A Matter of Loyalty

by Anselm Audley

  ‘What it needed was to be handed over to the nuclear engineers and the reactor construction specialists, the people who make the speculative ideas happen, who know how to do it all safely. Rothesay should have been transferred to another department, given a staff of his own, perhaps even a promotion. All you’d get would be a pat on the back for bringing this to some civil servant’s attention.’

  Oldcastle stared at Hugo, his confident urbanity deserting him. The phone rang. Miss Fitzgibbon’s voice, then steps. Oldcastle’s eyes flickered uneasily towards the door.

  ‘The Ministry for you, Dr Oldcastle, it’s urgent.’

  ‘Dr Oldcastle is busy,’ said Hugo.

  ‘Excuse me, Hawksworth . . .’

  Hugo turned to Miss Fitzgibbon. ‘Dr Oldcastle is being questioned by a member of the Service regarding a matter of national security, on which he has vital information. If you’ll put me on the line, I shall explain.’

  She looked to Oldcastle, uncertain. There was no phone call, Hugo had called their bluff.

  ‘I’ll let you know when we’re done,’ said Hugo.

  She retreated, the door clicking shut behind her. Hugo turned back to Oldcastle.

  ‘Sørensen died because you wanted to make the breakthrough, Dr Oldcastle, and Rothesay was blamed. He knew perfectly well the accident wasn’t his fault, but you were promoted, and he wasn’t. Which leaves us with two questions. Who else knew, and why is Dr Rothesay now dead?’

  Oldcastle was pale. As well he might be. ‘I had nothing to do with that. Nothing, d’you understand? I’m no murderer, all my movements are accounted for. The Inspector’s been over this.’

  ‘I’m sure he has. I have some different questions to ask you, Dr Oldcastle. Let’s go back to the aftermath of this accident. Who knew what had really happened?’

  Friday

  Scene 1

  Friday was market day, Sheep Street and the market square full of stalls and hubbub. Scaffolding was going up over the handsome façade of the Feoffees’ Hall, Brodrick and his men working flat out to protect the roof from any further storms. The weather had been kind, there had been no more rain.

  Freya had taken Árpád to see the market. Harriet Godwin was busy, so he’d been given the day off.

  ‘There are no animals,’ he said, looking around. ‘In Hungary, there would be sheep and cattle for sale, also chickens, and the Roma with their horses.’

  ‘The livestock market is up by the station,’ Freya said. ‘Some Victorian Feoffee got tired of all the noise and muck in the square outside his offices, so he kindly donated the money for a new market. Hideous thing it is, too, looks like a workhouse.’

  ‘I know about workhouses, they are in Dickens.’

  ‘The cheese stalls are around here,’ said Freya, ducking under an awning. ‘We’re not meant to go through here, but everyone does.’

  ‘We are told in Hungary, you English are a stodgy and law-abiding people, not like we Hungarians. I learn now, this is not true. When you break the rules, you do it quietly, you make no fuss, and often you do it all together.’

  His voice was muffled as Freya let a flap of canvas go too quickly. ‘Sorry!’

  Dinah was casting her eyes over a selection of Cheddars. ‘Who’s that you’re assaulting?’ she asked Freya.

  ‘This is our guest, Dr Árpád Bárándy. Árpád, this is Dinah Linthrop.’

  ‘Ah, of the bookshop! Yes, Freya has promised to show me this when we finish with the market. Gus talks of you often, you have made quite the conquest.’

  Dinah looked distinctly disconcerted.

  ‘We don’t talk about it,’ said Freya.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Dinah values her privacy.’

  He shook his head, bewildered. ‘Privacy is for mistresses. You are not the Earl’s mistress, no? I should not think ill of you if you were, but this is not the English way, I think.’

  Dinah went quite red.

  ‘Have I said something wrong?’

  ‘We don’t talk about that either.’

  ‘What do you talk about? Ah, this I know. The weather. And things which are wrong, you love to grumble. Let me try this. It is sad that your Town Hall is falling down, because of all the rain. There were not many casualties, I hope?’

  He said it with a quite straight face, but Freya caught a distinct look of mischief in his eye.

