She gave me a nod and a wink and went to find a teapot.
I flew through the rest of my chores with a feverish impatience, just wanting to get to dinner so that Verity and I could talk. As luck would have it, because Dorothy was back, Rosalind suddenly decreed that we needed a much fancier dinner than the one we’d had planned. I cursed her freely inside my head as Mrs Watling and Maggie and I ran hither and thither from the stove to the refrigerator, from the pantry to the larder. I even had to replenish our vegetable stocks from the root cellar. Maggie flatly refused to go down there by herself so I ended up doing the trip instead, just to save time.
I paused on the top step, looking down into the darkness beneath me. Then I flicked on the light. Its meagre glow did nothing to dispel the qualm of fear I felt about descending into the cellar depths. Of course, I knew there was no corpse here now, nothing nastier than a spider or two lying in wait for me around the corner of the passageway. Even so… I could feel my steps faltering as I walked down the dusty brick staircase.
I was pretty sure that there would be no more murders. Pretty sure – but not certain. What if I was wrong? I thought I knew the motive for both murders, but perhaps I was wrong? I wasn’t a detective, after all.
I took a deep breath and hurried down to the cellar floor, scurrying along the corridor to grab the sack of onions and potatoes that we needed. I kept my eyes fixed firmly on the bags of vegetables in my hand. Try as I might, I couldn’t help but recall being here before, when we’d seen Peter Drew’s dead body. Shaking, I wheeled around and ran back to the steps and up to safety and warmth and light.
The servants’ dinner that night was mostly refashioned leftovers from lunch – Mrs Watling and I had no time to do anything more elaborate after the fancy dinner we’d had to prepare. Nobody complained though, just got stuck into eating. Verity was sitting in her usual place and caught my eye as I sat down. I flashed her a quick smile as I began to eat, thinking that we’d have to wait until bedtime to actually talk. There was no privacy in this place, none at all.
It was after dinner that I saw Verity with Nora in the corridor outside the kitchen. I could see something had changed hands, from Verity to Nora, a small white cardboard box. Nora slipped it into her apron pocket. They talked for a moment, both looking serious and then Nora hurried away.
“What was that all about?”” I murmured as Verity caught up with me.
She shook her head minutely. “Something I got her from London. Hopefully it’ll help.”
Guiltily, I realised I’d almost forgotten about poor Nora’s predicament in the excitement of everything else that had happened. I was about to say something about wanting to help when the bell for Dorothy’s room jangled loudly above our heads, and Verity cursed and set off for the stairs at a run.
At the end of a long, weary day, I climbed the stairs to the top floor, feeling the ache in my feet and in the small of my back as if tiny, cruel hands were wringing out the muscles there. Wearily, I limped along the corridor to our room, wondering whether I even had the energy to wash. Verity was already there, unpacking her London bag.
“Goodness, Joan, you look all in. Here—” She put her hand into the inner pocket of her case and drew something out, handing it to me. I looked down at the bar of chocolate.
“Oh, thank you,” I said, truly grateful. I slit the paper, broke off a piece for Verity and then sat down on my bed to enjoy my treat. The sweet taste seemed to re-energise me, lighting me up like a candle.
“That’s better,” I said after a few minutes. Verity smiled.
“Thought that would do you good.” She finished putting her clothes away, lining up her shoes neatly on the floor of the wardrobe. “By the way...” She shot me a look that warned me that what she had to say was serious. I sat up a little.
“What is it?”
“I know who the father is.”
“Of Nora’s baby?” I swallowed. “Who?”
Verity sighed. “It’s Benton.”
“Benton? Duncan Cartwright’s valet?” I was flabbergasted. He’d never seemed to take more than a minute’s notice of Nora that I had ever seen.
“Told you he was a goat.” Verity sat down heavily on her bed, looking suddenly exhausted. “Of course, he’s wanting nothing more to do with her, the b— ” She caught my eye and looked away. “Sorry, Joan. But honestly. Nora really thought he was in love with her. Such a fool.” She said it fiercely, and I wasn’t sure if she were referring to Nora or to Benton.
