Miss Morton and the Spirits of the Underworld

Book 2: Miss Morton Mystery

by Catherine Lloyd

Genres: Historical Mysteries; International Crime & Mystery

Synopsis

The next book in the Miss Morton series by Catherine Lloyd, the author of the critically acclaimed Kurland St. Mary series
Lady Caroline is happy to be back amid the swirl of London society, guiding her employer's daughter, Dorothy Frogerton, through her first Season. Mrs. Frogerton, meanwhile, finds her own diversions, including spiritualist gatherings at the home of Madam Lavinia, and begs Caroline to come along.
Caroline is sceptical of the Madam's antics and faux French accent—until she slips a note into Caroline's hand, which contains intimate family knowledge. Even as Caroline tries to discern whether the spiritualist's powers are real, a much darker mystery presents itself. Madam Lavinia is found lifeless in her chair, a half-empty glass of port at her elbow. In her desk is a note addressed to Caroline, entreating her to find her murderer.
Caroline needs no psychic abilities to determine a motive, for it seems that Madam was blackmailing some of her clients. But as Caroline and Mrs. Frogerton investigate further, they find other suspects, some very close to home. Now Caroline will need to keep all her wits about her if she is to stop others from joining Madam Lavinia in the afterlife…

Release date: August 22, 2023

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

London 1838

Caroline Morton paused at the doorway to allow her employer’s three small dogs to rush past her and claim their favorite spots on the hearthrug. Their owner followed them in, beaming as her favorite pug, Max, snuffled at her skirts.

“Shall I order some tea, ma’am?” Caroline inquired as she adjusted the curtains to prevent the afternoon sun from shining into Mrs. Frogerton’s face.

“Yes, please.” Mrs. Frogerton sat in her favorite chair and fanned herself vigorously. “It was rather warm out there, today, but I’m glad we went. Dotty enjoyed herself immensely.”

Caroline rang the bell and went to sit opposite her employer. “She was acknowledged by several eminent ladies in their carriages and Mrs. DeBloom actually paused to speak to her.”

“Is that good?” Mrs. Frogerton perked up. “Because from what I could see it backed the other carriages halfway up the park.”

“That is to be expected during the fashionable hours to promenade,” Caroline said. “And being noticed by a society hostess like Mrs. DeBloom who has a very eligible son to marry off with an obscenely large fortune is very good news indeed.”

“My girl doesn’t need his money.” Mrs. Frogerton waved off the DeBloom diamond mines with a flick of her hand. “And I can’t say that I appreciate her condescending attitude. She makes me feel like a parlor maid who’s dropped the china.”

“She is rather overbearing,” Caroline conceded. “But Dorothy is hard to intimidate.”

Mrs. Frogerton laughed heartily. “Aye, that she is. I raised her to stand up for herself.” She shook her head. “How she finds the stamina to attend all these events I don’t know. I’m already exhausted and she barely sleeps in her bed.”

“The Season can be quite crowded if one is invited to all the best events,” Caroline acknowledged. “And Dorothy has certainly been a success.”

“That’s my Dotty.” Mrs. Frogerton smiled fondly. “She’ll snare a duke before the end of the summer.”

Having gotten to know Dorothy well over the past months, Caroline thought Mrs. Frogerton might be right. Despite being only a generation removed from industrial money, Dorothy’s refusal to be ignored had been taken well by the leaders of the ton and she’d been declared an “original” rather than a moneygrubbing industrialist’s daughter tolerated only because of her fortune.

With Caroline’s gentle guidance, as she didn’t take well to being told anything, Dorothy was beginning to find her feet and was tolerated far more than her mother, who luckily didn’t give a hoot about who approved of her or not.

“Where is Dotty?” Mrs. Frogerton asked.

“She went up to her room to change her dress for our afternoon callers.”

“Of course she did.”

Caroline looked down at her own serviceable gown. To her surprise she didn’t miss the constant need to keep up with society as much as she had feared and almost enjoyed her quieter role where her conduct wasn’t scrutinized. The two years since her father’s untimely death had lessened her resentment and given her the ability to move on in a new world where she proudly earned her own living and didn’t have to rely on her relatives.

Mrs. Frogerton chuckled. “She doesn’t want anyone to see her in the same outfit twice in one day.”

The butler came in carrying the tea tray and was followed by the parlor maid with a tray of cakes and pastries.

