‘There is one,’ said Rachel. ‘Alice and I tried to open it after Joshua died but we couldn’t find the key. Then she was put in prison and I forgot all about it.’ She rose in a burst of energy. ‘Why don’t we go round there and try again?’
At that moment the door opened and Martha announced, ‘Inspector Drummond!’
In came a tall man wearing a sharply cut dark suit. He removed a curly-brimmed bowler to reveal startlingly yellow hair. Behind him came a uniformed constable. The inspector halted in the middle of the room like a general about to address his troops.
‘Ladies, gentleman,’ he said with a curt nod of the head. ‘Miss Fentiman, I’m arresting you for the murder of Albert Pond.’
Chapter Thirty
For a moment the three of them could have been waxworks in Madame Tussaud’s famous museum.
Ursula rose. ‘I think you must be making a mistake,’ she said.
Drummond hardly glanced at her. ‘You would be?’
‘Ursula Grandison, a friend of Miss Fentiman’s.’
She received a piercing look. ‘Ah, according to Doctor Barton, my old colleague’s new assistant,’ he said, his upper lip curling in a pronounced sneer. ‘I cannot imagine you will have anything to say I need to hear.’
John Pitney took a step forward. ‘Miss Grandison was about to say that Miss Fentiman spent all yesterday afternoon with myself. We were discussing her sister’s plight,’ he added.
‘And you are?’
‘Lord John Pitney,’ said Rachel, moving to his side. ‘Younger son of the Duke of Walberton.’
Inspector Drummond blinked. He looked from the young man to the girl. ‘Is there anyone who can confirm Miss Fentiman’s movements, my lord?’ He spat the title out.
‘I think my word is good enough.’
Ursula would not have believed that the gentle-seeming John Pitney could sound so haughty. In the background, the uniformed constable shifted from one foot to the other.
Once again the door opened and Martha showed in another visitor. ‘Mr Jackman,’ she announced in a resigned tone.
Ursula felt profound relief.
‘The proverbial bad penny; I should have known you would show up.’
‘Indeed, Charlie,’ Thomas said smoothly. He nodded to Ursula and Rachel and held his hand out to John Pitney, who shook it. ‘Thomas Jackman, sir. Miss Fentiman commissioned me to investigate the death of Joshua Peters.’
‘And are causing a great deal of trouble to the official police,’ said Inspector Drummond.
‘Really?’ Thomas raised an eyebrow. ‘The impression is that very little investigating is being done by “the official police”.’
‘You need to watch yourself, Tommy, or you’ll be in my clink. Which is where Rachel Fentiman is going. Constable …’
‘Just a minute, Inspector,’ Thomas broke in. ‘Do I understand Miss Fentiman is under arrest?’
‘That is so. For the murder of one Albert Pond,’ Drummond said.
‘You have evidence of that?’ Thomas challenged him.
For a moment it looked as though the inspector was not going to say anything more. Thomas regarded him steadily.
After a minute’s silent battle between the two of them, Drummond checked the condition of his fingernails and said, ‘We have a witness.’
‘A witness? To murder?’ Thomas could not have sounded more surprised.
‘Fentiman was seen entering the deceased’s lodging. Around the time the doctor declared the poison would have been administered.’
‘This is a lie!’ Rachel shouted. ‘I don’t even know where Pond lives – lived.’
John Pitney caught hold of her hand. ‘Of course it’s a lie and we’ll prove it.’
‘You have a description that fits?’ Thomas asked Drummond.
The inspector nodded.
‘If you are arresting Miss Fentiman, may we assume that you will be releasing her sister from prison?’
‘Why should you assume that, Tommy?’ A negligent, almost throwaway comment.
‘You surely don’t think there are two poisoners in action here?’
‘When they are sisters, why not?’ Drummond sounded matter-of-fact.
‘How dare you suggest Mrs Peters and I would administer cyanide?’ Rachel was almost incandescent with rage. ‘To start with, we wouldn’t even know where it could be obtained.’
‘Never been involved with rat poison?’
