Ann Granger (26 page)

Read Ann Granger Online

Authors: The Companion

BOOK: Ann Granger
8.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
James Belling was talking, taking his farewell and begging my pardon for delaying me.
I made some appropriate reply and crossed to the Parry house where the door was opened to me not by Simms but by Wilkins, very smart in a crisply starched lace cap and apron.
I asked about the butler’s absence and received a somewhat startling reply.
‘The mistress not being at home, miss, and you not wanting any luncheon, Mr Simms and Mrs Simms have taken the afternoon off and gone to visit their son at Highbury.’
‘Oh?’ I said. ‘I didn’t know they had children.’ Though, of course, there was no reason why they should not.
‘Only the one boy,’ said Wilkins. ‘Really proud of him, they are. He’s clerk to a solicitor.’
‘My goodness,’ I said. ‘They must be very gratified that he’s done so well.’
‘Mrs Simms does give herself airs on his account,’ said Wilkins rather waspishly. ‘But I suppose I would too, if I was her.’
We live in a fast-changing society, I thought, as I climbed the stairs. Ben Ross, whose father was a pitman, had schooling thanks to my father and has risen to be an inspector of police. Young Simms, whose parents would reckon they had done well in rising to be upper servants, aspires to be a professional man one day. They and those like them are already snapping at the heels of the Frank Cartertons and James Bellings and in another generation or two, I was sure, would overtake them. And women? I wondered. When would we break free of the shackles society placed on us, strike out for new shores – and fulfil Dr Tibbett’s deepest fears?
I paused by Aunt Parry’s bedroom door. I thought I could hear movement on the other side of it and knocked.
Nugent, as I’d expected, opened the door.
‘I don’t want to disturb you at your work,’ I told her. ‘I only wanted to say I’ve obtained thread of just the right colour for our dress alterations.’ I showed her what I’d purchased.
Nugent’s dour features cracked into a smile. ‘Why, it’s perfect, miss. I’ve already unpicked the sleeves. Come and see.’
She stood aside and I went into the room to inspect her work so far on the tussore gown.
‘I brought it in to Mrs Parry’s bedroom, miss,’ she confided, ‘as the mistress has gone out for the afternoon and the sun shines in nice and warm. I like working here.’
I told her I appreciated her giving up what might have been seen by her as the luxury of free time.
‘Oh no, I like sewing,’ she said.
I sat down on the velvet stool where I’d sat earlier that day to listen to Aunt Parry map out my future.
‘Wilkins told me,’ I said, ‘that Mrs Parry gave Miss Hexham’s dresses to the staff.’
A shadow passed over Nugent’s brow. I saw an inner struggle reflected on her face. She did not want to say anything critical of her mistress but her honesty wanted to speak out. I was sorry to be putting her in this fix but the disposal of Madeleine’s wardrobe had worried me from the moment I’d heard of it.
‘It didn’t seem right to me!’ Nugent burst out. ‘I wouldn’t say it to anyone but to you, Miss Martin. But I couldn’t help thinking Miss Hexham might have changed her mind and sent for her clothes. I didn’t expect to see her come back, not once the mistress told me she’d eloped.’ Nugent clicked her tongue disapprovingly. ‘Who’d have thought it? She seemed such a respectable young lady. But I understood she wouldn’t want to face the mistress, not after letting her down so badly. I did think she might send a message, though, to say what she wanted done with her things.’
‘I believe she put something in her letter about that, the one in which she told Mrs Parry of her elopement,’ I said.
Nugent shook her head. ‘So she may’ve done. But it still seemed all wrong to me.’
‘How so?’ I probed gently.
Nugent looked a little embarrassed. ‘You won’t mind me speaking frankly, miss? I mean no disrespect. Miss Hexham didn’t have very much by way of a wardrobe, a little like yourself, miss. What she had was good quality and she mended and darned everything very nicely. But there had never been any extra money for frivolities in her life, you could see that. That’s the way with most people, I’m thinking. Now then …’ Nugent took a deep breath. ‘Someone who has a wardrobe full of dresses and money to replace the lot if she’s a fancy, she might go off and leave every stitch of spare clothing behind her and not send for it, but someone like Miss Hexham wouldn’t, there, that’s my mind.’
It was a shrewd observation and it encapsulated perfectly what had been niggling at the back of my brain. ‘Perhaps,’ I suggested, ‘the gentleman concerned had promised to replace everything.’
‘It’s a matter of pride,’ said Nugent quietly. ‘A young woman
doesn’t go off and take not a thing with her, not a pair of stockings or any underthings, having to ask for everything right from the start, even those articles. It would be downright indecent!’ With that Nugent nodded and pressed her lips together. She would say no more on the subject. But she had said enough.
Madeleine might have written the letter, but the words in it had not been hers. She wasn’t free to return for her clothes nor could she be allowed to give a forwarding address. The man who’d stood at her shoulder and directed her pen had no doubt thought himself clever in thinking of every detail, right down to what should be done with her possessions. But he’d betrayed himself and his dreadful intentions. The only reason Madeleine would not need her clothes was because she would soon be dead.
 
