The Ladder Dancer Read Online Free PDF Page B

promises well.’ I silently applauded his phrasing; as the boy’s harpsichord teacher, I knew he did indeed promise well but rarely kept his promises.
    Jenison intervened. He wanted to pontificate on the price of coal; both he and Heron had mines on their property. Mrs Annabella smiled and nodded, and tried to give the impression of intelligently understanding what they said. Mrs Jenison was asking the servant to bring yet more hot water; I manoeuvred myself into a position next to Cuthbert Ridley.
    He’d wrapped his hands round his tea-dish, and was staring fixedly into its depths. It was ridiculous to suspect a man of murder simply because of his initials, but Ridley was the only gentleman I knew with those initials, and I was certain the horse rider could only be a gentleman, from the cut of his clothes and the quality of his horse. Besides, what harm could it do to ask a few questions?
    ‘You’ve been in London, I think?’
    He started, stared at me like a hunted hare, mumbled.
    ‘At the Inns of Court?’ I suggested.
    He nodded. So he’d been studying the law; I couldn’t imagine how he’d ever bring himself to talk to any client.
    ‘Have you come home to practise?’
    He gulped tea, mumbled into the dish. In heaven’s name, he was a full-grown man, not a shy child! I repressed my irritation. ‘To see your family then. Have you been home long?’
    Mrs Jenison smiled kindly at him. ‘I saw your mother only yesterday. She said you were home. Thursday, was it not?’
    The day before the child died. Ridley jerked his head.
    ‘You rode, I suppose,’ I said.
    ‘It’s much the best way,’ Mrs Jenison agreed comfortably. ‘The roads are so poor, the carriage jolts from side to side or gets caught in a quagmire. I find it intolerable! I trust you had no accident, sir.’
    He shook his head. I was briefly distracted by realizing that Heron’s gaze was on me. Did he want to say something? But he went back to his conversation with Jenison.
    ‘I daresay you left your horse at the Fleece,’ Mrs Annabella said comfortably, abandoning the gentlemen temporarily. ‘Such an excellent hostelry. We dined there in the spring when we came back from London, while we were waiting for our chairs home. By far the best inn in town.’
    ‘Nonsense,’ Jenison said, catching this. ‘They took an age to serve us. The George is the best. I’ve recommended it to our concert soloist and booked rooms for him there.’
    ‘The Fleece is a warren of a place,’ Mrs Annabella conceded, pliantly changing course. ‘I got lost there. Twice! Ended up in the kitchens!’
    ‘And the servants were not polite,’ Jenison pursued, and went off into an anecdote about the insolence of a serving girl. I paid little attention, formulating my next question for Ridley, and, as I turned back to him, I caught him glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
    He looked hurriedly back into his tea.
    ‘Have you been solving any more mysteries lately, Mr Patterson?’ Mrs Annabella asked. She didn’t allow me time for a reply but rushed on, smiling at Ridley who’d lifted his gaze from his tea an inch or two. ‘Our Mr Patterson is very clever, you know. He catches murderers.’
    That made me curse inwardly. If Ridley was indeed to blame for the child’s death, Mrs Annabella’s revelations would only make him wary of me.
    ‘I wonder,’ Jenison mused, having apparently changed tack while I was not listening, ‘whether we should invite Mr Nightingale to dinner.’
    Mrs Jenison looked astonished, but covered it up well. I couldn’t imagine she was used to having entertainers at her dinner table. ‘Whatever you wish, my dear.’
    ‘To welcome him to the town,’ Jenison said. ‘He really is a most superior man.’
    ‘Really?’ Heron said dryly.
    ‘You must meet him. Come to dinner too. And you, Patterson,’ he said, warming to his subject. ‘I’m sure he’ll be of interest to you. As an example of a highly talented man. An example to