‘No more dying,’ she murmured. ‘No more death. I can’t bear any more death.’
18
‘I guess I owe you an apology, Lord Edward,’ Mr Kennedy said, wriggling in his chair with discomfort. He wasn’t a man who found it easy to apologize. ‘I didn’t tell you everything I knew. I guess I muddied the waters. And I should have let that kid, Lulu, alone and maybe she would have been alive today. I guess women have always been my weakness.’ He spoke as though he were confessing to liking chocolate too much. ‘And when I tumbled to it that you were working for the British secret service, I jumped to the conclusion that you were trying to smear me but I know now I was wrong. I’m sorry.’
Edward was in a forgiving mood. He understood how difficult it must have been for this stubborn man to say ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t mention it, Ambassador. We all make mistakes. I was led to believe that Churchill’s would-be assassin had a connection with the American Embassy. He did not, as both you and Casey Bishop told me. I thought Casey was a killer but I was wrong. When I found him with a gun in his hand I jumped to the conclusion that he was about to kill Verity. I was wrong again and, as a result of my foolishness, Casey died and Verity might also have been killed.’
He could not admit that for a few mad moments he had believed Casey was Verity’s lover – that was a secret he would take to the grave – but he forced himself to face the fact that his judgement had been affected by his jealousy. He felt compelled to continue his confession.
‘I was already half demented at the thought of losing her. She seems to have forgiven me but I can never forgive myself for letting Casey be killed in front of my eyes. I’ve been wrong all along. I’m so disgusted with myself that I have decided to give up “investigating” crimes. I had an idea I was good at it but now I realize I was fooling myself. Hubris and the gods have punished me.’
‘You’re too hard on yourself, my boy,’ Kennedy said, putting an arm round Edward’s shoulders, ‘but I don’t say it ain’t the truth. I suppose it’s no comfort but the doctors had given Casey only a few months to live. That durned disease! Even though he looked as good as when I first knew him, it was eating him up inside. They tried everything but I’m told there’s no cure for syphilis. He wouldn’t have wanted to . . . you know, to deteriorate.’
‘Don’t try and make excuses for me. I know I got tangled up in a web of lies. Fortunately, Verity saw more clearly than I.’
‘And Eamon Farrell?’ the Ambassador inquired sadly. ‘I don’t really understand why this man Griffiths-Jones – was that his name? – murdered him.’
‘None of us guessed that Griffiths-Jones was hidden in Dr Channing’s cottage while we were staying at Cliveden. Channing, though not a Communist, was his cat’s-paw. Casey told Farrell everything he suspected – that Griffiths-Jones was orchestrating a smear campaign against you with a view to having you recalled to Washington – and Farrell went after him. He was too angry to be careful and I fear he paid the price. He loved you like a father and he died trying to protect you. A noble fellow. Anyway, Griffiths-Jones saw us go off to play golf that afternoon at Huntercombe. I think he must have seen Washington put the clubs in the boot of your car and maybe asked him where we were playing or perhaps he simply followed us.’
‘With Eamon’s body in the trunk of his car?’
‘I’m afraid so. He must have been holding his breath that we wouldn’t give up before the eleventh hole. It was a long way from the clubhouse and perfect for his purposes with a quiet road nearby leading to Nuffield along which he could escape when he knew that we had discovered the body . . .’
‘But if we had been better golfers we might never have found Eamon’s body!’
‘Perhaps he counted on Lord Astor’s dog discovering it even if we didn’t. We can be sure that, one way or another, he would have made certain that we found the body.’
‘Hmm,’ Kennedy mused. ‘But you solved the mystery in the end.’
‘On the contrary,’ Edward replied with feeling. ‘I ought to have done because Fred Rooth, one of the Cliveden gardeners, telephoned me to say he thought he had identified the car that had carried Tom Wintringham’s body to the Blenheim Pavilion.’
‘Whose was it?’
