Louisa could not quite bring herself to sit down in front of them but she did not want to refuse the invitation either, so settled for perching on the arm of the sofa opposite and Guy stood by her. A tray had been brought in with hot cocoa for the women and port for the men, with a plate of savouries.
Lady Redesdale was the first to speak, and Louisa held her breath until she had finished. ‘I gather there was quite a to-do at the start of the evening, of which I was unaware,’ she said drily.
Louisa wasn’t sure what to make of this statement. ‘I’m so sorry, my lady—’ she began.
‘No need to apologise,’ Lady Redesdale cut her off. ‘The guests were in ignorant bliss, too, and as you brought matters to a successful conclusion, we can only congratulate you both on doing so with such efficacy.’
Louisa was moved. ‘Thank you, my lady,’ she managed. There was an awkward pause. ‘I’d like to explain why I got involved, if I may.’
Lady Redesdale turned her head towards Louisa, her demeanour as cool as a tall glass of iced water.
‘I’ve become very fond of Miss Nancy,’ said Louisa, daring herself to look at Lady Redesdale directly. ‘Well, of all the children. When I realised that Mr Lucknor posed a danger to the family, I knew I had to do all that I could to get him out of the way.’ She saw a thick skin forming on the top of her milky drink. ‘I am sorry that it had to be done here, on this night, but there didn’t seem to be any other way.’
‘Thank you, Louisa,’ said Lady Redesdale. ‘I can’t say that it’s all clear to me quite how or why it happened, but I have seen the sincerity of your intentions.’
Louisa wondered if she should find more to say on this but Nancy, sitting on the rug by the fire, broke in impatiently. ‘So tell us, Mr Sullivan, why did she do it?’ There was no mistaking who she meant or what she was referring to.
Guy was not used to being at the centre of so much attention, but with Louisa at his side he was emboldened to speak. ‘It seems that after the war, Mabel overheard Roland Lucknor introduce himself to someone quite by chance. She knew that he wasn’t who he said he was, but rather than telling Florence, who was still in France, and turning him over to the police for impersonation and murder, she began blackmailing him with the help of her porter, Jim.’
‘That seems an extraordinary thing for someone like that to do. I mean, someone who had worked as a war nurse,’ said Lady Redesdale, her silk dress as immaculate at the end of the night as it had been at the beginning. ‘They are often marvellous creatures.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Guy, ‘but I gather she felt quite desperate. She said she had returned from many years at war broken by the experience and had nothing at the end of it. No money, no home, only lodgings at a charitable institution in Hammersmith. I have been there and I can tell you that it is not somewhere that you would wish to end your years. She saw the chance for some easy money.’
‘But what about Florence?’ asked Louisa. ‘Wasn’t she going to end her years with her?’
‘I think that things were not easy between them after the war,’ said Guy.
‘The war did ghastly things to people,’ said Lord Redesdale. ‘If you weren’t there, you can’t imagine what it was like.’
‘No,’ said Guy, though he felt less ashamed than he did before at this kind of easy reference that former soldiers often made. He knew now that war was not the only way to serve one’s country. ‘Anyhow, it seems that Florence discovered Mabel and Jim were blackmailing him and demanded that they stop and he be turned over to the police. Mabel refused and the two of them had a terrible row. It was Florence’s birthday, she had bought herself a fur coat and Mabel said it enraged her. That she should have nothing and Florence had money to throw around, as she put it. Florence then told Mabel she had cut her out of the will, that she was going to go down to the coast to look for a cottage to buy for her retirement and Mabel was no longer part of that plan.’
‘Poor woman,’ said Louisa. ‘She must have been completely heartbroken.’
‘What about the man that was seen jumping down from the train at Lewes?’ asked Nancy.
‘That was a stroke of luck for Mabel,’ said Guy. ‘It was a red herring and it sent the police off in completely the wrong direction.’
‘Did you ask her if she went to see Roland at his flat? Was she the woman in the fur coat?’ Nancy pressed.
