by Roy Lewis
‘And was it then that you put pressure on DetectiveSuperintendent Starling?’ Eric Ward asked softly.
A spasm of pain crossed Lord Morcomb’s lined face. It might have been physical; Ward suspected it was the agony of memory. The old man shook his head. ‘It wasn’t like that. I heard the rumours; I saw Starling; he said Egan was suspected of the break-in at Vixen Hill, so . . . so I told him a conviction would be to . . . to both our advantage.’
‘And in the end, it was certainly to Starling’s advantage,’ Ward said. ‘your influence brought him back as Chief Constable years later, I’ve no doubt. And now he’s farming at Jedburgh. You’ll have helped him with his capital, of course . . .’
The old man’s mouth twisted. ‘All right, but he told me he thought Egan was guilty, there was evidence . . . and then more was unearthed—’
‘Lord Morcomb, I believe Egan was innocent. He was just protecting his half-brother!’
‘No, I cannot believe that! If I had thought that—’
‘Don’t try to tell me you would even have been interested! Even if the facts had stared you in the face you would have been blind to them; you wouldn’t have wanted to know! You’ve been afflicted with a certain, deliberate blindness towards Egan all these years. Even if you’d known, you would still have persuaded Starling to get a conviction,’ Ward said harshly. ‘Face the facts, for God’s sake! You were responsible! You as good as put him in prison — because it suited you. What did you say to Elizabeth, pregnant as she was? Did you say that it was not just a lifetime of working-class drudgery that faced her — but a life with a suspected murderer? Was that how you persuaded her to give him up — and condemn him to a life of loneliness?’
‘No, damn you,’ Lord Morcomb said, flaring. ‘It wasn’t like that! She’d already seen sense! Egan’s conviction was merely the final straw!’
And Eric Ward now understood how it had been, how it was that Egan had raised no hand in his own defence. There was the dilemma of saving his half-brother, but there was the additional realization that the woman he loved, who was carrying his child, was prepared to give him up for the material things her husband could give her. That was why Egan had accepted his fate without a struggle: he simply didn’t care any longer. He had been beaten, dulled, the heart torn out of him by her betrayal. Prison offered no hurt for him; he was hurt enough. He stared at Lord Morcomb, and said, ‘But how could you take her back, the way it was? Why was it so important?’
Lord Morcomb’s eyes glittered. ‘My uncle and I . . . we didn’t get on. There was talk after the nullity decree that he would pass me the title only, that his own holdings would be left to the damned bog-robbing Irish branch of the family. I couldn’t accept that! And when I heard that Elizabeth was pregnant . . . you see, my uncle had a sense of family continuity. If I could say my wife was bearing a child I knew his attitude would change. And when I explained it to Elizabeth, she weighed it all in the balance. A life of poverty with a man presently charged with murder, or for her child, possession of the Morcomb estates in their entirety. That’s why she gave up Egan — for her child!’
The sun touched his face with a shaft of light, emphasizing the pallor of his skin. ‘And that’s what happened. Egan was convicted — but I swear I thought . . . And the child was born, my uncle was delighted, he made a new will . . . and then a few years later, Elizabeth died.’
‘Anne was about six years old when Arthur Egan came out of prison,’ Ward said.
Lord Morcomb smiled grotesquely. ‘So you know about that too. Bridges said you’d been asking questions. Yes . . . Egan came out, changed, quieter, resigned — but he wanted to see his daughter. She used to go over to Vixen Hill in those days, often spending days, and nights, with Michael Denby’s aunt. She was happy there — happier than with me here, for there was no woman . . . I don’t know how Egan found out, but he started going into the woods above Vixen Hill, watching for her. Just wanting to see her, perhaps — but Bridges caught him, brought him to me as a poacher. I was terrified, I thought he’d talk to the girl . . . and she was mine now, I’d grown to love her . . . Do you understand that?’
Ward nodded. He understood. ‘So you told him how much you could do for the girl, and how little he could do for her. You told him to go away — let you bring her up as yours, give her all the benefits of your wealth and position. And you paid him, didn’t you? You paid him, twenty thousand pounds, to go away and leave you both alone. Just, effectively, as you paid Elizabeth by promising her that her child would succeed to the Morcomb estates.’
