‘He’s in Paris; as far as we know.’
‘Really? Well, that would make sense—Freddie adores Paris. He’s obviously got himself embroiled in another little scandal. I do keep hoping that he might mature enough to grow out of all of this high drama … but I’m afraid there’s been no evidence of it so far. Thank you for sharing that with me, George, it’s appreciated … Light?’
Harley leant forward to touch his cigarette to the flame from Euphemia’s engraved silver lighter. He lingered for a moment, thrilled by the way she met his eye, then sat back to savour the first pull on the smooth Turkish tobacco.
‘You know Violet blames herself for what happened earlier, don’t you?’ he said after a while. ‘She thinks she put your life at risk by bringing the parcel into the apartment. She got quite upset about it.’
‘Oh, the silly girl! It’s a lot of fuss over nothing, as far as I see it.’
‘I beg to differ.’
‘Remember, George, I opened the parcel. I’m no expert, but even I could see that it wasn’t a proper bomb, just a stick of dynamite in a box—someone’s idea of a joke. Rather poor taste, but there you are.’
‘I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that, Effie. That explosive was dangerously unstable. The Royal Engineers that came to remove it said it could have gone up at any minute. They wouldn’t even risk transporting it back to their barracks—blew it right here, just outside on the rec’. It was just sheer luck that you and Violet weren’t killed. An explosion in a small space like this—it would have been carnage. You saw what happened at Spitalfields.’
‘But … I …’
Visibly shocked by Harley’s revelation, Euphemia stood up and turned her back to him, placing a hand on the mantelpiece to steady herself.
‘That poor girl …’
‘For Christ’s sake! This ain’t about Violet, Effie—it’s about you! Don’t you see? Someone’s trying to kill you!’
Harley stood now and took a step towards her. He could see her tears in the mirror, the tremble of her shoulder. His instinct was to place an arm around her, draw her close … He reached out a tentative hand and after a moment’s hesitation she buried her face in his neck … then pulled away again immediately, wiping at her cheeks with her palm.
‘I do apologize! I’m acting like a silly schoolgirl again. It was just the shock of hearing it like that. I thought … Oh, I don’t know what I thought—that it was just a silly prank, I suppose.’
She walked over to the drinks cabinet.
‘I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Care to join me?’
‘Just a little one—I’ve got a feeling I’ll be working late tonight.’
‘A little scotch, soda?’
She busied herself with the drinks, chugging her first one down in seconds and then refilling her glass.
‘Here you are …’
‘Thanks,’ said Harley, clinking glasses.
‘You must think me weak, George. But you’d be surprised—I’m no stranger to death, to danger … God knows I saw enough of it in France.’
‘It’s not weakness. It’s perfectly human—you’ve had a shock.’
Euphemia took a long draw on her whisky and shook her head.
‘It’s not just that … You see my brother, Rupert—my twin, actually—that’s how he was taken: an explosion, direct hit, at Ypres … nothing left of him, they said. But, of course, that’s not true, is it? It can’t be … He must have still been there—vaporised in the air, inhaled by his comrades, on their uniforms, under their feet, assimilated into the Flanders mud. My father found it so difficult to take—the fact that we had no body to bury. As if that makes any difference.’
‘Oh, believe me—it does.’
She studied his face for a moment.
‘Just now … Well, it brought it all back, you see—the thought of the apartment blown apart like that, of what would have happened to Violet, to me …’
‘Who’s responsible, Effie? You must have some idea.’
She shook her head slowly, closing her eyes and placing a hand to her forehead.
‘George,’ she whispered. ‘I wonder … would you hold me? Just for a short while … would you?’
He took a step towards her … And then he was in close, embracing the soft yield of her flesh beneath the gown, her hot breath on his neck … her lips, searching, finding his mouth. Urgent now, the flimsy silk pushing against the coarse material of his suit, his hands finding the cheek of her rump … The taste of liquor and tobacco from her tongue …
The doorbell rang … and then rang again. From the hallway came the sound of the bobby greeting someone.
