The Chaperon (Sisters of Woodside Mysteries Book 2)
Page 25
“You looked for secret passages, I understand, Mrs Price?” said Mr Willerton-Forbes.
“Mr Audley and I examined the lying-in suite, but although we found secret doors, they only concealed tiny closets, not passageways or stairs. There are similar closets in my own room.”
Neate, Mr Willerton-Forbes’ valet and secretary, scratched away with his pen as she spoke.
“Mr Audley showed us what you found,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “We have been all over the old house and although there are a number of such closets, none of them contain any other doors. There are no secret passages, you may be sure of that.”
“And in the new part of the house?” Lucy said.
“Mr Kingsley still has the architect’s plans, which show no such passages. Even so, Captain Edgerton has examined all the walls, and there are no hollow spaces, such as might suggest a void.”
She chewed her lip uncertainly.
“Mrs Price?” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “There is something more?”
Reluctantly, for it seemed so trivial a matter, she explained about the money that had disappeared, how the thefts had always happened at night even when the door was locked. “I took to sleeping with my purse under the pillow, as the Miss Hardcastles did at one time,” she said. “But when I was at West End House, I got out of the habit, so when I returned here, I left my purse on the table, as I always used to do. And one night — no, it was morning, I believe, for it was already daylight — I heard a noise, very slight.”
“What sort of noise?” Captain Edgerton said, moving nearer.
“I cannot say. Sleep still held me in its grasp, so I was not attending. I called out, ‘Who is there?’ and the noise, whatever it was, stopped. Metallic, perhaps. It may have been the chink of coins that I heard, but I cannot be sure. I threw back the covers and wrestled with the bed curtains. By the time I had opened them, I caught only the merest glimpse of white, as of a nightgown. That was what it seemed to be. It disappeared into the wardrobe.”
“The wardrobe!” Captain Edgerton said.
“That is so,” Lucy said. “But by the time I had got out of bed and pulled open the door, there was no one there. So I must have dreamt it, I suppose. There is no other explanation, is there?”
“Show me,” Captain Edgerton said. “Show me this wardrobe.”
He was thorough, Lucy had to grant him that. He looked into both the wardrobes, which were built into the wall on either side of the bed. One had only the usual shelves, with Lucy’s clothes neatly folded. The other had no shelves, only pegs on either side, where Lucy had hung a few odd garments that lent themselves to being hung — her old cloak, several shawls and reticules, and a shoe bag.
“This is where you saw someone disappear?”
Lucy nodded. “If I did not dream it.”
“Oh, I do not think it was a dream. May I remove the contents to allow a better view?”
Carefully he removed everything, and laid the items on the bed. Then he stepped into the wardrobe and began to tap and feel the walls, while Mr Willerton-Forbes and Neate looked on. To one side, Janet stood, sour-faced at the sight of gentlemen in her lady’s bedroom. Lucy waited patiently, not sure which outcome was most desirable. If he found nothing, then she had dreamt the whole episode, yet if he found something — that might be even worse. To know that someone had crept into her room at night to steal from her… why, she might have been murdered in her bed!
“Aha!” Captain Edgerton poked his head out into the room again. “A door. There is a space behind it, but I shall need a lamp, or a candle, if you would be so good, Mrs Price.”
Armed with a candle, Captain Edgerton disappeared inside. He emerged again moments later. “It is difficult to explore the walls properly while carrying a candle, but there is not a great deal of space for another man in there. Mrs Price, you are slender enough, I wonder if—?”
“Of course.”
She stepped inside the wardrobe. The back of it stood open, and the flickering candlelight guided her into the space behind. It was low-ceilinged and narrow, and ran, she guessed, the full width of both wardrobes and the bed between. A long constricted space, but for what purpose? There were no pegs or shelves to suggest storage, and no window or furnishings to turn it into a useful room. It was merely a long, thin space, like a corridor blocked off at both ends.
“What is on the other side of this wall?” the captain said, tapping the long wall.