I brushed a crumb of chocolate from my chin. “What was it that you got her from London?”
Verity sighed again. “Pennyroyal pills. They might work… Then again, they might not.”
“Oh.” I was quiet for a moment, thinking. If the pills didn’t work, then what on Earth was Nora going to do?
Eventually Verity heaved herself upright and began to undress. “So, you went to Inspector Marks, then?” she asked quietly.
I nodded and told her what had happened, conscientiously including both his dismissive goodbye and then his oddly fervent final words to me.
“Hmm,” said Verity, chewing her lip. “I wonder…”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. I just – I wonder what’s going to happen.”
“Yes.” I pulled off my cuffs and began to unpin my cap. “I know what you mean. How did you get on at Somerset House, by the way?”
Verity pulled her nightdress on over her head. “Just as we thought, Joanie. Lord Cartwright was the main beneficiary of Lady Alice’s will.”
“Hmm.” I wondered whether the police knew that. But of course they would. Wouldn’t they?
We finished our ablutions and then got into our beds. I was feeling…strange. Sort of restless. Anxious. But I couldn’t put my finger on why.
We said good night and turned off the lamp. Verity’s breathing soon deepened into sleep but I lay there in the dark, despite my weariness, for what seemed like hours. There was something nagging at me, like a tiny pain somewhere in my body that I couldn’t quite locate. A minor itch that I couldn’t scratch. Again and again, I tried to pinpoint what it was that was bothering me, but I couldn’t quite find it. Eventually, I think I fell asleep through sheer frustration.
Chapter Twenty One
Things began happening very rapidly the next day. It was early afternoon, with the chaos of luncheon just behind us, when the police arrived. Mrs Watling and I were just taking the last of the dishes into the scullery for Maggie to wash up when we heard the clatter of the bells on the police cars outside.
We stopped what we were doing and stared at each other. I put down the pot I was holding onto the table and pelted for the door, without asking Mrs Watling if I could leave. I had to know what was happening.
I ran into Verity in the upstairs corridor. Her eyes wide, she pulled me back behind the shadow of the staircase as the urgent peal of the doorbell sounded. We held our breath, out of sight but not out of hearing, as Mr Fenwick opened the door.
Inspector Marks’s voice said, sternly, “I must see his lordship, Fenwick. Is he in?”
“He’s in the drawing room, Inspector.” I could hear the surprise and the disquiet in Mr Fenwick’s voice. There was the sound of many footsteps, almost marching, down the corridor and out of earshot.
Verity was still clutching my arms. We looked at each other and then, as one, moved into the hallway and tiptoed down the corridor towards the drawing room. The door was ajar – they had only just gone in.
I held my breath, trying to listen over the thunder of blood in my ears.
“Lord Cartwright, I must ask you to accompany me to the station to answer some questions,” Inspector Marks said.
I heard a female gasp but couldn’t tell if it came from Dorothy or Rosalind. There was a splutter from Lord Cartwright. “I will do no such thing, Inspector. How dare you march into my house and—”
Inspector Marks cut across him and his voice had steel in it. “Then I’m afraid you leave me
no choice. Lord Cartwright, I’m arresting you for the murder of Lady Alice Cartwright. You do not have to say anything, but anything you say may be used at your trial. You’ll be given full facilities to communicate with your solicitor.”
There was a shocked cry – definitely Rosalind this time. I could see the soundless gape on my face echoed on Verity’s. Shaking off her hand, I moved closer, close enough to look through the gap in the doorway. I could only see the back of Inspector Marks’s suit but beyond him I could see Duncan Cartwright. He was white to the lips.
I had expected a roar from Lord Cartwright. I had expected something. But there was no sound at all, a silence that was as chilling as it was unexpected. Verity crept up to stand beside me and we both listened with all our might.
There was the shift of feet and I saw Inspector Marks move forward. The door began to open wider and Verity and I turned tail and ran for our lives towards the kitchen – or at least ran for our positions. We flew past the front door and clattered down the stairs to the basement, so shocked we were barely breathing.