 
 
Ben Ross
 
I was called to Superintendent Dunn’s office on my return to Scotland Yard and I am afraid it was not a happy interview.
‘I hear you lost a witness this morning!’ he began it in characteristically brusque manner.
‘The foreman, Adams,’ I said. ‘He’s disappeared and I think something may have happened to him. I hope I’m wrong but, to be on the safe side, I’ve sent word and his description to the river police.’
‘Like that, is it?’ Dunn scratched his wiry shock of hair.
‘Yes, sir. There’s no evidence to show he won’t return but I feel it’s unlikely. Why on earth should the fellow disappear
now
? I did go back to the demolition site to see if by any chance he’d turned up there since my visit this morning, but no luck. On my way back I made something of a detour via Oxford Street, only walking really to clear my head and think out my next move. I chanced to see Miss Martin there.’
‘Oh, did you, indeed?’ Superintendent Dunn’s tone might be a little different to Dr Tibbett’s but I could see his suspicions were the same.
‘I assure you it was entirely by chance, sir.’
‘I don’t doubt your word, Inspector. What had Miss Martin to say of interest?’
‘That our friend Mr Fletcher has been to Dorset Square, calling on Mrs Parry.’
‘The devil he has!’ muttered Dunn. ‘What took him there?’
‘Mrs Parry, it turns out, is a shareholder in the railway company engaged on building the new terminus. Miss Martin thinks Mrs Parry, for all she is sorry that Madeleine Hexham came to such a violent end, would like our enquiries wound up. She doesn’t care for the notoriety the case is attracting to her household. She fears the publicity of a murder trial more than she cares for justice. Fletcher and his employers fear the same. He was almost certainly there to enlist Mrs Parry’s support and we may expect to hear from the lady, I fancy. She will probably also try to enlist Miss Martin’s support because Lizzie, I mean Miss Martin—’
Dunn’s bushy eyebrows twitched alarmingly.
‘Miss Martin was obliged to tell her that the late Dr Martin was my benefactor and Mrs Parry is the sort of woman who’d imagine that gave his daughter some hold over me. Put me under an obligation to her, I mean.’
‘And I mean to make it clear that it does not,’ growled Dunn.
‘Although it seems to me too that Miss Martin has some hold over you.’
I felt myself redden and could find no reply.
Mercifully Dunn let me off the hook. ‘Is that all she had to tell you?’
‘We were interrupted, sir, by an agitated old fellow by the name of Dr Tibbett. He is a good friend of Mrs Parry and a visitor to the house. I would be curious to know more about him. I don’t
know if his title is medical or clerical, or he may be a doctor of philosophy. If I had to guess, I’d lay a pound to a penny he is a schoolmaster, or was. He must be sixty if he’s a day.’
‘I’ll look into that,’ said Dunn, scribbling the name on a sheet of paper. ‘You get on with finding this man Adams.’
I was glad to escape. Lizzie did have a hold over me, Dunn was right. But then, she had occupied my mind since I first saw her as a boy. To me, a child of the pit accustomed to the company of the stunted, half-wild and coal-grimed children surrounding me, the doctor’s daughter had appeared like a creature from another world. I had pressed my lucky piece of shale into her hand with its clean nails and soft skin, and sent up a prayer to a God I was not sure listened to the requests of pit boys that she would remember me. Perhaps he did listen because she had, something I could only believe miraculous.
When Lizzie had accused me of being without scruple in seeking to use her, it had hurt me deeply and I was still brooding about it. I really hadn’t wanted it to appear that way to her. Of course, she had been right today to say I had been using her position in the Parry household to obtain information. But she had come to me in the first place with her two supporters to bring me what she’d discovered herself. Mrs Parry and the wretched Fletcher were not the only ones wishing this business over and done with. For as long as Lizzie remained in that house, I felt she was not safe.
Elizabeth Martin
 