“Another bedroom, much the same as mine. It was used by Mr Coylumbroke on his first stay here, but this time he is in the new house.”
“Perhaps he lost money, too. Mrs Price, will you hold the candle, if you please?”
He spent a considerable time examining both end walls, but without success. Then he crawled all over the floor, with a similar lack of success.
“Are you making any progress, Michael?” Mr Willerton-Forbes’ face loomed in the opening. “Have you— Ow!” He was tall enough to bump his head against the low ceiling. “Wait — that moved. Oh, look!”
He pushed against the ceiling, and again it shifted.
“A trap door!” Captain Edgerton exclaimed gleefully. “Stand aside, Pettigrew. This is a job for the military man.”
Within moments the door was open and a ladder let down, such that Captain Edgerton was able to scramble up into the space above. Lucy passed up the candle to him, and then, the inner room having been thrown into gloom, they made their way back into the bedroom.
“I believe we may continue the exploration on our own,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “You and your maid may return to your duties, but say nothing to anyone about this as yet. We will make our findings known when we have worked out what, if anything, is the significance of them.”
~~~~~
Leo was summoned to the library, where Tom, Willerton-Forbes and Edgerton were already seated, while Kingsley paced about, red-faced.
“At last!” Kingsley sneered. “We are all waiting on your pleasure, Audley, but you like to keep everyone hanging about, I daresay.”
“I beg your pardon, sir. One of my horses had occasioned alarm, so I was in the stables discussing the matter with my groom.”
“Hmpf. Well, you are here now. Proceed, Willerton-Forbes.”
Willerton-Forbes proceeded, but with the cautious precision of speech usual in his profession. Lawyers were, in Leo’s opinion, a necessary evil, but he could not like them, and saw no reason to make an exception for this one in particular. Besides, he despised the way the man continually mentioned his father the earl, and his brother the viscount, as if that mattered. The worth of a man was not calculated by the rank of his relations, or it ought not to be, if there were any justice in the world. Now, Captain Edgerton was a more interesting specimen of humanity, flamboyant and conceited, and something of a flirt, but there was no pretence about him. Or perhaps Leo liked him better because they both had an eye for the ladies, whereas Willerton-Forbes was as dry as dust, and never seemed to relax and enjoy himself.
But Leo had to admit that Willerton-Forbes’ story was intriguing. Secret doors connected to the attics had been discovered in all the main rooms in the old part of the house, including the bedroom in the lying-in suite. Money had been stolen from Tom, Lucy and the Miss Hardcastles, but not Winifred or Deirdre. And — the most damning evidence of all — the wardrobe in Winifred’s room allowed access to the passages, but the one in Deirdre’s room had been filled with shelves immovably fixed. Only Winifred could have used the passages.
“Are you telling me that my daughter is a thief and a murderer?” Kingsley said, his voice dangerously quiet.
“There is no proof,” Willerton-Forbes said. “In theory, anyone could have got into the attics from any of the rooms, so one cannot say definitively.”
“Surely the attics are readily accessible,” Leo said. “There is a stair from just outside Winifred’s room, and another from the balcony of the armoury. I have been inside them, when I was helping to retrieve boxes.”
“But it must have been Winifred,” Kingsley said. “She never asked for more money, as Deirdre so often did. She managed her allowance well, she said, so that it lasted the full quarter. But of course she was supplementing it by stealing from Mrs Price and the Miss Hardcastles, who can ill afford to lose coins. And it must have been Winifred who killed my sons,” he added bleakly. “She has always been of a jealous nature. Dear God, what have I done? How have I raised such a viper? And my poor wife!”
Winifred was sent for, and naturally denied everything, with many tears and protestations. When pressed, and Kingsley was very, very good at pressing females, she confessed to the thievery but not to murder. “I never went near them, either of them!” she wailed. “I hate babies, and wanted nothing to do with either of them. You must believe me, Papa! It is the truth, I swear it. It was Deirdre who did it, not me. Please, Papa, please believe me!”