*
You can imagine what it was like in the servants’ hall that afternoon. Everyone talked at once, or shouted, rather, until finally Mr Fenwick and Mrs Anstells managed to restore a little order. Nancy had an attack of the vapours and had to be brought round with a cold flannel and Mrs Anstell’s smelling salts. Even after everyone had somewhat calmed down, the whispers and insinuations went around and around, coiling through the rooms below like smoke carried on a breeze. Well, I never liked him; always had a temper; Lady Alice was so sweet; it must have been him; it’s like the Brides in the Bath, once a man gets a taste for it he doesn’t stop…
Mr Fenwick said threateningly that anyone caught discussing anything to do with his lordship would be dismissed without a reference. We all subsided, muttering darkly. I caught Verity’s eyes across the room and we exchanged a wordless glance of mingled pride and anxiety. We had done this, hadn’t we? The police had to have arrested him because of the new evidence obtained from Gladys’ testimony, surely? And if Lord Cartwright had killed his first wife, then surely that pointed to him having killed his second?
Of course, everyone went on discussing it. We were just careful to do it out of earshot of Mr Fenwick. Verity cornered me by the door to the root cellar and dragged me into the storeroom next to it.
She shut the door and leant on it. “Joan, this is it. I can’t believe it. I know we were both thinking it…”
She trailed off and we stared at one another. Of course she was right. I had been thinking it, that Lord Cartwright had to have been the murderer, but it had just seemed too big and too frightening a truth to say.
I took in a deep breath. “He got rid of his first wife, all right. Why do you think he did it?”
“Easy,” said Verity cynically. “He wanted to marry Lady Eveline but Lady Alice wouldn’t give him a divorce. Or maybe he didn’t want the scandal of a divorce and he wanted to inherit his wife’s money.”
“Yes.” I began pacing up and down the small area of the storeroom, twisting my hands. “So why murder Lady Eveline?”
“Why do you think? Because he wants to marry Rosalind, of course. And just like before, he gets to inherit his present wife’s fortune.”
“Yes.” I came to a standstill and looked at Verity. That all made perfect sense. But then, why did I still have this small knot of uneasiness inside me?
Verity sensed that something was wrong. “Joan, the police wouldn’t go and arrest a lord without really compelling evidence. They just wouldn’t. So they have to know he’s guilty.”
“I know,” I said, helplessly.
“So, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I just feel—” I stopped. I didn’t know how I felt. “What about Peter? Why kill him too?”
Verity rolled her eyes. Perhaps I really was being very stupid. “Blackmail, of course. Peter knew something, was blackmailing his stepfather, so he had to die.”
“Yes.” I found I was staring ahead of me without really seeing anything.
“Joan. It’ll be all right. We’ve done the right thing.”
“I know—”
There was a sharp knock on the door which made us both jump. Then Mrs Anstells’ voice said “What are you girls doing in there? Come out at once.”
We both grabbed something from the shelves – I took a stack of tea-towels and Verity picked up a box of candles. Then we opened the door.
“Sorry Mrs Anstells,” Verity said cheerfully. “Joan and I were just getting some supplies.”
Mrs Anstells gave us a sharp look but we both looked the picture of innocence. She stepped back to allow us past her. “Go about your work, then.”
We both walked quickly, but hopefully not guiltily, down the corridor towards the kitchen. I didn’t dare say anything else to Verity. She gave me an expressive look before she turned to take the stairs that led upstairs.
“We’ll do a plain supper tonight for the family,” Mrs Watling said. She sounded very flat, as if all her energy had gone. “I’m not up to doing much at all, God help me. What a day.”
“I know.” I tried to sound soothing.
“We’ll all have to have a cold supper. You can get on with that now.”
I nodded. At least that wouldn’t be very strenuous. It was just as well; I felt stretched, strange – as if sparks might come shooting out of my fingers. When I lifted up a saucepan I was surprised my fingers didn’t leave dents in the metal.
As I prepared the servants’ supper, I could still feel that tight knot of anxiety deep within me. Why? Lord Cartwright had been arrested. He was safely away from us, in police custody. There would be no more murders. So why was I feeling so uneasy?
