Page 57 of Not a Fine Gentleman

Chapter 14

Connor Jackson interviewed the nearest neighbors of Lord Hennessy. No one had noticed any suspicious characters leaving the Hennessys’ house that night, more’s the pity.

The gentlemen all declared Lord Hennessy to be a fine gentleman. They admired and even envied his indiscretions. When asked about Margaret Hennessy, most declared her a hard woman who had the mental fortitude to murder her husband. No surprise there. Men usually sided with their friends and vilified women.

Connor shook his head. If he ever married—an unlikely event—he would make a point of keeping marital problems private and only speak well of his wife to others. Any woman who’d put up with Connor deserved that much. But as he had little means to support a wife or a family, that idea seemed fanciful.

Refocusing on his work, Connor interviewed women in the area who ranged from haughty but loyal, to warm and kind, and equally loyal to their neighbor Lady Hennessy. All insisted that while Lady Hennessy was unhappy with her marriage, she had accepted her lot in life and had no motive to commit such a heinous act. However, when pressed, they all admitted that Margaret Hennessy had a stronger will than most ladies, and a pragmatic, shrewd manner. Such a manner might drive her to drastic measures—a trait Connor had already observed.

But murder her husband? And why now after all these years?

Nothing in the days they spent together revealed that side of her character. Of course, Connor had been wrong about women before.

And what of the large, male footprints outside in the garden bed. If only he could learn the identity of the man who’d made them. It was a pity he had no way of tracing the faint blood marks on the window.

Connor presented himself at a home across the street from the Hennessys’ house. After a lengthy wait, no doubt to remind him of his place, he was admitted into the sitting room to speak to the residents, Mr. and Mrs. Finch.

Mr. Finch took a pinch of snuff out of an ornate snuffbox and eyed Connor as if he were a clod of mud beneath his boot. “I’m a very busy man. State your business.”

Mrs. Finch, an uncommonly pretty lady and a perfect snob, looked Connor over as if she feared he’d sully their carpets.

Connor shifted his stance since he hadn’t been offered a chair. “I’m investigating the murder of Lord Hennessy.”

Mr. Finch frowned. “I thought the matter was closed. Wife did it.”

“There is insufficient evidence either way.”

Mr. Finch waved a hand at Connor. “Stop dallying and arrest her. Don’t let her hide behind her family. She must face the consequences of her actions. Justice!”

Connor eyed the man’s boots, but they appeared too small to have made the footprints he’d found in the garden. And the heel was too high. If this man had made the prints, his heel mark would have been separated by a space.

“Why is it that you are so certain she did it?” Connor asked Mr. Finch.

Mr. Finch said, “Everyone knows they were estranged. They didn’t even live together most of the year. She likely found herself another man in the country and wanted to be rid of her husband.”

Mrs. Finch added, “She’s a hard one. Far too opinionated. Thinks she’s the queen of society, and everyone bows down and does whatever she says. He was too good for her.”

“How well do you know the Hennessys?” Connor asked, trying not to choke on the woman’s description of the roué.

The wife opened her mouth, but the husband cut her off. “Not well. We only saw them during the Season, you see. Occasionally Lord Hennessy and I spoke at White’s, played a few hands of cards. No other real association. Hardly know him.”

He believed the wife capable of murdering Lord Hennessy but admitted to having only a vague acquaintance. Why was that? Not to mention, most people played up their associations with peers who lived in a level of society above them.

Connor watched the couple carefully. “Did you see anything or anyone late that night?”

“No, I did not see anything,” Mr. Finch snapped. “What do you think, that I have nothing better to do with my time than stare out of my window?”

Mrs. Finch picked up an elegant fan and opened it. “We had a dinner party that evening and were occupied with our guests.”

“Lord and Lady Hennessy were not guests?” Connor asked.

The wife shook her head, still managing to keep her nose in the air. “Lady Hennessy was unable to attend due to a family event. I’m not certain why Lord Hennessy sent his regrets.” She glanced at her husband.

Mr. Finch waved his hand. “How should I know? I hardly know the man.”

“A witness saw a man leaving the Hennessys’ house that night,” Connor said straight-faced. The footprints were his witness, but his ruse might jar loose a memory.

Mr. Finch waved away Connor’s words. “Probably some delivery man, or maybe a burglar looking to rob them. Lots of those going on, I hear. Are we finished? I’m a very busy man.”