Letters from the Dead (Jefferson Tayte Genealogical Mystery Book 7)

by Steve Robinson

  Although she sensed it was coming, Jane put a hand to her mouth in shock disbelief. ‘How could Sir John orchestrate such a terrible thing?’

  ‘Aye, it was terrible. I wish now that I’d made my confession to the proper authorities. I had no idea my husband was capable of such things, although I have no doubt he did so, not to protect me, but his own reputation and standing as the Resident at Jaipur.’

  ‘And what of Pranil? You told me he was dismissed as soon as Arabella told her father of her plans to elope and that Pranil was to help her. Was he really dismissed? Is he dead?’

  ‘Pranil is not dead.’

  ‘But how else could Sir John trust to his silence?’

  ‘He and I had something over Pranil that ensured he would never speak of what had happened. He had, after all, murdered the Crown Prince of Kishangarh. Even now I’m sure he lives in fear of the maharaja finding out, and of what he would do to him if he ever did.’

  ‘I see,’ Jane said, going over in her mind everything she had heard, and now registering that, contrary to her suspicions, Captain Fraser was guilty of nothing more than an overzealous sense of duty when it came to the slaughter of those people whom he believed were dacoits. He had been no more than a pawn in Sir John’s cover-up—Sir John, who was responsible for all those murders, and no doubt the murders of the two family members who had come forward afterwards, one having supposedly met with a fatal accident, the other having disappeared.

  ‘And the ruby?’ Jane said. ‘Does Sir John know you have it?’

  Elspeth began to fidget. She was silent again, and Jane could see that the question had made her all the more uncomfortable. A moment later, Elspeth stood up and went to the end of the bed. She reached down and picked up her paperknife.

  ‘John knows nothing about it,’ she said as she returned. ‘That ruby is mine!’

  The knife was suddenly in front of Jane’s face, so close that she was forced to lean back. ‘What are you doing, Elspeth? I’m trying to help you. Can’t you see?’

  ‘You can’t have it!’ Elspeth said. ‘I need it to get away from here—to get as far away from him as possible.’

  ‘From Sir John?’

  ‘Yes, from John, and this wretched land. I need it for Arabella’s sake as much as my own. This is no place for a young girl.’

  Jane sat up again, defiantly close to the knife. Although it was a blunt-edged letter opener, she was all too aware that it had a sharp point, which Elspeth could thrust into her if she chose to. She put all question of how Elspeth came to be in possession of the Blood of Rajputana aside for now, focusing only on the knife and what was to happen next.

  ‘And what exactly will you do now that you’re discovered?’ she said, her voice no longer soft and caring, but angry to think that Elspeth cared so little for their friendship that she could threaten her life so. ‘Will you thrust your knife into my heart and add one more death to your conscience? We’ve been friends since we were nothing more than children. Can you do it? Is the gemstone worth that much to you?’

  The paperknife was already shaking in Elspeth’s hand as she continued to hold it out, now inches from Jane’s chest. Her eyes were a flood of tears and confusion, and Jane knew her friend could not follow through with this insane idea that had suddenly possessed her. A moment later, Elspeth dropped the knife and it clattered to the floor. Then she fell on to the bed and began to sob heavily into the bedcovers.

  Jane took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She began to stroke Elspeth’s back. ‘We’ll sort this out, don’t worry.’ Slowly, Elspeth turned around and sat up as Jane drew her friend into her arms, adding, ‘Everything will be all right.’

  ‘I’m responsible for the deaths of more people than you know,’ Elspeth said. ‘How can I live with myself after what I’ve done?’

  ‘What have you done?’ Jane asked. Again, she had a good idea by now, but she wanted to hear it from Elspeth. ‘Tell me how you came by the ruby.’

  They separated, and Elspeth avoided eye contact with Jane as she began to explain.

  ‘The other day when we were dressing the grand hall for Arabella’s birthday party, and John brought that strongbox in and showed the ruby to us, I knew I had to have it. It represented a new life for Arabella and me. I have no money of my own, John has seen to that. I knew the ruby could change things, and I had an idea how to get it. I went out and found Pranil again. He was already begging in the streets, the poor, foolish man. I threatened him with the thing he feared most. I said I’d tell the Maharaja of Kishangarh that he’d murdered his brother if he didn’t do exactly as I said. On top of that, I promised him he’d come out of it a wealthy man.’