‘Damn!’ said Harley pulling away. ‘Bloody Pearson!’
He put some distance between the two of them and straightened his tie.
There was a light knock on the door.
‘Come!’ said Lady Euphemia, pulling the silk robe back into place with the innate sangfroid of the aristocracy. ‘Ah, Mr. Pearson. I wonder if you might give us a moment? George here was just explaining about the dangerous condition of the dynamite and … Well, I’m afraid it came as rather a shock to me.’
‘Of course, Lady Euphemia. I’ll just be outside, George,’ said Pearson, with an enquiring glance at his rather flustered-looking partner.
‘Thanks, Albert! I won’t be long,’ said Harley, sitting back down in the armchair with his back to the door, making sure he kept his face from view.
‘Alright, George. But don’t forget we’ve got that appointment later; we can’t be late for General—’
‘Yes, Albert! Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten …’
‘If you’re going to be a while, maybe I should—’
‘Albert! I get the message! I’ll be fifteen minutes, tops.’
Pearson retreated once more into the lobby.
‘Well, I don’t quite know what to say …’ said Euphemia once Pearson had gone, attending to her hair in the mirror above the fireplace. ‘I assure you, I don’t usually go around throwing myself at policemen.’
‘I’m not a policeman,’ said Harley, unable to suppress his grin.
‘No, no … of course not. Oh dear! How embarrassing, George!’
She turned and on spotting his grin succumbed to a burst of nervous laughter.
‘Shush!’ said Harley, placing a finger to his lips. ‘You’re supposed to be in shock.’
‘Oh … but I am—believe me!’
She retrieved her drink and came to sit opposite him again.
‘Albert’s right, unfortunately,’ said Harley. ‘I can’t stay long. And I do need to ask you a few more questions.’
‘Be my guest.’
‘Well, firstly, how would you describe your relationship with Giles Pembroke.’
‘Giles?’ she took a sip of whisky, and thought for a moment. ‘Well, he’s an old family friend. Rupert and I grew up with him. For a time the three of us were quite inseparable. You see his father was a very good friend of our father’s, and as the local vicar in Grubberton used to take the services at our chapel on the estate. Giles spent an awful lot of his childhood at Chantry Hall with us.’
‘What kind of man is he, would you say?’
‘Well, let’s see. He’s a little introverted—gets a little flustered around crowds.’
‘Not a great trait in his line of work, surely?’
‘Oh, I think Giles only went into the church because he didn’t really know what else to do. I don’t mean to do him a disservice, I’m sure his faith is genuine, only … well, let’s just say that he’s not exactly a people person.’
‘At which church is he based?’
‘He isn’t. He takes the odd service at Chantry Hall from time to time—at Easter and Christmas, that kind of thing … but apart from helping out at the welfare drop-in he mostly keeps himself busy with his studies—like his father, Giles is a keen historian.’
‘Really? Does he have a particular speciality?’
‘Medieval England—he’s
quite an authority, apparently.’
‘Is that so?’
Harley began to sense that he might be finally nearing a break in the case.
‘Tell me, do you know where Giles is at the moment, Effie? The bishop’s office said he might be at a seminar in Wells.’
‘I doubt that very much, that doesn’t sound much like Giles to me. I’m assuming you’ve tried his London address? Well then, when he’s not up in town he’s usually to be found down on the estate.’
‘Chantry Hall?’
‘Yes, my uncle lets a small cottage to him.’
‘Are Giles and your uncle close?’
‘Not particularly—but as I said, we all regard Giles as part of the family.’
‘Medieval History, eh? Interesting.’
‘I’m afraid I’ve always found it a little dry, actually. Maybe it’s a boy thing?’
‘Maybe it is,’ said Harley, smiling. ‘Do you think you’ll be hearing from him soon?’