IT WAS Sunday morning and Mrs Parry had announced the evening before on her return from her visit to Hampstead that she would attend divine service in the morning and I should go with her.
I did wonder whether I would be the only person to accompany her. My fear was that Dr Tibbett would offer his services. I really felt I couldn’t face Dr Tibbett again so soon. It was possible he felt the same way about me. At any rate, there was no mention of him and instead it appeared Frank would escort the ladies.
I suspected Frank hadn’t actually volunteered to do this, but that his aunt had let it be seen it was expected of him. He put a very good face on it and we set off for St Mary’s church, Mrs Parry on her nephew’s arm and me following behind. The weather had turned cool so I wore a little cape. On my expedition to the haberdasher’s to buy the silk thread, I’d also bought some satin ribbon and painstakingly trimmed the cape with three rows of it. This was London; in my own small way I must try and cut a little more dash. I am sure Frank noticed. Several times he glanced back at me and once, I could have sworn, he winked.
It turned out there was a procedure to be followed when Mr Carterton took his aunt to matins. He sat with us through the earlier part of the service until the parson gathered up his skirts
and began to ascend the pulpit. At this moment, Frank got up and with an all-but-inaudible murmur which might or might not have been an excuse, slipped out of the building. Mrs Parry showed no surprise, nor indeed any curiosity, but sat listening attentively, apparently blind to his defection.
After about thirty minutes the parson concluded his address and began to make his way down the pulpit steps again. At that moment, Frank Carterton, as if by some magic, reappeared at the end of the pew and took his seat again, eyes fixed ahead of him and expression bland. Again, I observed no reaction of any sort from Mrs Parry.
I thought I understood what was going on. It was a tacit bargain between aunt and nephew. Frank gave up his Sunday morning to attend his aunt on condition he had not to sit through the sermon.
Mrs Belling was in church accompanied by her son James and a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to her and must be her daughter, Dora. Dora Belling had the same sharp features and discontented mouth but nevertheless looked to my eye a pale and insipid female. James bowed politely to me but gave no sign we had met. I returned his acknowledgment of my presence with a dignified nod of the head. Mrs Belling ignored me and Miss Belling, after giving me one good long stare, turned her attention to Frank, bestowing winsome smiles on him. She had a way of pressing her lips together when doing so which made me suspect irregular or bad teeth.
Poor little Madeleine, I thought, had day after day been subjected to this ruthless dismissal, even her kind friend James behaving as if they did not know one another. It must have left her feeling that she was of no more consequence than the beggar woman who stood at the church door as we came out, and vainly held out a grimy hand for alms. I gave her threepence, which was all the small change I had left, for which she blessed me.
Mrs Parry saw me do it and a slight frown crossed her brow. I expected to be told later I ought not to encourage the feckless.
Outside, the Bellings departed
en famille
. Miss Belling cast a last regretful glance at Frank but he was doing very well pretending not to notice it. Other acquaintances claimed Aunt Parry. After some animated chatter, she turned to me and told me I might go on home ahead of her, Frank also. Accordingly, we set out.
‘Where do you go during the sermon?’ I asked frankly. ‘It cannot be very far.’
‘It isn’t,’ he returned. He pointed to an establishment which looked like an inexpensive eating house.
‘Isn’t that risky?’ I asked. I had to admit I was shocked. We had already breakfasted and so I supposed he had gone to that place to obtain a glass of wine at least. I knew Frank to be unpredictable but I hadn’t thought him so brazen. I was astonished Aunt Parry allowed it.
‘No, no,’ said Frank carelessly, ‘the sermon is always thirty minutes by the clock together with three minutes for the parson to get up into the pulpit and find his place in his notes and another two for him to get down again. Thirty-five minutes in all, plenty of time.’
‘Suppose Aunt Parry smelled drink on you?’