“There is a Dr. Harris in the entrance hall, ma’am. He claims to know you.”

“Then let him in immediately!” Mrs. Frogerton clapped her hands. “Did you know the dear doctor was coming to visit us, Caroline?”

“I did not,” Caroline replied. “I only correspond with Rose Harris about my sister Susan’s educational needs. I have no contact with the doctor himself.”

Mrs. Frogerton had offered to help pay Susan’s fees at the boarding school in Norwich for which Caroline was immensely grateful. She’d been unhappy about leaving Susan with their invalid aunt and the Greenwood family after such a series of tragedies. Mrs. Frogerton had insisted that she bore some responsibility for the dire situation Susan found herself in and had refused to take no for an answer.

Dr. Harris came in looking his usual forbidding self. His dark hair needed cutting, but at least his linens were well starched, and his coat was free of darns. He bowed to his hostess and Caroline.

“Mrs. Frogerton, Miss Morton! What a pleasure to see you both again.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow at his pleasant tone. Last time they’d spoken he’d been less than communicative, which had been rather frustrating. The camaraderie they’d shared while solving the murders at her aunt’s house party had disappeared and she wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or vexed about it.

“Dr. Harris! What brings you to London?”

He smiled at Mrs. Frogerton. “I have taken a position at St. Thomas’s Hospital, ma’am. I will be teaching new students and attending patients on the wards.”

“How wonderful.” Mrs. Frogerton smiled warmly at him. “Then I hope you will be a frequent visitor to my door, sir. Caroline and I always enjoy your company.”

Dr. Harris’s skeptical gaze flicked toward Caroline, who tried to look as if the matter had never occurred to her.

“Have you secured yourself adequate lodgings?” Mrs. Frogerton asked.

“I have, ma’am. The boardinghouse is quite close to the hospital grounds. I can walk to work in five minutes and the rent is reasonable.”

“This is good news.” Mrs. Frogerton winked at Caroline. “I thought we might be offering the good doctor one of our attics.”

“I’m sure Dr. Harris wouldn’t mind the one with the hole in the roof and the rain coming through it,” Caroline said sweetly. “He is very resilient.”

Dr. Harris looked revolted. “I am well situated, thank you, Miss Morton. I do not require charity.”

“Oh, I’m sure Mrs. Frogerton would insist that you pay rent, sir. She doesn’t approve of hangers-on, do you, ma’am?”

“I do not. Even my son knows that,” Mrs. Frogerton said firmly. “Learning to pay your own way builds character. Now, would you like some tea, Dr. Harris?”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Dr. Harris went over to collect his cup and sat beside Caroline as his hostess helped herself to the tiny cakes. “I hear from my sister that Susan has adapted well to her new environment.”

“She has indeed,” Caroline placed a plateful of cakes at Dr. Harris’s elbow. “Rose has been immensely kind to her.”

“I understand that Susan still believes her cousin Mabel will come and fetch her.” Dr. Harris drank most of his cup of tea in one swallow. “Has there been any more news of her whereabouts?”

“All I know is that she succeeded in leaving England and is somewhere in Europe, presumably with Harry,” Caroline said. “I must confess that I try not to involve myself in the Greenwood family’s affairs.”

“Understandably.” Dr. Harris frowned at the cake selection. “Why are they so small?”

“Because they are meant to look decorative for afternoon tea and for callers who rarely bother to eat them,” Caroline explained.

“Typical,” Dr. Harris snorted as he picked up a delicate meringue and popped it into his mouth. “I’ll need at least a dozen to make up for one currant bun for a penny from the baker’s shop.”

Dorothy came into the drawing room and Dr. Harris rose to his feet.

“Good afternoon, Miss Frogerton.”

Dorothy looked him up and down. She wore a dress in her favorite pink with a triple flounce of lace at the hem and her hair was elaborately coiffed. “Why are you here? Has someone died?”

Her mother shuddered. “I do hope not. We had enough of that at Greenwood Hall to last a lifetime.”

“I merely came to pay my respects to your good selves, Miss Frogerton. I have taken a job at one of the London hospitals.”

“Then you’d better get back to it. I don’t want you cluttering up my mother’s drawing room when our afternoon callers arrive,” Dorothy said briskly as Caroline concealed a smile.

“I have no intention of overstaying my welcome, Miss Frogerton.” Dr. Harris wasn’t quite as easy to intimidate as a member of the ton. “The last thing I want is to be stuck making conversation with a bunch of vapid society women.”