‘Giles? Oh, I expect so. He’s never away for very long.’
‘Violet thinks he might have a little crush on you, you know.’
‘Does she now? Well I’m not sure I approve of Violet gossiping about such things. I shall be having a word with that young lady tomorrow.’
‘Come on, cut her some slack. It’s my fault—I was pressurizing her for information. I don’t want to get the girl in trouble.’
‘Well, if it’s of any significance at all, I believe Giles did used to have a little thing for me … but that was years ago now, when we were much younger. I can’t begin to imagine how Violet would know about that.’
‘Maybe he’s still carrying a torch for you? Only, you can’t see it.’
‘Oh, it’s possible, I suppose … But where is this leading to, George? You can’t possibly be suggesting that Giles had anything to do with the dynamite, can you?’
‘I’m just trying to build a picture, getting to know what we’ve got to work with.’
‘Well, surely the greeting card is significant—after all, it was addressed to “Daubeney’s Brat”—reference to my uncle, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Or your father.’
‘My father? My father’s dead, George.’
‘I know, but you’re still his daughter, aren’t you? If they were after your uncle’s daughter they would have gone for Lady Augusta, wouldn’t they?’
Euphemia gave a little laugh.
‘I would imagine that a stick of dynamite would be water off a duck’s back to Gussy. It’s the kind of thing she’d make everyone bring along to one of her parties, as a dare.’
‘Really?’
‘No, of course not—I’m being facetious … I simply mean that such a threat might have less impact if sent to my cousin. She’s a formidable character—takes after her father.’
‘Yes, I know—Pearson and I have had the pleasure of making her acquaintance. I think Albert’s still recovering.’
‘Now then,’ she said teasingly, ‘if you’re going to be rude about my relatives I shall have to draw this interview to a close, Mr. Harley.’
The private detective looked at his watch and rubbed his chin.
‘I hate to say it, but I’m gonna have to call it a day soon anyway; otherwise I’ll have to deal with the wrath of General Sir Frederick Swales.’
‘General Swales … Yes, an extremely useful contact, I would imagine—in your particular line of work.’
‘FW? Yeah, well—we go back a long way.’
‘Back to the Essex thirteenth battalion’s elite trench-raiding squad, I believe. Not for the faint-hearted I’d imagine, that kind of thing … And then there’s that DSM of course. You’re obviously a man of character, George Harley.’
‘Blimey! Somebody has been doing their homework.’
‘Why, George—I do believe you’re blushing! How touching.’
‘Right, that’s quite enough about George Harley … I haven’t got much time left. One more question: have you ever heard your uncle or your cousin Freddie mention someone called Ludovico Girardi?’
‘Girardi? No, no I can’t say that I have, I’m afraid. Italian? Is he connected to these anarchist bombings?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Well, most of these extreme political ideas seem to originate in mainland Europe, wouldn’t you say? Marx, Mussolini, this chap Hitler we keep reading about—these Europeans do seem to have rather a flair for that kind of thing, wouldn’t you say?’
Harley gave a short laugh.
‘Well, you might be right there, Effie.’
Euphemia got up and walked over to the drinks cabinet.
‘Would you like another?’
‘No, really—I’d better be going.’
She turned now with the whisky decanter in her hand.
‘Would you like to know my theory on who’s responsible for this dynamite prank … or attempted murder … or whatever it turns out to be?’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, for what it’s worth, I believe that the “Daubeney” on that greetings card was referring to my uncle. Has anybody considered his recent speeches in the Upper House on Irish protectionism and this new Fianna Fáil government?’
‘You think it’s the Fenians?’
‘Is that so hard to believe?’
Euphemia poured herself a generous measure of scotch and went to sit back down in her armchair.
‘You probably think I should be demurely sipping a sherry,’ she said, noticing Harley eyeing her glass. ‘But I’m afraid I rather need this at the moment.’
‘Not at all—I admire a woman who can hold her drink.’
