by Granger, Ann
He leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtful. ‘There are some other changes here. I’d been away for so long, I think I had forgotten just how much Aunt Julia eats. Well, she always did enjoy a good table. But, is my memory at fault, or is she really eating even more?’
‘Because you’ve been away, you probably notice it,’ I told him. ‘I think she has put on a little weight, however.’
‘A string of medical men over the years have told her to keep to plain fare. This going off to have a nap in the afternoon is something new. She never did that when I lived here.’ Frank looked worried.
‘I’ve not seen her do that before, either,’ I admitted.
‘I am fond of her, you know,’ Frank said suddenly.
‘I know you are,’ I assured him. ‘She is devoted to you. She really did worry about you all the time you were abroad.’
‘Hm, well, she may not have to do that much longer,’ was the enigmatic reply.
‘Are you not to return to China, Frank? Will you now be off to some other exotic place?’
‘You may as well know that my career in the diplomatic may soon be over. Aunt Julia is keen that I go into politics. I am to stand for parliament.’
‘What?’ I gasped. ‘Oh, sorry, Frank, that sounded impolite. I am sure you – you would do very well as a member of parliament, but is this truly going to happen?’
‘She has been manoeuvring frantically for months, ahead of my return from Peking, to find me a safe and available seat. She knows an awful lot of influential people, and for a while she has been calling in her markers – if you’ll excuse my using a gambling term. It is common knowledge that there will be a general election before the end of this year. As it happens, a suitable seat will become vacant. The sitting member has let it be known that he will retire at the next election, due to his age and infirmity. It seems I am to submit my resignation to the Foreign Office and stand in the vacant seat as candidate for the Liberals, with a good chance of getting in.’
‘I wish you all the very best of luck, Frank,’ I said, not knowing quite what else to say.
‘It has meant a good deal of lobbying on my own behalf,’ he admitted. ‘In the short time since my return, I have had to meet no end of people whose good opinion I need to win. Time has passed in a blur. I’ve sat at so many dinner tables I really don’t remember the names of all the hosts! I was even taken to meet Mr Gladstone so that he could cast his eagle eye over me.’
‘I am speechless, Frank,’ I said honestly.
‘So was I, very nearly, on that occasion. Anyhow, it is agreed now and a candidate I shall be.’ Frank paused. ‘Some of the conversation at the dinner tables I mentioned was very interesting, all sorts of anecdotes told. Your husband’s name was mentioned on one occasion.’
‘Ben’s?’ I almost shouted in my surprise and horror. ‘Oh, Frank, was it because of Mills, the murderer?’
‘The details of the matter weren’t discussed. But I understand,’ Frank said with a grin, ‘that the home secretary was hauled from his bed in his nightshirt. I should like to have seen it. Oh, come, Lizzie, don’t look so downcast! Ross hasn’t wrecked his career. His persistence and devotion to his duty were admired. I was told the story only as an illustration of the realities of public office. Any good citizen and voter who has a grievance feels entitled to take it to his member of parliament. One is liable to be bothered at any hour of the day and one’s private life is at the mercy of public duty. Even someone in such high office as the home secretary is not exempt. If I am to go into parliament, it is something I shall have to expect and have to accept. That is the only reason Ross’s name was mentioned.’
A thought struck me, making my heart sink. ‘Frank? You haven’t been trying to help Ben, have you? I realise it would have been kindly meant but Ben—’
‘My dearest girl,’ said Frank. ‘I’m in no position to help, as you describe it. I told you about it in case you’d been worrying. I don’t even know what it was all about. It’s up to you if you want to tell Ross.’
‘No . . .’ I said thoughtfully. ‘Not yet awhile, at least.’
‘Oh, I know your husband doesn’t approve of me. But honestly, I have not been meddling.’
‘I am glad because I don’t like to keep things from Ben,’ I told him. ‘Not permanently, anyway.’
‘Also, if I go into parliament,’ Frank gave a sigh of resignation, ‘I suppose I shall have to find a wife. The voters like a married man, I’m told.’
‘I hope you won’t marry someone just for that reason!’