‘No, inspector, I have not had to sully my hands with any such activity. Nor have either my sister or I had any reason to remove my brother-in-law or his valet from this life.’ She pulled her hand away from John’s, ignored his beseeching glance, and stood alone.
‘I would question that.’
For a moment Rachel was disconcerted. ‘What possible reason could there be?’
‘Freedom.’ Drummond threw the word at her almost insolently.
‘Freedom? From what?’ The girl was magnificently disdainful.
‘From the shackles of a marriage that no longer suited, a husband who had been thrown over for another man; and you from the demands of a blackmailer.’
Rachel had lost her rage; now she confronted the inspector with a coolness that, given her situation, Ursula found extraordinary.
‘My sister returned willingly to the father of the child she is carrying.’
‘A father who would have complete power over that child. Either your sister or you decided he needed to be removed. Since then the man Pond has been blackmailing you.’ Drummond sounded very certain.
‘Indeed?’ Rachel’s voice was contemptuous. ‘And what would he be blackmailing me about?’
‘The fact that you were an accessory to murder.’
‘That is ridiculous. I had nothing to do with my brother-in-law’s death. And Pond was not blackmailing me. ’
‘I disagree.’
Ursula glanced at Thomas and saw that for the briefest of moments he looked startled. Was he revising his opinion on Rachel’s possible guilt?
‘Constable, cuff her.’
The uniformed policeman advanced, holding out a pair of cufflinks.
‘You are making a great mistake,’ John Pitney said with simple authority. ‘I shall be contacting your Chief Constable regarding your treatment of Miss Fentiman; we are affianced.’ It was said quietly but proudly.
‘But …’ Rachel started, then was silenced by a look from him. For the first time since Ursula had met her, the girl seemed at a loss.
‘Take her away.’ Inspector Drummond waved an imperious hand.
‘Come with me, miss,’ the policeman said, fastening one half of the cufflinks to her right wrist and the other to his left one.
Rachel looked panic-stricken but drew herself up. ‘You will soon realise that you are making the second serious mistake of your career. Neither my sister nor I is a murderer.’
‘I advise you to go quietly.’ The inspector put on his bowler hat and turned to Rachel’s fiancé. ‘Don’t think you can scare me with talk of grand relations.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Drummond can and Drummond does; that’s what I’m known for. No one catches more villains.’ With that he swept out, followed by the constable with Rachel.
The moment the door closed behind him, Martha rushed in. ‘What’s happened? Where’s that man taking her? Oh, not Miss Rachel as well!’ Her eyes were full of tears and her hands scrunched up the apron she was wearing. ‘What would Mr and Mrs Fentiman have said!’
Ursula put her arm round Martha’s shoulders and gently sat her down on the sofa. ‘I’m sure there’s been a dreadful mistake. But Mr Jackman is going to try and sort it out.’ She looked up at Thomas.
‘Can you help, sir?’ John Pitney asked.
‘I came here from Montagu Place. I’d hoped to be able to search for Mr Peters’ address book but the cook, who seems to be in charge at the moment, would not let me in. Mrs Trenchard’s orders. I was looking for Miss Fentiman to provide me with a letter of authority. As it is …’ he shrugged his
shoulders helplessly.
‘We were about to go there with her,’ Ursula said. ‘Apparently there is a safe and we were to look for the key.’
‘We’ll go to Mrs Trenchard,’ said Martha with sudden resolution. I’ll tell her what’s happened and she’ll give you your authority.’ She spoke as though there could be no doubt. Ursula, having seen the elderly maid with Mrs Trenchard, could not doubt it either.
‘I will go and cable my father,’ said John Pitney. ‘He will know whom to contact to get Rachel released.’
Chapter Thirty-One
They found a hansom cab and Ursula, Martha and Jackman squeezed in.
‘The last time I saw Mrs Trenchard,’ Jackman said after he’d given their direction and the cabbie managed to get his horse into motion, ‘she banned me from ever entering the Peters’ house again. Is there a chance she will have forgotten or forgiven?’
Martha harrumphed, ‘Mrs Trenchard doesn’t forget and she doesn’t often forgive. But she’ll be that beside herself to hear of Miss Rachel’s arrest, I reckon she’ll be grateful for any help.’
