Edwardian Murder Mystery 03; Sick of Shadows emm-3 Read online

  Rose, who had been about to throw herself into his arms, backed off. Her face flamed. “You would never have found out it was them if it hadn’t been for me,” she raged. Then she burst into tears.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Harry. “I was so worried about you.”

  He tried to take her in his arms, but she turned away.

  Daisy moved forwards and put an arm around Rose. “Quietly, now, my dear,” she said. “It’s all over now.”

  ∨ Sick of Shadows ∧

  Epilogue

  Once more, methought, I saw them stand

  (‘Twas but a dream I know),

  That elegant and noble band

  Of fifty years ago.

  The men, frock-coated, tall and proud,

  The women in a silken cloud,

  While in the midst of them appeared

  (A vision I still retain)

  The Monarch sipping pink champagne,

  And smiling through his beard.

  – JAMES LAVER

  The Tremaine family were interviewed at Scotland Yard separately. Harry was given permission to sit in on the interviews.

  All were claiming that they had been overset by Dolly’s death and outraged by Lady Rose’s visit, thinking she was prodding and prying and opening the fresh wounds of their grief.

  During a break in the interviewing, Harry drew Kerridge aside. “I think you should point out to Jeremy that unless he owns up to murder, his mother and father will hang as well as himself.”

  “I think he’s the toughest one of the three,” said Kerridge. “Oh, by the way. Berrow and Banks have been found.”

  “Where? How?”

  “About forty miles south of Glasgow. They were driving and their motor hit a bridge. Banks was thrown clear but hit a stone and was killed outright. The motor with Berrow went up in flames, so the state is spared two expensive trials. Banks had been stripped naked, probably by the locals. The police did a house-to-house search in the nearby village but found nothing. They probably buried the stuff somewhere and will dig it up later when they think the heat’s died down. Berrow must have taken the wheel after the village because the locals did say that it was Banks at the wheel when they drove through.”

  “Good riddance,” said Harry. “Let’s try Jeremy again.”

  As they entered the interview room, Harry was struck afresh by the difference in looks between Jeremy and his beautiful sister.

  Jeremy looked at them with flat eyes, sitting hunched at a table. He had refused a lawyer, saying he was innocent.

  “I do not think you understand the gravity of the situation, Mr. Tremaine,” began Kerridge. He sat down opposite Jeremy; Judd joined him and Harry sat in the corner of the room beside a policeman with a shorthand pad.

  “I have done nothing wrong,” said Jeremy. “God is my witness.”

  “Do you realize that because of your silence, you will all hang? Do you want to know that you sent your parents to a shameful death?”

  “There is no proof.”

  “Your servants are talking now. On the night Dolly was killed, they heard her screaming, ‘No! Don’t!’ We have the proof that you visited Reg Bolton in prison. He had money in his wallet. I am sure we can trace it to your bank. You killed the footman, Will Hubbard, or had Bolton do it for you. The police are interviewing everyone in Sweetwater Lane armed with photographs of you and of Bolton. But until there is actual proof that you yourself killed your sister, there will be enough circumstantial evidence to hang the lot of you.”

  Jeremy buried his head in his hands.

  Harry suddenly spoke from his corner. “Had she been your own sister, you would not have killed her. But she was not your real sister, was she? Out with it, man. Confession is good for the soul, and you will be double-damned if you let your parents hang.”

  Jeremy began to sob. They waited patiently. At last he dried his eyes on his sleeve. “All right,” he said in a weary voice. “All right. I’ll tell you.

  “It was Father’s fault to start with. He had a good parish in Oxfordshire. But he got one of our servant girls pregnant. He had the living from Lord Dyrecombe. The girl went to Lady Dyrecombe. My father said it was her word against his, but the girl was the daughter of one of the Dyrecombes’ respected tenants and they believed her. My father was told to look for another living. The bishop was angry with him and Apton Magna was all that was on offer. After the baby was born, the servant girl drowned herself and Lady Dyrecombe called on my father and said the least we could do was to bring the baby up as our own.

