The Hanging Cage (The Northminster Mysteries Book 4)

by Harriet Smart

  “Major Vernon, who has charge of the case, is not sure that is what happened. And even if it did, he likes to be clear on all points. He is a thorough man. I believe that Miss Barker and her friend Miss Rivers used to come here to see Mrs Yardley, quite often,” Felix went on.

  “Yes, they were often here. I encouraged them to come. My sister-in-law is still very young – she needed young people around her. She no doubt told you that she had two miscarriages in less than a year.”

  “And what did you think of them?” Felix said.

  “They were both pleasant girls – provincial and, of course, hardly Mrs Yardley’s social equals, but they did not presume, which I liked about them. They were pleased to come and we were pleased to have them.”

  “And you never got any hint of Miss Barker being unhappy, or having some uncomfortable secret?”

  “No,” she said, with a frown. “Perhaps I was not paying much attention to her. She seemed contented enough. It is a terrible thing that she felt driven to such a terrible act. I hope your Major Vernon does find the cause of it. It will be a comfort to those who loved her to know.”

  The door swung open and Briggs Yardley in his velvet gown came sweeping in.

  “Ah, you are hiding him in here, sister,” he said, seeing Felix.

  “Hardly,” said Miss Yardley.

  “How does my boy?” said Yardley, pulling a chair up to the tea table.

  “Very well. And Mrs Yardley,” said Felix.

  “Good work, good work!” said Yardley and reached out and slapped Felix on the thigh. Felix hoped that this enthusiasm was not at the thought of his resuming relations with Mrs Yardley. How on earth was he to begin that conversation, and when? This was certainly not the moment, he thought, watching as Squire Yardley deliberated over the plate of cakes.

  He took one of the iced ones, popped it into his mouth and, still chewing, looked across at Felix, in a manner that Felix found disconcerting. It was not the look of polite enquiry but a challenge, as if they were about to begin a game. A game that Felix felt sure Squire Yardley expected to win. At that moment Felix entirely understood Mrs Yardley’s reluctance to resume relations with her husband. The man might have been handsome, in an angular way, but there was something in his manner that induced a feeling of repulsion.

  Felix decided there was one matter at least that he could raise.

  “I understand from Major Vernon that you were at the Black Cat on the day Mr Gosforth killed himself,” he said. Yardley nodded. “It puzzles me – why did you come into the room and try to speak to him?”

  “There was nothing puzzling about it,” said Yardley, leaning back in his chair, very much at his ease, with a foot resting on his knee. “Merely wishing to know how the poor young fellow was doing. He had lost his love, after all, and in distressing circumstances.”

  “You knew about that?”

  “It was commonly known, I thought – his aspirations for her hand. But then, who would not aspire to a fortune under your own roof? An easy wooing and such a beauty!”

  “Who told you Mr Gosforth was in the room with Major Vernon?”

  “The publican’s wife.”

  “So you knew he was in there with a police officer, and under inquiry?”

  “What of it?” said Yardley.

  “I am just wondering why you then took it on yourself to go into what was a private meeting.”

  “It was in a common inn parlour, not a private room. I wanted to see how he was,” said Yardley. “And as a Justice of the Peace, I am quite entitled to supervise the business of the police. Indeed it is my duty. And perhaps I should have been a little more more vigilant in my duty, Mr Carswell, and not allow your Major Vernon to push me from the room in such a peremptory manner.”

  “I very much doubt he did that,” said Felix.

  “In effect he did. It was not civil.”

  “In his defence, he did not know who you were, sir.”

  “Quite,” said Miss Yardley. “He would not know you from a common hoodlum, Briggs. If you will frequent such places as the Black Cat in that filthy old shooting coat of yours, you must take the consequences.”

  Yardley ignored this and occupied himself with the business of choosing which of the little iced cakes he would eat next.

  “It’s a curious matter, altogether,” he said, finally making his choice of a pink one. He relished it and, brushing the crumbs from his beard, went on: “Now I come to think of it, we only have your employer’s word for it that the man put the flask to his own lips. No-one else saw what went on, after all.”