  ‘You told him about the strongbox,’ Jane said. ‘You told him what the soldiers who left the residency that day were carrying with them?’

  Elspeth nodded. ‘Aye, I told him. I was sure Pranil had not looked inside the prince’s saddlebags the night he killed him, or we might never have seen him again. I told him of the treasures that were to be had, saying nothing of the ruby, of course. I simply told him he would have his share if he did as I said, and that he would have his life.’

  Jane was scarcely able to comprehend what she was hearing. ‘So you were responsible for the attack on those poor soldiers—for the deaths of half their number?’

  ‘Have you seen my reticule, Jane?’ Elspeth asked, avoiding the question. ‘I always leave it by my bedside at night, but it’s not there.’

  ‘No, I’ve not seen it,’ Jane said, imagining that Sir John had confiscated it to stop her from taking any more of her opium pills. ‘Please answer the question.’

  Elspeth paused before answering, once again making knots with her fingers. She nodded. ‘I was responsible.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Pranil. I didn’t care how he went about it. I told him there was another box inside the strongbox, and that he must bring it to me. I told him I had to have it, and I steered him towards the kind of people who would happily attack those soldiers for what they carried.’

  ‘The dacoits?’

  ‘Aye, the dacoits. Pranil had only to speak in certain circles of what I’d told him. Such news travels fast among the natives. Very soon it reached the right ears and Pranil was picked up and made to tell what he knew, which he readily did, of course. He mentioned nothing of the smaller box I told him to bring to me. He was wise enough not to draw attention to it.’

  ‘How did Pranil manage to get the box? Surely there’s little honour among such thieves.’

  ‘It was a risk on Pranil’s part, with no guarantee of success, but to try was better than the alternative—a long and painful death at the hands of the Maharaja of Kishangarh. Pranil explained that after the attack the dacoits spent hours opening the strongbox, with axes and gunpowder. When they saw what was inside they immediately began to rejoice, welcoming Pranil into their fold. They lit campfires, danced and drank in celebration, overlooking the smaller box containing the ruby for the time being. It was during that time that Pranil slipped away with it and brought it to me. I opened it with my husband’s key that night while everyone was sleeping. Then, as you now know, I hid the ruby beneath the floorboards here in my room.’

  ‘Where is Pranil now?’ Jane asked. ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘Pranil is somewhere between here and Calcutta for all I know. He took his share of gold from the dacoits before he fled their camp. I told him to use it to leave Rajputana and never return.’

  ‘I see,’ Jane said, wondering what best to do next. Elspeth was her good friend, after all, yet surely her actions could not be ignored.

  ‘What will become of me, Jane?’

  Jane honestly did not know. She feared what Sir John would do if he found all this out. Would he try to cover the matter up, as he had before? Jane thought he would. After all, this was no longer just a matter of his good name and reputation. Sir John was responsible for the slaughter of all those innocent people—Jainists, who meant harm to no one. How far woul
d Sir John go to save his own skin should Elspeth be forced to explain everything that had happened to the proper authorities?

  And where did that leave Jane?

  She concluded that it left her in a very dangerous situation. She was just telling herself that if she told anyone it would be Mr Faraday so that he might report the matter in his newspaper, when a distant, yet very distinct, gunshot sounded, interrupting her thoughts and causing both her and Elspeth to jump in alarm.

  Elspeth sprang to her feet. ‘Jane!’ she cried, her eyes wide with alarm. ‘The intruders are back! The maharaja’s men have returned!’

  They went to the door together. As Jane opened it, a second shot was fired. She thought it came from the direction of the main gate, from the courtyard perhaps. Hurriedly, they left the room together, heading for the stairway.

  ‘Heavens! What if they’ve come back for Arabella?’ Elspeth said as they came to her room.

