After completing and dealing with these letters she would visit Elanor and clip a chain with Philidor’s diamond ring on it around her neck. She would then wait for the appointed time the valet had requested another meeting with her, before receiving Regington and his carriage at the back of the property to take Elanor. At the designated hour, the next part of the plan was to spur Philidor into action by showing him the empty tower and finally raise the duke from his slumber to ride out into the night. Already dressed for the occasion she would then swiftly follow them, having organised through Harriet for the fastest horse and carriage from the village to be paid handsomely to pick her up from beyond the front gates. She would watch as the tinder she had so carefully constructed blew up into a flame. What she would do then depended on who remained after it all.
Elanor’s safety had to be sacrificed for now, in order for the plan to succeed.
Cavendish’s father, Marie mused as she sat in the back of the carriage with no company but her own thoughts. It was his father who had killed Elanor. Whose portrait had been tampered with. Did that change anything? Did she regret her assumptions, her actions?
She had recalculated all that she thought she knew before her carriage pulled up around the corner of Baker Street. She blinked once, hard; she was ready. The driver would wait for her return.
It was just after midnight as she slipped along Baker Street, moving from one doorway to the next until she stood opposite her old lodgings. A light burned from within each first-floor window, and she knew that Pinetti waited, with Elanor, for her arrival. Druce’s ground-floor window was covered but also lit from within; she was awake and no doubt alert.
First to arrive was Philidor, dressed grandly as always and nervously fingering the pistol in his pocket. A stupid man whose aim was probably as deplorable as his stupid card tricks. But never mind, he would be in close proximity to Pinetti.
The ground-floor curtains twitched. Druce’s light went out, and her outline appeared at the window. She couldn’t resist an intrigue.
Philidor was oblivious to his watchers as he tried the front doorhandle. It opened – he started for a moment, then entered, closing the door behind him.
Not a minute later, Cavendish arrived, alighted and hurried past Druce, whose curtain stretched wider. She was getting a show, that much was certain. Although Cavendish had no weapon, he carried a bundled-up sack: the stipulated amount and more besides, Marie guessed. Excellent.
He too entered, leaving the front door open so she could see up the staircase. She wet her lips in anticipation.
But Druce’s curtain had closed over. What was she doing? Of course – there she was now, the light spilling from her doorway into the stairwell as she crept up the steps to listen. Very well then. Even better.
Then there, up there at the parlour window, silhouettes began to move, and in the summer humidity Philidor had already thrown open the window, and the voices swept towards her in harsh snatches across the street. She stepped down into the gutter to hear better, then crossed the road to stand underneath the flat. She blended in with the shadows, oblivious to the filth at her feet.
‘How did you find me?’ came Pinetti’s voice.
‘You told me where to find you, and what is this, boxes packed? Going somewhere?’
‘Quiet, someone on the stairs,’ said Pinetti. Marie stepped closer.
‘Who are you?’ said Philidor.
A rumble.
‘Cavendish?’ Philidor’s voice again.
‘He also likes to be called Thomas Charles,’ Pinetti said.
A mumble from Cavendish, then Pinetti’s voice lowered in return. A rush of words Marie couldn’t discern.
‘You’re mad, Pinetti!’ came Philidor’s cry. ‘You think Cavendish has been leading a double life? The fellow can’t even leave the house. This is another of your tricks. I don’t know how you got him involved in this, but you’re not taking that money or Elanor.’
‘I didn’t steal her in the first place, you dolt, if you’d only listen —’
‘Now you lie again. Don’t you want the credit for taking my gold tobacco box as well?’
‘What would I want with a trinket like that when I have my rings? They were the better present from Catherine, in any case.’
‘You didn’t take the box?’
‘No, I —’
‘Heavens above, Elanor’s wearing my ring! How dare you.’
‘Stop it, you’re hurting her,’ came Cavendish’s cry. ‘Release her hand immediately.’