  ‘He’s making fun of us,’ she said.

  ‘Of course I am,’ said Árpád. ‘But perhaps I need practice. Now, you said there would be proper cheeses, cheeses with taste and moisture, not like this Cheddar of Mrs Partridge’s.’

  The rotund, rather amiable cheesemonger found himself on the receiving end of a full-fledged inquisition into the origin and pungency of his wares.

  ‘He has strong views about cheese,’ Freya explained to Dinah, standing back.

  ‘He seems to have strong views about everything. I must say, the town is dying to meet him. Everyone’s been agog all week. Mysterious stranger turns up at the Castle, shuttled back and forth to the hush-hush place.’

  ‘What are the stories? Do tell.’

  ‘Well, there was one theory that he was a member of the Hungarian Politburo who’d defected. Another that he was a Jewish doctor, possibly responsible for Stalin’s death.’

  ‘Now you’re having me on.’

  ‘I’m quite serious. Then he was seen out on horseback yesterday afternoon in his late lordship’s riding gear, so it’s been decided that he’s a dispossessed Hungarian count, some distant relative of the Fitzwarins.’

  ‘At least that has a germ of truth.’

  ‘I’ve been doing my best. But everyone’s so used to mysterious goings-on at the Castle by now, they’ll believe anything. Don’t forget, Selchester used to have quite the assortment of guests up there before the war. There’ve been lots of dark whispers about him since he turned up under a flagstone, but you can’t say he was a closed-minded man.’

  Freya knew rather too well why her uncle had cast his net so widely. It had nothing to do with an open mind, and everything to do with power. Lord Selchester had liked to know everything he could about people, the better to use them. Once used, they could be discarded, as Saul Ingham had been.

  There was a thought. Had Selchester passed any of that material on? He’d known all about Saul’s somewhat shady past, probably more than Saul ever realised. If that information had fallen into someone else’s hands after his death, they’d have everything they needed to frame him for something like this.

  Who would know? Her cousin Sonia, that was who.

  ‘Freya?’ Dinah said.

  She shook her head. ‘Just a thought. Do I spy Alice Rothesay talking to Vivian over there? I didn’t know they knew one another.’

  ‘Jamie says they were at school together.’

  Freya wasn’t surprised. People in Selchester always turned out to have unexpected connections.

  ‘She doesn’t look happy.’

  ‘I’d hope not, she’s just lost her husband. Although, by all accounts, she’s well rid of him.’

  Scene 2

  Alice looked paler than ever, Vivian thought, catching sight of her on the next stall.

  She gave Vivian a perfunctory smile and came over, cigarette in hand.

  ‘I thought you’d be taking yourself off to London,’ Vivian said.

  ‘I did. Thought it might take my mind off things not to be in the same house for a bit. I had to get permission from that dreadful policeman.’

  ‘Didn’t work?’

  Alice shook her head. ‘You think you’ve taken so much grief from someone that you couldn’t possibly care if they dropped dead one day. What a relief, you think, I could live my own life again. Then it happens, and suddenly you realise there’s a great gaping hole in your life. Someone you shared a life and a bed with is lying on a slab in the morgue with someone’s bullet through his head. I hated him, but in an odd way I miss him.’

  Vivian looked at her with sympathy. ‘I
know that feeling, the week after a last night. Doesn’t matter if you hated the show by the end, you still feel empty. I shan’t pretend it’s of the same order, of course.’

  ‘That’s what our marriage was, an act. Only Bruno tired of even pretending to be faithful. Don’t ever marry, Vivian, that’s my advice. For what it’s worth.’

  Vivian had neither prospect nor intention of marrying. Even in this day and age it would help her career not a bit.

  ‘What will you do now?’ she asked.

  Alice fished in her handbag without even looking, drew out another cigarette and lit it straight from the first. ‘Once Commissar Jarrett has finished his inquiries, you mean?’

  ‘I suppose you’ll be done with Selchester.’

  ‘I’m done with the countryside. I shall take myself to London, find a nice little flat somewhere civilised, and never set foot outside the metro from one year’s end to the next. I shall get myself a job, if anyone will have me. I say, who is that man gesticulating at Simpkins? Behind you.’

