hers. In fact I’m not sure that she doesn’t prefer you to me. She’ll descend out of a cloud of steam at eleven o’clock tomorrow, by which I mean
that she’ll take the train, probably providing the engine with extra power by breathing fire into the boiler.”
Orlando couldn’t have felt more astonished. He had no idea
that people could refer to their family so, especially when the
insults were accompanied by a look of adoration. Jonty obviously thought the world of his mother, more than Orlando had loved his, and he would never have dared refer to her in such a manner.
Jonty had told him that they’d spent time with the Stewarts on
more than one occasion and guessed that the great lady had been
kind to him. He wondered whether she would resemble her son
and what brilliant marriage could have produced such a shining
child. “Will we meet her at the station?”
“Oh no, not required. She’ll fly up here on her broomstick as
usual then whisk us off to lunch. You’ll have plenty of warning.
Her voice will be audible by the time the train passes Royston.”
“And she wants to see us both?” Orlando was still baffled at
the thought that an earl’s daughter might choose to visit him of all people.
“Actually she insisted, Orlando. All joking aside, she’s been
terribly worried about you. Now she wants to make sure face-to-
face that you’re still alive and not turned completely gaga.” Jonty began to rub Orlando’s head with his knuckles then pulled them
hastily away. “Tell you what, shall I go off and search out a bit of bread and cheese and possibly a jar or two of pickle, then we can take a look at that Woodville Ward stuff?”
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Charlie Cochrane
Lunch was simple but delicious, the cheese being a stilton
which had been doused with port every time it had been dug into
until it was almost dissolving, and pickles that came straight from the Stewarts’ cook. Orlando ate with relish, beginning to find his appetite again, then explained what he’d done with the case so far.
He showed Jonty the neat and perceptive notes he’d started to
make, something which impressed his friend.
“Should have done this those first two times, Orlando. A bit
more method might have prevented that young lad from—” Jonty
stopped. The pleasant intimacy of their lunch had lulled him into forgetting that Orlando had never been given the details of that fateful afternoon when his lover’s life had been in the balance.
Orlando tapped his notes, as if his friend were a rather stupid
undergraduate who had to explain his workings-out. “Jonty, I
believe that in your account of the last year you have held back several things from me.”
Stewart blanched, although Orlando didn’t seem to notice.
The thought of the Bishop’s Cope had been preying on his
mind—their first kiss had followed a visit there and it was a very special place for them. Or had been. Had Coppersmith got wind of this somehow?
“I’m talking about these murder cases. You’ve not given me
a full account of either. If we’re to attempt to solve Miss Peters’
problem, I’ll need to understand what went on and how we helped
to solve things. I promise that it won’t harm my recovery if you tell me.”
“As you wish. I’ll try to summarise them both, and you can
ask me what you need to know further.” Jonty sighed in relief,
laying down the treatise he had begun to flick through. “The St.
Bride’s victims were all men who lay with their own sex and the
killer left nasty little notes on their bodies to make this plain. He was a young student who’d been badly abused by older boys
when at school—I hope that I don’t have to spell out to you what 36
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Lessons in Discovery
that means, because it isn’t pleasant. Anyway, he was taking a
belated revenge, but we didn’t know any of this until he came to my rooms and threatened me with a razor. He’d