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Authors: The Companion

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‘And a little scullery maid called Bessie, a charity child.’
‘The mushroom!’ declared Frank, setting down his knife and fork. ‘You must mean the skinny urchin I see scurrying in and out of the basement; wears an overlarge bonnet and a white apron. The creature looks just like a mushroom that has acquired a pair of feet, something even Mr Darwin didn’t think of. So it’s called Bessie, the mushroom, is it?’
‘Is
she
…’ I corrected him. ‘Are those all?’
‘All except Nugent, that’s another formidable woman. Not a bad old girl, though.’
I was a little annoyed by Frank’s cavalier way of talking of the staff who cared for him and his aunt. But I gave him the benefit of supposing he had been taught no better and meant no unkindness by it.
The door opened and an enticing aroma of coffee heralded Simms who having put down the silver pot enquired if I wished a hot dish from the kitchen.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘But the ham is quite sufficient for me this morning.’
It was more than sufficient. I was struggling to get through it. Frank had served a generous helping and I had not quite recovered from last night’s dinner. To watch Frank eat, one would have believed he’d starved himself for a week.
‘No kidneys, I suppose, Simms?’ he asked the butler wistfully.
‘I shall enquire of Mrs Simms, sir.’
When the butler had left us, I glanced at the long case clock in the corner of the room. ‘What time do you have to be at your Foreign Office desk, Mr Carterton?’
‘Oh, see here,’ he said. ‘You will call me Frank, won’t you? You are my Uncle Josiah’s god-daughter and so we are almost cousins, of a sort.’
‘All right,’ I agreed.
‘As to my desk, I have been given the morning to allow me to visit my tailor.’
‘Visit your tailor?’ I couldn’t help sounding startled.
‘Yes, to order a set of clothes for Russia, you know. Followed by a visit to my shoemaker. I have been advised to wait until I get there to buy winter boots. If one goes hunting in the winter snows, it seems one needs felt boots. Sounds odd, don’t it? But leather soles stick to the ice. That’s what they tell me, at any rate.’
‘I shall be sorry not to see you in the Russian snow in your felt boots, Mr—I mean, Frank,’ I said drily. I couldn’t help it. The image was quite out of keeping with the spoiled young man-about-town sitting across the table from me.
‘One can hunt bears,’ Frank informed me. ‘I’m looking forward to that.’
‘Bears? What would you do with a bear if you shot one?’
‘Why, eat it. They tell me bear steaks are very good eating. So is bear soup, but I don’t fancy that. Bear steaks might be jolly.’
I put down my knife and fork, partly because I could eat no more and partly because I could not put up with any more of this nonsense.
‘Frank,’ I said. ‘You will allow me make a request, I hope?’
‘Certainly, I am at your command.’ I thought he looked at me a little warily for all his debonair tone.
‘Thank you. It’s this. I realise it amuses you to tease Dr Tibbett and sometimes your Aunt Julia, but do leave off this ridiculous way of prattling on with me. You are perfectly sensible, I’m sure.’
He leaned back and eyed me. ‘You are very sharp, Elizabeth Martin.’
‘I am a plain speaker, that’s all.’
I decided, since I’d declared myself to be forthright, to plunge on. ‘I have been wondering, for example, just how long you have known you will be going to St Petersburg? It seemed a little odd to me that you should decide to tell your aunt about it before two other people, one of them a stranger. I should have thought you’d tell her in private. Or did you plan, by so doing, to avoid her first, let’s say, rather emotional response?’
I wondered if I’d been too daring. He would be right to take offence, but he only smiled.
‘Ah, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, a good-looking one, too.’
‘Stop that!’ I ordered immediately. ‘I am not pretty. I can see that for myself in any mirror.’
‘I didn’t say you were pretty,’ he retorted. ‘No, you are not, nothing so vapid. You are handsome; I think that’s the word. You have an intelligent and very expressive face. As to the last, may I offer a word of warning? Keep your feelings to yourself around here. I may act the fool occasionally, but it’s a very good mask, you know.’
Before I could reply to this, Simms returned with the dish of devilled kidneys. Frank promptly set about these as if he’d only just started his first meal of the day.