  “My father had little to do with her until he noticed that she had become a great beauty. We all saw a way to restore our prestige and fortunes through Dolly. My father had received an inheritance and we decided to give Dolly a Season in London. She said she was in love with the blacksmith’s son, but we told her she owed us everything.”

  He spoke in a dull, flat monotone. For a moment the only sound was the policeman’s pencil catching up on his shorthand notes.

  Jeremy sighed and began to speak again.

  “Then Lord Berrow asked leave to pay his addresses. We told her he would be calling in the morning and she was to accept. We had such hopes. Berrow had spoken to me. He said once he was married to Dolly and I had finished my studies at Oxford, he could get me a good living, maybe even in Mayfair. He also said he would speak to the archbishop and get my father somewhere better than Apton Magna. We were so full of hope. We were so happy.

  “Then Dolly began to scream that she would not do it, that she was going to run away. She went to her room.

  “My parents sent me to see her. She defied me. She dared to laugh in my face. Me! That cuckoo in our family nest, that bastard, dared to laugh at me. I was blind with rage. I went to my room and got a dagger, a Turkish one, that someone had given me.

  “I went back to her room and held it on her. ‘You will do as you’re told,’ I said, ‘or I will kill you.’

  “She laughed again. ‘You! You’re not a man like my Roger,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’ ”

  “That’s when I stabbed her. There was blood everywhere. My parents came rushing in.

  “We knew we had to get her away from the house. At the ball we’d seen her slipping a note to Lady Rose, and we stole it. We knew she planned to meet Lady Rose at the Serpentine. We thought, let Lady Rose find the body. With luck they’ll think she did it.

  “We’d had that Lady of Shalott costume made for her, because her engagement was to be announced at the fancy-dress party the following week. We cleaned her and dressed her in it. I got the carriage round from the mews, and we put her in it and took her down to the Serpentine and laid her out in that rowing-boat. My father said prayers over her. Somehow it eased the horror to see her lying there so calm and beautiful.

  “In the morning, we gathered all the servants together. We told them Dolly had run away. One asked what all the commotion the previous night had been about. I told them if they said anything about it they would lose their jobs.”

  “So why did you go after Lady Rose?” asked Kerridge.

  “The newspapers implied she was holding something back. I was terrified. I went to see that villain, Bolton. When I visited him in prison, he told me he would do anything for money. I never thought at that time that I would have any use for him. But I needed him. The only gun we had was a lady’s purse gun. I gave that to him.

  “Then the temporary footman, Will, started blackmailing us. He had been awake during the night and had seen us carry a body into the carriage. I knew he would bleed us dry, so I called on him and finished him. That is all. You may release my parents.”

  “A charge of kidnapping and assault will be lodged against your father, but he will not hang. A statement will be typed for you to sign,” said Kerridge.

  When Jeremy was led out, Kerridge mopped his brow. “Thank God that’s over. How is Lady Rose?”

  “I have not had time to call on her.”

  “Then it’s time you did. You
don’t know much about the ladies, do you?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You should not have called her a silly girl.”

  “I was upset, frightened for her.”

  “Better go and make your peace.”

  But when Harry called at the town house, he was told Lady Rose was “not at home.”

  That evening, he said to Becket, “I have offended Lady Rose, and Kerridge accuses me of not knowing anything about the ladies. How can I make amends?”

  “There is such a thing as feminine curiosity,” said Becket. “Lady Rose may be angry with you, but I am sure she would dearly like to know the outcome. May I suggest, sir, that you invite all of us involved in this case, even Phil and Miss Friendly and your secretary, to a luncheon party? You could hire a private room at Rules Restaurant.”

  Rules Restaurant was in Covent Garden. King Edward favoured it and had ordered a special staircase to be built in the restaurant so that he could escort his lady friends upstairs without being seen by the other diners.

  “I’ll do it,” said Harry. “It is perfectly conventional for me to entertain a lady in a public restaurant, so her parents should have no objection.”

