The Mitford Trial

by Jessica Fellowes

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Not a word to anyone else. I mean it.’

  ‘I won’t. I don’t care about anyone else anyway, I just want to see Jim. I don’t know where he is, even,’ Blythe admitted at last, emotion breaking across her face.

  ‘You will soon, but you understand everything has to be done properly, if the right person is to be charged with the murder.’

  ‘Are you a secret policewoman or something?’

  Louisa felt caught out and let out a nervous laugh, and could have kicked herself for it. ‘No, what makes you say that?’

  ‘I don’t know. You just seem a little involved in it all.’

  ‘You were the one who came to me.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Blythe tossed her head. ‘Well, I’ve said it. I’d better get back to work. Find me, will you, when they’ve let Jim out? I need to see him.’

  Louisa opened the door and nudged Blythe’s back. ‘I’ll find you.’ She wouldn’t, but even so, she had better let Guy know what Blythe had said.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  24 May 1935

  Old Bailey, Court Number One

  Almost as soon as Mr Manners had sat down, Mr Vangood was up. In spite of his generous girth and heavy-lidded eyes, he sprang up with the agility of a jungle cat. These challenges were the lifeblood of the criminal barrister, and for this provincial gentleman, the chance to corner his prey in the Old Bailey was likely to be a career highlight. The court readied itself for a showdown.

  ‘Sir Clive, could you confirm for the court your marital status, please.’

  The judge looked up sharply at this but did not interrupt.

  ‘I am a bachelor, sir.’

  ‘You have never married?’

  Sir Clive looked confused at this question but shook his head. ‘No.’

  Mr Manners was poised to object, but it wasn’t yet clear what path Mr Vangood was going down.

  ‘I put it to you, Sir Clive, that you had something of a preference for the company of Mrs Fowler.’

  When Sir Clive replied this time, it was not with the same smooth tones he had used in his cross-examination with Mr Manners. ‘I have already said that I found Mrs Fowler to be more of a congenial character than her husband.’

  ‘You’ve also said you are, I quote…’ Mr Vangood cast a glance at his notes, ‘someone who has “lived a number of years”. I think by that you were implying a certain worldliness, were you not?’

  ‘Well, yes…’

  ‘And you went on to say that you would be “a fool to think such things do not occur”. Were they happening with you, Sir Clive?’

  ‘I’m not quite sure of your question.’ The accused – for that was how it looked now – fidgeted mildly with a button on his jacket.

  ‘Did you, or did you not, attempt to seduce Mrs Fowler yourself?’

  ‘No, I most certainly did not.’

  ‘Then why did Mrs Fowler tell Jim Evans that you had told Mr Fowler that if she were to lie abed with you, that you would relinquish him of his debt to you?’

  ‘No. That’s not quite…’ Sir Clive stopped. He looked to the ceiling. He’d not said much, thought Guy, but he’d already said the wrong thing.

  ‘Not quite what you meant, but almost what you meant, Sir Clive?’ prompted Mr Vangood. ‘I put it to you, sir, that Mr Fowler was in the way of your intentions with Mrs Fowler. That he was an obstruction to your desire to be with Mrs Fowler and, having lent him money, which you knew would be lost, you now sought to use the debt as a sordid means to your own ends.’

  ‘No, no,’ Sir Clive’s voice was raised. ‘That’s not how it was at all.’

  ‘Not at all, or “not quite”?’

  To this, there was no response from Sir Clive.

  ‘On the night in question, the night on which Mr Fowler was so viciously attacked and left for dead, you were on board the Princess Alice, were you not?’ Mr Vangood had put the knife in. Was this going to be the twist?

  ‘Yes, I was. As were several hundred other guests, as you know.’

  ‘Had you seen Mr and Mrs Fowler that evening?’

  ‘Briefly, at a cocktail party in the Blue Bar before dinner.’

  ‘Did you talk to either of them then?’

  Sir Clive seemed to have recovered something of his confidence. He spoke more smoothly, more as he had when he had first taken the stand. ‘I can’t recall, but I don’t think that I did.’

  ‘Yet you definitely noticed them there?’

  ‘Well, yes. There was a fight between Jim Evans and Mr Fowler. It was over quite quickly, but it was nonetheless very disturbing for those present.’

  ‘Did you know why the fight had started?’

