Page 66 of A Dangerous Vision

“Hello, Inspector Pierce, I trust you’ve come with news of my brother’s case.”

The younger man looked haggard, even beyond what he had the morning Gideon first met him, as if sleep eluded him. There was the faintest whiff of alcohol about him as he stepped forward to greet Gideon.

“Shall we sit?” He gestured toward the chairs near an unlit fireplace.

Once Gideon was seated, Pennington gestured toward the teeming desk. “As you can see, I decided I might have a look at the accounts for the house here on Mount Street and my brother’s other holdings.”

“Did Mr. Pennington leave no will?”

“Oh, he did indeed, but in anticipation of the reading, I wanted to have an idea of what I could expect.” The man didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He placed them on the chair’s arms, then on the tops of his thighs.

He was nervous, seemingly anxious about the accounts. It was a motive Gideon had not yet considered. Perhaps there was some monetary inducement in Pennington's murder.

“I am assuming you are heir to his estate, Mr. Pennington.”

The sharp-jawed gentleman gave a tight smile. “That is my assumption as well, Inspector.” He blinked, then reached up to press a thumb to his brow before gazing at Gideon again. “To be honest, my brother and I never discussed such matters. Which only now, in retrospect, I regret and realize was a grave mistake, especially considering Lucy.”

“Is there reason for concern regarding the solvency of your brother’s finances?”

Pennington pursed his lips. “Not according to these ledgers, but as I said, he was not forthcoming about such details with me. He never seemed to be in need of funds. However, I know he was quite keen to obtain Miss Beecham’s dowry. At least while he planned to marry her, but then he was also willing to break that engagement, wasn’t he?”

“Did the two of you ever argue about money?”

Lance Pennington seemed more subdued than the day he’d met him. Rather than gesticulate or modulate his tone, he closed his eyes a moment. When he opened them, he said, “The only time he spoke to me about money was to urge me to earn more of my own.” He sighed. “But now I will merely be grateful if I can afford to keep the servants and care for Lucy.”

“She will remain your ward until her majority?” Gideon asked, recalling her age of nineteen and that she would still fall within the realm of guardianship.

“For two more years, yes. And when she does, I wish to ensure that I can provide for her. I would like to be able to offer a dowry as she’s keen to marry.”

Gideon didn’t need to review his notes to recall that it was a point of conflict between Miss Faraday and her late uncle. “A gentleman your brother would not give his blessing to, if I recall.”

Another tight smile and a sigh that sounded as fatigued as the man handsome younger man looked. “My brother would have found fault with anyone. He was very protective of Lucy. We both are, but, of course, they resided together here, and I was elsewhere. I think they grew close in the years since she came into the household.”

That seemed to be something that bothered him, but he covered it, yet again, with a half-smile.

“You've met the gentleman, Mr. Worthington? And do you approve of him?”

“I do. He seems intelligent, congenial, and completely infatuated with Lucy. I believe he can provide a decent life for her. Perhaps not the grand lifestyle my brother would have wished, but if it makes Lucy content, shouldn't that matter most?”

His voice had risen an octave, the strength of his feelings on the matter suddenly evident. “Forgive me, Inspector. I rattled on. You must have come for a reason.”

“I did, Mr. Pennington. I have a few additional questions. As I said at the outset of the investigation, new questions often arise as an investigation proceeds.”

As he spoke, Pennington eyed a cart topped with decanters of liquor. “Would you care for a drink, Inspector?”

“No. Not while I am on police business.”

Pennington nodded. “I have been trying to cut back on imbibing. Percy was quite fond of spirits, and they never did him much good.”

“Why would you say that, Mr. Pennington?” Gideon had heard little lauding of Pennington’s character from anyone. The man seemed to strike everyone as difficult. He was curious how alcohol might have made his disposition worse.

Pennington rose from his chair and poured himself a single finger of amber liquor. “He did not believe in being temperate.” He lifted the cut-crystal glass as he sat back down, as if to display that he was, in fact, capable of self-control. “He drank to excess and…what is it they say? Spirits loosen the tongue, and that was certainly the case with my brother.”

He sipped at his drink and grimaced at the sharpness of it. “If you met him in day-to-day life, you would have been struck by his coolness and eloquence. And he was those things, but with a bit too much whiskey, he was quicker to anger. He was eloquent then too, but not quite as nice.”

The man’s brother smiled to himself, almost wistful. Then he looked at Gideon and frowned.

“Have you discovered something in the course of your investigation about why this happened, Inspector?”