  Rose had suffered a blistering lecture and was told to stay in her rooms. She was not to leave the house. All her social engagements had been cancelled.

  Harry knew that if he sent an invitation to his luncheon party, the earl would read it and might tear it up.

  He decided to call in person.

  The earl hummed and hawed about receiving him. Only the thought that Harry was after all still his daughter’s fiancé and that he had saved her life made him reluctantly allow the captain to be shown up to the drawing-room.

  “Well, what do you want?” asked the earl when Harry was ushered in.

  The earl once again surveyed Harry’s handsome and impeccably tailored figure. If only the wretched man hadn’t chosen such an odd profession.

  “Sit down, Cathcart. What now?”

  Harry told him of Jeremy’s confession. Then he said, “I know your daughter behaved dangerously, but it is thanks to her we caught him. But she certainly did not have my permission.”

  “If she had not met you, Rose would never have got into these scrapes.”

  “My lord, may I remind you that she was once about to be abused by a wastrel? That was none of my doing and you hired me to get her out of it. Nor was I responsible for her going to a suffragettes’ meeting. Lady Rose will always need me to protect her.”

  The earl eyed him narrowly. “So when’s the wedding?”

  “We will soon fix a date.”

  “This engagement all seems fishy to me. Why are you here? To see Rose?”

  “I am afraid your daughter is furious with me. I was so alarmed at her predicament and so frightened for her welfare that I called her a silly girl.”

  “And so she was.”

  “Lady Rose was very brave. I do not wish to be estranged from her. I am holding a private luncheon party in Rules for Lady Rose and some others. I hoped her curiosity about the outcome of the case would persuade her to accept the invitation. May I beg you to intercede on my behalf?”

  The earl sat deep in thought. He wished with all his heart that the engagement could be broken off and that his wayward daughter would find someone more conventional. On the other hand, he shrewdly suspected Rose would run rings round a conventional husband to get her own way, and his wife had informed him that Rose was in love with Cathcart.

  “All right. When?”

  “Tomorrow at one o’clock. Miss Levine and Miss Friendly are invited as well.”

  “Levine’s all right, but why invite the seamstress?”

  “Because she was part of the investigation.”

  “Very well. I’ll see what I can do.”

  After Harry had left, the earl went to the morning-room, where Lady Polly was lying on a chaise longue with her head in a book.

  “Problem,” said the earl. He told her about Harry’s visit.

  “I know my daughter has instructed the staff that she does not wish to see him,” sighed Lady Polly, putting down her book.

  “High-handed as ever. I’ve this ghastly feeling now that it’s Cathcart or no one. We’ll be stuck for her for life and I won’t have an heir.”

  “I should think it is all very simple,” said Lady Polly. “Tell her we do not wish her to go. She will immediately want to do the opposite. She always does.”

  ♦

  They summoned Rose. She listened in silence. “Tell Captain Cathcart that I am not available.”

  “Quite right,” said Lady Polly. “All the wretched man wants to do is to tell you what happened at Scotland Yard. But he has invited Friendly and Levine. I see no reason why they should not attend. In any case, you are being very sensible. I am sure you are just glad the nasty business is all over.”

  Rose bit her lip. She hated the idea of Daisy being told all the facts about the winding up of the case.

  “Perhaps I should go,” she said. “After all, I was the one who discovered the murderer for him.”

  “If you go, it will be against our express wishes,” said her father.

  Frustrated, Rose lost her temper. “Am I to be kept a prisoner in my rooms for the rest of my life? I tell you, I shall escape and find work. I have done it before and I can do it again.”

  “Oh, stop ranting,” snapped the earl. “Go if you must.”

  Rose prepared herself with exceptional care for the luncheon. Normally she rebelled at the constrictions of undergarments to achieve the fashionable S-bend figure and wore only the minimum of petticoats and a light abbreviated corset. But she wanted to be armoured in high fashion, to show the wretched captain that she was a high-born lady and not the silly little girl he had claimed her to be.