“Some of those women support the charities your hospital is involved in,” Caroline couldn’t help but point out. “In truth, being charming to those ladies is expected of you.”

“I thought I’d left all the bowing and scraping nonsense in the countryside,” Dr. Harris muttered. “All I want to do is treat my patients, educate my students, and be left alone.”

“Then please don’t let us keep you from your worthy goals.” Dorothy raised her eyebrows. “The first carriage has drawn up outside and I’d prefer it if you were gone.”

Dr. Harris finished his tea in one gulp. He scooped his plate of cakes into his large handkerchief, put it in his coat pocket, and bowed to his hostess.

“I’ll be off then.” He handed Mrs. Frogerton his card. “My address is on here if you should need me.”

“Thank you, Dr. Harris. I will be inviting you to dine with us in the very near future.”

Dorothy’s expression said otherwise, and Caroline again fought a desire to laugh. She rose to her feet.

“Goodbye, Doctor.”

“Miss Morton.” He nodded to her and then to Dorothy. “Miss Frogerton.”

Dorothy barely waited until he’d crossed the threshold before speaking. “Mother, you simply cannot let him sit at our dinner table.”

“Why not, my love? He’s always amusing company.”

“Because his contempt for society is palpable and he has no desire to amend his behavior!”

“Six months ago, you would have agreed with every word he said,” Mrs. Frogerton noted. “Be careful that you don’t turn into the worst kind of snob, Dotty my girl. I won’t stand for it.”

The butler came in and bowed.

“Mrs. DeBloom, Mr. Philip DeBloom, and Miss DeBloom.”

With a sigh, Mrs. Frogerton rose to her feet as Dorothy’s expression grew triumphant.

“Mrs. DeBloom.” Mrs. Frogerton stepped forward, her hand extended. “What an unexpected pleasure . . .”

Caroline curtsied and was ignored by the DeBloom females as she quietly got them tea and offered cakes. Her position as a companion was often awkward as she existed in a netherworld—neither a servant nor a worthy guest.

“Thank you.” Mr. DeBloom smiled at her as she set the cup of tea at his elbow. “I saw you in the park earlier with Miss Frogerton and her mother, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m Miss Morton, sir. Mrs. Frogerton’s companion.”

She waited for the expected rebuff and was surprised when he chuckled. “I should imagine that keeping an eye on Miss Frogerton and her mother is something of a trial at times.”

“It can be, sir.” Caroline found herself smiling in return. “But they are well worth the effort.”

“I’d say.” His gaze moved to Dorothy, who was talking to his mother. “I like a woman who knows her own mind.”

“Then you will certainly appreciate Miss Frogerton,” Caroline said. “And she appreciates an honest and forthright man.”

She reclaimed her seat on the couch and found herself being stared at by Mrs. DeBloom.

“And who are you, dear?”

“Miss Morton, ma’am.” Caroline kept her head high and met Mrs. DeBloom’s gaze straight on.

“Lady Caroline Morton, if you wish to use her correct title, which she says isn’t important, or necessary,” Mrs. Frogerton added with a fond smile.

“Morton?” Mrs. DeBloom frowned. “I believe I met your father out in Africa.”

“That’s very possible,” Caroline said lightly. “He did like to travel.”

“A most charming man,” Mrs. DeBloom continued. “And how is he?”

“He died a few years ago, ma’am, leaving his children penniless and dispossessed of their home.”

Mr. DeBloom choked on his tea and turned it into a cough.

“Oh.” Mrs. DeBloom turned back to Dorothy. “I do hope your mother will allow you to accompany us to the theater tonight. We have hired a box and will be serving an intimate supper during the interval.” She smiled graciously at Mrs. Frogerton. “I will, of course, chaperone the party and make sure your daughter is safe at all times.”

Dorothy looked pleadingly over at her mother. “I would very much like to go, and it would mean that you and Caroline could have an evening to yourselves for a change.”

“I am quite happy to relinquish you into Mrs. DeBloom’s care,” Mrs. Frogerton answered.

“Excellent. We will pick her up in our carriage at seven.” Mrs. DeBloom rose to her feet, her tea untouched at her side. “Come along Philip, Clarissa.”