Ursula looked at the indomitable figure sitting between her and the investigator, cotton-gloved hands clasped tightly together. Here was someone who gave her loyalty wholeheartedly to the family she had served for so long. What was it Rachel had said? Martha had been her mother’s personal maid.
‘You must have known Miss Rachel since she was small,’ Ursula said to her.
‘Since she was born. And a right fighter she was from the start. Nanny had such a time with her. “Miss Imperious” she called her.’ Martha gave a tight smile. ‘It wasn’t for herself she wanted anything, though. Miss Alice was the older but from the moment Miss Rachel could haul herself upright and stagger around clutching on to the furniture, she was her sister’s protector.’
Ursula could sense Jackman listening intently. She wanted to say that Rachel being Alice’s protector didn’t mean she would murder for her. ‘Did you say you weren’t at home yesterday afternoon, Martha? I’m sorry,’ she added. ‘I don’t know your surname.’
‘I’m Battle, Miss. But Mrs Fentiman said she couldn’t have me called that so I’ve always been Martha. And, yes, I wasn’t there yesterday. Mrs Trenchard had garments to sort out for one of her charities.’ She looked down at her gloved hands. ‘Supposed to be clean them clothes were but if that’s what’s called clean, I’m a dustman.’ Her nose wrinkled. ‘Wanted a hanging in the fresh air but Mrs Trenchard said there wasn’t a point. Better to sort and get them over to the Reverend who’d know who needed them, that’s what we had to do.’
‘So you don’t know where Miss Rachel was yesterday afternoon?’ Jackman said, his tone carefully neutral.
‘That young man says she was with him!’ Martha gave a snort. ‘Well, if Lord John says that, that’s what we have to accept.’
‘You don’t sound as though you approve of him,’ Ursula slipped in.
Another snort. ‘Someone who tinkers about with machinery all day! A salesman! I don’t care if he does call himself a lord; I wouldn’t trust him further than that auto thing he drives can go.’
Ursula quashed the temptation to say that would mean a long way. ‘I think we’re here,’ she exclaimed as the cab drew up outside a solid-looking semi-detached house in a road that had every appearance of respectability and comfortable living.
Jackman reached up the fare through the little door in the cab’s roof then helped out his fellow passengers.
‘You’d best let me do the talking,’ said Martha. She advanced up well-whitened steps and banged the gleaming knocker hard. ‘We need to see Mrs Trenchard, Polly,’ she said to the neat maid who opened the door.
‘She’s not receiving,’ Polly said, not looking impressed with the trio on her doorstep.
Martha shouldered her way in. ‘You should know better than that, my girl. Tell the mistress I’m here and it’s important.’
The maid’s face set in a sulky expression.
‘Look lively,’ said Martha.
‘It’s that the master isn’t well,’ Polly said in a voice that mixed triumph with resentment.
A door opened and Mrs Trenchard appeared, ‘Who was it, Polly?’ She sounded exhausted.
‘Miss Battle, Madam. Says it’s important.’
Mrs Trenchard’s face was pale and drawn. ‘Why, Martha, what brings you here?’ Then she saw her other visitors. ‘Mr Jackman!’ She did not sound welcoming. ‘And Miss Grandison.’ Still disapproving. Then her expression changed, became almost hopeful. ‘Is it something to do with Alice, that is, Mrs Peters? Is she being released?’
Martha’s control vanished. ‘Oh, ma’am, it’s Miss Rachel. She’s been arrested!’
Mrs Trenchard’s hand went to her throat. ‘No!’ She staggered for a moment and Ursula slipped a hand underneath an elbow.
‘Let’s sit you down.’ She led the woman back into the drawing room and settled her into a comfortable chair.
‘A glass of water, Polly,’ said Martha sharply.
Mrs Trenchard put a hand to her forehead. ‘I knew Rachel would take matters too far. All that talk of militancy. Emmeline Pankhurst will have a lot to answer for; I will never forgive her for leading my niece so badly astray.’
