Brunswick Gardens (48 page)

“Including Ramsay Parmenter?”

“I don’t think so. I doubt she was a match for Vita, even had she wanted to be.” He was reluctant to say this, but he had left himself no choice. “No. Her challenge here was Mallory. He was far more vulnerable, and a better victory anyway. Much more personable in the taking, and a deeper wound for Ramsay and to the Establishment. After all, he is not only sworn to chastity but to celibacy as well.”

Pitt said nothing, but Dominic could see in his eyes that that at least he could believe.

Dominic swallowed. His tongue was sticking to his teeth. “I did not kill her,” he said again. He could feel the panic welling up inside him to the verge of hysteria. He must control himself. He must keep his grip. It would pass. There would be a way out.

He rose to his feet, barely realizing he was doing it. The rain was beating against the windows now, a sudden spring storm.

There was no way out. It was tightening around him. The panic was there again, high in his throat. His heart was beating too fast. His skin was clammy. Pitt did not believe him. Why should he? Why should anyone? The judge would not; the jury would not.

They would hang him! How long was it from trial to the rope? Three weeks … three short weeks. The last day would come, the last hour … and then the pain … and nothing.

“Dominic!” Pitt’s voice was sharp.

“Yes …” Pitt must be aware of his terror. He must be able to see it, even smell it. Would he believe it could be in an innocent man?

“You’d better sit down. You look dreadful.”

“No … no. I’ll be all right.” Why had he said that? He was not all right. “Is that all you wanted?”

Pitt was still watching him closely. “For the moment. But I don’t believe Ramsay killed her, and I mean to find out who did.”

“Yes … of course.” Dominic turned to leave.

“Oh …”

Dominic stopped. “What?”

“I found love letters between Ramsay and Unity, very passionate, very graphic. Do you know anything about those?”

“Love letters?” Dominic was amazed. Had the circumstances been any different he would have suspected Pitt of making a bad joke, but he searched Pitt’s face and saw no humor at all, only pain and harsh disappointment. “Are you sure?”

“They were in his study on the desk, in his writing and hers,” Pitt replied. “They mirror each other. There was no question they are letter and reply. Mrs. Parmenter saw them when she went in to speak to him. That was what precipitated the quarrel and why he attacked her. It was obviously something about which he felt violently.”

Dominic was lost for words. It was incredible. If it were true, then all his perceptions were false, everything he thought he knew was not so. It was as if he had touched snow and it had burned him.

“I can see you don’t know anything,” Pitt said dryly. “I wish I could say it cleared you of suspicion, but I am afraid it doesn’t.” He rose to his feet. “The fact that they wrote love letters suggests there was much for you to be jealous of, whether you loved her or not. And if Mallory was the father of her child—this time—there was that as well. She was a dangerous woman, both foolish and destructive. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before there was a tragedy. Don’t leave Brunswick Gardens, Dominic.” And with a bleak and unhappy little gesture, Pitt turned and went to the door.

When Pitt had left, Dominic stood alone in the room for minutes he did not count. He was unaware of the fire collapsing in a shower of sparks, and it was only when he heard the clock: on the mantel strike the hour that the thought occurred to him that someone should have muffled it. He must tell Emsley. He was surprised that Clarice had not done so. Had Vita omitted it because she knew it had been suicide, and one part of her regarded that as a sin?

He refused to harbor that thought. It was filled with too much pain, a great tangle of it which seemed to touch everything.

He moved suddenly, striding out of the room, and almost bumped into Emsley in the hall.

“Where is Mallory?” he demanded.

Emsley looked startled. His hair stood out in wisps at the crown where his brush had missed it. The pink had gone from his skin, and he looked unbearably tired.

“I’m sorry,” Dominic said quickly. “I did not mean to speak so abruptly.”

Emsley’s eyes opened wide. He was not used to anyone’s apologizing to him. One did not apologize to servants. He did not know what to say.

“Do you know where Mr. Mallory is?” Dominic asked. He could not bring himself to say “Mr. Parmenter.” That was still Ramsay. “And no one has muffled the clock in the withdrawing room. Would you do that, please?”

“Yes sir. I’m sorry, sir. It slipped my mind. I—I really am sorry.”