‘I’m not, you fool – not like you intended to use her, I’m sure, tucked up in that tower. What the hell were you planning? I’ll care for —’ said Philidor.
‘Stop it, Philidor. You’re making a fool of yourself with your romantic notions. Care for her? Brother, are you just as mad as him?’
Further confirmation of the fact Pinetti and Philidor were brothers. Yes, their rivalry had always seemed to her more than superficial.
‘Don’t call me “brother” – you forfeited that title long ago. You forget that I know you for the sneaking rat that you are. You stole my box and my creation, and now you put my ring on her to gloat.’
‘Wrong on all counts. I’m trying to tell you, I was instructed to take her.’
‘By whom?’
‘The woman, Marie – she’s besotted with me. She’s played right into my hands to give me the creature.’
‘You idiot. You cannot see her hand behind all this for spite of me. She’s mad! She thinks the creature is alive as well.’
A mumble from Cavendish that was ignored.
‘I know that, of course I know that,’ said Pinetti to Philidor. ‘You think I play along with it all without knowing? I have entertained her fancies for my own ends. The creature may not be alive but she’s still a wonder. In fact I must congratulate you on your efforts, she’s indeed more magnificent than any peacock I could construct. What I could do with her.’
‘You will do nothing. She’s mine, and I’m taking her back. I’ve had enough of you trying to outdo me. You obviously thought you could blackmail us both, eh? You’ve gone too far.’
A pause, and Marie imagined Philidor drawing his pistol.
‘Put it away and listen to me, Philidor. I didn’t invite Cavendish here either. I know nothing about either one of you coming or the box or your stupid ring. Elanor was already wearing it when I picked her up. Marie told me to bring her here and that she would arrive soon after, but instead I get you two – a poor surprise, I can tell you,’ said Pinetti, his voice higher than usual.
Marie smiled; the pistol must be upon him.
‘Don’t be so foolish,’ said Pinetti, lowering his voice as if affecting calm. ‘Listen, I was going to leave Marie, run away with the creature and humiliate you like you did me, I admit it, but why don’t we put all this aside and join together? Take this creature and make our own show … Pinetti and Philidor’s —’
‘You put yourself first again. Nothing has changed. Even now, you still think you are above me.’
Did she hear a click as if the pistol was cocked?
‘We can make him pay as well, just as I intended,’ said Pinetti. ‘Now that we know the grand Duke of Portland is Thomas Charles, he can fund our whole show. Look at the money the madman is prepared to hand over for the wax doll, good heav—’
‘Stop,’ said Philidor. ‘Cavendish can be used for my benefit still. But you, Pinetti, are now superfluous.’
‘You’re a coward,’ Pinetti snarled. ‘You won’t do it, you’ll just run away as usual.’
‘Don’t goad me. You don’t have our father to protect you now.’
A harsh laugh from Pinetti, a gasp from Cavendish, then a shot cleaved through the night, followed by a man’s hoarse cry.
Excellent. One down. Now what?
Cavendish cried, ‘Another murder, another shot, another murder, another shot’, then his voice sank into gibberish.
‘I told you not to goad me,’ came Philido
r’s voice. ‘Now, you’re coming with me,’ he said, obviously to Elanor, and grunted as if he was picking her up. ‘I’ll relieve you of that money, Your Grace or Thomas Charles or whoever you are, and you’d best not try and stop me.’
Marie imagined Cavendish handing it over submissively.
Druce scampered down the stairs, and her door slammed shut. When Marie moved to stand by the front door in the shadows, she saw Druce back at her front window not a moment later. Then quiet for a heartbeat, before Philidor stumbled out the front door oblivious to her, with Elanor in his arms.
But then, bang, gunfire from the stairs. Philidor fell forward on his face, dropping Elanor. He had been shot in the back by the wounded Pinetti, who then slid down onto the landing.