  Turner lashed her into a long corset of pink coutil – a tightly woven cotton fabric with a herringbone pattern – and put pads on her hips and under her arms. A pad went down the front to accentuate the bust and all to create the hourglass figure. Over that, after the silk stockings had been clipped to suspenders, went six petticoats, three of taffeta and three of organdy. Turner then held out a gown of pink taffeta and tulle and Rose dived into it and stood patiently while all the little buttons were fastened up the back.

  She sat at the dressing-table while her hair was piled over pads, or “rats,” as they were nicknamed. On top of her hair was placed a hat created by Miss Friendly, a cart-wheel of straw embellished with pink silk roses and tied round the brim with a pink silk ribbon with long streamers.

  The dress had a high-boned collar to add to all the other constrictions.

  Rose went gingerly down the stairs in her high heels.

  Lady Polly came out of the drawing-room and surveyed her daughter. “I have never seen you look so fine. Such a welcome change from the tea-gowns you always seem to favour these days.” Rose often preferred the tea-gown because it was a soft, filmy garment free from corsetry.

  Miss Friendly and Daisy followed behind, equally corseted and hatted.

  One of the earl’s carriages took them to Rules in Covent Garden. They were ushered upstairs to the private dining-room booked by Harry.

  “I think you know everyone,” said Harry. He pulled up a seat for Rose and whispered, “I have never seen you look more beautiful.”

  Rose, who had dressed to impress him, was irrationally annoyed. Typical man, she thought. He only thinks I am beautiful when I am dressed like a doll.

  Rose was sitting next to Harry at a round table. Daisy was placed next to Becket, Miss Friendly next to Phil, who had secretary Ailsa on his other side.

  “I ordered a round table because this is an informal party,” Harry began. “I am sure you are all anxious to hear what happened at Scotland Yard. But I think I should wait until the end of the meal when the waiters are dismissed.”

  Rose envied the ease of Daisy, chattering animatedly to Becket, and Miss Friendly seemed to be getting along famously w
ith Phil. Ailsa drank steadily, smiling all around but not contributing much to the conversation.

  The meal was lavish. Consommé was followed by trout fillets. Then quail cutlets followed by ham. After that roast ortolans, followed by asparagus. For the still hungry there was a desert of Gâteau Punch au Champagne, followed by anchovies on toast.

  The food was delicious, but Rose was constricted, literally and metaphorically, from eating very much. Each mouthful seemed to tighten her stays even more and the close presence of Harry was taking away her appetite. He did not seem to notice her silences but kept up a flow of conversation about the weather, about the government and the fear of strikes. Only when he asked her about her charity work did Rose forget about her animosity towards him and become animated.

  She told him again about her desire to set up a charity as soon as she reached her majority. She described how her work in the soup kitchen made her feel less useless and described some of the down-and-outs.

  When the meal was finished and the waiters had been dismissed, Harry rapped a knife on his wineglass and said, “I can now tell you what happened.”

  They listened with rapt attention while he told them of Jeremy’s confession. “The whole family was driven mad with ambition and snobbery,” said Harry finally. “And yet, if it had not been for Lady Rose, I might not have had enough for a cast-iron case.”

  “What about Lord Berrow?” asked Daisy. “I’m amazed he had nothing to do with it.”

  “He did send someone to try to kill Miss Bridge,” said Harry. “But he and Banks were killed in a motoring accident in Scotland, so they will not be troubling anyone again. I will never forget the bravery of our excellent Miss Bridge. Miss Bridge?” He realized he was looking at an empty seat.

  “She’s under the table, guv,” said Phil, bending down.

  “It’s all my fault,” said Harry contritely. “Please help her up. She is a missionaries’ daughter and I don’t think she is used to anything stronger than water.”

  Becket and Phil hoisted Ailsa up. She opened her eyes and smiled sleepily. “Whash goin’ on?” she asked and slumped again.