  “Briggs,” said Miss Yardley, “really –”

  “We don’t have any objective evidence,” Yardley said. “I should not be happy if such a story were brought before me on the bench, I can tell you.”

  “And why would Major Vernon wish to kill the witness he had been hunting for the last few days?” Felix managed to say after a moment. He had wanted to say something pretty sharp but he realised that was exactly what Yardley wanted from him. He put down his tea cup and got up. “Thank you ma’am. I have taken up too much of your time already.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “He has a point,” Giles said when Carswell had related his conversation with Mr Yardley. They were in the private sitting room at the Falcon. “Oh, and before I forget – I found this in her room, wrapped in a cloth. Why would she keep a common spoon in her drawer? It is probably not of any consequence, but one never knows.”

  Carswell turned it a few times in his hands, examining particularly the heavily tarnished silver at the end of the handle. He moved over to the oil lamp on the table to look at it better and then pressed it against the flesh of his palm for a long minute. He looked down at his palm with satisfaction and then held out his hand to show Giles the mark.

  “Does that remind you of anything?” he said.

  “No,” Giles had to admit.

  “Perhaps if I do this,” Carswell went on, going to the fire and crouching down in order to thrust the end of the spoon into the heap of burning coals. He left the spoon there, and took off his coat and rolled up his coat sleeve. Then he pulled out the spoon by the bowl, using the cloth it had been wrapped in, and laid the tarnished, now heated end against his bare skin, grimacing in pain as he did so.

  “Lord, but that hurts!” he exclaimed, throwing down the spoon on the hearth. He swore again, waving his arm. “But I think – yes!” he added with triumph, looking down at the mark. “That looks more like it.”

  “The marks on her thighs,” Giles said, coming to his side and looking at the reddened skin. “A heroic demonstration, Mr Carswell. Thank you.”

  “I should do it again, to be certain,” said Carswell. “But I would rather not, at least not now. It was surprisingly painful. And the flesh on her thighs would be much more tender.” Giles winced at the thought. “Why would anyone do that someone?” Carswell went on.

  “Or to themselves?” Giles said. “Remember Don Xavier and his cat of nine tails?”

  “Self-punishment,” said Carswell. “Poor creature to be driven to that. By shame, perhaps?”

  “Did you establish whether she was a virgin or not?” said Giles.

  “She was probably not. But you say she was married?”

  “She may have anticipated the altar. Perhaps he seduced her.”

  “Gosforth, you mean?”

  “She was happy to marry, it seems, though I only have Mrs Ampner’s word on that at the moment. I will have to see what the clergyman says. Perhaps it was relief rather than happiness.”

  Carswell nodded and looked down again at his arm. “That is much clearer now,” he said. “And I need a piece of ice.”

  Giles rang for the servant while Carswell sat down and pressed his lips to his arm. Giles poured him a glass of claret.

  “A clandestine marriage, and then an apparent suicide. Perhaps he did murder her,” he said, handing Carswell the glass.

  “Are you not having one, sir?” Carswell said
.

  “Not just yet. I have to ride out to Woodville Park. I am bidden to dine and sleep with Lord Milburne.”

  “I shall have to make do with my own company, then.”

  “My apologies. There are Gosforth’s papers if you feel bored. Bad poetry by the look of it.”

  Carswell sipped his claret and smiled at it.

  “Hence the nice bottle?” he said.

  “I thought you might appreciate that. And had I known you were going to burn yourself in the service of justice I would have ordered the 29.”

  “This will do nicely,” said Carswell getting up from his chair. “Though I wish I could send a glass down to Mrs Connolly.”

  “If it is any comfort, Carswell, I believe she will be indispensable in this business. It may take a few days, though.”

  Carswell nodded and drained his glass. He walked over to table where Giles had left Gosforth’s literary output.