“I daresay you had a lot of other things to care for, more important things, like seeing that the rest of the staff are coping.” He looked at the older man closely. “Are they?”

“Oh yes, sir,” Emsley replied, and Dominic knew he was lying.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. “I haven’t even been through to see them. I—I am too upset. It was very selfish of me. When I’ve seen Mr. Mallory, I’ll come.”

“Perhaps, sir, if you could come for grace before the evening meal, that would be a good time?” Emsley suggested. “It might be better after the day’s work is over. Some of the maids could be … well, a bit emotional, if you understand me.”

“Yes, of course.” Dominic made a mental note to go, regardless of whatever else happened. They must be shocked by two deaths within days of each other, confused by the guilt and suspicion in the house, and the certain knowledge that one of the people they had served and depended upon, probably looked up to, was guilty of murder and now a death which was to them inexplicable. They must be wondering if it was accident, murder or suicide. The whole order they had grown up with, the safety that had surrounded them and provided all their physical needs, had collapsed. They must wonder whether they even had a home for the future. In the aftermath of Ramsay’s death the household would break up, and they might easily be homeless. Vita could not remain in church property now. The house would automatically pass to the next incumbent. It was something he had not even thought of. His own emotions had taken over his mind completely, driving out everything else.

“Mr. Mallory is in the library, sir,” Emsley told him. “Sir, Mr. Corde …”

Dominic waited, already half turned to face the library door.

“Thank you …”

Dominic forced a quick smile, then strode across the mosaic, his feet surprisingly loud. He would never get used to the sound of it. He flung the library door open without even bothering to knock. He closed it behind him.

Mallory was on his knees beside the lowest bookshelf. He looked up, irritated at the intrusion, then surprised to see who it was. He arose slowly, his back to the brown velvet curtains and the wet windows, gleaming now as the sun struck them.

“What is it?” There was a thin thread of rancor in his voice. He was the master now. The sooner Dominic realized it the better. Things would not continue as they had been in the past. “Did you want me?” he added.

“Pitt has just been here,” Dominic said peremptorily. “This can’t go on. I won’t permit it.”

“Then tell him to go.” Mallory’s face showed his impatience. “If you can’t deal with that, I will.” He moved forward as if to do so that moment.

Dominic remained with his back to the door.

“Pitt is police. He’ll come here as often as he wants to until the case is solved to his satisfaction …”

“It is solved.” Mallory stopped a couple of yards in front of Dominic. “I can’t think of anything further to say. It is a tragedy best left to sink into as much forgetfulness as we can manage. If that is all you have come for, then please allow me to continue studying. That at least serves some purpose.”

“It is not solved. Your father did not kill Unity …”

Mallory’s face was tight and bleak. “Yes, he did. For God’s sake, Dominic, this is hard enough for the family without raking it over and trying to find ways to escape the truth. There is no escape! Have the courage and the honor to accept that, and if the word applies to you, the faith.”

“I am trying to.” Dominic heard the anger in his own voice, and the contempt which was for himself as well as for Mallory, standing looking so sullen and defiant. “One of the truths to acknowledge is that Ramsay thought I killed her.”

Mallory’s eyes opened very wide. “Is that a confession?” His face was full of doubt and new pain as well. “Aren’t you a little late? Father is dead. You cannot bring him back now. It’s not much use being honest, or sorry …”

“No, it’s not a confession!” Dominic snapped. “I am pointing out that if Ramsay thought I killed her, then it follows that he could not have, and I didn’t. That only leaves you, and you had reason enough.”

Mallory was suddenly white. “I didn’t!” His body was stiff, shoulders raised high. “I did not kill her!” But there was an unmistakable edge of fear in his voice.

“You had every reason,” Dominic insisted. “It was your child! What would it do to your career, your ambitions—”

“The priesthood is not an ambition!” Mallory burst out, anger flushing up his cheeks. He was standing in front of the large desk, the sunlight making patterns on the oak floor. He looked very young. “It is a calling,” he said critically. “A service to God, a way of life. You may do it to earn yourself money, recognition, even fame, I don’t know. But I do it because I know it is the truth.”

