Perdita stared at Haberfield, her expression sceptical.
“His actions and those of his predecessor, his uncle, Jonty Westbury have caused your family a great deal of sorrow. It is therefore on behalf of Her Majesty that we apologise and ask your forgiveness for the deaths of your mother, Louisa Rivers, and your grandmother, Mary Fitzroy.”
“You want me to forgive you for murdering my mother and grandmother and for trying to kill me and my sister?” Perdita’s voice was rising again, laced with anger, fear and bewilderment.
“I’m giving you the official stance of MI1 Elite; however, I don’t expect your forgiveness. Your family has been torn apart — how could you ever forgive the crimes perpetrated against you?” he replied. “In order to, perhaps, enable you to come to terms with these events, you need to understand the remorse felt by many in my department at their demises. Both were remarkable women.”
“Don’t you dare speak to me about them,” shouted Perdita, her control slipping as a lifetime of sorrow, pain and loneliness churned inside her. “How dare you even say their names? Especially as neither of their murderers were never brought to trial. You even allowed that man, Morton Keller, to accompany you to my grandmother’s funeral to gloat…”
“He was not there to gloat,” snapped Haberfield, his control slipping. “He was there as the request of a dying man to try and make amends. However, it was ill-judged and caused more damage than good.”
It was a moment before Perdita registered the meaning of Haberfield’s words.
“What do you mean? A dying man?”
“Morton Keller died two weeks after your grandmother’s funeral. He had terminal cancer. It was his final wish to meet you and your sister and ask for your forgiveness.”
“What?” Perdita could not comprehend what she was hearing.
“If you will let me, I would like to explain,” said Haberfield. “You see, no one was supposed to die that day, certainly not your mother.”
To Perdita’s astonishment, Haberfield eyes filled with tears, which he blinked away.
“I knew your mother, not well, admittedly, but I was born and brought up in Dale until I was 11 years old. She was only a few years older than me and everyone knew she was the girl with the remarkable touch when it came to helping animals. I found an injured owl once and my parents drove me to Marquess House where Louisa offered to care for the bird,” said Haberfield in a rush before Perdita could interrupt him. “The owl wasn’t badly hurt, more stunned I think, but she nursed it back to health and when it was ready to be released, she insisted that her parents collect me, so we could release it together.
“It was a small thing but she was a remarkable person, and even as a young child I could see her goodness. I will admit to being a little in love with your mother. My father worked in the oil industry that was burgeoning in Milford Haven around then. He was good at his job and was offered work abroad. My mother was delighted and they moved to the US, where they lived for the rest of their lives. I was sent to boarding school and never lived in Dale again, although I bought a home there recently.”
Perdita glared at Haberfield; her eyes wide with confusion as to why this man was telling her his life story. This man who was her sworn enemy.
“And what has that got to do with Morton Keller?” she asked.
“On that terrible day, he was only supposed to scare your grandmother by driving at her in an aggressive manner…”
“But you’d tampered with her brakes,” interrupted Perdita. “If you hadn’t meant to kill her, why did you disable the car?”
“You’re correct, we did,” he said, his voice bitter. “The plan, however, was to cause her to swerve in a place where she would land in a ditch, thus shocking her and showing her we had the power to reach her if she did not desist with her research; nothing more.”
“You took out the seatbelt mechanism,” hissed Perdita.
Haberfield looked wretched but he did not deny it.
“If your grandmother had swerved in the place we had selected, even that would have done her no damage. It was carefully planned, but something unexpected happened which, in the end, showed the stupidity and cruelty of our methods. As you know, your mother borrowed your grandmother’s car. Keller and his men were caught unawares. According to their intel, your grandmother had not intended to leave the house so early. They didn’t know it was Louisa behind the wheel and that when her car had refused to start, she had hopped into Mary’s in order to collect some hay for the horses. Believing he had missed his chance to scare Mary and desperate to salvage the operation, Keller and his team leapt into their vehicles and were rushing to the agreed rendezvous site when your mother came flying around the corner in your grandmother’s car. Keller was driving far too fast and swerved, as did Louisa. She skidded on mud and the car smashed through a wall and over a cliff. It was an accident.”
