Farrier's Lane by Anne Perry Page B

think of it, the cause of his demise was conspicuously absent from the comments.”
    “It would be,” Charlotte said dryly. “He drank liquid opium in his whiskey.”
    “Oh dear.” Vespasia’s highly intelligent face was filled with a curious mixture of emotions. “I assume it was not accidental, or self-inflicted?”
    “It could not have been accidental,” Charlotte replied. “Whatever sort of an accident would that be? But I admit no one has suggested suicide.”
    “They wouldn’t,” Vespasia said dryly. “Such people as Samuel Stafford are not supposed to commit suicide. It is a crime, my dear. We can scarcely try people for it, of course, but it is still a very serious offense on the statute books, and we all know a suicide is buried in unconsecrated ground and the punishment is delivered in the world to come—so it is believed.” Suddenly her face was filled with a wild anger and pity. “I have even known unfortunate girls in despair dragged back from the brink of death and revived sufficiently to be hanged for it. God forgive us. Is there anyreason to suppose Samuel Stafford might have done such a thing?”
    Charlotte blinked and took a deep breath to smother the emotions inside her. “None at all,” she replied. “And there seem to be several reasons why various people might have wished him dead.”
    “Indeed. Who? Is it something unbearably tedious, like money?”
    “Not at all. His wife is said to be having an affaire, and either she or her lover may have wished him dead. They both had the opportunity to put something in his flask that day. But the matter which brings me to you is much darker.”
    Vespasia’s eyes widened. “Is it? That seems quite dark enough to me. I thought you were going to ask me if I were acquainted with Mrs. Stafford. I am not.”
    “No—are you acquainted with anyone related to Kingsley Blaine?”
    Vespasia thought for a moment, giving it her entire concentration.
    “No, I am afraid the name Blaine means nothing,” she said finally, her disappointment apparent.
    “Godman?” Charlotte made a last attempt, although she really held no hope at all that Vespasia would have any acquaintance with Aaron Godman, except across the footlights.
    Vespasia frowned, understanding coming very slowly.
    “My dear Charlotte—you don’t mean that abysmal affair in Farriers’ Lane? What in heaven’s name could that have to do with Mr. Justice Stafford’s death in the theater two nights ago? That was all over in ’eighty-four.”
    “No, it wasn’t,” Charlotte said very quietly. “At least it may not have been. Mr. Stafford seems to have been looking into it again.”
    Vespasia frowned. “What do you mean, ‘seems to have been’?”
    “There is a difference of opinion,” Charlotte explained. “What is indisputable is that the day he died he was visited by Tamar Macaulay, the sister of Godman, and after she lefthe went and saw Adolphus Pryce, the barrister who prosecuted the case, Mr. Justice Livesey, who was another of the judges who heard the appeal with him, and Devlin O’Neil and Joshua Fielding, two of the original early suspects.”
    “Good heavens.” Vespasia’s face was intent, all amusement or doubt fled from it. “Then what question is there?”
    “Whether he intended to reopen the case, or merely to prove even more totally that the original verdict was correct.”
    “I see.” Vespasia nodded. “Yes, I can quite understand how that might raise a great many questions as to who wished him to leave the matter, and if he would not, which seems very plain, then to force the conclusion by killing him.”
    Charlotte swallowed. “The matter is further complicated because my mother has made the acquaintance of Mr. Fielding, and is involved in his cause.”
    “Indeed.” A very faint gleam flickered in Vespasia’s eyes, but she made no remark. “Then you wish to become … involved?” She hesitated only momentarily before the word. She sat up a little