‘What reasons are left to me, since the lady I wanted to marry turned me down?’
‘Frank!’ I warned him. ‘Don’t start speaking of that. You did not really want to marry me. It was some madcap notion you took into your head for a while when I lived here.’
‘Lizzie dear.’ Frank’s tone was mild, but I caught an unaccustomed note of steel behind it. ‘Kindly allow me to know what I wanted.’
‘I am sorry,’ I said, ‘if you were very disappointed. But Mrs Parry would never have permitted it and your career – in the diplomatic or in parliament – would have been doomed from the start.’
I didn’t mention that she would almost certainly have cut him out of her will, as well.
‘Now,’ I told him. ‘I really should be going. I must send word down to the kitchen to Bessie to get herself ready.’
‘That funny little scrap who used to work here?’ asked Frank, reaching again for the bell pull. ‘You still employ her?’
‘Bessie is indispensable,’ I told him firmly.
‘You will call again, won’t you? Before I sink in a sea of politics? I should like to see you again, Lizzie.’
He asked this in a perfectly calm and friendly tone, but it presented me with a problem, even so. I am the first person to admit I don’t call on Aunt Parry as often as I should. If I should suddenly start calling more often while Frank was staying with her, Ben wouldn’t care for it one bit. I don’t mean that Ben does not trust me. However I know he doesn’t trust Frank.
Inspector Ben Ross
I had thought that, when I arrived home that night, I would have enough startling news to fill the evening. Lizzie listened to what had happened that day and looked alarmed.
‘Ben, this couldn’t have anything to do with – with my going to Putney with Wally Slater and Bessie, could it?’
‘At the moment I can’t see that it can be anything but a sad coincidence. I don’t think your visit would have influenced today’s events, or that anyone at Fox House knows of it. Clearly Rachel Sawyer had her secrets and until we find them out, we won’t know why she died. I was surprised to see Dr Croft at the scene, however. But I asked him to be discreet about my earlier visit to him and I am pretty sure he will have been. There is so much we don’t know and . . .’
That irritating sense that I couldn’t remember something I’d seen that day came into my head again. I must have scowled because Lizzie asked the cause. I explained. ‘It’s such a stupid thing. If it were important, surely I’d remember?’
‘If you don’t try so hard to remember, then you will,’ said Lizzie simply.
‘Let us hope so. Anyway, I shall be paying a call on Mrs Lamont tomorrow morning. That may jog my memory. Lamont suggested I arrive at eleven. I shall present myself on their doorstep at half past ten. It is not for him to say when I may conduct inquiries!’
‘I have a little piece of news, too, Ben,’ said my wife. ‘I paid a call on my Aunt Parry.’
‘Oh, how is the lady?’
‘Well enough, but she left us, as soon as the tea table was cleared, to take a nap. I’ve never known that. She didn’t sleep in the afternoon when I lived in Dorset Square with her. She didn’t rise from her bed until lunchtime so there was no need. Frank thinks—’
‘Frank?’ I fairly yelped. ‘Do you mean Carterton is back?’
‘Yes, I was surprised to see him, too. He is giving up the diplomatic.’
I
didn’t say that I’d always wondered just how Carterton had been of help to his country in that field. He’d always struck me as indolent and a wastrel. All right, I confess I have always felt some jealousy towards him. I know he had his eye on Lizzie from the start, when she entered that house, although Lizzie won’t believe it. Aloud, I asked, ‘And has he any plans about what he’ll do next?’
‘He is to stand for parliament,’ said Lizzie.
I must have sat there gaping like a landed trout. ‘Carterton?’ I managed to croak at last. ‘Has he any chance of getting in?’
‘Very good chances, I understand. There will be a vacant seat, and Frank is to contest it for the Liberals. The present member is to retire. But the seat is still considered a safe one. Frank has been introduced to Mr Gladstone, and all sorts of other people, in readiness.’
I would have slept fitfully that night anyway, my mind on the murder of Rachel Sawyer. This news ensured I hardly slept a wink. When I did, my dreams were filled with a nightmare vision of this country’s affairs being governed by a House of Commons packed with Frank Cartertons.
