A Place For Repentance (The Underwood Mysteries Book 6) (16 page)

              “Oh, but I thought you were keeping the other shop? I understood you were expanding the business.” She knew no such thing, but panic made her say the first thing that popped into her head. The very thought of having Martha in her life indefinitely was abhorrent to her and the only possibly comfort was knowing that perhaps the shop in West Wimpleford was still there to take Martha away, should she decide she did not like Hanbury.

              A calculating expression came over Martha’s face whilst she digested this remark. At length she gave a wide smile, “Mrs Underwood you are a genius. Of course there is no need for us to desert the shop in Wimpleford completely. We can leave the apprentice Joe to run it from day to day, handing out the pills and potions he has learned about from William, then perhaps once a month, Will can travel back to deal with any major issues. We will save on the rent of the cottage and, as you pointed out, the girls will not be such a novelty in Hanbury as they are at home. It is the perfect solution. I shall write this very evening and tell William of your suggestions.”

              Verity bit her lip in dismay. Why oh, why, could she not keep her silly mouth firmly shut?

              “Pray do not credit me with the notion, Mrs Jebson,” she begged, almost in tears. “The idea was entirely yours, or course. I am such a goose; I have no business acumen at all.”

              Martha preened herself, “Well, yes, I suppose I did think of it – you merely led me in the right direction. Anyway, who cares who thought of it? William is sure to agree that it is a grand plan.”

              Somehow, Verity doubted that, but this time she closed her lips firmly and spoke not another word.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

‘Palmam Qui Meruit Ferat’ – Let him who has won the palm wear it

Underwood, who in theory was fascinated by the actions of his fellow man, was also a reluctant socializer – no, that perhaps was not strictly true; he enjoyed company, but only when he initiated it and strictly on his own terms. He hated to have engagements of any kind thrust upon him and resisted strongly when Verity tried to make him attend functions. He also detested being forced into ‘amusing’ activities, which he found either deathly dull or painfully embarrassing. He found card games tedious and dancing was not his strong suit; however he could occasionally be prevailed upon to tread a measure simply to please his wife, who loved to attend balls.

Unfortunately for him, his name was already well-known to the Wablers’ friends and relatives, since they were forever telling of his exploits, which grew more astounding with every glass of daffy they consumed. So it was as a renowned figure he was to meet up with the visiting comrades of Jeremy James and his cronies, rather than an anonymous friend. Whilst his ego welcomed this massaging, his naturally solitary disposition, which had grown yet more retiring with age, found the attention somewhat onerous.

He found as the weeks wore on that he could not enter the Pump Rooms or indeed any other sort of watering place in Hanbury, without being hailed by one or the other of the ex-soldiers, insistent upon introducing him to one of their erstwhile comrades-in-arms, who had begun to descend upon the town in ever increasing numbers. He quickly realized that Adeline had not exaggerated when she had complained that word had spread rapidly amongst the old soldiers and they were only too happy to have an impromptu reunion in a place where they found they could very nearly take over the whole town for their own purposes. When it became evident that they were intending to make merry for several weeks, some of the more elderly and delicate visitors hastily decamped, much to the delight of Harrogate. However mothers of hopeful and unmarried daughters began to arrive in droves. Naturally some of Jeremy James’ old friends were penniless and permanently disabled by the war, but others were the offspring of the aristocracy, who had a habit of keeping the ‘heir’ close by, but sending the ‘spares’ either into the army or the church, and there would rarely be a better opportunity to catch a younger son with rich parents.

Underwood’s situation was not helped by the continued presence of Martha Jebson, who, to Verity’s dismay, showed no sign of going home, but had instead written to her husband, ordering him to set her new plans in motion. She had, in return, a few heartfelt begging notes asking that she reconsider the situation, but she was adamant. Joe was quite capable of running the apothecary shop in West Wimpleford and as soon as he possibly could, William was to bring the children and Violette to Hanbury. Will had made the mistake of assuring his wife that the French girl was caring admirably for the little girls, and Martha was never slow to recognize an opportunity. She had long wanted to be free of her maternal duties and the desperate refugee was an ideal solution. She was prepared to work for little more than her keep and actually seemed to enjoy the company of the girls – or so Will had told his wife. She cared very little if he was lying, for it suited her purposes to take him at his word.