Marie took a step back as she heard Cavendish clatter down the steps over Pinetti and then step around Philidor’s body. He picked up Elanor with surprising strength. ‘Come with me, my dear. Quickly, before we are seen.’ He deposited her in his waiting carriage then climbed up himself, blinds drawn, and took off.
Druce had seen it all.
Marie stayed where she was for another moment. A baby’s cry – woken by the gunshots, no doubt. Druce moved away from the window, while Marie moved to study Philidor, facedown in his blood on the street, the bag of money still at his side. She took the bag and climbed the steps to Pinetti on the landing. He was grievously injured but just alive. She pulled hard upon the chain around his neck that held the rings; it broke, and she dropped it into her reticule. Ignoring his moans she entered her former rooms, glanced around the parlour and saw his desk with his letters and books. The letters she had sent him were amongst the papers. She folded these and put them in her skirt pocket as well. It was hardly a surprise to find other letters, evidence of a number of intrigues he’d been carrying out with two married women, independent of each other. Well, she had never allowed herself to properly care for him anyway – despite what her body desired, and despite what he’d thought.
She slipped her letter and drawing to Druce in an envelope under the landlady’s door, then met her carriage and headed back to Welbeck for the final part of her plan. She knew Druce wouldn’t be able to help herself: very soon she would open her door, read the letter and call the authorities. Marie was counting on it.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
His Grace William Cavendish, 5th Duke of Portland
IT WAS NINE o’clock precisely Thursday morning when Trickett arrived, this time with reinforcements. William had been expecting him. He sent the maid down to escort him to the chair outside his study. Trickett began with what was obviously a previously prepared letter.
Your Grace,
My apologies again for the intrusion, but this time I must insist on an interview. Magistrate Wentworth of London who, as I understand it, is an acquaintance of yours, has asked me to make a discreet enquiry with you, given a crime has occurred in his locality for which it appears you are connected.
Two gentlemen have been shot, one since died, in the early hours of this morning at 221 Baker Street London, next door to what was previously called the Baker Street Bazaar. The landlady of both premises, a Mrs Druce, insists that you were present at the time and has accused you of being guilty of shooting both men in a fit of jealous rage after finding your supposed mistress with them. Mrs Druce knows both men, one a previous tenant, Philidor, the other her current tenant, Pinetti. She also claims you are her previous tenant, Thomas Charles of the Baker Street Bazaar, who died and whose funeral she attended only days ago. She has admitted listening at close proximity to a heated argument during which this information was disclosed, by your good self apparently. She has also come into possession of a drawing of your likeness, labelled the 5th Duke of Portland, which she insists is also her previous lodger, Thomas Charles. Further to this, she claims that her baby son was fathered by this Thomas Charles, and that he is therefore the heir to your fortune and estate.
The missing girl from your estate, Elanor, remains unaccounted for. Although at the time we closed the investiga- tion unfortunately circumstances have changed. Magistrate Wentworth has intimated that only a pretence of a search will be required of Welbeck and that although Mrs Druce insists on coming to Welbeck to identify you in person, he will circumvent such action by whatever means necessary. Magistrate Wentworth also asks me to convey to you that he most assuredly seeks your best interests in this affair.
Parish Constable Trickett.
Trickett,
I have no knowledge of Mrs Druce or of this Thomas Charles who supposedly bears a likeness to me. I have never been to such premises and, as is well known, am reluctant to leave my house. I refute all such claims including that of having a mistress. Mrs Druce is lying.
Recently I have had a lodger here who goes by the name of Philidor; however, I do not know what he was doing at that hour and know of no gentleman of the name Pinetti.
The time is right for me to impart to you information that has a significant bearing on the case of the missing girl, Elanor. I believe the body of this girl to be buried beneath an oak tree on my estate, and closer examination of the skeleton by the coroner will, I’m sure, corroborate the following information. She was accidentally killed with a single shot to the heart by my father in one of his nocturnal wanderings. He was seized by one of his frequent bouts of mania and believed the girl to be an intruder. Since then, as a loyal and obedient son, I have acted to protect my father and our family name.