Chapter Twelve
I MADE an early start the next morning, crossing the river a little after nine. I wanted to pay a call first at Wandsworth police station and consult with Inspector Morgan. If Constable Beck were still available, I might also take him with me to Fox House. A uniformed man, waiting outside while I interviewed the lady, might impress upon the Lamonts how serious a matter a murder investigation is. At the moment they seemed to view Rachel Sawyer’s death as a nuisance. I felt a moment’s pity for the dead woman. No one grieved for her. Perhaps I was wrong. I might yet discover, when I spoke to Mrs Lamont, that she was feeling the sudden loss of her housekeeper and companion more keenly than so far suggested. She had swooned away on my first visit. That might just have been the result of receiving such shocking news . . . or too-tight lacing. However, fainting away is as good a ploy as any to dismiss an unwanted visitor. I was still undecided when I entered Inspector Morgan’s office.
‘Ah, Ross,’ Morgan greeted me cordially, rising to his feet and holding out his hand. ‘Hot on the trail? Excellent. We might be getting somewhere, eh?’
I thought he seemed very cheerful and wondered why. I explained that I was on my way to Fox House to interview Mrs Lamont.
‘We have been busy here, too,’ Morgan informed me. ‘We’ve tracked down your mudlarks!’
So that was the reason for his glee. I was pleased, too. ‘I’d like to talk to them as well,’ I said.
‘Indeed you shall. I’ll send out Beck to round them up and bring them here. It will take an hour or so, but we do know where to find all three. They are of one family. The father is not unknown to us. He is a brawler when drunk and a petty thief when sober.’
That destroyed my plan to take Beck to Fox House. But talking to the boys was more important. I said so.
Morgan grew thoughtful. ‘I don’t know what they’ll tell you. I have already questioned them and asked them whether they’d removed any item found at the site. I didn’t ask if they’d robbed the body because I’d hardly expect them to confess to that! I merely asked if, by chance, they’d seen something of value, as they’d been searching for such items. They said – all three – they hadn’t. I expected no less. They are accustomed to a police officer arriving at the door to arrest their father for theft, their mother as well on occasion. She specialises in stealing washing put out to dry by neighbours. But you may have more luck talking to them.’
Tracking down the boys was a good start. I felt quite optimistic as I made my way to Fox House. The disapproving Johnson did not appear surprised to see me there earlier than eleven o’clock. The butler was by now clearly resigned to my lack of any social graces. He went to announce me and returned to lead me to a small back parlour.
I had hoped that we’d talk in the main front parlour, the scene of Isaiah Sheldon’s death, but it was not to be. The little back room was empty and modestly furnished. I felt I’d been demoted. I was not a guest of any consequence. I was only a shade above someone admitted by the tradesmen’s entrance.
A few minutes after Johnson had left me there, a click at the door announced the arrival of Amelia Lamont.
She was alone. That surprised me because I’d expected Lamont to come with her to stand guard in case I said anything to send her into another faint. She seemed composed and invited me to sit down.
When we faced one another, and she had arranged her skirts, she spoke first. ‘You wish to talk to me about poor Rachel.’
Now that her husband did not obstruct my view, I was confirmed in my first impression that Amelia Lamont was a very handsome woman. She had fine large dark eyes and a smooth, wrinkle-free skin. Her thick chestnut hair was twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck. I wondered if she was indeed really also a murderess.
This morning Mrs Lamont had not dressed in mourning black and I’d not expected it. However close she might have been to Rachel Sawyer, the dead woman had been an employee. Mrs Lamont wore a gown of glazed cotton, a discreet reddish-brown plaid in pattern, with modest braid trimmings. To the bodice was pinned one of those Scottish brooches set with the ‘jewels’ often called cairngorms after the mountains where that sort of quartz is found. It set the right note. Her hands, folded in her lap, wore only a wedding band on the left, and a small cameo ring on the right. She had herself well under control and would not faint on me today. But my aim was to trouble that calm or I’d learn nothing. It was a pity I hadn’t been able to bring Beck. It might have helped to have him pacing up and down outside in his big boots.