‘Yes,’ said Guy. ‘She went to ask him for more money and he said he couldn’t. He said he was struggling, that Lord Redesdale had cut him off and he had to pay for the bills at Roland’s godmother’s nursing home. She said that if he didn’t pay up, she would tell the police that he had killed Florence Shore and that she had the letter from Florence that proved he was capable of murder. He knew, of course, that whatever his reasons, he was guilty of shooting the real Roland Lucknor and impersonating him, gaining access to his bank account and flat. That’s why he fled.’
Lord Redesdale looked a little shamefaced; his wife was looking at him with her eyebrow raised. ‘His business proposition – a golf course – seemed sound,’ he shrugged. ‘Besides, I understand those soldiers and what they’ve been through. I wanted to help so long as I knew I could. But after Bill died, I felt guilty that we hadn’t lent him the money. When Roland came to France, I asked him for some details, as I’d seen no papers or any sign that the golf course was being built, and he reacted so angrily I knew I was right – it wasn’t real. After that, I had to stop giving him anything.’
His wife gave him a look that seemed to indicate they’d be discussing the matter further when they were alone.
Guy carried on. ‘When Roland stopped paying out, Mabel was furious with him. Then, when I mentioned Roland, Mabel panicked that I might get to him first and he would tell me about the blackmail. They decided they had to frame him for the murder, to throw us all off their scent. Jim went to see Stuart Hobkirk to try and find out what he knew of the case and what the police were investigating. When we suggested that Mabel come to the party, she saw her chance to identify him as Florence Shore’s killer. But before that could happen, Louisa –’ here Guy threw her a look of pride – ‘realised that Mabel was behind it and then she was cornered.’
‘I can’t believe what almost happened,’ said Nancy.
Louisa drank the last of her now tepid cocoa. ‘You and I had better go,’ she said to Guy. ‘It’s very late. My lady, do you think there might still be a driver who could take us to the station? We can wait there until the first train arrives; it won’t be all that long now.’
Lady Redesdale stood up and motioned for Louisa to do the same. ‘Louisa,’ she said, ‘you have shown us great loyalty, not to mention determination and courage that I would be proud to see in any of my daughters. Would you do us the honour of staying here and working for us again?’
It was all Louisa could do not to grab Lady Redesdale by the hand. Instead, she restrained herself to little more than a smile. ‘My lady,’ she said, ‘there is nothing I would like more. Thank you.’
‘Mr Sullivan,’ said Lady Redesdale, ‘you are very welcome to stay the night. I’m sure we can have a bed made up somewhere.’
‘Thank you, my lady,’ said Guy, standing. ‘I am very grateful but I have an appointment in London first thing, so I had better return as soon as I can.’
‘I’ll be coming with you,’ said Louisa, ‘if I may? I’ll be back tomorrow night. There’s someone I have to see first.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
At nine o’clock the following morning, Guy was walking up the steps of New Scotland Yard on the Embankment. In all the maelstrom of the night before, as Mabel and Jim were driven away back to London, DI Haigh had asked him to come in. Guy wasn’t quite certain whether he would be commended or criticised for the events. Although the evening had ended in two successful arrests, they were not the ones that everybody had been expected to make. What’s more, Xander Waring was guilty of murder and he had disappeared. Louisa had had her explanations but Guy was not s
ure that Haigh would be quite so understanding.
This time, Guy was shown to Haigh’s office straight away by a young sergeant on the desk, who had apparently been waiting for his arrival. When Guy came in he saw Haigh sitting behind his desk, and Superintendent Jarvis was with him. They both had stern looks upon their faces and Guy braced himself for the worst. At least he had no job to lose this time.
Haigh asked Guy to sit down, and he perched almost on the edge of the chair.
‘Right, Sullivan,’ said Haigh, who thankfully had not yet lit his first cigar of the day, though Guy could see one ready and waiting in the ashtray. ‘Roland Lucknor, who we now believe to be Alexander Waring, has vanished.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Guy.
‘He was not, in fact, the man that you had supposed to have been responsible for the death of Florence Nightingale Shore.’