Frank burst out laughing and turned an amused look on me. ‘Well, now! How censorious you are, Lizzie. And suspecting the worst, too! She wouldn’t smell drink because I have not been drinking: at least, not alcohol. A fellow I work with, who lodges in the area, is accustomed to make a late breakfast there every Sunday and read his newspaper. I join him, have a cup of coffee at his expense, and am back in my place in the pew, as you saw, promptly.’
I felt myself redden. ‘I’m sorry, I suspected you unfairly.’
‘Oh, don’t apologise, Lizzie. Why should you not think the worst of me? Your friend Ross does,’ he added moodily.
‘He isn’t my friend!’ I said quickly.
‘Isn’t he?’ Frank darted a quick glance at me. ‘But I thought you and he were old acquaintances?’
‘Only in the sense that we met on one occasion only when children. I suppose your aunt told you that. I had to tell her about my father and his kind interest in the two boys. There was another boy, besides Ross, you know. But I don’t know what became of him.’
‘Yes, she did tell me and seemed mightily impressed by it.’ Frank raised his cane to salute an acquaintance across the street who, in reply, tipped his hat. The stranger also gave me an interested look.
‘Your host at the chop house, perhaps?’ I asked.
‘Yes, as it happens, Norton, a very good fellow even if his sense of humour can be a little tedious at times. He will rag me now that he has seen me with you. He saw me with Madeleine once and I heard of nothing but that for a week. When I convinced him I had no understanding of any kind with her and we were absolutely NOT walking out, then he pestered me to introduce him to her.’
‘And did you?’
‘Certainly not!’ said Frank crisply. ‘It is not my habit to put young women living in my aunt’s household in the way of young men. But then, Madeleine did not need me to act as her sponsor in that regard, or so it seems. So you and Ross are childhood playmates, eh? It’s a strange world.’
‘We were
not
playmates. Haven’t I made that clear enough? Or do you not believe me?’
‘Oh, I believe you, Lizzie,’ he said earnestly. ‘Your acquaintance with him is slight.’
‘Yes, and like your friend Mr Norton, you read too much into a simple acquaintanceship.’
Frank accepted my strictures with good mien. I wasn’t surprised Aunt Parry had told him of my father’s sponsorship of Ross years ago but I did wonder what else she had said. Was Frank going to enlist my help as she had tried to do? Frank had his own reasons for wanting Ross’s investigation directed away from Dorset Square,
believing as he did that he was at the top of some list he imagined Ross to have. At any rate, he was not about to let the subject of Ross drop.
Frank stopped and turned to me. ‘See here, Lizzie, has he said anything to you – about me or about anything to do with this wretched affair?’
‘He has not expressed any suspicion of anyone to me,’ I said firmly.
‘And nothing else?’ A sharp note had entered his voice.
‘There has hardly been the opportunity,’ I said.
‘Lizzie, you should be a diplomat. You have a talent for answering questions in a way which seems completely satisfactory and actually says nothing at all.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ I exclaimed. ‘If you must know, I did meet Inspector Ross very briefly in Oxford Street, completely by chance, yesterday afternoon. We were interrupted by Dr Tibbett before we had exchanged many words. I then, after Ross had left us, had some words of my own with Dr Tibbett. We had a fair exchange of home truths! I might as well tell you this. He will probably go complaining to Aunt Parry about me.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Frank slowly. ‘That wasn’t a good idea, Lizzie, to go upsetting the good doctor. He is a vicious old fellow in his way if anyone crosses him.’
‘I can believe it,’ I said. ‘I think I am not quite the companion Aunt Parry was hoping for.’
‘That might be her opinion,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘But it isn’t mine.’
I wasn’t sure what he meant by this and felt uneasy. We walked on a little way in silence.
‘I’ve been seeking an opportunity to speak to you, Lizzie,’ he said.
‘You have plenty of opportunities to speak to me,’ I replied.
‘No, not seriously nor at any length. I see you at the breakfast table but that’s hardly the place with Simms floating in and out.
On all other occasions we risk interruption either from Aunt Julia or from Simms. He sneaks around the place in such a way. I’m sure he’s Aunt Julia’s spy,’ Frank finished his speech discontentedly.
So Frank thought it too! I wondered what he had to say that his Aunt Julia mustn’t learn of.