She swept out, bringing her daughter, who hadn’t spoken a word in her wake. Mr. DeBloom took a moment to say his goodbyes to Dorothy and Mrs. Frogerton before turning to Caroline.

“A pleasure, Miss Morton. I always appreciate someone who can stop my mother midflow.” He winked and turned to the door. “Enjoy your evening off.”

Several hours later, Caroline, who was avidly reading one of her employer’s favorite gothic novels by the fire, heard the door open, and hastily closed the book. Mrs. Frogerton came in, her expression aglow.

“Caroline! Oh, my goodness, you should have come with me tonight.” She patted the dogs, who had gathered in a disconsolate pile around Caroline during their owner’s absence, and sat in her favorite chair. “It was quite incredible!”

“I thought you said it was a scientific lecture?” Caroline wedged the book down the side of a cushion and sat up straight.

“Not quite. It was more in the way of an . . . intimate meeting of like-minded people open to the possibilities beyond this mortal realm.”

“I beg your pardon?” Caroline regarded Mrs. Frogerton’s flushed features more closely. “Are you feeling quite well, ma’am? Did you drink rather too much sherry?”

Her employer flapped her hand in front of her face. “I am most invigorated, lass. The lady who ran the séance was French. She spoke in tongues!” She shuddered. “I had chills down my spine.”

Caroline frowned. “Have you been attempting to contact the dead, Mrs. Frogerton?”

“Not only attempting but succeeding. Madam Lavinia had a message for me from Septimus in the beyond!”

“And what exactly did your departed husband have to say for himself, ma’am?” Caroline tried hard not to let her skepticism leak into her voice. For such a shrewd woman, her employer did tend to be a little too credulous sometimes.

“That he was fine where he was and very proud of me for expanding the business.” Mrs. Frogerton smiled. “Which is exactly what I’d expect him to say. He was never one for being overly dramatic and he was always impressed by an increase in profit.”

“With all due respect, such a comment is rather general,” Caroline said. “It could apply to many in your particular situation.”

“I am well aware of that. It was what she said next that caught my attention.” Mrs. Frogerton paused impressively. “Madam Lavinia knew his pet name for me!”

“Matty?”

“No, that’s what my father called me, much better than Matilda.” Mrs. Frogerton lowered her voice. “Septimus used to call me his little pug.”

Caroline blinked hard. “Pug?”

“Yes, indeed. It is not something generally known, because Septimus was not a demonstrative man in public. It was his private name for me because of my round face, short stature, and brown eyes.” She chuckled. “How Madam knew that nickname is a mystery unless she really can speak to those behind the veil.”

“That is certainly remarkable,” Caroline acknowledged. “Perhaps I should visit this mysterious marvel for myself?”

She had a shrewd suspicion that Madam Lavinia, whoever she was, would soon be expecting a financial return for her “prophecies.” Caroline was determined that Mrs. Frogerton would not end up being one of her victims. She had lived in society long enough to know there were always gifted flimflammers trying to relieve the rich of their money and Mrs. Frogerton’s enthusiasm might lead her astray.

“I was just about to suggest the same thing, my dear.” Mrs. Frogerton beamed at her approvingly. “The next night Dotty is busy with her new friends, we’ll go together. I cannot wait for you to be as enthralled as I was!”

Two weeks later, Caroline followed Mrs. Frogerton up the steps of a narrow town house in St. John’s Wood. The door was opened by an elderly man in an old-fashioned white wig and faded livery.

“Good evening, ma’am.”

“Good evening, Mr. Murphy. Madam Lavinia is expecting us.”

Mrs. Frogerton swept into the black-and-white-tiled hall, which was dark and rather pokey. The main staircase ran up the left-hand wall and a series of rooms opened off a long corridor to the right. Although the place was clean, it was obvious to Caroline that it was rented rather than owned. The furniture was from the previous century and the shutters and drapes needed either a coat of paint or replacing.

The butler took their cloaks. He had a pleasing Irish accent, which was very soothing. “Please follow me. Madam is in the back parlor.”

“Thank you.”

Caroline’s suspicions as to the ownership of the house were confirmed as she noted the lighter squares on the walls where previous artwork had been removed and not replaced by the new occupant. Before accepting employment with Mrs. Frogerton, she had lived in such a building in an attic room containing all her worldly goods and she would never forget it.

“Has Madam lived here long?” Caroline inquired to the butler’s back.