‘Channing’s. As I didn’t know that Griffiths-Jones was hiding in Channing’s cottage, I jumped to the conclusion that it was Channing who had driven the car that night. Casey was cleverer than me. He worked out who was behind Tom’s death. He was suspicious of Verity when she came to interview you. He found out – it was no secret – that she was a member of the Communist Party and suspected she had an ulterior motive for wanting to become friendly with you. He did some digging and identified Griffiths-Jones as her – what shall I say? – her superior in the Party. He marked him down then as a dangerous man. I had long known that Griffiths-Jones was quite unscrupulous but it never occurred to me that he might be a murderer.
‘I may say that Verity never did anything that wasn’t above board – never betrayed a confidence – but Farrell did not know her as I do. He believed she was out to do you harm. In fact, she consistently refused Griffiths-Jones when he asked her to do anything she thought was wrong. That was what infuriated him – that and the fact that she decided to marry me after all. She was sleeping with the enemy and that he couldn’t tolerate. In his view, she was a bad comrade. She’d betrayed Danny O’Rourke. She wouldn’t obey orders. In short, he no longer had a use for her.’
‘He’d have killed her too?’
‘For certain,’ Edward said grimly. ‘Did I mention that she has resigned from the Party? No? Well, she has, for which I am very grateful.’
‘But how did Casey know that Wintringham had anything to do with Griffiths-Jones?’
‘Tom went to Cliveden to warn you that Griffiths-Jones planned to blackmail you. He never got to see you but he did see Casey and Casey told Farrell. They discussed most things.’
‘I see. And you decided Casey was the killer?’
‘I did. I was pretty sure it wasn’t Channing even though it was his car at the Blenheim Pavilion. I didn’t think he would have the guts for one thing and, as I say, I jumped to the conclusion that Casey must have been driving it. I was quite wrong. It hurts me to admit it but I was jealous. I thought he might try to seduce Verity as he had once, long ago, stolen the first girl I thought I loved. He was very good-looking, very charming. I should have trusted Verity. I did trust her but jealousy’s an odd thing. It clouds the mind. I could say to myself a hundred times, “I trust Verity absolutely” and mean it but still be jealous. My sympathies lie with Othello. It didn’t help that Verity never really believed Casey was a murderer. I just thought she was protecting him.’
‘So Eamon, Casey and Miss Browne all worked it out before you did?’
‘They did. That’s why I am now going to retire from sleuthing and devote myself to something less demanding.’
‘Like?’
‘Sir Robert Vansittart thinks I may be some use in the Foreign Office . . . some sort of trouble-shooter. I don’t quite know yet what he has in mind. I have an appointment with him after my nephew’s wedding.’
‘Well, I guess, Lord Edward, we may see each other again. I hope so. I’m not an admirer of English aristocrats as a rule – arrogant and stupid I find most of them, but I’m prepared to make an exception of you.’
‘Before I go, may I ask you one more thing?’
‘Shoot. I owe you.’
‘Did you know Danny O’Rourke?’
‘I did. I knew him for what he was – a man of violence. I had some dealings with him in Boston a few years ago but he was never in my employ. I told the police everything I knew about him.’
‘Ah! I’m glad of that. I didn’t think you would support the IRA.’
‘I support Irish independence but not through violence on the streets of London. By the way, talking of the aristocracy, my daughter Kick seems to think she’s in love with young Billy Cavendish. I’ve
told her, he’s a nice boy but she can’t marry him, For one thing, his family wouldn’t allow him to marry an Irish Catholic with no “pedigree”, I think they call it, so I’m not too worried. She says if I won’t give my permission she’ll elope. I think she’s nuts but she won’t listen to me. She has an idea that you might be able to help her. She wants to come and talk to you. Would you do me a favour and knock some sense into the girl? She seems to think highly of your common sense but I can’t see it myself – specially not after what you have just told me.’
There was just a suspicion of a twinkle in the old man’s eyes.
‘I’d be delighted. I have a high opinion of all your children – those whom I have been privileged to meet, I mean – but Kick is very special.’