As we all sat down to our cold supper that night, I was feeling no better. I didn’t know whether Verity would make it down that night – with things being as they were, perhaps Dorothy would prefer to keep her upstairs with her – but she appeared in the doorway just as we were all gathering around the table.
“We will not be discussing anything at this table tonight,” said Mr Fenwick sternly as we all sat down. “I don’t believe that any topic of conversation would be suitable at this moment in time. Please be so good as to eat your meal in silence.”
Nobody argued with him. We all sat and chewed our food, our minds busy with our own thoughts. I cut a slice of ham and lifted it onto my plate. As I ate, I let my eyes wander around the table, looking at everyone’s faces. Nancy was red-eyed and sniffled occasionally. Albert looked worried. I let my gaze drift around further to where Nora was sat, next to Benton.
It was the first time I’d seen them together since Verity’s revelation of their relationship. Curious, I watched them, wondering whether I’d be able to guess that they’d once been romantically involved, if I didn’t already know. No, I decided, there was no possible way I’d ever be able to ascertain their involvement. They were sitting in a way that reminded me of something, both their bodies turned slightly away from one another, as if they had to hold that side of themselves stiff. As if they disliked one another.
I put the fork in my hand down on my plate with a musical chime on the china. Watching Nora and Benton ostentatiously ignore one another was giving me a cold feeling. That knot of anxiety that I’d had within me was growing, beginning to flower. I could feel an iciness creeping up my legs, as if I were sitting in a draft. It crept up and flowed into the pit of my stomach, flooding it as if I’d swallowed a pint of icy water. Why? What was it about the two of them that made me so uneasy?
Then I remembered who it was they reminded me of. The knowledge actually made me flinch, so much so that my chair jerked back from the table with a wooden shriek. I leapt to my feet and everybody looked at me in surprise.
I spoke so shakily that it gave credence to my words. “I’m sorry, Mister Fenwick but I’m not feeling well. May I be excused?”
He raised his bushy eyebrows but nodded. I shot Verity a glance as I hurried
away, and as I left the room, I could hear her asking Mr Fenwick if she could be excused too, to see if I was all right.
I hurried along the corridor to the privy and went inside. After just a moment, I heard Verity’s voice outside.
“Joan? Are you all right?”
I opened the door. She eyed my face with increasing worry.
“What’s the matter?”
“Can you get Nora? I urgently need to speak to her.”
Verity’s own mobile eyebrows shot up. She opened her mouth, probably to ask why, but I must have looked desperate because she shut it again and turned on her heel.
I shut the privy door while I waited. My heart was hammering. Was I right? I’d been so sure before but if I were wrong… I could hear two sets of footsteps coming back down the corridor and cracked open the door an inch.
“Thank you Nora, I could use your help,” Verity was saying loudly, obviously for the benefit of Mrs Anstells. I wondered briefly if we were overdoing it. If she got too worried about me and my mysterious illness, Mrs Anstells would come along here herself and then everything would be ruined.
I opened up the door and pulled both Verity and Nora inside. Nora squeaked.
“Shut up!” I hissed. I took a moment to listen out for other footsteps. Nothing as yet.
I took a deep breath. “Nora, this is really important. You remember the night that Lady Eveline died?”
Nora’s dark eyes were wide. “What—”
“Just tell me!” I knew I sounded fierce but I couldn’t help it. “Was Benton with you on the night Lady Eveline died?”
Nora went white, then scarlet. She looked at Verity, who had the grace to look a little ashamed.
“It doesn’t matter about that,” I said quickly, trying to make her understand. “I’m not judging you, I don’t care. I just need to know if Benton was with you that night.”
Nora blinked rapidly. “I don’t—” she began.
I seized both her arms, not quite shaking her but the threat was there. Verity made a movement forward, as if to stop me, but I shot her a glare and she backed away, as far as she could in the confined space.
Murder at Merisham Lodge: Miss Hart and Miss Hunter Investigate: Book 1 Page 15