  ‘No, I did not.’

  ‘But you knew, as has been established in this court, that Jim Evans was Mrs Fowler’s lover. Perhaps you presumed that either one of the men believed they were defending her honour in some way?’

  ‘I suppose I must have presumed, as you say.’

  Mr Vangood hitched his trousers up over his hips. They were a little shiny over the knees. ‘Did you comfort Mrs Fowler as this fight was happening or in the immediate aftermath?’

  ‘I did not. There were others present who appeared to reassure Mrs Fowler. Shortly afterwards, she went into dinner with her husband.’

  ‘You were not dining with them on that occasion?’

  ‘No, I dined at the captain’s table.’

  The judge looked at the barrister. ‘Is this line of questioning going anywhere, Mr Vangood?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. If you could bear with me for just one more moment.’

  Sir Clive threw a look of gratitude in the judge’s direction, but this was not acknowledged.

  ‘After supper, what were your movements?’

  ‘I had a glass of brandy in the smoking room as usual, before retiring to my bed.’

  ‘At no other time that night, from going into dinner until you went to bed, did you have any interaction with Mr or Mrs Fowler?’

  ‘No, I did not.’

  Mr Vangood looked at the jury and one of the men patted his hair self-consciously, as if wondering whether the barrister had seen something there.

  ‘So you did not have an altercation with Mr Fowler in the bar at half-past eleven that night that resulted in punches being thrown and both of you being restrained by the other guests there?’

  Sir Clive was silent.

  ‘I think I had better remind you, Sir Clive, that if you tell a lie in court that is later discovered, you may be charged with perjury. A serious crime that carries a serious punishment.’

  Sir Clive drank some water before he spoke. The care he was taking to speak in a measured and calm way was clear. ‘I believe that is correct. It was over in a matter of seconds and I never gave it another thought, perhaps because the news I heard the following morning was deeply worrying.’

  Mr Vangood turned to the jury again, this time with a smile of satisfaction on his face.

  ‘No further questions, my lord.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  It was only as she was walking away from her cabin that it occurred to Louisa to wonder: how did Blythe know which was her cabin? Louisa had never told her. Perhaps it was information on those passenger advance lists that she had. Did all the staff get given a copy, or was it something that Blythe had had to get hold of in secret? The thought flitted across her mind that Blythe might have made a good agent for Iain, too. Then she shivered. What if she was another agent? No, that would be absurd. Even so, there was an awful lot of subterfuge going on. Had there been another fight between Joseph and Sir Clive that Guy wasn’t aware of?

  At that, the itch made itself felt on the surface: the conversation she saw between Sir Clive and Herr Müller. Was there a connection between Sir Clive, Wolfgang and Joseph Fowler? At the various parties and drinks, she was fairly certain she’d seen Wolfgang and Mr Fowler in the same room, but never talking. She was probably reading too much into it. Sir Clive might have been helping H
err Müller find his way somewhere; they could easily have been introduced at one of the captain’s parties and knew each other enough to be friendly.

  She didn’t like Herr von Bohlen, though. And her instinct had been right on that: Wellesley was on this ship to follow him. Mention of the mallet made her even more uneasy, though he could have talked to the doctor. It might be an open secret if the doctor was indiscreet. Even so, she must make sure that Unity wasn’t alone with him again. Lady Redesdale would agree to this easily enough. Unity’s stubbornness would be the only hurdle, but Louisa would simply have to be a very efficient chaperone.

  What she hadn’t reckoned on was Diana.

  When Louisa came into Lady Redesdale’s suite she found the matriarch sitting on the sofa, Unity beside her, while Diana stood by the drinks cabinet, mixing herself a martini. It was a little early, but Louisa had noticed a certain relaxation of their usual rules while on the ship, and it was unsurprising if the events of the previous night had thrown all protocol out of the porthole.

  ‘Louisa,’ said Lady Redesdale without looking at her. ‘I was beginning to think you had jumped overboard.’

  ‘I do apologise, m’lady. What with last night—’

  But she was cut off. ‘I don’t want to hear any more about it. As it is I can hardly face dinner tonight. All those ghastly people talking about it. I may not go at all, and plead another migraine. If that is the case, I will need you to chaperone Unity.’

  ‘Of course.’ What else could Louisa say?