Perdita stared at Haberfield in revulsion. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered.
“Of course you don’t,” said Haberfield, “I wouldn’t have expected you to.”
“And, accident or not, Keller killed my mother and went unpunished.”
“No, he did not,” Haberfield replied.
“He was questioned and released by the local police…”
“The local police,” snorted Haberfield. “We were hardly going to let them deal with the case. Keller was court marshalled and spent the rest of his life in a private prison for the murder of your mother. When he was diagnosed with cancer and he heard about Mary’s death and your subsequent inheritance, he became obsessed with the idea of telling you and your sister the truth and begging your forgiveness.”
“Alistair told us the same thing, that he wanted forgiveness…” Perdita murmured.
“Mackensie said that, did he?” Haberfield seemed almost amused. “If only we could have persuaded him to join us — he is without doubt one of the cleverest and shrewdest men I have ever met.”
“Does he know what you’ve just told me?” asked Perdita. “That Mum’s death was a real accident?”
“No, no one knows. It had the highest level of security and I can only tell you now because I am head of the department and, therefore, have special clearance.”
“You weren’t head of MI1 when you attended my grandmother’s funeral,” she pointed out.
“No, but I volunteered for the job, partly because I had known Keller — he had been my first mentor in the service — but also because I have always been very involved in the Marquess House case and, I admit, I was intrigued to see you and your sister. You look very like your mother, you know, although you’re taller.”
Perdita ignored this comment. She felt uncomfortable with the knowledge that this man had known her mother in their youth.
“And the man who murdered my grandmother, my former ‘fiancé’?”
“Are you referring to Warren Dexter?” asked Haberfield. Perdita gave a short, angry nod. “He didn’t murder your grandmother.”
“Liar,” she spat. “He was in the area that night or how else would he have been able to get to me so quickly to break the news the following morning?”
“Because we were made aware of your grandmother’s death almost immediately and Dexter was flown to Withybush airfield, where he was given an identical car to his usual vehicle, with the same number plates, in order to get to you. I swear on my son’s life that Warren Dexter didn’t murder Mary Fitzroy.”
“Then who did?”
“We have a few ideas and, believe me, when the murderer is apprehended, they will be suitably punished. Your grandmother was not killed on the orders of MI1 Elite.”
Perdita wondered if perhaps the brandy had been laced with a hallucinogenic drug because Haberfield’s words, spoken with such conviction, were so far from the version of events she had been told, she was unsure what to believe.
“We suspect Inigo Westbury may be the key to discovering who murdered your grandmother,” continued Haberfield when Perdita did not respond. “As you kno
w, he is an old friend of Randolph Connors and we believe they are working together. It seems it was he who discovered you had left Andorra and were heading to Bodmin, probably through a contact somewhere in air traffic control. Westbury is very well connected. After listening to chatter collected by our agents at GCHQ, we also became aware that you and your sister were returning to the UK. It was then that our listeners picked up a plot to have you kidnapped and murdered…”
“What?”
“We think Connors is pulling the strings but Westbury is his go-to man for arranging disappearances and deaths that could be construed as accidental. One of Alistair Mackensie’s informants within Connors’s organisation contacted him as soon as he was made aware of the danger you were in. We also have a spy within Connor’s ranks and when we were informed about your early-morning flit, Mackensie and I realised the only way to save your lives was to join forces — even if only temporarily. Despite what you may believe, Dr Rivers, I don’t want you, your sister, Kit Mackensie or Callum Black dead.”
“Randolph Connors sent a SWAT team after us?”
“Yes.”