Underwood, however, had other things on his mind and had very little interest in Mrs Jebson, except to do his very best to avoid her company – that this evasion left poor Verity to entertain her alone concerned him not at all. If Verity wished to be rid of the succubus, it was up to her to deter the woman and to stop being so nice as to encourage her impertinent pretensions.

The two Misses Northfleet came upon him, twittering like a pair of caged birds, as usual, and full of the latest gossip. If they buttonholed him in the Pump Rooms he usually pretended to be asleep, but on this occasion he had not noticed their approach until it was far too late to make good his escape. Their talk was all about how they intended to leave town as soon as they were able, for the combined horrors of Thornycroft’s party and a sneak-thief who had been lifting small items of jewellery was altogether too much for their delicate sensibilities.

Underwood had not taken much interest in the robberies, having been told in no uncertain terms by George Gratten that he had everything firmly in hand. The Constable was unaware that Verity had lifted her ban upon her husband’s crime-solving and Gratten was merely trying to obey her strictures. Underwood had not pursued the subject as he felt that the disappearance of a few gewgaws from people who could well afford their loss was of little moment.

The thefts had been going on for around two weeks, but Underwood, when he thought about it, which was not often considering his rejected offer of help, well knew that this did not necessarily mean that the thief had not been around for longer and had merely refrained from beginning his campaign until he felt the populace would regard him – or indeed her – with a degree of trust. Luckily it exempted most of Jeremy James’ comrades as they had only recently begun to arrive in town.

              The Constable of Hanbury, along with his arch rival the Magistrate, had finally asked for the help of the local militia to track down the missing gems, but in spite of the outraged protests of those persons whom they insisted on searching and questioning, they had discovered nothing. Not a trace of the jewels, nor a hint of whom the thief might be.

                “Lady Clifton-Webb found her brooch missing after an evening at the Theatre,” supplied Miss Roberta, in answer to Underwood’s politely disinterested query, “She didn’t even notice it was missing until she went back to her rooms and was undressing for bed.”

“A brooch can come un-pinned,” said Underwood, “I presume the theatre was search thoroughly?”

“Of course, and her poor maid was taken to the lock-up and questioned most severely, but she swore she knew nothing. Her room was searched and all her belongings, but nothing at all was found.”

“Poor girl,” said Verity with true sympathy, for her own time as a governess before her marriage ensured that she knew how all too often the servants were treated as the first suspects whenever anything went missing.

“A ridiculous assumption,” said Underwood grimly, “No servant with a modicum of intelligence would rob her own mistress.”

“Underwood!” chastised his wife, worried about the innocence of the two maiden ladies, “theft is not about intelligence it is about good or bad character!”

“On the contrary, my dear, it is entirely about intelligence. More than half the population would indulge in criminal behaviour if they thought they could get away with it.”

“Mr Underwood!” declared the shocked Misses Northfleet in unison, “You are wicked to say such things.”

“Criminals are very much a minority, surely?” added Miss Roberta, with the certainty only a vicar’s spinster daughter could feel.

“That rather depends upon what you view as criminality,” said Underwood, refusing to be daunted by the females rounding upon him, “How many people would avoid paying their taxes if they could? How many would keep a coin even if they saw the person who dropped it? How many would return to a shop if they were given too much change after a purchase?”

“Oh, but those are such little sins,” said Belinda, with an indulgent smile. She had left Miss Lethaby’s shop only the day before sixpence up due to a miscalculation. “Everyone does little things like that.”

“Umm,” said Underwood, noncommittally, “Well, we are a nation who holds Robin Hood in high esteem, but what was he but a thief and a murderer?”

“That’s enough, Cadmus,” said Verity, acknowledging that Underwood could torment the two ladies for hours on end with this sort of stuff, “If you really want to be helpful, why don’t you find the culprit?”

“I understood I had been banned from investigating the matter,” he responded testily. “Or so Sir George Gratten took great pleasure in informing me.”

Verity suddenly recalled her failure to assure Sir George Gratten of Underwood’s return to the world of criminal detection. It was entirely her fault that Underwood’s offer of assistance had been summarily refused. She had the grace to blush.