‘No, sir.’ Was he to be taken point by point through his mistakes?
It seemed so.
‘Without warrant or official permission, you visited Violet Temperley in her nursing home under police guise and removed a photograph belonging to her. Furthermore, you contacted two further men to verify the identity of those in the photograph, one of whom is extremely close to the heart of the case.’
Guy could only nod. He felt his heart sinking lower with every sentence Haigh spoke.
‘Most seriously, you visited Mabel Rogers after the report of her burglary, took away with you a letter that was crucial evidence in the case and did not declare it to your former direct superior – Jarvis, here – as you should have done but came to me.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Guy, his voice hardly louder than a whisper.
‘Rather than declare your own unofficial interest, you asked your former colleague, Sergeant Conlon, to bear the responsibility of requesting cars and men to a house outside London belonging to one of our esteemed members of the House of Lords.’
Haigh looked up at Jarvis and said, ‘Well, my good man. What shall we do with him? As we discussed?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ said Jarvis.
Haigh folded his arms on the desk and leaned towards Guy. ‘Do you acknowledge the very serious errors of policing you have made here?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Guy, ‘I do.’
‘I think, then, that we had better have you under our control. It would be more appropriate, don’t you think, that you work for us in the future?’
Hope lit inside Guy. ‘Oh, yes, sir!’
‘Then I invite you to join the Metropolitan Police, Mr Sullivan, as a junior constable. You will start straight away, as you are needed to help prepare the court cases against Mabel Rogers and Jim Badgett.’
Guy stood up. He thought his heart would burst right out of his chest. ‘Thank you, sir, I won’t let you down.’
Haigh grunted. ‘The door’s behind you, Sullivan.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
Ma!’ called out Louisa. ‘Are you there? It’s me.’
‘I’m in the kitchen,’ Winnie called back. ‘Is that really you?’
Louisa ran in and found her mother, and they embraced tightly. ‘I’m sorry it’s been so long.’
‘Oh, not to worry, dear,’ said Winnie. ‘I knew you’d been working.’
Louisa stood back. ‘You look well,’ she said. ‘You’re up.’
‘Yes, I’m much better.’
Around the room, there were three or four boxes open, and Louisa noticed the books were no longer on the shelf and the framed picture of her parents on their wedding day was not on the mantelpiece.
‘Are you leaving?’
‘In a few days, yes,’ said Winnie. ‘I was going to have a note sent to you. It was Jennie who helped me. When she came over to read me your letters and write mine back to you, we used to sit and chat for a bit. I asked her if she might write to my sister, Gertie, in Suffolk.’
‘In Hadleigh?’ said Louisa.
‘Yes, that’s it. Gertie’s been on her own, as you know, since her husband died ten years ago, and we realised it was silly the two of us living on our own when we could be together, quite happy and share the cost of things. She keeps a few chickens and sells the eggs. I could do a bit of laundry work and mending there if I need to, but we won’t need much.’
‘Oh, that’s a wonderful idea, Ma!’ said Louisa.
‘It means I have to let the flat go but I don’t know that you really wanted it. Do you?’ Winnie looked shyly at her daughter. ‘I think you’re moving up in the world.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ laughed Louisa, ‘but I’ve got work, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.’
‘You still don’t have a husband,’ chaffed her mother.
‘Give over, Ma,’ said Louisa, but the mood was happy. She felt something tickling her leg and looked down to see Socks, licking at her feet. She crouched down to check – yes, those silky ears, that white tail – it was definitely Socks, Stephen’s dog. ‘What’s he doing here?’ she said. ‘Is Stephen about?’
‘No,’ said Winnie. ‘He came back here a while ago, apologised for everything and said he was going to join the army to straighten himself out.’
‘What?’ said Louisa. ‘That doesn’t sound like him.’
‘I know,’ said Winnie. ‘It was the strangest thing. I hadn’t seen him for weeks, then he turned up all of a sudden. Gave me a shock because it was at night and I was on my way to bed. He had two black eyes and looked a state. I thought he was going to ask me for steaks.’