  “It is a good thing that there is plenty of bad poetry to distract me,” he said.

  -o-

  Mrs Maitland received Giles in the black and white flagged entrance hall, a room that suffered no loss of splendour for having no furniture.

  “This is not a time for celebration,” she said, “but I’m so glad to see you.”

  Although she was wrapped in a large woollen shawl, he noticed that her dress beneath was a quietly festive one, which became her very well.

  “I feel a little shabby,” he said. “I am only dressed for a hotel dining room.”

  “You will do nicely, sir,” she said. “More than nicely. If a scarecrow or a beggar had wandered in it would have lifted my mood. I don’t know if my son will dress. He may not even appear at dinner although I have done my best to encourage him. I did not scold, mind, I entreated.”

  “I can’t imagine you scolding,” Giles said.

  “It is the inevitable consequence of motherhood, I’m afraid,” she said. “And I, being weak, have perfected it. But on this occasion even I know it would not have served. He is wretched and I can’t bear it – but he won’t talk to me. I only want to comfort him, to take his grief away a little, but...” She threw up her hands and sighed. “I am sure you will do him some good, although it will be painful. But first, come and get warm! I have sherry and a fire for you.”

  They went into her sitting room. The bills and rent rolls had been tidied away, and she had lit many candles and set the wine on a table by the fire, with chairs nearby. He could not fault her hospitality.

  Lord Milburne came in a short while later. He had dressed for dinner, in a careless manner, but had apparently omitted to shave, let alone comb his hair. He was civil enough in his greeting, even managing to give his mother a kiss on the cheek, at which she bridled a little.

  “I’m not sure you are in a fit state for company after all,” said Mrs Maitland quietly.

  “And not an hour ago you were insisting I come down and dine.”

  “That was before you drank a quart of brandy, you...” She broke off and walked away across the room.

  “You cannot command me like a child,” he said. He gave a stiff nod in Giles’ direction, poured himself another glass of brandy and went and stared at the fire.

  “I am sorry to see you again in such circumstances, my Lord,” Giles said. “This business. To lose a friend in such a manner...”

  Lord Milburne looked up from the fire and glared at him.

  “And worse still, it might have been prevented,” Milburne said. “Do you not think?”

  “Charles –” began Mrs Maitland, but Milburne put up his hand to silence her.

  “You might have stopped him,” he said.

  “I don’t know what you have heard,” Giles said. “But it could not have been prevented, not with the best will in the world.”

  “Are you sure?” said Milburne. “Is your conscience so easy?”

  “Not the least, to tell you the truth. I have examined the matter endlessly in my mind, but I do not think it could have been prevented, no matter how I might wish otherwise.”

  “You might have guessed that he would –” Lord Milburne began, in an angry mutter.

  “And how could I have guessed that?” Giles said. “I had very little knowledge of the man nor of his state of mind. That is why I wanted to speak to him. There was no indication he would do any such thing. I have some experience of these matters; I have had to arrest desperate men in a far more distressed condition than Mr Gosforth appeared to me, and they did not attempt to kill themselves. On occasion they have produced weapons and attempted to use them on me or my men, but they have not turned them on themselves. And I was not apprehending him. I was quite clear with him on that point – I wanted only to talk to him. I took care to put him at his ease.”

  Lord Milburne continued his study of the fire, his expression remaining impassive. Yet Giles noticed him folding and unfolding his fingers in private agitation.

  “You say I might have guessed,” Giles went on gently, going a little closer to him. “Is that because you could have guessed? Did you fear that he would do such a thing? Had he ever spoken of doing such a thing to you before?”

  Milburne twisted his mouth into a frown and said,

  “Not precisely, but...”

  “Yes?”

  “He talked of death – sometimes. We both did. How it would be fine to die for a reason. In battle or combat – to have a reason for the sacrifice.”

  “To protect a lady’s honour?” Giles said.

  “Yes, perhaps,” said Lord Milburne and walked away and sat down, his head in his hands.

  “It disturbed you?”