When we were alone again, I asked, ‘Why should I need to be so careful of letting my feelings show? Or would that make me look a provincial?’ Before he could reply, I asked on impulse, ‘Or has it anything to do with Madeleine Hexham?’
Frank left off eating to lean back in his chair again. His expression became thoughtful. ‘Between us, one never knew what Maddie Hexham was thinking. She never offered an opinion about anything. She played an entirely predictable game of cards. I never saw her read a book except some nonsense from the
circulating library. I suspect Aunt Julia found her rather dull.’
‘So, were you surprised when she disappeared?’
‘I was annoyed because Aunt Julia sent me haring down to the local police station to inform the stalwart minion of the law there of Maddie’s unexplained absence. I wasn’t entirely surprised when Aunt Julia received the letter telling us she had eloped. I put it down to her reading those books. They were all about that sort of thing. She was quite a pretty woman or would have been with a little animation in her features, but as I said, if she had a brain, she showed no sign of being about to overuse it. Even the letter told us precious little. Not where she’d gone nor with whom. Perhaps she feared we’d seek to make her return, but we’d hardly do that. Aunt Julia felt betrayed and Dr Tibbett was in his element promising her eternal damnation.’
Frank pushed a piece of kidney round his plate. Perhaps even he had reached his gastronomic limit. ‘See here,’ he said. ‘One can’t help but rag old Tibbett occasionally in a gentle sort of way. He’s no fool and one mustn’t overdo it. I don’t mean to tease Aunt Julia, who has been very good to me.’
‘And do you really think Dr Tibbett a suitor for your aunt’s hand, as you suggested? Or was that just another tease?You seemed to find the idea amusing.’
Frank burst out laughing. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Allow me to pour you a cup of coffee. There’s milk there in the jug.’
I remembered what Bessie had had to say about the milk and peered at the jug with some misgiving. The contents certainly looked a curious blue-grey colour but I couldn’t smell any odour, not without putting my nose right to it and I couldn’t do that in front of Frank. I resolved to drink my coffee black.
Frank put his elbows on the table, folded his hands beneath his chin and fixed me with, for him, quite a serious look.
‘You probably know Aunt Julia was Uncle Josiah’s second wife.’
‘I didn’t know for sure, but I wondered about that,’ I said.
‘There is the difference in age, of course. But also, she told me
Josiah Parry never visited my father. Yet I remember one visit, when I was very young. So I think Aunt Parry did not know about it, or had perhaps forgotten. At any rate, my godfather came alone. I remember he was very sad and never smiled, though he spoke to me very kindly. So possibly he was in mourning, perhaps for his first wife?’
‘I say,’ said Frank in admiration. ‘You are sharp! I was right. I shall have to watch what I say. You remember everything and you puzzle it out.’
‘I am a stranger. It’s natural I should listen carefully and puzzle things out if I can,’ I defended myself.
‘Well then, let me tell you about my Aunt Julia. You will see from it that things are not always quite as they seem here. My mother and her sister were daughters of a country clergyman. I think that is one reason Aunt Julia likes to have Tibbett around; it refreshes memories of a clerical childhood. My grandfather had nothing but his living to support his family and they were as poor, if you’ll excuse the pun, as church mice. My mother eloped with my father and I am sorry to say he was no great provider. Aunt Julia did not intend to fall into a similar trap. I’m not sure how she met Uncle Josiah, but he was a widower and wealthy and she didn’t mean to let him escape. Don’t mistake me. She made him an excellent wife. She took an interest in his business affairs, possibly because she realised she might outlive him. Aunt Julia is another who dons a mask, Elizabeth. She pretends she has no interest in anything but whist and her own comfort. But her greatest interest is in making sure that comfort will always be provided for. That is why the idea she would marry Tibbett is so amusing. He thinks she will. I know she won’t. She will not hand over control of her money to anyone else, you see. Tibbett will find he has to settle for dining here regularly, playing a hand of whist and being treated as the Dispenser of All Wisdom. I believe when he realises that, he will accept the role. As I said, Tibbett is no fool.’
‘But is my godfather’s business still continuing the import of cloth from the Far East?’