  Vivian turned to look. ‘That must be his lordship’s Hungarian guest.’

  ‘Hungarian guest?’

  ‘I forget, you’re not plugged into the Selchester gossip mill.’

  ‘Thank God, no. I should pass on my thanks to that lodger of Freya’s, though. He did his best to be decent while the Commissar was bearing down on me. One is grateful for small kindnesses at a time like this. Let’s go over, but do give me the low-down on this Hungarian. Quite an exotic for staid old Selchester, isn’t he?’

  ‘There are all sorts of ridiculous rumours circulating. I believe he’s just a professor of classics or something, couldn’t stand it any more behind the Iron Curtain, and came over.’

  ‘Is he now? To judge by the look on Simpkins’s face, he might as well be a Martian.’

  Freya and Vivian greeted one another, cordially if without particular warmth.

  ‘That Hawksworth lives at the Castle with you, doesn’t he?’ said Alice. ‘Give him my thanks for his courtesy in the interview.’

  ‘I think he was rather pleased,’ said Freya. ‘I don’t believe he likes Jarrett any more than the rest of us do.’

  ‘Ghastly man. I’m due for another grilling this afternoon, no doubt he wants to know everything my husband said about this Ingham character. Well, he shall be disappointed, for there’s nothing to tell, and I’ve engaged the sharpest, most ruthless solicitor I could lay my hands on.’ She smiled with chilly satisfaction. ‘As I said, at a time like this one takes pleasure in small things.’

  Scene 3

  Back at the Castle, Freya tackled her cousin Sonia. Thankfully June was on duty at the exchange, not in the least interested in what they had to say to one another.

  ‘Oh, it’s you.’ There was a strange hissing screech in the background.

  ‘Sonia, what’s that ghastly noise?’

  ‘Just the kettle. Breakfast coffee.’

  Freya glanced across at the grandfather clock by the stairs. It was two o’clock in the afternoon.

  ‘I can hear you disapproving, don’t waste your thoughts. You lead your life and I lead mine. Victor, be a darling and finish the coffee, will you?’

  The noise subsided.

  ‘Who’s Victor?’ Freya asked.

  ‘An admirer. He comes to visit after lunch. His lunch, that is, I don’t believe in eating lunch before five if I can help it. Now, enough of your questions. What’s this I hear about the interloping earl and that bookseller friend of yours?’

  Given that Sonia had never troubled to make herself agreeable to anyone in Selchester, it was a mystery to Freya how she knew so much about its goings-on.

  ‘Her name’s Dinah Linthrop, and you know that very well.’

  ‘So, there is something. Don’t deny it – you never could tell a bare-faced lie. Are they sleeping together?’

  ‘You know perfectly well they’re doing no such thing. Gus is a devout Catholic, far more devout than you, I might add, and he’s behaving perfectly honourably.’

  ‘Oh, it’s just too bad.’

  ‘It won’t inconvenience you in the slightest. The title would never have come to you, and the money’s already his.’

  ‘It will inconvenience me. If they marry, she might have a son, and then my father’s precious earldom won’t die with Gus.’

  ‘Since they’re just at the stage of spending a lot of time together, you may have nothing at all to worry about.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Sonia’s voice, away from the phone. ‘Coffee, simply divine.’

  ‘Listen, I wanted to ask you a question,’ Freya said. ‘We both know your father was in the habit of collecting information on people.’

  ‘He was a blackmailer, darling, don’t beat about the bush.’

  ‘He was a blackmailer, yes. But did he write everything down? Could all that information have fallen into someone else’s hands?’

  Silence. A muffled sound on the phone.

  In London, Sonia covered the receiver with her hand. ‘Victor, could you be a darling and run down to the front door? I’m expecting a letter.’

  Victor gave her a sharp look. He knew exactly what she was up to. ‘Trying to get rid of me, are you?’

  ‘Just take the hint.’

  Being of an equable temperament, Victor went. The door closed behind him. Freya’s voice was squawking behind her hand.

  ‘Yes, I’m here. Not the kind of conversation one should have with strangers around, however intriguing. He knew my father distantly. I’m not taking any chances. Now, what’s this about information?’