Everything Haberfield said was incredulous, yet he claimed that he and Alistair had joined forces with MI1 Elite to save their lives. The Watchers had not murdered her mother and grandmother. Perdita’s mind was whirling.
Another door opened and Gary Ashley entered carrying a tray of tea and coffee, along with the decanter of brandy.
“We will reach Mill Bay in approximately two hours,” said Haberfield. “Until then, you are our guest, so please, relax and make yourself comfortable. The bedroom where you were placed when we first arrived is at your disposal as is this sitting room. Mr Ashley and I will be on the bridge should you need anything. I will ensure nobody disturbs you.”
Perdita stared at him. It was madness, yet instinct told her that he would not harm her. She realised she had no option but to remain calm and try to understand this new and unexpected layer of information.
“It really is an honour to meet you properly at last, Ma’am,” said Haberfield and to her amazement, he stood to attention and saluted her before leaving without another word.
Chapter Four
“PERDITA!” Piper was up to her knees in the waves, shrieking her sister’s name but being held back from plunging into the choppy water any further by Callum who was fast losing his grip.
“PERDITA!” Kit’s voice took up the shout as he threw himself into the freezing surf to meet the launch carrying her to the shore. Moments later, he was joined by Billy and Larry Eve as they endeavoured to manhandle the military dinghy on to the beach. Suddenly, Perdita felt Kit’s arms around her as he lifted off the deck and carried her ashore.
“What are you doing?” she half-laughed, half-shouted as he collapsed on to the freezing sand with her still in his arms.
“I thought you were dead,” he said, hugging her so tightly she was worried he would crack her ribs. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again…”
Before he could say any more, Piper had flung herself, sobbing, on to Perdita.
“Piper,” Perdita cried, tears of relief streaming down her face as they squeezed each other with a ferocity fuelled by their shared experiences of too much loss and grief. “Oh, Piper, I’m so sorry, this was all my fault.”
The short winter day was dipping into dusk and the rain lashed them with frost-twisted fingers. Callum hauled Kit to his feet and behind her Perdita heard a car door slam. More people were running towards them, including Dr Black who threw herself on her youngest son. Susan, usually so calm, had enveloped Kit in a bear hug and was sobbing into his shoulder. Then, to Perdita’s surprise, Sarah Eve appeared and grabbed the twins.
“Your mother might not be here,” she said, tears sliding down her face, “but I’m your godmother so you’ll have to make do with me.”
Perdita felt Sarah’s arms tighten around her and Piper. It was the closest thing they had experienced to a mother’s love since they were seven years old and it was bittersweet.
Over Sarah’s shoulder, Perdita saw Alistair walking towards Stephen Haberfield. Giving Sarah a watery smile, she ducked out of the hug, leaving her and Piper hanging on to each other and ran across to where the two men were standing near the dinghy that had delivered her to shore, talking, their expressions serious.
They were so deeply engrossed in conversation that it was a few moments before they realised she was within earshot.
“And you will ensure their protection if they return to Marquess House?” she heard Alistair say, his voice low and urgent.
“Consider it done,” replied Haberfield. “It will be unobtrusive but until we have apprehended Connors and Westbury, we will take no further risks with their safety. As Section 10, sub-section 4b of The Milford Haven states, ‘In times of national security, the heirs will be protected using all suitable methods available to Her Majesty’s government…’” He saw her and broke off. “Still no sign of Westbury?”
“Alas, no,” confirmed Haberfield, “however, we have despatched Warren Dexter and his team, and Dexter is ruthless…”
“Tell me about it,” said Perdita, interrupting the two men.
“Ma’am,” Haberfield greeted her with deference, while Alistair reached out to pull her close to him in a protective paternal manner, but she shook him off, turning to look Haberfield in the eye.
“I’d like to thank you for keeping my sister, Kit and Callum safe and also for saving us from what appears to have been a far worse threat,” she said.