Frank shook his head. ‘That stopped with his death. But he had made many other shrewd investments. He bought a great deal of property before he died. The rents brought him a steady income. My aunt has added to it. In fact, she owns a fair amount now, houses mostly. She has recently done very well out of some of it. They are to build a new railway terminus, you know.’
‘I do know,’ I admitted. ‘I – we, that is to say the cab, passed by the site on my way here yesterday.’
‘She owned some property on the site. The railway company came wanting to buy every standing structure in the area and offered a good price, all in order to pull them down,’ said Frank confidentially. ‘I think Aunt Julia was more than satisfied with the bargain she drove for her part of it.’
I felt startled to hear this news and recalled the creaking wagon with its sad load. I wondered if I should mention it. But perhaps Frank would think me ghoulish, as I suspected the cabbie had thought me, so I kept silent.
Frank rose to his feet and tossed his crumpled napkin on the table. ‘I must be off. Busy day, you know.’
He left me alone and very thoughtful.
AS FRANK had warned me Mrs Parry, or Aunt Parry as I must learn to call her, did not appear until almost noon, just in time for a light luncheon to which I did little justice. If this was indeed to be her habit, then it meant I would have the mornings free for my own interests and that was very encouraging.
I had remained in the house after breakfast in case she had come downstairs earlier, despite Frank’s information. I spent most of the time in the library. I found writing paper and ink there and took some of the time to write to Mrs Neale, the kind neighbour who had given me a temporary home after I had sold the Derbyshire house. She had expressed some concern at my leaving for London, a strange city, to be among strange folk. Mrs Neale, who had never set foot outside her home town, meant ‘strange’ in both senses of the word. In my letter I told her I had met with no problems on the journey and my prospects looked very good. I was sure this news would soon be passed around the entire community and talk would be of nothing else. I sealed it up using a scrap of wax in a tray on the desk, and took it out into the hall where I had noticed a small wooden box for the receipt of post leaving the house. I put my letter in it but resolved that once I had found out where the post office was, I would take my letters there myself. If, of course, I wrote any more on my own account.
Later in the afternoon a Mrs Belling called. I remembered the
name as that of the woman who had ‘found’ Madeleine Hexham and introduced her into the household. I was curious to see her but my first impression of her was not favourable. She was smartly dressed wearing one of the new-style crinolines, far less exaggerated than the sort that had previously been the height of desirability. It gave her skirts a conical shape. On her head above a chignon of what was certainly false hair (it was blacker than her own) was perched a modish little casquette. Her features were sharp and her nose in particular long and pointed. I thought she looked like some kind of bird, perhaps a jackdaw, inquisitive and artful. She asked me a great many questions about myself, my father, my place of birth and anything else she could find to ask of me, all in a very direct way. I thought this ill-mannered of her. I had not come to London to be employed by her, after all! Even Aunt Parry seemed to find her friend’s quizzing of me went a little too far and interrupted her after some minutes with a question about the visitor’s son, James.
This name I had also heard. Frank had mentioned that James Belling was a collector of fossils. Mrs Belling lost interest in me and began to expound on the virtues and amazing intelligence of James and her other offspring. There was, I gathered, in addition to James, a daughter who was married and currently in an interesting condition. There was another younger daughter who was certainly bound to be married before long and a young son away at school. He, too, was destined for a brilliant future. Quite where James came in this list of siblings, I was not sure. I guessed he might be a contemporary of Frank Carterton and so either the eldest Belling or the second eldest (after the married daughter). I was relieved to see Mrs Belling depart and had the impression that Mrs Parry was not sorry to see her friend go, at least on this occasion.
We were not, however, to be without a visitor for long. Minutes later Simms appeared in the doorway, his impassive countenance for once quite animated, and announced, ‘I beg your pardon,
madam, but there is a police officer here and he wishes to speak with you.’
‘Whatever for?’ asked Aunt Parry. ‘Tell him I am otherwise engaged, Simms.’
‘I am sorry, madam, he wishes to speak with you personally, most particularly. He has sent up his card … ’
I wish I could describe the manner in which Simms said this and the way in which he advanced across the room and held out a silver tray on which lay a modestly printed rectangle with the legend
Inspector Benjamin Ross. Metropolitan Police. Scotland Yard.