  “A little, sometimes,” Milburne admitted. “And sometimes I think he was right – perhaps it would be better to die young and for a good reason rather than lumber on to miserable old age. A death that means something!”

  “You cannot say that of Mr Gosforth’s death,” Mrs Maitland said. “Surely?”

  “I don’t know!” Milburne shot back at her. “Perhaps it does mean something! I wish I knew! Dear God in Heaven,” he said getting to his feet again. “I should never have mentioned the Black Cat! If I had not, then...”

  “His death is not on your hands, even though you feel it may be,” Giles said. “And anything – no matter how trivial it might seem – you can tell me about George’s state of mind will help us to unravel this business. Do you have any idea, for example, where he might have got the prussic acid from? He never spoke to you of such things?”

  “No.”

  “The bottle was labelled ‘Eternal Peace’. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “No, nothing at all.”

  “And when you had these conversations about death – did he speak of self-murder then?”

  There was a long silence. Lord Milburne drained his glass and went to the decanter to refill it.

  “I don’t think you should, Charles,” Mrs Maitland began, attempting to stop him. He flicked her restraining hand away. “At least answer Major Vernon,” she said.

  “I can’t believe you asked him here!” he exclaimed. “George might be here still – you trapped him, sir, like a damned animal, you trapped him until he had no choice but to –”

  “Charles, you will take that back!” exclaimed Mrs Maitland.

  “Oh, of course you will defend him!” Milburne said. “No doubt he is an old lover of yours! You are like all women, Mother, fickle and unchaste!”

  Mrs Maitland gave a little gasp.

  “That is a gross slander, my Lord,” said Giles. “And you should apologise for it at once.”

  “I shall not. It is the damned truth! All women are the same!”

  “You should apologise,” Giles said again, trying to keep the anger he felt from his voice.

  “Where did you get such an outrageous idea?” said Mrs Maitland.

  “Caffrey told me – he said that all the officers in the 33rd were lecherous wastrels, and their wives no better.”

  “And you believed that?” s
aid Mrs Maitland. “You believed him?”

  “He told me that my own father went whoring when you were with child,” said Milburne.

  “And when did he tell you that?” said Mrs Maitland.

  “When you turned him out for no good reason.”

  “For his endless pilfering!” she exclaimed. “He said that to you? The wretch! Perhaps you remember this fellow, Major Vernon. He was my late husband’s servant. I mistakenly kept him in our service only to find he had been cheating me for years! And what a legacy! You were scarcely ten when he left us, Charles – why on earth did you not say something about this then? Why did you not tell me? And do not say you believed that? Please!”

  “Of course I believe it! Don’t you? Surely you knew?”

  Mrs Maitland turned away, as if he had struck her.

  Giles could not think what he ought to say. He remembered Caffrey well enough, and also knew, to his shame, that his slander was not so far from the truth. He had seen Maitland often with light women, when he had been occupied the same way. He desperately wanted to offer her some comfort, but the thoughtless lechery of his own past seemed to disqualify him. It would not be comfort, but another insult.

  “Why do you think I have no wish to enter that profession?” Milburne went on. “It disgusts me – it’s a debasement of all that is honourable and manly.” He addressed this last remark rather particularly to Giles, then set down his glass. “I will dine in my room. I cannot stomach this company.” He made for the door.

  “Charles, for the Lord’s sake –” said Mrs Maitland, following him to the door. It was slammed in her face. She stood there for a moment. “Should I go after him?” she said. “I want to go after him.”

  “I don’t think it will serve any good purpose,” Giles said, suddenly feeling exhausted. He sat down on the sofa, and looked down at his knotted hands. “About what Caffrey said...” he ventured.

  “There is no need to go over that,” she said.

  “But –”

  “I knew it already. How could I not? We women all knew. We were not fools.”

  She had sat down opposite him and he found it hard to look at her directly. He felt as guilty for his part in it as if it had been an act of infidelity to her. He wondered at this feeling.