‘I’m glad you think so, Lord Edward,’ Kennedy said, getting up from his desk. ‘I would echo your sentiments in regard to my daughter. Miss Browne – Verity – is also a very special person. I don’t say I would care to be married to her. I have had all the adventure I want in my life.’ He winked. ‘Gloria Swanson was a firebrand but that’s one hell of a girl you’ve got yourself. I just hope you know what you have let yourself in for.’
The wedding was all pomp and magnificence. Winchester Cathedral was ablaze with candlelight and the assembled gathering of friends and relations of both families filled the nave. As the bride processed to the altar on the arm of her tiny, rotund father, the Maharaja of Batiala, who was almost bursting with pride, Edward shook his head in wonderment at the ways of fate. Just a couple of years back, when he had introduced Frank to Sunita at Lord Louis Mountbatten’s house, Broadlands, he could never have imagined that the daughter of his old friend would one day marry his nephew and that the future Duke of Mersham would be half-Indian. Watching Sunita process up the aisle, her long train afloat in a cloud of children – bridesmaids and pages – he was struck by her tranquil beauty and the way she carried herself, proudly but with the supple grace of an athlete.
He had no doubt that she would make an ideal Duchess and lead Frank along the right path to true happiness if the good Lord allowed him to survive the coming conflict. Indeed, there was an unspoken feeling among those who had received the coveted invitations that this was probably the last grand society wedding before the war and who could say whether there would be any such when it was over. As the congregation craned to catch a glimpse of the bride, gold and silver saris glimmered and glistened among black morning coats and the less subtle confections of Bond Street dressmakers.
Edward and Verity watched Sunita take her place beside Frank at the altar, her beauty a fragile beam of light in the darkness at the heart of the great church. To Verity, it seemed unbearably poignant – as though she was watching some ancient sacrificial ritual. It was not what she had wanted but she understood that Frank saw it as his duty to his father and his ancestors and a public statement of his love for Sunita. At least, she thought, this was no arranged marriage. Sunita had entered into this elaborate ceremony in love with Frank. Verity had no doubt that she would do her duty and bring forth heirs to the dukedom, that the Duke would love and cherish her and the Duchess would protect her against the unreasonable demands made upon her by society.
Edward had knelt before the service, his face in his hands, and prayed fervently that his nephew would survive the coming storm. He had seen the tragedy of the many thousands widowed by the last war with Germany and the many thousands more who never married because the men they might have loved lay dead in Flanders’ fields. And yet he did not pray that Frank be spared the trial before him. He would prove himself in the fire as so many of his ancestors had done. No man could escape his fate. He could only face it with courage and hope, in the knowledge that he was doing his duty and offering his country his life. Edward prayed, as he always prayed when he prayed at all, for the soul of his brother – another Frank – who had died in the first days of the Great War. Frank had made the sacrifice he had never been required to make and the knowledge humbled him.
When she reached the altar, Sunita let go her father’s arm with a loving smile and passed her bouquet to one of her bridesmaids. She raised her veil and it was as though the whole congregation held its breath. She turned to Frank and gave him a smile that left him speechless. Then she caught sight of Edward and Verity just a few feet away in the choir stalls and smiled at them as though to say that this was also their marriage. Verity’s eyes filled with tears and she gripped Edward’s hand fiercely as though she would never let him go.
Sunita’s voice was strong enough to echo down the nave as she repeated her vows. When the bishop had declared them man and wife, Frank kissed her gently and respectfully on the lips and the congregation rustled its approval. Then, at last, it was over and the bride and groom walked slowly down the aisle to the West Door to the triumphant trumpeting of the thunderous organ. Verity, who normally hated churches and religious pageants, was little more than a pool of tears. As she and Edward slowly followed after the Duke and Duchess and the Maharaja and Maharani, she could not help but recall that she could have had all of this had she wanted and she hoped Edward did not feel cheated.