Now she was safely on land and surrounded by those she loved, her curiosity was beginning to reassert itself. Why had Haberfield agreed to help? Would it not have made his life easier if they had been murdered? And what had he meant by that last comment? Who were the ‘heirs’?
With her brain restored after the food they had served her on the boat and a short restorative sleep, her questions were coming thick and fast but before she could ask any, Haberfield, who seemed to sense this torrent was about to overwhelm him, was already stepping away from her.
“It was an honour, Ma’am,” he said.
“Tell me, why do you keep calling me ‘Ma’am’?” she asked but Haberfield shook his head.
“Another time, Ma’am,” he said. “I must return to my vessel.”
Gary Ashley was standing in the prow of the small craft with three other MI1 officers behind him, all armed. The boat that had delivered the others was idling its engine a few metres away from shore. Haberfield vaulted over the side and on to the deck, where he positioned himself beside his second-in-command. On a nod from Haberfield, the officers in both vessels turned to face Perdita, stood to attention and saluted. Moments later, the men were aboard the powerful speed boats and, with a roar of engines, both crafts vanished around the headland and into the gathering gloom.
“What was that about?” said Kit, who had disentangled himself from his mother and joined Perdita but, as they watched the disappearing boats, she could only shrug.
“I’ve no idea,” she replied.
The wind was whipping up into a storm and there seemed no reason to stay on the cold beach any longer.
“Let’s get you home,” said Alistair, who had been joined by Alan Eve, his shotgun across his arm. “I won’t be able to breathe freely until we’re all back at Marquess House.”
As the others trudged across the sand and shingle towards the waiting cars, Perdita stared towards the horizon, wondering.
On arrival at Marquess House, Perdita had gathered them all together to show them the matching rings and reveal the secrets within. Over the next week, the four of them spent hours reliving their stories, coming to terms with their near miss with Inigo Westbury, Randolph Connors and the violent SWAT team. However, when Perdita had felt able to reveal Haberfield’s claim that MI1 had not intentionally killed Louisa and had not been responsible for Mary’s murder, the two deaths that had ripped her and Piper’s lives apart, there had been an outcry from everyone. Alistair wa
s the most shocked by this unexpected version of events and had agreed he would look into things further.
“After all,” he had said, “we know the Watchers are proficient at altering the past, perhaps this is another bluff.”
A few weeks on and Perdita was beginning to feel things were returning to normal. She and Piper had explained to Alistair that they intended to stay at Marquess House and, having heard Haberfield’s reassurance at extra security, they were happy trust to the Milford Haven Treaty to protect them.
Seeing their implacable expressions, he had resisted the urge to dissuade them.
A rearrangement of people had begun. Callum, Dr Black, Susan and Kit had returned briefly to Andorra, while Alistair had travelled to his London home. Piper had begun to plan her studio where the cabins let to artists stood and Perdita had immersed herself in examining the rings and looking for ways they might help to solve the final mysteries of Catherine’s children. But now, everyone was returning and as spring made itself felt in the vast gardens, Marquess House was coming alive once more.
Sarah cooked a vast celebration dinner when the Mackensies returned, bringing Callum with them to upgrade the Marquess House computer systems. A laughter-filled evening that ended with everyone sprawled in the chairs in the Lady Isabel room seemed, to Perdita, to mark a new beginning.
Wandering over to Alistair, carrying two cups of coffee, Perdita placed them beside him, then reached over and kissed his cheek, making him smile.
“I’m sorry, Alistair,” she said, sitting down.
“Whatever for, my dear?”
“You asked me not to do anything hasty and I ignored you.”
“Perdita, I expected nothing less of you and Piper,” he chuckled. “If I’m honest, I was delighted when it became apparent you had taken matters into your own hands. Your grandmother would have done the same thing. She was never one to wait for others to do her research for her.”
“It did result in us obtaining the second ring,” she said.
“Yes, we have the rings. How do you feel about reuniting them?”
The Elizabeth Tudor Conspiracy Page 35