I will, of course, finance a funeral ceremony and proper burial for Elanor once her body is exhumed.
His Grace William Cavendish, 5th Duke of Portland
Your Grace,
I will instruct my men to dig for the body immediately, and I thank you for your assistance. Magistrate Wentworth will be advised and I am certain the matter will be settled and no further enquires required.
Parish Constable Trickett
It was finally over. William had cut out the infection that had festered with pus for so many years in his breast. Now he might finally be left alone by the ghosts of the living and the dead. He had no fear of prison or scandal or dishonour now – something else was coming for him. He could feel it in his bones.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Marie
MARIE AND HARRIET stood at the tower window. Elanor was seated nearby. They watched Constable Trickett emerge from the house and point his three men towards the tip of the old oak that rose above the tree line. A stable hand arrived at the front steps with spades and together they all moved towards the forest.
‘I always wondered if her body was there amongst the flowers,’ said the maid. ‘And once they’re finished digging, then the fire?’
‘The fire will come,’ said Marie, twisting a diamond ring around her finger. It was a comfortable weight although the size of the stone would take some adjusting to as it kept catching on her skirt.
Elanor said nothing.
‘Metal parts left in the ballroom amongst the ashes?’ asked Harriet.
Marie nodded. It would be a shame for it all to burn but there was no other option. ‘If Philidor thinks Elanor still exists, he will come for her. He’s obsessed.’
‘I know. But I cannot think what this must mean for you. You wanted her for yourself.’
Such a clever girl Harriet had proven to be. ‘A trying circum- stance, but nevertheless the outcome has proved favourable in many respects. And you, Harriet! You who had to put up with the attention of the valet and serve the imbecile Philidor – you have come through this ordeal admirably. All these men were scheming and trying to use us as pawns in their games of power. Have I been any different, though?’ She paused. ‘I too have used what I have to survive, as a wiser head than mine once told me to do. But I would like to think, if my hand had not been forced, things may have transpired differently.’
‘It is incredible that you planned it all without knowing if it would work, and in so many ways could go wrong.’ There was respect in Harriet’s voice. Marie pursed her l
ips and nodded slightly. It was pleasing someone had acknowledged her skills in this game of deception, betrayal, power and dual identities.
But still she had something to admit. ‘It did go wrong in one respect. I thought Cavendish had murdered Elanor, but his father was to blame.’
‘It wasn’t him?’ A look of disbelief crossed Harriet’s face, much like her own had probably assumed when she found out.
‘Last night he told me that his father accidentally shot her in the forest, thinking she was an intruder. And the old valet and the young Cavendish had to cover it up,’ Marie said with sadness. For it was a tragedy and one that changed the young Cavendish’s life irrevocably.
‘I feel remorse now, for telling Trickett as we agreed,’ said Harriet. Her regret was evident in her eyes, which brimmed with tears.
Marie pressed her hand before releasing it. ‘The truth needed to come out. It was the only way.’ It was, although the circumstances were unfortunate.
‘All those years of my parents not knowing – I mean, they knew in their hearts she was dead, for she wouldn’t have stolen any silver or run away. And they suspected that the Cavendish family were involved. I wish they could have known what really happened.’ The tears fell unhindered and Marie let them go without comment. Harriet was entitled to grieve, not just for herself but for her parents as well. Part of it was relief at finally getting an answer to all the questions she must have lived with as well.
‘You suspected Cavendish, as did I. It was only natural to do so.’
She turned to Marie, her voice raised in emotion. ‘I blamed him, especially after I was sent underground to dust the pieces in the museum one time, that’s when I heard him in Elanor’s cavern. I had to search for the key – hanging up in the scullery it was, forgotten about, for he never used it. Came and went through his own secret passage, I assumed. But I didn’t have anyone to confide in, until you came.’ She wiped the tears away and took a deep breath to settle herself.
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