‘Steaks?’
‘To put on his eyes.’ Winnie chuckled. ‘Anyway, he didn’t; instead he started saying sorry for everything he’d done to us and that he’d decided to turn everything around and was going to sign up the very next morning.’
‘What?’ Louisa wasn’t sure if she believed it and she must have given it away on her face because her mother nodded.
‘I know, my first thought was that he must owe a lot of money to someone and hiding in the army was the safest place for him. And maybe that is true, but he swore that he’d met a man who had explained to him what could happen if he carried on the way he was going – that he’d end up dead in a ditch before long, but if he went straight, he could save himself.’
‘Blimey,’ said Louisa, stumped for words. If that was Roland, it was true, he did know what could happen. ‘Why the army, though?’
‘He said he’d thought about it long and hard, and realised that the army would take him, give him bed and board besides wages, and keep him away from all his old muckers who might try and persuade him otherwise. He fancied travel, he said, and with luck he’d get a posting abroad before long. It was quite something, I don’t mind telling you. I saw him smile for the first time.’
Louisa shook her head in disbelief and bent down again to stroke Socks’ soft head.
‘I don’t really know what to do with the dog, though,’ said Winnie. ‘Fond as I am of him, Gertie doesn’t want him there, she says dogs make her sneeze. I was going to try Battersea Dogs Home, but could you take him back to where you work? Haven’t they got a nice big garden? They might not even notice him there.’
‘No, I can’t do that,’ said Louisa. ‘But I think I do know someone who might look after him.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
Guy checked his watch. Ten to six. He’d made it home in time for tea, and he knew all the family would be there. Even Walter was back for a few nights, while his wife was visiting her mother in Manchester.
In the front room, the logs in the fire were crackling with the kind of low flames that meant they had been burning for hours. Usually his mother only lit it at midday on Christmas, to really warm the house through. He took in the sight of his brothers and father seated in various chairs, waiting for him, it seemed, and his mother ran over to him.
‘Oh, Guy! You’ve got your old job back!’
‘Not quite,’ said Guy, though he couldn’t keep up the joke, the urge to grin was too great.
‘What’s the uniform, t
hen?’ said Ernest teasingly. ‘Got it from the costume shop, did you?’
‘Look at the crest on my hat,’ said Guy. ‘It’s not the same as the one before.’
Guy’s father walked up to him and peered up at his tall policeman’s helmet. ‘Blimey, son, Metropolitan Police Force?’
‘You are looking at a newly appointed junior constable of the London Metropolitan,’ said Guy, and the room erupted into cheers. His mother started crying, his brothers were slapping him on the back and at one point his glasses were nearly knocked off, earning another gentle tease, this time from Bertie, but Guy didn’t care. He could hear, for the first time in his life, that they were proud of him.
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. ‘You’d better answer it, son,’ said his father. ‘Impress the neighbours, would you?’
Guy grinned and, straightening his hat, went to the front door.
‘Goodness,’ said Louisa when she saw him. ‘I wasn’t expecting that!’
Guy laughed, blushing slightly. He felt a bit silly in his hat now and took it off.
‘Did you get your job back?’ she asked.
‘Almost,’ he said, unable to keep the smile off his face. ‘I’m working for the Met.’
Louisa whistled. ‘I say,’ she said, ‘I shall have to mind my Ps and Qs around you now.’
‘Not you,’ laughed Guy, relieved that she was in such good humour with him. It had crossed his mind that he had cost her her job with his relentless pursuit of the case, not to mention bringing the police and Mabel Rogers to Asthall Manor. He was about to beg her forgiveness again when he noticed Socks. ‘Hello, who’s this?’ Guy bent down to the black and white dog, wildly wagging its tail and jumping up at his legs. It immediately started trying to lick his face, making him laugh again. ‘What a good dog,’ he said.
‘His name is Socks,’ said Louisa, ‘and it looks like love at first sight, if you ask me. He’s yours, if you can have him.’
The Mitford Murders Page 32