“What am I to do?” Kingsley whispered, when his daughter had been led, sobbing piteously, away by Lucy. “What in God’s name can I do? I cannot and will not bring in the constables about my own daughter.”
“No, that is unthinkable,” Willerton-Forbes said. “Besides, there is no proof at all, not the slightest. It is all peripheral evidence — Miss Winifred’s jealousy, the access to the secret passage in her room… Have you anywhere you might send her? She cannot stay here, under the same roof as the new baby.”
“Might I take her to Stoneleigh?” Leo said.
“Too close,” Willerton-Forbes said.
“How about Lancashire?” Tom said. “My uncle always has a house full of guests for the autumn shooting, and I shall be going myself in a few days. My married sister is going, too, from Bath, and she could easily divert here to collect Miss Winifred. A month or two away from the distresses of home may do her good, and give you time to consider some more permanent arrangement.”
“Are you sweet on her, Coylumbroke?” Kingsley said, eyebrows bristling. “You have been very attentive, and you need not think I have not noticed.”
“I have a regard for Miss Winifred, it is true,” Tom said, flushing a little but not averting his gaze. “However, I have long had concerns about her character. It seems to me that Miss Kingsley’s constant presence brought out all the worst aspects of Miss Winifred’s nature. She is very jealous of her sister, and it may be that some time apart, when Miss Winifred does not have the constant presence of her sister and all the reminders of her own inferiority of rank and temperament, and could be valued for herself alone, would be of great benefit.”
“I trust there are no secret passages at your uncle’s house?” Captain Edgerton said.
Tom laughed. “It is a castle, Captain, so naturally there are secret passages! However, Miss Winifred will not know them, and I shall be sure to tell her also about the dungeons and ghosts and the traps laid here and there, where a step onto the wrong part of the floor will tip the unwary into the moat. I believe I can prevent any unauthorised wandering about.”
Kingsley’s lips twitched slightly into the hint of a smile. “Then let it be so. If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I believe I will go to see my wife.”
26: The Autumn Fair (September)
‘Dearest Lucy, I am not sure what to make of your last letter. Naturally, it gives me pleasure to hear that Mr Willerton-Forbes and Captain Edgerton have been helpful, but you do not quite explain how they have helped, or what the secret passages have to do with anything. Clearly, there is more to the tale, but you are being discreet so I will ask nothing more. But you did not mention Mr Audley at all in your last letter. Is all well between you? I rather thought you were good friends. Your loving sister, Annabelle. ’
~~~~~
SEPTEMBER
Lucy was relieved it was all over. Mr Willerton-Forbes and Captain Edgerton were still at the Priory while they wrote up their report and enjoyed a little shooting, but their investigation was concluded. All the wardrobes in the old part of the house were being fitted with fixed shelves and the secret doors nailed shut, so that no one would ever again take advantage of them to creep about the house. Lucy at last felt safe in leaving her purse on the table.
Augusta had been reunited with her son, and also with her husband, who displayed an unaccustomed air of domestic happiness. Since a wet-nurse had been engaged, Augusta was now free to resume her role as chaperon to Deirdre, a role which, it was widely believed, would soon be rendered unnecessary by Deirdre’s marriage to Mr Exton. The Extons were to hold a ball at the end of the month, at which an announcement was anticipated. Lucy would stay on as Augusta’s companion.
Winifred had gone meekly away with Mr Coylumbroke’s sister, and her letters from the north suggested that she was enjoying herself enormously. Was she truly a murderer? It was impossible to say for sure. All the signs pointed to it, and everyone else seemed satisfied with that conclusion, but Lucy could not bring herself to believe that a girl of eighteen could murder an infant — two infants — in cold blood, and yet show no signs of depravity or abnormal behaviour. All Lucy had ever seen was the sort of envy that sometimes arose between sisters, when one was accorded more attention or adulation than the other. Winifred was jealous of her sister, it was true, and of the babies too, but she had never made any secret of her feelings and Lucy had never had any concerns about it. She had always supposed that once one or other of them married, all rivalry would drop away and they would be friends again.