‘I’m afraid Rachel’s arrest has nothing to do with the fight for women’s suffrage,’ Ursula assured her.
‘She is being charged with the murder of Albert Pond,’ said Jackman quietly.
Mrs Trenchard looked at him, her expression blank. ‘Albert Pond? Joshua’s valet?’
Jackman nodded. ‘His body was found this morning. He was almost certainly poisoned in the same fashion as Mr Peters.’
‘And my poor Rachel is being accused of causing his death?’
‘I am afraid so.’
Mrs Trenchard looked wildly around the room, her fingers digging into the padded arms of her chair. ‘Oh, it’s dreadful, too dreadful. But will Alice now be set free? I cannot allow that Rachel could have been responsible for so terrible an act but at least the accusation should release her sister.’
‘I am afraid not. Inspector Drummond is convinced that Mrs Peters poisoned her husband and Miss Fentiman copied her in killing the valet.’
‘But why?’
‘My investigation into the death of Mr Peters has led me to believe that he and Pond have been blackmailing various persons.’
Mrs Trenchard stared at him. ‘Blackmail! Surely not!’
Polly entered with a glass of water; Martha insisted on taking and handing it to Mrs Trenchard.
Jackman watched in silence as she drank a little, then said, ‘Miss Grandison is assisting me in my investigation and we are here because there is a possibility Joshua Peters has left some evidence that could prove this assertion in a safe at his home. We would like to visit Montagu Place and see if we can open it. In order to do so, we require authority. Miss Fentiman was about to accompany us there when Inspector Drummond arrested her.’
‘And now you would like me to go with you instead?’
Jackman nodded.
‘I am afraid that will not be possible. Mr Trenchard is not at all well and I have sent for the doctor. When you arrived, I thought it might be him.’
‘Madam, if you wrote a letter,’ said Martha, ‘and I went with the lady and gentleman, then I think Mrs Firestone would be willing to allow us access.’
Mrs Trenchard closed her eyes. After a long moment she looked up at Ursula. ‘I cannot bring myself to believe such a dreadful thing. Oh, that my sister had never allowed that benighted match between Joshua Peters and poor, dear Alice. Martha, give me your arm as far as my desk and I will write a note to Mrs Firestone.’
Some five minutes later, an envelope was handed over. ‘One thing: Martha, you are to remain with Miss Grandison and Mr Jackman at all times. You will report to me tomorrow on exactly what has transpired. You understand?’
Before Martha could respond, the doorbell rang. ‘Ah,’ said Mrs Trenchard. ‘That will be the d
octor. At last!’
Instead, in rushed Daniel Rokeby, Polly just managing to snatch his broad-brimmed hat from his head. ‘Sorry, Madam,’ she blurted, ‘I couldn’t stop him.’
‘Where is Rachel? She’s not at home and nor is Martha. I’m so worried about Alice.’ The words poured out of him. Then he realised that Mrs Trenchard was not alone. He stood for a moment, taking in the scene he’d disturbed, his long hair tousled, brown cord trousers badly worn, dark red velvet jacket creased and with the corner of one of the pockets torn, cream silk cravat crumpled. ‘Oh my God, something’s happened, hasn’t it? Tell me where Rachel is.’
Mrs Trenchard reached a beseeching hand towards Jackman. ‘You’re the investigator,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Please tell Mr Rokeby.’
As Jackman gave brief details, Daniel dipped his head and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. When the investigator had finished, he looked at him. ‘I’ll come with you to Montagu Place. I came here because Alice has sent me a letter and it reads as though she has realised she has little hope of liberty. We must do something.’
‘Do you have the letter with you?’ asked Mrs Trenchard.
Reluctantly he produced a piece of paper and handed it to her.
Mrs Trenchard read it carefully, then closed her eyes and allowed it to drop on her desk as she rested her face on her hand. ‘It would seem that Alice anticipates the worst. At least she is safe until her child is born.’
Ursula felt frozen by this development. ‘When I was with her in Holloway,’ she said, ‘Alice seemed to believe that because she was innocent, justice meant that eventually she would be freed.’
A Fatal Freedom Page 33