It was obvious the butler believed a police officer had no business possessing a card nor presenting it in a respectable household, thus requiring Simms himself to carry it upstairs.
‘How very odd,’ said Aunt Parry, picking up the card cautiously and turning it this way and that. ‘Where is he, Simms? What does he want?’
‘I put him in the library, madam. He came just before Mrs Belling left and I thought perhaps you might not wish her to see him. As to what he wants, madam, I have been unable to ascertain. He won’t say.’ Emotion vibrated briefly in the butler’s stately tones.
‘Yes, of course, that was wise of you, Simms. Oh dear, how very peculiar. What about his boots?’
‘His boots are quite clean, madam. He is not in uniform.’
‘Well, then, I suppose he may come up. No, wait. Elizabeth, go down and see what he wants. See if he will be content with talking to you. If he won’t, then you must bring him up here, I dare say. Only do check his boots.’
I followed Simms downstairs. The butler opened the library door and stood aside to allow me to enter. He then shut the door smartly on me and the visitor, no doubt fearing that some other person might pass by and see us.
Inspector Benjamin Ross was standing at the far side of the room before the hearth, looking up at the portrait of Josiah Parry.
I could only see that he had thick black hair, was soberly dressed in street clothes and held his hat in his hand. He turned now and could be seen to be a surprisingly young man for his rank. He was clean shaven with an alert intelligence about his features and dark eyes.
However, any surprise I might have felt at his appearance was far outweighed by the effect the sight of me had on him. I didn’t know what he had expected: whether he’d thought Mrs Parry herself might have come down or some male figure. When he saw me, though, he looked quite thunderstruck. He opened his mouth, closed it again and then managed a faint ‘Ah …’
‘Inspector Ross?’ I asked, holding up the little visiting card which I had brought down with me.
‘Yes,’ he said, still staring at me.
‘I am Elizabeth Martin, Mrs Parry’s companion,’ I said sternly so that he should know it wouldn’t do to try and fool
me
.
‘Yes,’ he said again, most strangely. ‘Of course you are.’ He then fell silent again and continued to stare at me in that same astonished way.
I began to lose patience, a commodity rather in short supply with me at the best of times. Was there some oddity in my appearance? Had my hair tumbled loose? Was there a spot on the end of my nose?
‘I beg your pardon?’ I prompted sharply. His peculiar manner was beginning to unsettle me. I wondered if it might have been better to arm myself with something more formidable than a small oblong of stiff paper or at least to have asked Simms to accompany me into the library. Anyone may have a visiting card printed and it was all we had to support his claim to be a police officer.
He seemed to pull himself together and began to speak very quickly, ‘Forgive me. I was hoping to speak to Mrs Parry who, I understand, is the owner of the house. Is she at home?’
‘She is at home,’ I admitted. ‘But to be open with you, she is rather puzzled as to the reason for your calling here. Could you tell me something about it?’
I was still trying for sternness but my ear had caught a familiar intonation in his voice. I thought, He is not a Londoner. One might almost believe he hails from my part of the country. This idea was disarming. I felt myself thaw.
He gestured apologetically with his hat. ‘I am sorry, Miss Martin, I can only discuss the details with Mrs Parry.’
I frowned. ‘But can you not give me at least some indication of the – the nature of your call?’
He hesitated. ‘It is possible I have some unwelcome news for her.’
‘Frank!’ I exclaimed. ‘Have you come to tell us some accident has befallen him?’
‘Frank?’ he asked sharply and frowned. ‘That would be Mr Francis Carterton, would it?’
‘Yes, Mrs Parry’s nephew. He is currently living here. Is there something wrong?’
The inspector looked at me strangely again. ‘No, as far as I’m aware, Mr Carterton is safe and sound. He’s not at home, then, obviously.’
‘He is employed at the Foreign Office,’ I told him. ‘Although I understand that this morning he was—’
There was no reason why I should shield Frank Carterton from any criticism but still, I thought it best not to tell the visitor that Frank had spent the morning at his tailor’s.
‘I believe this morning he had some other engagement. But he should be at the Foreign Office now.’
‘Well, then, I can track him down there later,’ said Ross briskly.
