or family?"
She sighed and fiddled with her spoon. "Not a great deal, I'm afraid. I wasn't able to be as brave as you. I asked Molly if she knew anything about who would want to kill Anderson and she seemed shocked, poor thing. She admitted that no one liked Anderson. Even Sally, who was probably the closest to him, didn't really seem to like him.
"Sally hated Holmes, though. But she wouldn't speak to me, so I don't know why. Just said that Holmes had had it too easy for too long and deserved anything he got. " She looked down miserably.
"It's alright. Sher— Holmes said to focus on the guests. Did you learn anything upstairs? Did you ask your aunt why she was arguing with Anderson?"
"Yes, but she said it was a domestic matter. Anderson had spilled the soup or some such thing, chipped the crystal perhaps."
Something about that didn't sit right in John's mind. Caroline had been distressed at the time, felt that the argument was more heated than a simple reprimand of a servant. But that was again something that Sherlock would understand better. John gritted his teeth in frustration.
"And your uncle, Lord Lestrade? Were you able to speak to him?"
"Ye-es." There was more twiddling of the spoon. "All he would say was that he hoped that the facts would come out at the trial. And that I shouldn't let myself dwell on it. It was morbid." She made a face and stuck out her tongue. "The trial is Thursday, but you must know that. It's in the papers. Uncle Gregory is called to testify, but none of the rest of us. Has the lawyer spoken to you? It seems he spoke to Uncle Gregory even though Uncle is called for the prosecution."
"I received a telegram from him this morning asking me to come to his office this afternoon. I hope that he does ask me to testify. Then I'd have a reason to go back down. I could visit him!"
"Wouldn't that be dangerous?"
John shrugged. "I don't care about my safety. I feel like we've found out all of these things, and yet none of it adds up. We have to get the information to him. He'll know what it all means. We just have to get it to him. "
John sat in Mr. Marlowe's office's waiting for the man to return with the barrister, Mr. Donaldson. The office was startlingly austere with none of the chaos of files that John would have expected from a busy solicitor. There were four stacks of paper on the desk, each with perfectly squared corners, and two fountain pens lined up parallel to the edge of the desk furthest from John.
When Mr. Marlowe returned, he was accompanied by a young man with flaming ginger hair. A very young man. John felt a prickling of unease. Was this really the best that Colin had been able to find?
"Doctor Watson," Marlowe presented the young man, "Mr. Donaldson, Esquire. As I mentioned, he will be representing the accused servant from Carleton Hall, Mr. Holmes. Do you remember him? I believe he acted as your valet." He moved around the desk and sat down. Mr. Donaldson perched on a stool in the corner.
"Yes, yes, of course I remember him. He was quite…quite a good servant."
"Just so. That seems to be the general consensus regarding his performance as a servant. There was little complaint about Anderson either. It seems to have been a very well-run and well-respected household. Up until that weekend. In addition to the murder, there is the Darling scandal. Quite a merry time it seems. You were the last to see him." Mr. Marlowe paused expectantly.
"Who?" Mr. Marlowe spoke so rapidly that John was having trouble following, especially as it was voiced as a statement, not a question.
"Mr. Holmes."
"Yes, yes, I suppose I was."
"You told the police that he left you at midnight?"
"Yes, that's right. I can testify to that. In court, I mean, if he ne— you need." 'Must be careful,' John thought to himself.
"No. That won't be necessary. We're just going over the police report to make sure that we have all of the facts before us. We're speaking to several of the guests as well as the family. We'll be going down tomorrow to speak to Mr. Holmes again and to the servants at the Hall."
John winced. "Left it a bit late, haven't you, to talk to the servants. The trial's Thursday."
Mr. Marlowe looked at him over his half-moon spectacles. "I preferred to wait until the family had come up to London. I find that servants are more apt to speak clearly when they are not distracted by duties."
'And fear of consequences,' thought John. Perhaps Mr. Marlowe was a good choice.
"The report also says that you viewed the body in your capacity as a medical doctor," Mr. Marlowe continued.
"Yes. Lord Lestrade woke me on Sunday morning. I dressed hastily and went with him to the attic room. Mr. Anderson had been dead some hours, had been strangled with his own tie and laid out neatly on the bed with his face covered by the sheet."
Mr. Marlowe looked up sharply. "You say that his face was covered by the sheet? You are sure of that? Could it have been done by Lord Lestrade or the butler, Mr. Gregson, as a sign of respect?"
"I don't know. But I don't think so. They seemed very intent on not disturbing the crime scene."
From his corner Mr. Donaldson said, "That wasn't in the—"
"Yes, I know," Mr. Marlowe replied.
"Do you think—?" Mr. Donaldson spoke as rapidly as Mr. Marlowe.
"Definitely possible. Mustn't jump."
"Yes. That adds the suggestion of—"
"Just so," Mr. Marlowe nodded and wrote in perfect copperplate on a sheet of paper.
This entire exchange took place so quickly that John could barely follow. The two men seemed to have a shorthand unto themselves. John began to feel better about their ability to help Sherlock.
The solicitor turned back to John. "When he left you, did Mr. Holmes seem agitated in any way? Confused, angry, unhappy?"
'He left me glowing from a night of passion,' John thought to himself. Aloud he said, "No, he seemed completely in control of himself as he had been the whole weekend. A model servant, as I said."
"Thank you." The nib of the pen scratched across the page. "That will be all, Doctor Watson. Thank you for coming to see us at such short notice. Mr. Donaldson will see you out." Mr. Marlowe did not stand up and continued writing.
There were a dozen things that John wanted to say or ask, but all would have revealed too much about his relationship with Sherlock.