  Sonia’s voice was sharp, not a trace of her morning languor in it.

  ‘I’ve got your attention now, haven’t I?’ said Freya.

  ‘What information?’

  ‘Your father had dealings with Saul Ingham, who was here at Christmas. He framed Saul for something he didn’t do.’

  ‘Oh, the man who joined the Foreign Legion.’

  ‘He’s been arrested for the murder of this scientist. Hugo believes he’s been framed, but whoever framed him must have known quite a bit about his past.’

  ‘I see Hawksworth is making a pest of himself again.’

  ‘Shall I tell Father Leo you said that? He’s staying here.’ Sonia was rather wary of Leo.

  ‘Good God, is he? The whole clan together. Isn’t Hugo reading too much into all this?’

  Freya knew an evasion when she heard one.

  ‘So he did write things down.’

  ‘He may have done. He was a secretive man, you know that.’

  Secretive, yes, that was one word for it. The late Lord Selchester had been a man of many parts, each sealed off from the rest. Even Freya, who’d spent half her school holidays at the Castle, had seen only a fraction of him.

  ‘Could anyone have got hold of that material? Anyone close to him.’

  ‘There was no one close to him. He kept us all at a distance, except when he wanted to pull our strings. He never had a secretary at the Castle, you know, handled everything himself. A secretary would have seen what he really was sooner or later, and he couldn’t have that.’

  It sounded a bleak, cold existence. Had her uncle ever been happy, in the way a normal man or woman knew happiness? Not the cold, dark satisfaction of having another creature in your power, but bright, ordinary joy. Perhaps as a young student, when he had fallen madly in love with Gus’s mother.

  ‘So there was something, but you don’t know what, and you probably wouldn’t tell me, even to save a man’s life.’

  Sonia heard the outer door close. Victor back after his search for her non-existent letter. She knew very well what Freya wanted, because she’d searched high and low for it. Without success.

  ‘Darling, I don’t know Saul from Adam, and if he was convicted of a crime once, there’ll be all sorts of records. My father wasn’t the only one who liked collecting information. If Hugo’s trying to get Saul out of trouble, he’s got the Service’s records at his disposal. What cou
ld I possibly have which is any better?’

  The door opened. Victor advanced on her, his amiable face suddenly intent.

  ‘Victor, I gave you a heavy hint,’ said Sonia, clapping her hand over the receiver again. ‘Do be a dear and let me finish my call in peace.’

  ‘Saul. Saul Ingham?’

  ‘Yes, that’s his name, what is it to you? I’m talking to my cousin Freya.’

  ‘Give me the phone, Sonia,’ said Victor, very firmly. ‘Otherwise I shall go outside and ring her from a call box.’

  Sonia passed him the receiver.

  Freya heard a new voice on the line, male and deep. ‘Freya, this is Victor Emerson.’

  So that was Sonia’s Victor – a big, bearish former Service agent who now specialised in tracking looted art. He’d helped Hugo over Christmas, had turned out to be an old friend of Saul’s. An admirer of Sonia? He’d called her a looker, but Freya could hardly believe she was his type.

  ‘Emerson, yes, I had no idea it was you.’

  ‘Your cousin likes to keep her life in separate compartments. I believe she gets the habit from her father. What’s this about Saul?’

  Freya told him.

  ‘Why on earth didn’t he ring me? He had one phone call, at least. The Saul I know would never shoot a man in cold blood like that. I don’t doubt he killed men in the war, even crept up on them in the dark, but in a private quarrel? No. Hawksworth is right, it stinks. Saul needs all the friends he can get. I shall set out this evening, find myself a room at the George & Dragon, and get the full story from Hawksworth tomorrow.’

  ‘You’ll have to be early. He’s going off to a christening with Valerie.’

  ‘That’s still going on, is it? I shall be at the Castle bright and early.’

  He handed the receiver back to Sonia. ‘I need to be going. I’ll give you a bell when I’m back. Keep on trying to pull the wool over your cousin’s eyes, I don’t imagine you’ll get anywhere. I shall see myself out.’