This only served to deepen the mystery. I was now curious to know what it was all about and it seemed there was only one way to find out. I glanced, I hoped not too obviously, at his boots. They appeared to present no threat to the carpets.
‘If you will follow me,’ I said, ‘I’ll take you to Mrs Parry. She is in her private sitting room, upstairs. You may leave your hat on the hall table if you wish.’
I turned to lead the way. I was conscious as I walked upstairs that the inspector followed behind and I could feel his eyes upon me. Perhaps the police studied everyone like that, I thought. But I do hope he’ll soon be satisfied and lose interest in me!
I introduced him to Aunt Parry who appeared pleasantly surprised at his appearance and unbent to the extent of inviting him to sit down, which I didn’t think she had been planning to do.
‘I am sorry to trouble you, madam,’ he began.
‘It is not my nephew?’ she interrupted anxiously.
‘No, ma’am, it is not about Mr Carterton. It is about a young woman by the name of Madeleine Hexham. I understand she was employed here as your companion.’
Aunt Parry’s alarm increased. ‘Oh, dear …’ she exclaimed, throwing up her podgy hands. ‘Don’t tell me she has come back? I don’t want to see her.’
‘You will not see her, ma’am, and I fear she will not be coming back.’
He said this very soberly and the hairs prickled on the back of my neck.
‘Some harm has befallen her,’ I said before I could stop myself.
‘Sadly, yes.’ He nodded. ‘A body has been found and we believe it to be hers.’
‘A body?’ cried Aunt Parry, starting up and then falling back in her chair.
I jumped up ready to render assistance and Inspector Ross half rose to his feet. But she waved us both away as we loomed over her.
‘Do you mean a dead body? I suppose you do. How very—My good man, you have a very brusque way of announcing such a shocking piece of news.’ Her face had reddened alarmingly and
her plump fingers gripped the arms of her chair so tightly the knuckles stood out through the skin.
‘I apologise, ma’am,’ said our visitor, ‘I’m afraid it’s in the nature of my duties that I’m often the bearer of distressing news and there’s really no other way of telling it than bluntly.’
Aunt Parry pulled out her handkerchief and began to wave the small lace-edged square up and down before her face in lieu of a fan. It struck me that there was more irritation than grief in her manner and that the fluttering handkerchief served very well to hide her features until she could compose them.
She let her hand fall to her lap. She certainly appeared more in control. ‘When – where – how?’ she demanded, adding pettishly, ‘Oh dear, if only Frank were here or Dr Tibbett. I repeat, Inspector, you might have waited until this evening when there would be a man in the house.’
‘If I could first ask you about the circumstances of her disappearance,’ Ross said firmly.
He clearly had no more time to spend on her protests and considered her well up to being questioned. I think she recognised it because she blinked once and then stared at him very hard.
‘It was reported at Marylebone police station on the eighth of March last that she had left the house the previous day and not returned that night. She was described at the time as being of slight build, not tall, fair-haired and wearing a lavender-striped poplin gown. She was also reported as probably having worn a paisley shawl and a small bonnet, but those last items are missing. That is to say, we have not yet recovered them.’
Aunt Parry waved her hands at him to stop his speech. Her plump chin had set obstinately and I fancied she was becoming angered again. ‘This is quite impossible. Yes, she left here in a very odd way, just walked out one morning without a word to anyone and taking not a thing with her. But we had, that is to say, I received a letter from her a week or so later. I’m sure there is some
mistake, Inspector, and the unfortunate woman you are talking of is not Madeleine.’
‘A letter?’ Ross sounded excited. ‘Do you still have it? May I see it?’
But Aunt Parry shook her head. ‘No, I don’t have it. I was so angry with her. She wrote that she had eloped! We had no idea! We had never suspected! I tore it up.’
Ross looked dismayed but rallied. ‘There is no doubt, ma’am, it was in her handwriting?’
‘Should it not be?’ She gazed at him in bewilderment. ‘It looked like her hand. I showed it to Mrs Belling, the friend who introduced Madeleine to me. She had had some previous correspondence with her. Madeleine came from the North. She was not personally known to Mrs Belling, but to a friend of hers in Durham, if you follow me. But Mrs Belling did not question it being her handwriting!’ Aunt Parry shook her head. ‘I really cannot take this in.’

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