Mersham Castle was at its most splendid for the party that followed. The Great Hall was decorated with branches of evergreen and blue cedar, and orchids from Mersham’s hothouses. As it was still cold, a fire blazed at one end of the hall, huge logs sending flames high into the great chimney. Torchères on every ledge and three huge chandeliers hanging from the rafters bathed the guests in soft candlelight. Much hilarity was engendered by the children from the Kindertransport as they ran joyfully among the guests, upsetting champagne glasses and chasing after Basil who seemed to take pleasure in this friendly persecution.
After the bride and groom, Verity and Edward were the most sought-after as friends congratulated them on their marriage. Verity had, with Connie’s blessing, invited several comrades who survived remarkably well the sacrilege of being guests of one of England’s premier dukes. George and Mary Castle had come, even though they had been shocked and horrified by David Griffiths-Jones’ death and Verity’s decision to leave the Party. Alice Paling was there, happily pregnant even if she were – at least for a little while longer – short of a husband. Leonard Baskin stood shyly beside her and Verity hoped he would not mind being a father to another man’s child.
Verity had also invited Tom Wintringham’s widow, Sheila, but she would not come without Jimmy Friel and, though he sent Verity a cartoon he had drawn of her as a wedding present, he could not bring himself to come to Mersham Castle. Verity respected his principles and did not press him.
Guy Liddell had been invited and, to Edward’s surprise and pleasure, had appeared at Mersham – despite the international situation – about an hour after the party started. Edward took him to the gunroom for a private conversation and, when they had discussed other matters for a few minutes, asked what he had decided to do with Fernando Ruffino.
‘It’s all been rather satisfactory,’ Liddell told him, sounding almost smug. ‘As you know, our most important task is to identify every German agent in this country so that, when war breaks out, we can put them behind bars or turn them into double agents. Ruffino is ideal material. We sent him back to Italy last week with instructions to give himself up to OVRA immediately and confess to being a British agent. He will tell them he only agreed to spy for the British in order to get out of prison but that, in reality, he’s an Italian patriot and had no intention of doing so.
‘I heard today, as a matter of fact, from my man in the embassy in Rome, that it seems to have worked – so far at least. The Italian authorities have hailed him as a hero and he’s even met Mussolini who attached a medal to his chest. His wife and son have been restored to him so he’s a happy man. Now I’m hoping that the Abwehr will step in and decide to train him as one of their agents and then return him to England. We know very little about how the Abwehr train their agents so anything Ruffino can tell us will be most useful. They have a secret training
camp at the Villa de la Bretonnière outside Nantes but we don’t know much about what goes on there.’
‘Well, I hope he’s not as confused as I am as to whether he’s on our side or not,’ Edward remarked. ‘Der Adler had, after all, nothing to do with Kennedy or the American Embassy.’
‘No, that was a false trail.’
‘So it was pure luck that we hit upon his identity?’
‘I hate to admit it but it does so often comes down to luck in our business. It was certainly lucky that you were courting Miss Browne and told her enough about your mission for her to recognize him.’
‘We owe her a lot, don’t we?’
‘We do, and England has every reason to be grateful to her.’
‘Can I tell Verity that?’
‘I will tell her myself.’
‘But surely . . .?’
‘I can let her into a few secrets now she’s no longer a member of the CP.’
‘So, she’s one of us now?’ Edward put in, sarcastically.
‘Precisely!’ Liddell said, smiling. ‘I like your girl, Corinth, but – if you haven’t realized it already – let me tell you she’s going to lead you a hell of a dance.’
‘Why does everyone tell me that? She’s just a strong-minded girl when it comes down to it, not a Gorgon.’
‘Of course!’ Liddell said, taken aback by this spurt of anger. ‘I only meant . . .’
As they lay in bed after the party, exhausted but happy, Edward asked Verity what she thought of Liddell.
‘I liked him,’ Verity confessed. ‘He said I was to be congratulated for finding out what Fernando was planning and putting a spoke in his wheel. By the way, do you tell him absolutely everything about us? I’d like to think that you at least keep our sex life secret.’
‘I don’t tell him everything – only what he needs to know,’ Edward responded guiltily, wondering if Liddell did indeed know about their sex life.
No More Dying Page 24