“Don’t be childish,” Dominic said angrily, turning away. “We each do it for lots of reasons. It may be pure one day, and arrogant or cowardly or simply stupid another. That is not the point.” He stared back at Mallory. “Unity was carrying your child. She was, if not blackmailing you, certainly using pressure to make you do what she wanted, and enjoying the power. Did she threaten to tell your bishop?” He shook his head. “No, don’t bother to answer that. It wasn’t worth it. Whatever she said, you must have known she could.”

Mallory was sweating. “I didn’t kill her!” he said yet again. “She wasn’t going to ruin me. She just—just liked the power.
She thought it was funny. She laughed, because she knew …” He closed his eyes, realizing what he had said and how much it condemned him. “I didn’t kill her!”

“Then why did you lie about seeing her that morning?” Dominic challenged him.

“I didn’t! I was in the conservatory … studying! I didn’t see her!” Mallory’s voice was high and indignant, but the fear was a sharp note behind it all the time, and Dominic could see and feel it in the air. He must be lying. If Ramsay had not killed her, it could only be Mallory. Dominic knew he was innocent at least of that. Guilty of having got her with child before, certainly guilty of every tragedy of Jenny’s, guilty of failing to help Ramsay, of letting him die of misery, loneliness and despair … but not of Unity’s death.

“If she wasn’t in the conservatory, how did she get the stain on her shoe?” he said coldly. He could understand the terror which made Mallory lie even now, when it was hopeless, but he also hated it. It robbed him of the last shred of dignity. It stretched out the pain of this more than it had to be. And he could not forgive him for having allowed Ramsay to be blamed for his guilt. Fear was one thing, even cowardice, but to stand by and watch someone else suffer for your sin was of a different order.

“I don’t know!” Mallory was shaking. “It doesn’t make any sense. I can’t explain it. I only know I didn’t leave the conservatory and she didn’t come in.”

“She must have,” Dominic said wearily. “She couldn’t have got that on her shoe anywhere else. She trod in it on the conservatory floor as she left.”

“Then why didn’t I?” There was a sudden surge of hope in Mallory’s voice, and he waved his arm as if the movement somehow released him. “Why was there no stain on my shoes?”

“Wasn’t there?” Dominic raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know that.”

“Well, go and look!” Mallory shouted at him, jerking his head towards the door. “Go and look at all my shoes! You won’t find any stain on any of them.”

“Why not? Did you clean it off? Or did you destroy the shoes?”

“Neither, damn you! I never left the conservatory.”

Dominic said nothing. Could that conceivably be true? How could it be possible? If it was not Mallory, then it must have been Ramsay after all. Had he been really, truly mad? So mad he had blanked from his mind what he had done, and believed himself innocent?

“Go and look!” Mallory repeated. “Ask Stander, he’ll tell you I haven’t thrown away any shoes.”

“Or cleaned it off?” Dominic could not easily let go. It meant Ramsay must have been guilty after all, and after the reprieve Pitt had given him, it was too difficult to go back and accept his guilt and the madness that had to go with it. There was something very frightening about madness, something unreachable, something there was no way of dealing with.

“I don’t know!” Mallory slashed the air, his voice high and loud. Any servants in the hall must be able to hear him. “I never tried! I never saw the stuff! But probably not—not if it was a stain. It would go into the leather. You can’t get chemical stains out of things. Ordinary stains are bad enough, according to Stander.”

There was nothing to do but go and look. There was certainly no point in remaining there in the library confronting Mallory.

“I will look.” He made it a challenge, then turned and went back into the hall and up the stairs. “Stander!” he called brusquely. “Stander!”

The valet was nowhere to be seen, which in the circumstances was hardly surprising.

Braithwaite appeared. “Can I help you, sir?” She looked tired and frightened. She had been with the family for years, since she was a young woman. Had anyone bothered to think
about the servants’ emotions, their grief and sense of shock and confusion, their fears for the future?

“I need to look at Mr. Mallory’s shoes … with his permission. It is important.”

“All his shoes?” She was totally confused.

“Yes. Will you find Stander for me, please? Immediately.”

She agreed with some obvious misgiving, and Dominic had to wait nearly ten minutes before Stander came up the stairs looking deeply unhappy. Apparently he had checked with Mallory, because he made no demur but went straight to Mallory’s dressing room and opened both wardrobes to show the neat rows of shoes with their trees all in place.