I left it there, locking up the door as my phone rang. I answered, pressing it between my ear and shoulder as I turned the cold, unused lock.
“Mills,” I muttered into the mouthpiece.
“Sir,” I could hear him walking, “Rupert and I are returning to the living room.”
“You find something?”
“We think so. Rose is back there now too,” he added, “as is Lord Hocking.” There was a pause as he bent to put something down. “Henry’s fetching his mother and Eloise.”
“Good,” I answered, making my way up the slope, the roof of the house coming into view above the rising garden. “Give me a few minutes.”
I hung up then, trudging up the hill and stopped when I reached the top, turning back to look down over the lake. It was a nice view, I had to admit. I imagine that come sunset or sunrise, it would be magnificent. The light reflected off the water and the glass building, mingling along the landscape. You could be in a painting, standing here, staring out. I wondered how much time Selene had spent doing just that, losing herself in the light and the gentle ripples of the lake, the trees that bowed over the surface, the willow on the other side with its long leaves touching the water. It was peaceful. More peaceful than how her life ended up being, at any rate. I sighed, stuffed my hands deep into my pockets and turned back to the house, crunching over the gravel back up to the doors I had left open and into the living room. I was greeted by Dennis first, who offered me a cup of tea, a little biscuit tucked onto the saucer.
“Thank you,” I smiled, taking it, and wandered over to Mills, who cradled his own tea like it was an anchor as he stared at the unfolding argument that resurfaced between the family.
“What did you find?” I asked him, but the others fell quiet too, turning to look at us. Mills tore his unimpressed stare from the Hockings and walked to the table where he and Rupert had dumped their findings. A few books, neatly stacked, a small standing frame with an image of a woman I didn’t know, and the ledger itself, the red leather glinting in the light from the lamp beside it.
“Anyone else?”
“We found this,” Rose held up a small book of poetry, “in Auntie Rosemary’s room. Selene gave it to her.”
“How do you know that?” Lord Hocking asked.
Rose fixed him a withering glare and opened it to the front page. “Dear Rosemary. Happy Birthday, love Selene,” she read.
“Is there anything inside?”
“Not that we took much stock of,” Henry said, taking the book from his sister to pass to me, “but there are some extracts that have been underlined, we wondered if that might mean anything.”
I took the book with a grateful nod. “Lord Hocking?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing in there. Only piece of sheet music I could find was for Led Zeppelin.”
Rupert nodded enthusiastically. “Guitar lessons. Wasn’t much good,” he told Mills and me. “Too impatient.”
“Lady Hocking?”
“No, but I wasn’t expecting to. We spend most of our time in here, after all.”
“We did bring these.” Eloise placed a stack of photographs on the table and nodded to a larger painting leant against the wall. “Just in case.”
I waved a hand, and she sat down with an air of excitement, Lady Hocking beside her, opening the frames, glancing inside and then handing them to Henry who quietly did his wife’s bidding and put them back in their rightful places.
“Inspector,” Rupert piped up, “if Selene really wanted them to know, why would she just not have told them?”
“I think she was torn,” I answered him as I ate my biscuit. “This was her way of getting the information out there without actually having to say it. Without,” I glanced at Lady Hocking, “jeopardising anything.”
“We would have helped her,” the Lady told me stiffly, her back straight. She’d cleaned her face, wiping away the pink splotches and tear stains. “We do things properly in this house,” she added with a bitter touch towards her husband, who clasped his clammy hands together and fixed his gaze on the photograph Rupert and Mills had brought in from the library.
“That’s good to hear,” I answered, though little good it all did now.
“If they can’t find it, what will they do instead?” Rupert carried on, ignoring the glares from his siblings. I gave him a small nod of encouragement, grateful someone was talking rather than yelling, and the lad asked the right questions, even if his timings were a little off. “If they are as keen on all this blackmail lark as they appear to be. Which they haven’t actually done anything about! Do they want money? What is it?”
“There’s little they can blackmail with without proof,” I reminded him. “All they, and we, in fact, have is suspicion.”
“Indeed,” Lord Hocking added, moving his stare at last. “For all we know, the child isn’t even a Hocking.”
“He is,” I told him shortly, “if his appearance is any indicator.”
“He looks like him?” Lady Hocking leant forward, her wide eyes flicking from me to her husband.
“He shares the resemblance that your husband and his brother share, Lady Hocking. It’s hard to tell which of them he would favour more.”
“Back to my question,” Rupert flopped a hand lazily in the air, scratching his curls with the other, “what will they do?”
I sat down slowly, unsure. “It’s hard to say,” I told them carefully. “Maybe they’ll back off, and we can focus more on arresting them. Maybe they’ll try some other tactic.”
“Heavens!” Lady Hocking had crossed the room to smooth down the hair that Rupert had just sent askew. “Like what?”
“Again, hard to say. My advice would be to take careful measures until we have arrested this person. Make sure your security is tight, don’t take any unnecessary risks.”
“Is it him?” Rupert asked. “For all we know, it’s the child himself who’s wanting to make us go through all of this.”
“For what purpose?” I asked.