‘We spoke alone the other evening in the library, when you returned late,’ I reminded him, not willingly because that memory was an unsatisfactory one.
‘You were half asleep,’ he returned bluntly.
I was tired of this fencing. I stopped at the entry to Dorset Square and turned to face him. ‘Well, then, what is it that you want to say?’ I demanded.
‘Oh, Lizzie,’ he replied, half rueful and half laughing. ‘You have an accomplished way of pouring cold water on a fellow.’
‘I don’t mean to be rude, Frank,’ I apologised. ‘But I really don’t know what you mean.’
‘Don’t you?’ he asked. ‘Well, then, I must speak more clearly. You know I am off to St Petersburg soon?’
‘Of course I know that. Have you a date for your journey?’
‘I shall be leaving in about a month’s time, no more. I know Aunt Julia will be upset but she’s always known and accepted that I would not be staying indefinitely in Dorset Square. I want to ask you, Lizzie, if you would consider coming with me.’
I’m afraid his question quite took the wind from my sails and I gaped at him. Eventually I croaked, ‘How can I come with you?’
‘Why, I mean that we should be married, of course. I didn’t mean any other arrangement.’
‘Frank,’ I began, ‘this is nonsense …’
He reddened angrily. ‘Why should it be nonsense? Oh, I know my manner offends you quite often but I can be perfectly sensible. When I get to Russia I shall have to be, representing Her Majesty’s government and all the rest of it. See here, I should offer you a comfortable home and a very entertaining life. There will be
parties and balls and we should have a fine time. Do consider it, Lizzie.’
‘There are plenty of young women who could be your dancing partner!’ I said sharply.
‘But none I have ever met with whom I could embark on an adventure,’ he said soberly. ‘You are intelligent and resourceful and, well, there is no one else I would want as my wife.’
He was turning the brim of his hat in his hand as he spoke and watching me very seriously. I realised that he meant it. I had no idea how to respond. That is to say, I knew I must refuse, but how to phrase it? What explanation should I give or was I obliged to give any?
‘I am honoured,’ I began, ‘and deeply appreciative, but I cannot accept your offer. You must know that, Frank. Think how your aunt would react!’
I could imagine the hysterical recriminations. She was planning to marry me off to some elderly widower. She didn’t have Frank in mind for me. She probably had her own plans for Frank; Miss Belling, perhaps?
‘Why should she object? You are Uncle Josiah’s god-daughter. Anyway, although she might make a fuss, she’d come round.’
I couldn’t agree with this sanguine statement. ‘I can’t see it,’ I said. ‘Anyway Frank, you hardly know me. I have not yet been in London a week.’
‘Oh, I knew it the first evening you arrived,’ he said. ‘Or let’s say, I half made up my mind then and made it up completely the next morning at breakfast. I am not a fool, Lizzie. Perhaps, however, you think I am?’
‘No, of course I don’t! But I can’t marry you, Frank.’
‘Because you’ve only known me such a short time? Or because you’re afraid of Aunt Julia? I don’t believe that. You fear no one, I’ll wager.’
‘I can’t marry you,’ I said, ‘for several reasons. We have known each other less than a week. Despite what you say, your aunt
would be furious and it would be a bad start to any marriage for it to cause a serious quarrel between you and her. I suspect, though you hide it, you are not without ambition and I’m not the wife for an ambitious man and certainly not for one in the diplomatic corps. I am too freely spoken for one thing. I should bring nothing to the marriage but myself and before you gallantly protest that doesn’t matter, I fancy that in our circumstances eventually it would. You will be expected to keep up a certain standard of dress and so forth in your position in St Petersburg. So would your wife. Who would pay for it all? Would your salary be so generous? You have no private money of your own, other than what your Aunt Julia may give you and that allowance would stop the moment you told her of an engagement between us. Even if all of that could be overcome we simply shouldn’t suit one another. We’d be miserable.’

Other books

Birth School Metallica Death - Vol I by Paul Brannigan, Ian Winwood
King and Joker by Peter Dickinson
The Art of Floating by Kristin Bair O’Keeffe
Sugar in My Bowl by Erica Jong
Revealing Silver by Jamie Craig
Yield by Jenna Howard
El caos by Juan Rodolfo Wilcock
Tales of the Out & the Gone by Imamu Amiri Baraka