‘All right!’ Lord Morcomb coughed, his hand to his mouth as a paroxysm shook him. ‘All right,’ he wheezed triumphantly, ‘but your precious Egan took the damned money, didn’t he? He took it, as good as sold her to me!’ Ward shook his head. ‘No. You’re wrong. Like Elizabeth, he sacrificed his own feelings for his daughter’s future. He took the money, but he never spent it. It was this that brought me into the whole case. You see, he left a note saying he wanted the money to go to his child Anne. He never trusted you, Lord Morcomb, and that money was for her, in case you failed her. He never trusted you — but he had no cause to feel otherwise.’
The old man leaned back in his chair, glaring at Eric Ward. His bony hands gripped the arms fiercely. ‘Well, Mr Ward. So you know these things. So why do you have them out with me now? What satisfaction do you get from it all?’
‘Don’t you understand?’ Ward asked softly. ‘Egan was a human being — and he was wronged. You sent him — or were instrumental in sending him — to prison for a crime he did not commit. You destroyed the only loving relationship he ever had and you left him with nothing. And when he came out of prison you even made sure he never saw his daughter till he died. You left him nothing, old man, nothing at all’.
‘It was for the best,’ Lord Morcomb said harshly.
‘No. Elizabeth remained unhappy until she died. Were you happy? Egan was lonely, embittered, little more than a recluse after you paid him his money and fixed him up with a job through Bridges, far enough away from Sedleigh Hall. And all this web of deceit and lies led to another two deaths — Sarah Boden, and David Penrose.’
‘You can’t hold me responsible—’
‘No, not directly. But Penrose would never have reacted so violently towards me simply had I known about his relationship with French of Carlton Engineering. He needed to kill me because he knew I’d finally work out that he murdered Sarah Boden.’
‘But that killing — what did it have to do with me, and the past?’ Lord Morcomb asked, his face ashen.
‘David Penrose was a main chancer. He intended getting money from Carlton Engineering on the side, but he had a bigger prospect in view. Marriage to Anne.’
‘I don’t -’
‘You must have known it. She was hesitating, but he was fairly confident. But he was puzzled by your reaction to the name Egan that first day I came here. And later, Anne told him she’d advised me to see Sarah Boden. So, curious, he went to see her. And was horrified by the story the senile old woman came out with. She had worked at Seddon Burn; she’d previously worked here. She must have seen your wife and Egan together — but had kept quiet all these years. Maybe you paid her to, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. But when she spilled the story to him he was horrified. What if the story got out? He was no lawyer. He knew the details of your predecessor’s will — maybe he thought the phrase “the heirs of your body” had some legal significance — for he had now learned Anne was not the child of your body. He wouldn’t have known that the laws of evidence would prevent the bastardizing of issue in this manner — he just felt that if he didn’t stop this babbling old woman’s mouth Anne could lose her right to the Morcomb estates. And with that would go his own hopes of a brilliant marriage.’ Ward paused, eyeing Lord Morcomb, shrunken in his chair. ‘Maybe he didn’t intend killing her at first; maybe she did slip and hurt herself. But he sure as hell made certain she wouldn’t rise again!’
Actions and ev
ents rooted in the past had brought about the deaths of David Penrose and Sarah Boden. The charges against Arthur Egan had, in effect, led to a murder twenty years later, and a violent death at the quarry. And yet, as Ward stared at the old man slumped in the chair, weighed down by the guilts brought home to him, he recognized that there had been a certain desperate inevitability about it all. The people who had lived out those days, all those years ago, could have acted in no other manner than the way they did — Elizabeth Morcomb, passionate but frustrated; Arthur Egan, in love for the only time in his life but betrayed, and careless thereafter; Starling, and Arkwright, and Tiggy Williams, all responding to pressures put upon them; and Lord Morcomb himself — torn by the knowledge of his own his wife’s infidelity, savaged by the pride that kept her tied to his side, overcome by the drive that demanded he make the Morcomb estates his own, as one. They could not have acted otherwise than they did, any of them, for that was the way they were made.