‘It was distressing news I brought you yesterday,’ I began. ‘I am sorry for the shock it caused you. I hope you are fully recovered?’
She inclined her head in acknowledgement of my apology. ‘I am quite well, thank you. It is hard to accept the news about Rachel, but I must.’
‘I do need to talk to you about Miss Sawyer, ma’am. I understand it will be distressing. But it is a dreadful murder I am investigating here.’
She winced as if I’d stuck a pin in her but said nothing.
‘Miss Sawyer had been with you a long time, since before your marriage, I understand.’
‘Yes.’ Amelia Lamont’s voice was very quiet. ‘A very long time.’
‘I wonder if I might ask what will seem a very personal question?’
Her lips moved almost to form a smile, but it was not one of good humour. Like the earlier wince, it was nearer a grimace of pain. I began to think I’d been wrong in suspecting she’d faked the faint on my last visit. Mrs Lamont was deeply distressed, though hiding it as a woman of her upbringing and background would. But what was the cause of that distress?
‘I am sure you will do so, Inspector Ross. Isn’t that why you are here?’ she asked.
I managed a deprecating gesture. ‘It is my lot, Mrs Lamont, to intrude on people’s grief and trouble them with such questions. Rachel Sawyer was, I believe, a housemaid here in the days when your uncle was alive. Your husband told me so.’
She nodded.
‘I also understand that, after the death of the late Mr Sheldon, you dismissed all the household staff except Rachel Sawyer. I am wondering why you chose to keep her on.’
‘You have been talking to others and not only my husband,’ she said. ‘The staff had all – with the exception of Rachel – worked for some years for my uncle. The pattern of the household was set as if in stone. It was clear it would be almost impossible for me to make changes. I decided to engage my own servants and train them as I wanted. Rachel had only worked here for a year, slightly less. She was more malleable. Also, I liked her.’
‘Yet she must have been a young woman of undistinguished origins and little education. You made her your housekeeper and, I understand, something of a personal companion.’
Mrs Lamont dealt with what should have been a tricky question easily. ‘Rachel’s parents had kept a small lodging house. She was not without education, as
you seem to think. She read easily, wrote a fair hand and could reckon up numbers at considerable speed. She had kept the accounts of her parents’ business. I felt she deserved better than to be a housemaid.’
‘Why had she left her parents, since she was obviously of great use to them?’
‘They had died within a month or two of one another. There had been debts. She had been obliged to sell everything and was alone in the world, no other family.’ Mrs Lamont paused. ‘It was a situation with which I had great sympathy, having once been in a similar circumstance myself.
‘Rachel applied to be taken on the books of an agency supplying domestic staff. It was from this agency my uncle had engaged her.’ Amelia Lamont paused. ‘My late uncle had many charitable interests. He was well known for his generosity. He was of Quaker upbringing; although no longer a member of that Society. He had become a staunch member of the Church of England. But he had kept many of his Quaker principles, including an interest in practical projects to improve the lives of the poor. The domestic agency of which I spoke sought to place respectable young women, like Rachel, who had fallen on hard times. He had engaged staff from them before.’
‘I understand, of course,’ I said. ‘But it seems unfair to me that the other staff, who’d served your uncle well for a number of years, were all dismissed.’
‘They all found employment elsewhere. To have worked at Fox House was a good reference.’
‘There was an elderly valet to your uncle—’ I began.
She flushed and interrupted me. ‘Inspector Ross, you seem to have made detailed inquiries about me and I suspect you have been listening to gossip. I cannot see this has anything to do with Rachel’s dreadful death.’
Mrs Lamont had had time, since the day before, to consider the questions I might ask and prepare her answers. I had expected that. But she hadn’t expected me to know of her shabby attempt to deprive the valet of his annuity.
I raised a placating hand and did not pursue that direction of questioning. It was true it had nothing to do with the murder and she was right, someone had listened to gossip. It had been Wally Slater and not I, but she did not need to know that. My mentioning the valet had served the purpose. It had rattled her composure.