  Jane couldn’t see why they would. As Sir John had previously said, if the intruder she had seen earlier wished to harm or abduct Arabella on this occasion, he would have done so when he had the opportunity, before the alarm was raised. To her mind he had come merely to leave the note—the threat—and perhaps to look for the ruby while he was about it. Nevertheless, Elspeth seemed determined to satisfy herself that Arabella was still safe and sound in her bed. She ran to her bedroom door and threw it open. In that same instant Jane saw her raise a trembling hand to her mouth.

  ‘No!’ Elspeth cried.

  Jane quickly caught up with her. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  Elspeth did not need to answer. Jane could plainly see that Arabella was no longer in her bed. ‘Arabella!’ she called, scouring the room, but Arabella was not there.

  ‘They’ve taken her!’ Elspeth said, just as a third gunshot sounded. ‘Quickly Jane! Outside. The guards must have found the intruder and opened fire.’

  They took the main stairs down into the grand hallway, running as fast as their legs and their cumbersome nightgowns would allow. When they reached the courtyard outside and the main gate came into view, they both fell to their knees in shock, their strength suddenly failing them as a look of abject horror washed over both their faces. There before them was Arabella, dressed in the gown Jane had last seen her wearing the night she was to elope with Naresh Bharat Singh. Her body was hanging a few feet from the ground, suspended from the arch that spanned the main gate, her neck tied with a length of the same cerise pink silk her mother had bought for her birthday celebrations. Arabella, Jane’s charge, whom in many ways she had come to think of as her own daughter, was dead.

  Sir John and a number of guards and servants were already at the scene. One of the guards had a pistol drawn, and Jane supposed it was he who had fired the shots they had heard, to raise the alarm. She was instantly reminded of the four lizards she had seen in the garden soon after her arrival in Jaipur—four lizards for an upcoming death.

  ‘Arabella,’ she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

  Her head began to shake from side to side, unable to believe what her eyes were telling her, and yet she understood well enough. No intruder had done this. The Maharaja of Kishangarh’s men had not murdered Arabella over the Blood of Rajputana. Arabella had taken her own life, unable to bear the burden of loss she had carried since learning of her young sowar-prince’s death. And she had chosen the morning of her eighteenth birthday to end her life, to spite her parents for their part in denying her love.

  At length, Jane stood up again. She turned to Elspeth, whose head was now buried between her knees as she rocked back and forth, clearly racked with pain and anguish at this most unexpected and terrible turn of events. She began to soothe her friend, her hand gently circling her back.

  ‘Elspeth? Shall I help you back to your room?’

  Elspeth continued to rock back and forth, sobbing into the ground. She gave no reply for several seconds. Then she lifted her grief-stricken face and said, ‘It’s all my fault, Jane. I did this.’

  Jane helped her friend to her feet. She shook her head. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ she said. ‘Who could have known what was in Arabella’s mind?’

  ‘Help me go to her, Jane. I don’t think I can manage by myself.’

  Jane put an arm around Elspeth, and together they walked slowly towards the main gate, where Sir John was now standing on a munitions crate with a dagger in his hand. As they progressed towards the scene, Jane watched Sir John reach up and begin to cut the material as two guards held Arabella’s legs, ready to break her fall. Jane could feel Elspeth’s body shaking as they arrived. A moment later Arabella’s body fell, and Jane saw Elspeth’s reticule dangling from her neck. Elspeth had said it was missing. Now it was clear that Arabella had taken it, and she had no doubt swallowed the opium pills inside it to help her to go through with her suicide.

  Sir John leapt off the crate and dropped his dagger, the same jewelled dagger the Maharaja of Kishangarh had presented to him. ‘Arabella,’ he said as he went to his daughter, though he knew she could no longer hear him. He held her lifeless body in his arms. ‘What have we done to you?’

  ‘John?’ Elspeth said, her voice faint and distant.

  At hearing Elspeth, Sir John snapped his head around, his eyes red with sorrow and grief, his jaw clenched tightly as if trying to hold back his emotions, or his anger. ‘This is your doing, woman!’ he barked. ‘Arabella was the only good thing between us.’

  Elspeth had stopped crying. Jane now saw a sudden calm wash over her as her face lost all expression. She imagined she must be in shock at the sight of her daughter lying dead on the ground before her. Elspeth fell to her knees beside Arabella’s body. She reached out to stroke her hair, but her hand was quickly slapped away.