  ‘I’m having dinner with Herr von Bohlen,’ said Diana, and there was a note of glee in her voice.

  Unity’s face turned a darker shade of thunder.

  ‘Darling, don’t you see? I’m doing it for you,’ Diana cooed, pouring the cocktail into a glass, the ice rattling. ‘And also for the Leader, of course. As I do everything.’

  Unity crossed her arms and stared at the floor.

  Diana sipped her drink. ‘Herr von Bohlen is sympathetic to the difficulties some of us face, when we believe in our cause. He knows how it feels; he says he’s been through very similar experiences in Germany.’ Though she faced her mother and sister, Louisa had the feeling the explanation was for her. She was stating her defence. ‘His own sister was attacked by a group of Bolshevik thugs only a few months ago. I want to talk to him about how we can tackle this awful bullying when we need to in England. For when the Leader really is our leader.’

  ‘I thought you said you were doing it for me,’ said Unity, arms still crossed.

  ‘Yes, I am. He might be very suitable, darling. Therefore I will sound out his credentials on your behalf.’

  ‘No daughter of your father will marry a Hun,’ said Lady Redesdale, then she glanced briefly at Louisa. She had reminded herself that there was a servant in the room. ‘Nor do I like this talk of young women being beaten up for their beliefs. Please stop it, Diana.’

  ‘Farve is absurd,’ Diana retorted. Louisa wondered if this was her first martini. ‘His own father barely listened to any music that wasn’t written by Wagner. Unity’s middle name is Valkyrie, for goodness’ sake. It’s only the damn war that makes him feel like that. The German soldiers he fought were a different generation – why must their children be punished for the sins of their fathers?’

  ‘I am not discussing this now,’ her mother replied quietly.

  In response to this, Diana made a show of looking at her wristwatch, an elegant gold Cartier bracelet that Louisa remembered had been a present from Bryan. ‘I need to get ready. Louisa, will you come with me, please? You can come back and fetch Unity shortly. Herr von Bohlen is collecting me from my cabin.’

  In Diana’s bedroom, Louisa laid out the evening clothes – a pale grey satin dress, cut on the bias, worn with four long strings of pearls and a short-sleeved bolero in silver fox. She looked at the bedside drawer where she knew the letters were. Could she risk trying to read that letter while Diana applied her make-up in the bathroom? Louisa knew it didn’t take her long – less than ten minutes – to draw her arched eyebrows and darken her eyes. She would finish with a red lipstick and a dab of Chanel No. 5.

  As she prepared herself, Diana called out to Louisa from the other room, chatting informally, which wasn’t usual. Louisa walked around to the drawer and slowly slid it open.

  ‘What news of Mrs Fowler? Has Mr Sullivan talked to her?’ Diana asked.

  Louisa felt protective of Guy’s investigation. She wasn’t at all sure she could divulge terribly much. On the other hand, the gossip on the ship was of nothing else. Such speculation could be more damaging than any of the facts.

  ‘Yes, he has. But I think she’s in shock, unable to say much that makes sense.’

  Louisa looked in the drawer. The letters were no longer tied up but were loose. It was going to take time to work out which one was the newest. The date would have to be after they had left London. Keeping one eye on the door, Louisa pushed the letters around, trying to see the postmarks.

  ‘I’m not surprised. She was drinking like a sailor last night,’ Diana said with a light laugh. ‘Mind you, anyone would with a husband like that. Not to speak ill of the dead.’

  Louisa found this astonishing. A man had died. He had been a bully, an unhappy and bitter old man, but his wife had taken a young lover. Could anyone be so callous about such a harsh ending, even for one like him?

  Apparently, they could.

  Then she heard footsteps and quickly shut the drawer. Damn. Foiled again.

  Diana came through, hair and make-up done, wearing her silk robe, ready to put on her stockings and dress. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Louisa. I know it was awful, but if one dwells on it too much it’s going to ruin the entire trip. With any luck Muv will decide we can leave at Rome and go straight home. I miss the boys.’ Her face changed and she quickly wiped away a tear before it had a chance to fall. ‘I’m worried, too. What Herr von Bohlen said at lunch today about the Leader and Baba … How did he know? Does it mean the whole world is talking about them?’