“She settled here last year from Brighton, miss, where she was a great success with the patrons of the Royal Pavilion.” He paused to open the door. “Your visitors, Madam.”

Caroline stepped back so that Mrs. Frogerton could go ahead of her and took a moment to review the interior. A large circular table set with numerous nonmatching chairs took up almost all the space in the square, paneled room. A candelabra draped in black gauze sat in the center along with a bell and a tarnished silver bowl containing what looked like water. At the end of the table farthest away from Caroline sat Madam Lavinia Dubois.

She wore a white wig in the style of Marie Antoinette with a black veil draped over it. Her gown was gray satin with silver thread that caught the candlelight, and she had long lace ruffles at her cuffs and throat.

“Mrs. Frogerton. How delightful to see you again.”

“Madam!” Mrs. Frogerton gestured proudly at Caroline. “I have brought my little doubting Thomas to meet you as well.”

Madam turned her head to look at Caroline, who advanced toward her. She had luminous dark brown eyes, a small painted mouth like a doll, and rouge spots high on her cheeks.

“Miss Morton, ma’am.” Caroline curtsied.

A slight smile curved Madam’s lip. “You are most welcome, ma cherie. Please take a seat beside your companion and we will await the arrival of the others.”

“Merci, de m’avoir chez vous, Madam,” Caroline replied.

She wasn’t surprised when Madam didn’t reply to her fluent French and instead turned to the door to extend a welcome to a new arrival. If she was the kind of lady with the funds to risk a wager, she would bet that Madam Lavinia didn’t have a French bone in her body.

Mrs. Frogerton nudged her as the butler served them tea.

“I didn’t know you spoke French!”

Caroline shrugged. “My mother spoke it very well and taught us from the time we were born, so it comes quite naturally to me.”

“I must remember to take you with me next time I negotiate with my French suppliers whom I suspect are fleecing me.”

“I’d be delighted to sit in with you on such a meeting, ma’am,” Caroline said.

“I wish I’d thought to have someone teach Dotty and Simon to speak another language.” Mrs. Frogerton sipped her tea. “But it never occurred to me that my business would start exporting across the Continent.”

“I could try and teach Dorothy, ma’am,” Caroline offered tentatively. “But I’m not sure she’d have the time.”

“Or the patience to learn unless she thought it might snare her that duke.”

“Most peers do speak French, so it might help.”

“I’ll ask her what she thinks. She’s rather caught up with the DeBlooms now. Not that I think anything will come of that, but Mr. DeBloom is nice enough.”

“He seems very taken with her.”

Mrs. Frogerton raised her eyebrows. “I think he’s very taken with you, lass, and if you had a fortune to match your beauty, he’d be down on one knee popping the question right now.”

“Hardly. He, unlike many of Dorothy’s suitors, simply has good enough manners to be pleasant to everyone around her who might influence his suit.”

“As long as he doesn’t offer you carte blanche, then you can protest as much as you like, miss, but don’t let him fool you into anything other than a legal marriage.” Mrs. Frogerton waggled her finger in Caroline’s direction. “And now I know you understand French, I don’t need to tell you what that means.”

“I would never accept such an offer, ma’am,” Caroline hastened to reassure her employer. “And Mr. DeBloom is far too intelligent to upset his mother and risk his inheritance.”

“Men don’t always use their intelligence when it comes to women, lass,” Mrs. Frogerton said briskly. “They think with other parts of their anatomy.”

Caroline looked up as a gentleman took the seat beside her.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said politely. He had a slight Irish accent. “I don’t believe I have the pleasure of your acquaintance.”

Mrs. Frogerton leaned past Caroline to smile at the man.

“Good evening, Professor Brown. This is Miss Morton, my companion.”

“Miss Morton.” He inclined his head. “I am delighted to meet you. Mrs. Frogerton was very impressed with Madam’s . . . outpourings the other night.” He smiled and indicated the notepad and pencil he’d placed on the table in front of him. “I try and keep a more open mind perhaps than most.”

“The professor is conducting a scientific study of Madam’s work,” Mrs. Frogerton said as another couple came into the room and took their places beside a middle-aged woman swathed in black and two elderly ladies who looked like sisters. “He is very interested in mesmerism and spiritualism.”

Caroline’s opinion of Professor Brown went up a notch.

“I confess that I am quite skeptical myself, sir.”

“As you should be, Miss Morton.” He bowed to her. “Ther. . .