Luckily for everyone, the full truth was known only to a very few. There was some speculation, naturally, and a few acquaintances asked pointed questions, but Winifred’s absence was easily explained. Everyone had observed Mr Coylumbroke’s attentions, and what could be more natural than that he should carry her off to be introduced to his uncle? The announcement of their betrothal, it was widely believed, could not be far off. Lucy hoped he would not rush into it. She liked Mr Coylumbroke very well, and the prospect of him marrying a murderess was not one she could consider with equanimity. If, in a year or two, Winifred showed more settled behaviour then perhaps it would be safe to set the past aside.
As for Lucy herself, she could not in all honesty say that she was happy. Mr Audley showed no inclination to leave the Priory, but equally he showed no inclination to renew his addresses, either. Nor was Lucy keen that he should do so. Since a marriage between them was entirely out of the question, she would have been more at ease if he had gone away altogether. Every day he received one or two invitations to join this or that party to enjoy the delights of the autumn, and he had a perfectly good house in Bath, should his inclinations tend that way, not to mention the estate at Stoneleigh Hall. Yet he lingered on, and Lucy had no idea why. It was certainly not for the pleasure of her company, for he said scarcely a dozen words to her each day, and seemed grave and distracted whenever they met. It was unaccountable.
“Mama, are you to attend the harvest fair on the glebe this Saturday?” Deirdre said one morning at breakfast.
“This Saturday? So soon?” Augusta sighed. “I am not minded for it, and no one will expect it of me, not so soon after Richard’s birth. You may go, dear, in my place.”
“Of course, Mama, and Lucy may accompany me. But if you are not to go, perhaps the nursery maids might be given the afternoon off, for they would enjoy the fair of all things, and they have had little leisure for their own amusements since darling Richard was born.”
“Why would they want leisure for their own amusements?” Augusta said. “If servants are given too much free time, they will be sure to get into trouble.”
“They like to meet all their friends,” Lucy said.
“I think it is a charming idea, and Mrs Hoole will stay here to attend the baby.”
“Oh no, Mrs Hoole will want to go too,” Deirdre said. “There is no one with so great a sense of ill usage than a servant who has been excluded from a treat. Mrs Hoole must go as soon as she has given dear Richard his feed at mid-day, for then he will sleep for two or three hours, you know, and you take your nap also at that time, Mama. You could rest on the chaise longue in the nursery with the crib beside you, and what could be more charming than mother and child fast asleep together?”
Augusta was much struck by this image of maternal felicity, and agreed to it without further demur, except to insist that Mrs Hoole not stay away longer than an hour in case the baby should wake and need her.
Lucy rather looked forward to the occasion herself. There would be bound to be Romanies there and she could have her palm read, and perhaps be told, as had happened once, that she would soon marry a handsome man of property. Three months later, she had become Mrs Walter Price, and if Walter had owned any property, he had hidden it very well. He had been handsome in his youth, however, or so he had often told her. She smiled when she thought of him. Dear Walter! Such a kind man, and she had felt quite safe with him. He had never kissed her so thoroughly that her stomach turned over and over, and her heart raced, and she felt as if she had drunk too much champagne. He had never kissed her at all, apart from a peck on the cheek now and then. Life had been simpler, then, and far less confusing.
At the fair, Deirdre paraded round the various stalls on the glebe behind the church like a queen, accepting the deference of the townsfolk as no more than her due. There were a couple of titled widows in the town, one the relict of a baronet, the other of a knight, but otherwise the Kingsleys were accorded the status of principal residents in the district. Lucy could not quite understand why, for the Smythe-Hunters had far more land, and the Turlingtons were connected to a marquess and a viscount, but she supposed it had to do with fortune. Such matters were of little interest to her, and she had never heard what Mr Kingsley’s income was or what his daughters’ dowries would be, except that they were generally agreed to be considerable.