“I own I would wish you to stay away from murder for the present,” she said swiftly, “but I have already allowed you to search for a missing person so I dare swear I can cope with a little felony too!”

              He smiled triumphantly, not only at her admission, but at the horrified expressions on the faces of the sisters at the mention of the dreadful word ‘murder’.

“Ladies, I think you can solve this conundrum with a little guidance from me.”

“Us?” squealed the Misses Northfleet in unison, “You must be teasing, Mr Underwood.”

“Not at all.  Let us examine the evidence.”

“Do we have any?” asked Verity.

“We do.”

“For example?”

“What sort of person do you think could commit these crimes?”

“A dishonest one,” said Belinda promptly.

                Underwood managed to restrain a sarcastic response to that and replied calmly, “I was rather taking that for granted.  What else?”

              The two ladies looked blank.

“Put another way, what would you need in order to get close enough to a person to steal something which is on their person?”

“Friendliness?” ventured Verity.

“Exactly, so we are looking for someone personable, someone who has gone out of their way to be open and friendly, helpful even, above and beyond what is strictly necessary.  Who answers that description?”

              The ladies looked around them at the visitors to the Pump Rooms. There were perhaps a dozen people present and they immediately discounted those that they knew well.

“Major Thornycroft and his wife would never stoop to theft,” said Belinda decidedly, and then she proceeded to name several others whom she liked and trusted.

“Very well,” said Underwood, “we have eliminated those we think could not be responsible, what about those who could?”

              Belinda and Roberta looked harder, “Miss Plumstead could not possibly be a thief; she is a vicar’s daughter like us.”

“How do you know?” asked Underwood.

“She told us on the very first day she arrived.”

“And you believe her because?”

“She told us,” said the sisters simply.

“She could be lying,” pointed out Underwood.

“Oh, she could never lie,” insisted Belinda, “She is a vicar’s daughter!”

              Underwood had never been nearer to giving up.

“Let’s assume she was lying and she is not a vicar’s daughter.  Has she been making herself pleasant?”

“Oh no, she is very standoffish and really rather pompous,” said Roberta.

“Then we can discount her for the moment. Standoffish does not get one near enough to remove jewellery from a person. Is there anyone else?”

              Roberta looked thoughtful, “They are not here at the moment, but I think young Gervase Sowerbutts and his sister Lilith are a very odd pair.

              Underwood was intrigued, “In what way odd?” he asked. He had not yet had the pleasure of meeting the Sowerbutts siblings.

              “They are remarkably close for a brother and sister, to begin with,” she said decidedly.

              Belinda protested, “Oh, but Roberta, that is most unjust. Siblings can be close. Look at you and I – why, where should we be without the other?” There was a fleeting expression of longing on Roberta’s face which Underwood could not fail to miss. It spoke of a small, hidden fantasy of a life without the constant presence of a sister. He smiled slightly and asked if there was anything else.

              “Yes, there is some indefinable air about them which puzzles me. He is the elder and she gives the impression of being a silly chit, but he is effete and she is, I think, the stronger character.”

              “What of it?” said Belinda tartly and Underwood wondered if she too had noticed her sister’s moment of dissention. “If they have no one else in the world but each other, then why should they not rely utterly on each other?”

              “Very true,” he said placating the ladies with a swift change of subject. “However, to return to the matter in hand, who else do you think might be our culprit?”

Belinda’s eye lighted upon Mr Archibald Sutton, who saw her and gave her his ingratiating smile and waved a friendly hand.

“Mr Sutton,” she said promptly, “Even though he is a school teacher, he seems much more interested in making friends with the elderly ladies who have no husbands.  I remarked upon it to my sister when he first came here three weeks ago.”

“And have you noticed anything else about Mr Sutton?”

“Such as?” asked Roberta.

“Have you noticed that he seems to be everywhere you look, all the time?”

“He is persistent,” admitted Belinda. “But I have noticed that he never bothers Major Thornycroft or his companions – in fact he actively avoids them!”

“And the book he always carries,” said Underwood, “Have you ever seen him sit and read it?”

“Oh, no, he is far too busy being pleasant to ever just sit and read.  I don’t believe I have ever observed him alone.  Always he is with one lady or another.  In fact, when I think about it, it is a little distasteful.”