Murder in Abbot's Folly (14 page)

Whatever followed had been lost, perhaps a second page, but even what was there was quite something, Georgia thought. The writing was uneven, as if done in agitation – as it could well have been. Jake, to whom this must be new material, was giving whoops of delight at what he was reading and only reluctantly swapped places with Georgia.

‘Hold on to your hat. This one's Jane herself speaking,' he told her.

The writing in this scrap of a letter was entirely different, smaller and lighter. It was dated 4th November 1802, just after Jane Austen would have reached Steventon from Kent.

A week later the mood had changed. The last letter read:

A put-down indeed. Georgia had recalled reading somewhere that Jane Austen's spelling varied from today's norm in respect of ‘ie' and ‘ei'. She also remembered that Jane Austen's first novel to be published was an earlier work rewritten and renamed
Sense and Sensibility
. All too pat? She decided not. The difference between the two Austen letters was convincing enough.

Dora was watching them anxiously, and after Peter had finished reading them she said tentatively, ‘They're so very moving, aren't they?'

‘They are indeed,' Peter replied. ‘I take it you've seen the full collection in the folly, Philip? Are the letters there in the same style as these? This –' he pointed to the incomplete one – ‘is certainly unlike any in the published collections of her letters.'

‘Of course it is,' Dora said simply before Philip could speak. ‘Because Cassandra destroyed all her other letters between 1801 and 1804, which includes the autumn of 1802 and its aftermath. I believe she was jealous of the love that existed between Jane and William because she loved him herself.'

‘I suspect,' Philip added, ‘she also destroyed many of Jane's other letters, any that reflected Jane's own feelings. If you're worried, I can assure you that there is no doubt that Harker was Jane Austen's great love. It all checks out. The Kent Archives confirm that from 1800 to 1810 the inn was owned by a Francis Harker, and I found references both to him and to his brother in Mrs Warlington's diary.'

‘Who was she?' Georgia asked.

‘The wife of a local rector who recorded in her pocket day book that she and her husband had visited the Edgar Arms. They had had the pleasure of meeting Captain William Harker, brother of the landlord, and of hearing about the late war with Napoleon and HMS
Rhea.
Naval records show that both
Rhea
and Captain Harker existed.'

‘I take it the letters themselves have been authenticated?' Peter asked.

‘I can assure you,' Philip said stiffly, ‘that they have. Everything here and at Stourdens has been authenticated over the years by experts both in Jane Austen and in other relevant aspects.'

‘Of course it has,' Dora said indignantly. ‘We had ours checked before we bought the house. The ink is correct for 1802; so are the paper and watermarks.'

‘What about the writing and signatures?'

‘Checked by a graphologist for the appearance and by computer for conformity of language,' Philip confirmed. ‘And the paper is hand dipped with watermarks for 1802 as used in
The Watsons.
And, incidentally, could I point out that no one would have bothered to fake Jane Austen's hand
before
1806, when resin size was introduced with machine-made paper. Jane Austen's first novel appeared in 1811. Anything faked thereafter would in all probability have used post-1806 paper.'

Dora regained some of her usual vigour. ‘Why should the story not be genuine?' she asked querulously. ‘People are all too eager today to favour the negative. Of course there is a need for truth, but there does seem to be a disposition, almost a hope, towards assuming that everything good and interesting about the past must be false. Why can't we rejoice that Jane had this love affair instead of trying so hard to disprove it?'

‘You're right, Dora,' Jake said. ‘Count me on your side. It's an A1 story and I wouldn't be putting all my time into it without being sure that Phil and I are on firm ground.'

‘We have to be sure too,' Peter said mildly. ‘That's our job.'

‘Which is Robert Luckhurst's death from what I heard,' Philip rejoined.

‘It is, but bear in mind that Bob Luckhurst was the owner of the Austen collection, save for these letters here, and now there has been a second death.'

A moan from Dora. ‘Please . . .'

‘Seems a rum do to me,' Gerald said vigorously. ‘The police don't seem to have a clue about finding Laura's killer. My instinct is that some maniac crept in from the footpath behind the folly.'

‘Why?' Peter asked.

‘Don't have to have a reason nowadays,' Gerald grunted. ‘Drugs. That's what's behind it.'

‘But even a drug-crazed maniac usually has a grievance if he comes out armed with a gun, as this one did. Why did he choose Laura?'

‘Must have picked on the wrong person,' Gerald mumbled.

‘It was a killing at close quarters,' Georgia pointed out, ‘so unless her killer didn't know his victim by sight that's unlikely to have been the explanation. More likely he knew very well whom he was killing, especially as it's almost certain she came from the house
with
her killer.'

‘Oh, I can't bear it,' Dora cried. ‘I really can't.'

Jake put a comforting arm round her shoulders but nevertheless said gently, ‘The police have to work out how she was persuaded to go there so quickly after you saw her, Dora. You're sure she had no plans to leave the house?'

Dora shook her head violently. ‘She didn't.'

‘Not even to listen to what Roy said in place of her announcement?'

‘No, no,
no
!' she screamed. ‘Can't you understand that?'

‘Steady on, Dora,' Gerald said.

Jake still pursued the subject. ‘Odd though. Half an hour or so later she was in the garden, so someone must have gone to see her or contacted her somehow immediately after you left.'

Despite Dora's anguish, Georgia knew she ought not to let the opportunity slip. ‘It takes eight minutes to walk from the house to the folly along the usual path, but—'

Jake saw her point immediately. ‘I was on the terrace and so were plenty of other people, which means Laura must have gone out of Stourdens'
front
door to reach the woods and Abbot's Retreat unnoticed. Why though? If someone suggested they walked that way she would surely have thought that weird.' A silence. ‘I'm wrong. Laura wouldn't have done that,' Jake eventually continued. ‘She had a will of iron under that sweet exterior, didn't she, Dora?'