He snorted. “That’s your job.”
“It’s worth considering,” Rose supported her brother.
“It’s being considered,” I assured them. “Everything is.”
They nodded and settled down to help sort through the various items they’d brought in. I took the map from my pocket and handed it to Henry,
“The public footpath borders your land closely,” I said as he unfolded it and laid it on the desk.
He nodded. “We get a few people who lose the trail every now and then, or dogs that get off the lead. They’re always locals though,” he told me.
“Is there anywhere around the path where people come from further away? Where they might park their cars?”
His eyes flashed with understanding, and he nodded, hair flopping in his face the way his brother’s did as he bent over the map.
“This one’s the most popular,” he drew a little X just off the main road, “halfway point really. People park here, come up through the woods, down into the village then back up again.”
“If they don’t park in the village itself,” Lord Hocking added.
“Otherwise, here,” another X in the woods themselves, “just where the footpath begins. You think that’s where they parked?”
“Public land,” I shrugged and sat back down, “better place than any.”
I started to flip through the pages of the poetry book as Mills and Rupert dug into the stack of books they had brought in.
From what I could tell, the extracts were erratic, random lines that Rosemary must have liked and wanted to remember. No pattern or sense to any of them.
“Sir,” Mills’s voice was deadpan, and my head snapped up. He held a copy of Twelfth Night in one hand, and a small envelope in the other.
“Rosemary’s favourite play,” Lord Hocking told us gently. “She had us perform it every Christmas.” He sank down slowly into his chair, and his wife laid a comforting, if still slightly reluctant hand on his arm.
“One of the main characters, sir. Sebastian.” He held out the envelope to me, a faded ink address on the front. Lord Hocking and Richard were both addressed to, Selene’s handwriting curled and looping across the stiff white paper. Rather like the stiff white paper that was kept in the summer house, I realised with a small smile.
I looked up to Lord Hocking and held out the envelope, but he shrunk back and shook his head.
“You do it, Inspector,” he muttered, looking world weary. “I haven’t the nerve.”
Twenty-Four
Thatcher
The silence was uncomfortable, and I hesitated, still holding the envelope out towards Lord Hocking. But he had closed his eyes, one hand raised to pinch the bridge of his nose. The rest of the family sat around in nervous anticipation, Rose and Rupert together on the sofa, while Henry stood behind them with a hand on each shoulder and Eloise at his side. Lady Hocking hovered for a moment, before taking her place with her children, and only when she gave me a nod, did I flip the envelope over and open it. The paper inside was the same heavy, stiff material, and as I unfolded it, a small picture slid to the ground. Mills bent forward to pick it up and handed it back to me. It looked like a sonogram, the shapes and shadows indistinct. Lady Hocking reached over, taking the picture and frowned down at it.
I cleared my throat, really, truly wishing that I didn’t have to do this, and began to read:
My dear boys,
I was sorry to leave the house the way I did. Sorry to leave you both behind. But we all know it was for the best. You have your duties to your family, and I can’t be a part of that. Nor, I think, do I want to.
I had planned for this to be the end of it, not much use in digging up the past is there? But something’s happened, something that I need you both to know. Only, I’m not sure I really want you to know. I heard about the marriage, and the baby, congratulations. I have no wish to ruin that, none at all.
I’m pregnant. There it is, easier to write than it is to say. Funny how that works, isn’t it? How much easier it is to say something when you don’t have to look someone in the eye when you do. I’m pregnant. There’s a sonogram here too, it’s a little blurry, but I thought– Well, I thought perhaps you’d want to see.
I addressed this to you both because I want you both to know. I’m not exactly sure what you’ll do. I wonder if you already know. Maud does, maybe she’s told you, the tricksy old girl. Either way, I’m going to be a mother. Strange that, isn’t it? For all the times I said I never wanted to be. And I fear, or I know, that I’m going to be a single mother. I’m not asking you for anything, and I know there’s no place for me there in any case. It’s up to you, I suppose, what you want to do, if you want to do anything.
I can picture you both, you know, reading this. Brows furrowed in that way you both do, jaws clenched. I can almost hear you as well, ‘get on with it Selene! Who’s the father?’ Part of me wonders if it matters. Well, it will do, in fact. One of you is the heir to Hocking estate, one of you isn’t. Messes things up on that account, doesn’t it?
You’ll forgive me for saying it, but oh how I wish it was you, Richard. How I wish there would be no confusion of inheritance or the eldest born or any of that nonsense. You and I might even make it work. I’ve seen you, you know. How unhappy that place makes you. You and I could do well together. But, my darling, for all that wishing, it isn’t you. I know it isn’t.
Lord Hocking, as you’ll be by the time you read this, how strange to call you that! We used to laugh about it, do you remember? You said you’d buy one of those funny tall hats and a pair of britches like you’re a dashing hero in a Jane Austen novel. Are you wearing them now? Well, either way, my Lord (and I don’t say that teasingly, I swear), I’ll leave it up to you. If, by some chance, you actually find this.