As now, Eric Ward could act in no other way than his character and emotions dictated.
* * *
She was waiting in the hallway when he came down the stairs. She asked him, and he told her the truth, and her eyes were misty, for the father she loved who was dying, and for the father she had never known who was dead. In a little while she asked him what would happen about all the men who had conspired to send Arthur Egan to prison and he told her it was too long ago; the proofs would never come to hand, and they would now live out their lives and their careers untouched. He explained that the estate of Arthur Egan would go to the Crown as bona vacantia, for Tommy Andrews was probably dead, and there were no official heirs of Arthur Egan. And she asked him what she should do, and he explained about the shares, how she should undertake a balanced divesting across the portfolio and thus prevent the Carlton machinations taking effect.
The police were coming down from the quarry then, as he told her to run the estate, accept her responsibilities and discharge them. There was another, deeper question in her eyes, but he would not let her ask it. He was twenty years older than she, and it was time to say goodbye.
THE END
ROY LEWIS BOOKS
ERIC WARD MYSTERIES
BOOK 1: THE SEDLEIGH HALL MURDER
INSPECTOR JOHN CROW
Book 1: A LOVER TOO MANY
Book 2: ERROR OF JUDGMENT
Book 3: THE WOODS MURDER
Book 4: MURDER FOR MONEY
Book 5: MURDER IN THE MINE
Book 6: A COTSWOLDS MURDER
Book 7: A FOX HUNTING MURDER
Book 8: A DARTMOOR MURDER
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Glossary of English Slang for US readers
A & E: Accident and emergency department in a hospital
Aggro: Violent behaviour, aggression
Air raid: an attack in which bombs are dropped from aircraft on ground targets
Allotment: a plot of land rented by an individual for growing fruit, vegetable or flowers
Anorak: nerd (it also means a waterproof jacket)
Artex: textured plaster finish for walls and ceilings
A Level: exams taken between 16 and 18
Auld Reekie: Edinburgh
Au pair: live-in childcare helper. Often a young woman.
Bar: as in The Bar, the profession of barrister.
Barm: bread roll
Barney: argument
Barrister: lawyer who argues in court
Beaker: glass or cup for holding liquids
Beemer: BMW car or motorcycle
Benefits: social security
Bent: corrupt
Bin: wastebasket (noun), or throw in rubbish (verb)
Biscuit: cookie
Blackpool Lights: gaudy illuminations in seaside town
Bloke: guy
Blow: cocaine
Blower: telephone
Blues and twos: emergency vehicles
Bob: money
Bobby: policeman
Broadsheet: quality newspaper (New York Times would be a US example)
Brown bread: rhyming slang for dead
Bun: small cake
Bunk: do a bunk means escape
Burger bar: hamburger fast-food restaurant
Buy-to-let: Buying a house/apartment to rent it out for profit
Caravan: Mobile home
Carrier bag:
plastic bag from supermarket
Care Home: an institution where old people are cared for
Car park: parking lot
CBeebies: kids TV
Charity Shop: thrift store
Chat-up: flirt, trying to pick up someone with witty banter or compliments
Chemist: pharmacy
Chinwag: conversation
Chippie: fast-food place selling chips and other fried food
Chips: French fries but thicker
CID: Criminal Investigation Department
Civvy Street: civilian life (as opposed to army)
Clock: punch
Cock-up: mess up, make a mistake
Cockney: a native of East London
Common: an area of park land/ or lower class
Comprehensive School (Comp.): High school
Cop hold of: grab
Copper: police officer
Coverall: coveralls, or boiler suit
CPS: Crown Prosecution Service, decide whether police cases go forward
Childminder: someone who looks after children for money
Council: local government
Dan Dare: hero from Eagle comic
DC: detective constable
Deck: one of the landings on a floor of a tower block
Deck: hit (verb)
Desperate Dan: very strong comic book character
DI: detective inspector
Digestive biscuit: plain cookie
Do a runner: disappear
Do one: go away