  Louisa busied herself with putting away the shoe trees. She wasn’t used to Diana being like this and knew she couldn’t give her the reassurance she sought. Her stupidity and naivety enraged Louisa: everyone knew the rumours about Sir Oswald. The numerous affairs, the constant flirtations, the caddish behaviour – to put it generously. For Diana to imagine that he would stop all that … She may as well have wished for flowers to turn away from the sun.

  Diana fell into a thoughtful silence as she dressed and Louisa was grateful to have no more said on the subject. Just as the quiet was about to turn awkward, there was a smart rap at the door.

  ‘Open it, would you?’ said Diana. ‘I’ll just put my earrings in.’

  Louisa walked through to let in Herr von Bohlen. Only, he didn’t walk straight inside.

  ‘Frau Sullivan,’ he said quietly. ‘I was hoping to see you this evening. I didn’t know it would be so soon.’

  This took Louisa aback. How did he know her surname? And why would he hope to see her?

  ‘Is this to do with Miss Unity? I’m sorry I interrupted you both, but you must understand—’

  Wolfgang put a finger to his lips. ‘No, no. It is not about that.’

  Louisa was silenced, and unnerved.

  Wolfgang reached into his inside breast pocket, watching Louisa’s face as he did so. He pulled out two white envelopes, showing her just enough of the writing on the front, with a familiar ink smudge.

  It was the letter addressed to ‘The Hon. Mrs Guinness’ from Sir Oswald Mosley. The letter that Louisa had taken from Diana’s bedside drawer and failed to replace. It had been in Louisa’s cabin the last time she saw it. Now Wolfgang had it in his hand.

  ‘Someone has been misbehaving, nein?’ he said with a smirk, and replaced the letters before stepping past her and into the drawing room.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Two letters. Louisa had read one of them, of course, and had meant to find a time to put it back i
n Diana’s room, but what with everything that had happened, she had failed. The second letter he held – it had to be the one that Diana had collected in Livorno. The one Louisa had been fruitlessly looking for, only moments earlier. The trip to the Continent that Sir Oswald had promised to explain was the trip with Baba that Wolfgang had indiscreetly mentioned at luncheon. Deliberately, she now realised, he had said it in front of her.

  She’d been a fool.

  Sir Oswald had written in that first letter that his reasons were for the good of him and Diana, as well as the country. If those reasons were political, Wolfgang could have his hands on information that endangered them all. She had failed in her mission.

  Now Wolfgang had the letters in his possession and there were so many questions. Why? Why had he stolen them? How had he known where Louisa’s cabin was, and how had he known there would be something to find? How could Louisa retrieve the letter and make sure it went back to Diana, before she noticed it was gone?

  Most pressingly of all: why had Wolfgang chosen to alert Louisa to the fact that he had stolen the letter and read its contents? He could only have gone to her cabin because he knew there was something he was hoping to find. If not the letter – he could not have known she had it; Diana hadn’t even noticed it was missing – then it could only be that he knew she was an agent and was looking for proof. A notebook or a scrap of paper with a code written on it. There was only one reason he would want to find something like that.

  Blackmail.

  Dread crawled into her stomach.

  It had to be Wellesley who had told Wolfgang about Louisa. He was the only other person on the ship who knew. Iain thought he could trust Wellesley, but what if he was a double agent? Whoever Wolfgang was, if Wellesley was watching him, telling Louisa to stay away from him, then Wolfgang was under protection. Untouchable. He could be capable of anything without fear of retribution.

  Even murder.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  The ship was due to dock in Rome in less than twelve hours. Guy knew that the local police had been alerted to the death of Joseph Fowler. A telegram had also been sent to DCI Stiles in London. There would be an undertaker ready to take the body and prepare it for its return to England. Embalming was needed, as soon as possible. Guy had made the mistake of going into the airless room where Joseph Fowler lay, to see if there were any clues on his body that he had missed; the smell of decomposition was already unmistakeable. The rotting flesh hit his nostrils and forcefully reminded him that he was dealing with the unlawful and tragic killing of a human being, someone who needed justice: a husband, a father. He hadn’t been perfect, but who was? He was a man who had given in too easily to his carnal desires, but it seemed to Guy that it was only in pursuit of trying to keep his second wife happy that he had made fatal mistakes, taking on work and debt that he couldn’t possibly manage. Who among them could say they would not do the same?