Twelfth Night. Seems a little childish, doesn’t it, but we were children, weren’t we? Rosemary’s favourite play. I remember the first time I saw you perform it, that was before you ever saw me. You were both so young still, youthful and laughing. And I thought, I’d give anything, do anything, to be the one who made them laugh like that. You’re not laughing now, though, are you?
Well, it’s out of my hands and for that I am grateful. Oh, don’t think ill of me dears, don’t think me a coward. Though, perhaps I am. Can’t be any more though I can I? Have to be brave, all mothers are brave, braver than anyone thinks.
Look after each other. And give my love to everyone, Maud and Dennis, Daria. And congratulations to you, you’ll make an excellent father, however many children you have.
Goodbye, my darling boys. I promise, with all my heart, that I will be a good mother to them.
With love,
Selene.
I dropped the page down and slumped back against the chair, taking a long swig of tea.
“Bugger me,” I muttered under my breath, only Mills close enough to hear. The silence dragged on and on, as the family processed Selene’s words. What she told them, what she confirmed. Richard Sandow was not Sebastian’s father. His father sat just to the side from me, head cradled by his hands, shoulders bowed as if the world had fallen on them. Our robber had chosen the right house, chosen the right man. Only, they chose the wrong place to look. I folded the letter back up and tucked it into my pocket, a useful bit of evidence if ever there was one, and I’d need it for the next time I spoke to Richard Sandow.
“Did--” Rupert began but broke off, clearing his throat. “Did she say ‘them’?”
Everyone lifted their heads, turning to gawp at him. He wasn’t paying any mind, staring up at the ceiling like he was mapping out constellations.
“Them,” Lady Hocking repeated, placing the sonogram down on the table, fingers tracing the shapes. Two shadows.
“Twins,” Mills voiced it aloud. “She had twins.”
The realisation of that reeled through me. Sebastian was at the bottom of my list. He wanted no part in any of this. But a twin?
“He didn’t say he had a twin,” I muttered.
“Maybe he didn’t know,” Dennis answered. His face brightened suddenly, and he turned away, jogging through the hallways. I watched him go and then turned back to the family.
“Can you find out?” Lord Hocking’s voice grated as he spoke. “Can you find out who they are?”
“We can try,” I answered. It wouldn’t be easy. If the child died, or was adopted, finding the right channels to go through would take weeks, months even. And it might all be for nothing. Sebastian’s face crossed my mind, and I wondered how much he knew. About his mother and this place, about the brothers. If he was ignorant about this, if Selene had lied to him about this, what else had gotten lost in translation?
“You didn’t perform it again,” Lady Hocking said to her husband. “You were supposed to perform it every Christmas, but you didn’t. Not after then.”
I met her gaze across the room, clever woman. Her and Selene both. Selene had counted on that yearly ritual, on putting on the play for their sister. It would have given her time to think, to plan. Only they never did the play. Rosemary died, and the book stayed right where it was. Untouched, for decades.
Feet clattered behind me, and Dennis returned, Maud in tow. She looked at the sonogram on the table and let out a sob, her hand rising to her mouth. I stood, making room for her on the sofa, and she folded gently down. I knelt beside her, taking her shaking hand in mine.
“She didn’t tell you, did she?” I asked her gently.
She shook her head. “I wasn’t there,” she croaked, “at the birth. She never said.”
“You knew?” Lord Hocking stared at Maud as his mind caught up. “You knew about the child?”
“I knew she had one, and that he was one of yours,” Maud replied, “but she never did tell me whose he was.
”
“You met him?” Lady Hocking inquired.
“I helped her,” Maud answered proudly, “as much as she would let me. The odd bit of babysitting, a little clean here and there, a spot of dinner in the oven for her. It was just the two of them.” She pulled her aghast eyes from the picture and looked at me. “What happened?”
“We don’t know yet. But we’ll find out. If the twin is alive, we’ll find out who they are. And speak with Sebastian,” I added. “Find out what he knows.”
“Sebastian,” Lord Hocking finally said the name aloud, his eyes falling on the battered copy of Shakespeare.
“I want to meet him,” Henry announced.
“I’ll let him know,” I said, standing up from my squat, knees creaking. “We should get on. Sooner we get this ball rolling, the sooner we get these questions answered. In the meantime, I’d think about how to get ahead of this if I were you. The robber wants something, make sure they don’t get it.”
“I’ve upped the security,” Dennis informed me. “The cameras are fully functional at every entrance and exit.”
“Good man.” I clapped him on the shoulder, rather regretful that I’d been such a staunch opponent of his to begin with.
“I’ll head to the walking path,” Henry decided, rubbing his face, “check out the parking situation. I could use the fresh air.”
“You want company?” Rose asked, looking backwards up at him.
He smiled down at her and flicked her on the nose. “Come on then, Rosie.”
She got up, squeezing her mother’s hand as they drifted from the living room.
“Tea, mama?” Rupert bounded to his feet and offered his hand to his mother. She looked pale, somewhat stricken, and yet, not overly shocked. Perhaps she had resigned herself to this possibility ever since she first learnt of Selene. Or perhaps she was unshakeable. Brave, as Selene said all mothers were.
Blood Ties Page 20