She lit herself another cigarette.
‘And then of course there’s the whole Indian problem … My uncle was very outspoken about Gandhi’s release from prison—he felt we should have made more of an example of him. As Viceroy he took rather a firm stance, you understand. There are bound to be elements amongst the Indian self-rule fanatics who regard him as a legitimate target.’
‘Your mystery whistler?’
She shrugged. ‘Who knows what goes on in the minds of these people; anarchists, terrorists … of course, it might just be some lone maniac.’
Harley now stood up and grabbed his hat from the table.
‘Right, well, you’ve given me plenty to think on.’
‘I’m sure I have,’ said Euphemia, giving him a provocative smile. ‘I hope you’re not late for your appointment with the General. Send him my regards, by the way.’
‘You know FW?’
‘Not really—we’ve met once or twice at social functions. I was billeted with his niece for a while during the war, in the VAD.’
‘I see … Well then, I’ll be saying goodbye.’
Harley waited awkwardly for a moment, not sure whether Euphemia was about to stand or not. But she remained seated, crossed her rather fine legs and blew a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling, her eyes beginning to show the effect of the whisky.
‘Goodbye, George Harley.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
As the door opened to admit the new recruit the clusters of church candles illuminating the vaulted cellar guttered a little, spilling more of their wax into the solidifying puddles below the wrought iron stands. From two large bronze censers there wafted the perfumed smoke of incense, folding lazily in thick ribbons above the heads of the guests seated around the large Jacobean oak table. These guests—attired in formal evening wear—now ceased their small talk and turned their grimacing Green Man faces to study the newcomer.
The individual administering at the head of the table wore an embroidered robe over his dinner jacket, adorned with the same vibrant green leaves that engulfed the haunted features of his Verdoy mask. This robed figure now held his hands up to bring silence to the dimly lit room.
‘So, brother neophyte—hear me now! As the taint of corruption creeps in the veins of this once vital nation it is time that we reflect on what we have sown by examining what we reap.
I ask you: are you ready with your oath?’
‘I am.’
‘Very well, let all present hear thy words!’
***
There had been a brisk walk for the raiding party from the field where they had decided to park the vehicles—far enough away from the manor house so as not to arouse suspicion—and by the time they had reached the perimeter wall of the estate the group of Special Branch and SIS officers were warmed up and ready for action, their breath gathering in small clouds in the damp air.
Colonel Chesterton—the commanding officer in charge of the operation—pushed the flop of sandy hair from his eyes and gestured for the group to gather in a little closer.
‘Right men,’ he said, sotto voce, ‘as you’ll know from the briefing, there are four possible points of entry. Dickie—you and Straker take your crews and cover the three rear entry points … Harley and Pearson, I’d like you to team up with Straker’s crew, if you would … Snip—you’re with me; we’ll take our boys and cover the main door at the front … We go in at twenty-one forty-five precisely; swift and silent … Once inside, Dickie—ground floor. Straker you cover the cellar areas—don’t forget your torches. Snip, we’ll concentrate on the upper floors. Once we’re in we’ll need two men on each entry point—inside and out. Firearms, if you have them, should be drawn on entry and used judiciously. Remember—we need them detained and questioned … not cold and on a slab. Right chaps, synchronize your watches … I have twenty-one thirty five … in five, four, three, two, one!’
The men split into three groups and set off stealthily across the lawn, keeping low and avoiding the crunch of the gravel on the sweeping drive.
***
In the hushed silence of the cellar the Verdoy neophyte now held a hand to his breast and turned to address his audience:
‘I, being of sound mind and body, and having resolved on this day to further devote myself to the glorious work of restoring this once great nation, do, of my own free will, hereby and hereon, most solemnly promise and swear …’
He paused to lay a hand on the upturned golden chalice placed before him.
‘… to strive to restore the King to his rightful position as the mirror of his people’s virtues, as their protector from private interests, and as their supreme executor of Government.’
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