  ‘Do not touch my daughter! You no longer have the right!’

  ‘I did it for her,’ Elspeth said. ‘For our darling daughter.’

  ‘Be quiet, woman,’ Sir John said, momentarily gazing up at Jane with questioning eyes that asked how much she knew.

  ‘Perhaps we should have allowed them to marry,’ Elspeth continued, her fragile voice now sounding all the more distant, as if thinking wishful thoughts aloud.

  ‘Do not blame me for this,’ Sir John said. ‘I—’

  ‘No, I don’t blame you, John. It’s my fault alone that our daughter is dead. I should never have brought her here in the first place.’

  What happened next came so fast that Jane and all those present were powerless to prevent it. She watched in horror as her friend picked up the jewelled dagger that had been dropped just a few feet from her, and without a moment’s hesitation, drew the blade sharply across her throat.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Present day

  ‘It’s tragic,’ Tayte said to Sinclair, scarcely able to believe the events that had played out through Jane Hardwick’s letters. He checked the pages in his hands, looking for more. He shook his head. ‘That’s it. That’s all there is.’

  ‘For now,’ Sinclair said, alluding to the possibility that, although Jane’s letters appeared to have reached a conclusion of sorts, there had to be more.

  ‘Yes, for now,’ Tayte agreed.

  He couldn’t believe for one minute that Jane had left the ruby where Elspeth had put it, under a floorboard in her room at the Jaipur Residency which, as he understood it, was now a high-class hotel. Cornelius Dredger had gone to Robert Christie, confident that his great-aunt’s letters held a clue to the ruby’s whereabouts—a clue strong enough to lead Robert Christie to murder, and to go to India himself in search of it. Tayte doubted any man would have gone to such lengths unless he was confident of success. Then there was the syndicate, created to fund a more recent trip to India, again citing Jane’s letters as the key to discovering the ruby’s whereabouts. Except that at the family gathering DI Ross had told the syndicate members that it had been nothing more than a con to solicit money from them. That still puzzled Tayte.

  ‘As far as Jane’s ac
count goes,’ he said, thinking aloud, ‘she was the last person to see the Blood of Rajputana. With Lady Elspeth dead, Jane was the only person who knew where the ruby was.’

  ‘The question is,’ Sinclair said, topping up his whisky glass again, ‘what did she do with it? I suppose it’s possible she left it where it was, but—’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Tayte cut in. ‘It was far too precious a thing. Even if Jane had no intention of keeping it for herself, surely she would have done something with it. If she’d left it where it was, in light of what had happened, she couldn’t be sure of remaining at the residency and having access to it for much longer. As you said, Mr Sinclair, there must be more to come. There has to be some further clue to tell us what Jane did next.’

  Apart from wondering what had become of the ruby now that it had changed from Elspeth’s possession to Jane’s, Tayte also began to think about Sir John Christie and his son, Robert. It was clear now to see how Robert came to be in Jaipur in 1825, when his and Aileen’s son, Angus, was born. Tayte imagined that at hearing the terrible news that his mother and sister were dead, Robert had gone to India to support his father, who could easily have made the introduction to Aileen via Lachlan Fraser’s brother, Donnan.

  ‘It must have been a terrible time for the Resident at Jaipur,’ Tayte said. ‘On that same fateful day, he lost both his daughter and his wife.’

  Sinclair gave a sombre nod. ‘And if Jane chose to divulge what Elspeth had told her about Sir John Christie’s part in the massacre of all those innocent people, I imagine things soon became far worse for him.’

  Tayte nodded. ‘Although any impact was relatively short-lived. We already know from Burke’s Peerage that Sir John died just a few years later in 1826. Maybe these events took their toll on him. If what he’d done was made public, it seems likely that this is why your three-times-great-grandfather, Angus Fraser, wanted nothing to do with his paternal bloodline. In all likelihood it wasn’t so much because of who his father was, but because of his grandfather, Sir John. It’s easy to see that what happened back then could have blackened the Christie name beyond redemption.’