‘Yes,' Dora said weakly. ‘Oh yes, she had.'

There was something here she could not grasp, but Georgia was determined not to let the subject drop. ‘Her family were looking for her about four o'clock. You left her at what time, Dora?'

‘About twenty to four,' she whispered.

‘And roughly ten minutes later she must have gone with her killer to visit the garden for reasons unknown. The woodland path would take much longer, so she would have to have hurried to be in—'

‘No,' Dora moaned. ‘Not if she took the tunnel.'

A moment of horrified silence, and Dora flushed red.

‘What tunnel?' Georgia asked flatly.

‘Gerald . . .' Dora appealed to him, but in vain.

‘What tunnel, Dora?' he barked.

Dora must have realized there was no escape. ‘Laura told me about it. There was a tunnel – is a tunnel – leading from the house right over to Abbot's Folly. I think it has two exits: one in the folly itself, the other just behind its adjoining wall in the Retreat. Laura said it was built by the Mad Abbot, so that he could disappear from the house any time he chose – and not get wet,' she ended pathetically.

‘Is it still in use?' Peter demanded. ‘Have you told the police?'

‘I didn't think of it until now,' Dora wailed. ‘Laura told me about it, but I never saw it.'

‘Who told her about it?' Georgia asked abruptly. ‘Amelia Luckhurst?' This could affect more than the death of Laura Fettis. It could be the answer to Robert Luckhurst's murder too.

‘I don't know.' Dora looked confused. ‘Laura only found out about it not too long ago. Tim had something to do with it.'

‘Is it still open?'

‘I don't know,' Dora wailed again. ‘I
really
don't.'

‘I think,' Jake murmured, ‘that I see a whole new scenario for my documentary. Secret assignations in the grotto for Jane and William. I thought the tunnel was just a legend, didn't you, Phil?'

‘I knew there used to be one,' Philip said. ‘I never dreamed it still existed.' He looked very white – and no wonder, Georgia thought.

‘Does it affect your book?' she asked.

‘I doubt it, luckily. Sorry, Jake, but there was no evidence about the tunnel or mention of Jane and Harker being down there, so how could I have known?'

‘Eighteenth-century tunnels usually had grottos,' Jake ruminated. ‘Look at West Wycombe.'

‘What
I'm
looking at,' Georgia said firmly, ‘is the need to call DI Newton right now.'

EIGHT

‘
T
hat tunnel.' Peter was still fuming two days later. ‘It has to be the answer, and we're forbidden to see it until after Her Majesty has finished there.'

‘By “Her Majesty” I assume you mean DI Newton,' Georgia said.

‘I do,' he replied sourly. ‘Out of bounds until her team's finished. Understandable, but it's frustrating not knowing more about it – or what Tim had to do with the matter. That young man seems to have established himself very nicely under the Stourdens' table. Mike told me yesterday that the tunnel is stable, so presumably the Luckhursts must have looked after it, and depending on how recently Laura Fettis was told of its existence, she too. Which means Roy and Jennifer must have been in the picture. Workmen or even surveyors couldn't have worked down there without their knowledge.'

‘So why didn't they tell the police about it? Did Mike comment on that?'

Peter did not reply for a moment or two. Georgia knew how keen he was to see the tunnel but also that it was unlikely to accommodate a wheelchair. It would be her job to explore the tunnel, and it was not one to which she would look forward. Little as she had had to do with Tim and Roy, and much as she liked Jennifer, a long tunnel, presumably only lit by hand-held torches, was not the best of places to get to know them better. If it was built in the late eighteenth century, it was likely to be creepy, if only because ‘delicious horror' had been the objective of such tunnels. Grottos, temples, follies, all contributed to the shivers that ran up and down the eighteenth-century spine. She had walked through several such tunnels in her life, and if one needed evidence that violence and injustice could leave their indelible mark behind it was to be found there.

‘According to Mike,' Peter replied at last, ‘the Fettis family, including Laura, knew about it because there were mentions of it in the archives, but they assumed it had fallen in long ago – and they didn't know where it was, anyway.'

‘So how come it's in good condition now?'

‘Only Tim might be able to supply the answer to that – and so far we don't know what it is.'

‘It's interesting that Amelia apparently didn't tell Laura of its existence.'

‘And also significant if she'd used it on the day of Bob Luckhurst's murder.' Peter beamed. It was a small step forward, but one they had needed. ‘You'd think the local tongues would wag though if they had maintained the tunnel well. Amelia must have had domestic help at Stourdens – cleaners, gardeners, handymen, and so on.'

‘Even the trial reports don't mention any evidence that Amelia was involved. Which suggests the police investigation had more or less cleared both her and Tom Miller, if they ever did look on them seriously as suspects.'

‘They would have done,' Peter said simply, and she could not disagree.

‘I suppose there was no mention of tunnels in the police reports?'

‘If so, I would have picked up on it,' Peter replied with dignity. ‘Mind you, tunnels wouldn't have been likely to pop into Hamlyn's mind.'

‘Whose?'

‘Vic Hamlyn's. It was his case. Funny chap.'

‘Still alive?'

Peter looked horrified. ‘Georgia, I've been asleep at the switch. I don't know. Anybody else I've overlooked? What about Barbara Hastings as villain as well as witness?'

‘She doesn't seem to have a motive, and she told me she was on duty at the pub that day. Just because she was alive at the time of both murders doesn't mean she's the missing link.'

‘But she could be,' Peter muttered in exasperation.