by Granger, Ann
‘I do know it. How? That can come later. The task of keeping the fire in good order was given to a maid at the time, Rachel Sawyer. That is why she came to the open door, and that is why she saw what happened here that day. Is that not so?’
Mrs Lamont’s face had drained of all colour and I really feared she was going to faint away again.
Lizzie had noticed her distress. She left her seat, pulled a stool into a position beside Amelia’s chair, sat down on it and then reached out and took Amelia’s hand. I thought the woman might pull her hand away. But instead I saw how her fingers tightened on Lizzie’s.
She turned to look at Lizzie and asked, ‘Tell me, Mrs Ross, have you ever had the sad experience of being young and alone in the world, without parents or fortune?’
‘Indeed, I have had such an experience,’ Lizzie told her.
‘Then you will understand my situation when I was a very young girl.’
It seemed as if Amelia Lamont might continue to talk only to Lizzie in a private tête-à-tête. I cleared my throat loudly to remind her that I was there in an official capacity and anything she said would be taken as a statement to the police.
She turned back to me, casting me a glance that showed no interest at all in my presence or in what I might learn. ‘It is all over now,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter now. Charles has gone. Without Charles I have nothing.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘In my case, both of my parents died within forty-eight hours of one another. There was an outbreak of cholera. It took people so quickly and it left me an orphan at thirteen. My father had not been the success in his business attempts that Uncle Isaiah had been. He had left considerable debts. The house and all the furniture was sold off, my mother’s small amount of jewellery, the dishes we ate off, the clothes hanging in the closets. I was left with what I stood up in. Thirteen years old!’
‘My father was a doctor,’ Lizzie told her sympathetically. ‘He saw the cholera.’
‘Uncle Isaiah stepped in,’ Amelia continued. ‘Although he and my father had not been close because there was such a great difference in age between them. My grandfather had been twice married. My uncle was the son of his first wife and my father born to the second marriage made much later. Uncle Isaiah also considered my father improvident, foolish in his investments and heedless of advice my uncle had given him. However, he brought me here to Fox House to live with him.’
‘He was a kindly man,’ I said.
‘Oh, yes, Inspector Ross, indeed he was! As I grew up here I saw how his kindness stretched far beyond Fox House and me.’ A dry smile briefly touched her lips but did not reach her eyes. She released her grip on Lizzie, held up her left hand and began to number off the fingers with the index finger of her right.
‘Orphanages. Gospel missions in far-flung places. Lying-in hospitals for poor women. Public libraries for mill towns in the North. You cannot imagine the number and variety of good causes that came here, begging bowl in hand. All received something.’
‘Not only a kind but a good man.’
‘So I believed for several years while I was growing up here. But then I began to see it differently. I realised, by the time I was nineteen, that I had become indispensable to his comfort. What Rachel later became for me, so I was then for him. I ran his household, young as I was. I dealt with problems among the servants; decided on the menus, saw that the grocery bill was promptly paid. I was also his companion. I played cards with him after dinner every night of the week except on Sundays. He was particularly fond of bezique. Sometimes, especially on rainy days, I would sit and read aloud to him until my voice almost gave out. Always such dry stuff, the newspapers, in particular the business news and anything to do with the coffee trade. Or it might be from a book of sermons by some long-dead parson . . . or from the translated essays of Montaigne. He did not care for fiction, and thought it light-minded.’
She paused. ‘When I was twenty I met Charles Lamont. It was at a garden party in midsummer. All around me was colour, chatter, laughter and life – so different from here at Fox House, always so dark, so lacking in any humour or anything resembling trivial chat.’ She fell silent again for a moment, remembering those long, dull days. ‘I was speaking of the garden party. In the middle of all that gaiety was a newcomer to the neighbourhood, the most handsome man I’d ever seen. He had noticed me and asked someone to introduce us. That was Charles Lamont. I fell in love.’
The last words were spoken so simply and yet they said it all. I saw Lizzie look at me.
‘We began to meet,’ Amelia was saying, ‘whenever and wherever we could. He wished us to become engaged. I suggested he speak to Uncle Isaiah. He said he would do so willingly, but there was a problem. He had lost most of his money in some misfortune.’
Again Lizzie glanced at me but Amelia did not seem to notice. Yes, I thought, a misfortune on the run of play in some card game, or a horse that straggled in last of the field! But Lamont had had time to inquire about Isaiah Sheldon. He’d discovered he was wealthy and this young woman, gazing at him so adoringly, was Sheldon’s only living relative. He had found every gambler’s dream: an heiress, or one who soon would be rich. Wasn’t Isaiah Sheldon an old man?
‘By now,’ Amelia was explaining, ‘I was within weeks of my twenty-first birthday and would not need my uncle’s permission to marry. But without his financial help, it would be impossible. I decided to ask him to help us, Charles and me. After all, my uncle had helped so many other people. Why not us?
‘I remember our conversation very well. I sat here, where I sit now, and he sat over there facing me. That was his accustomed chair by the hearth, with his back to the door to avoid draughts. His great concern was his health. He was always fancying himself ailing and Dr Croft would be sent for. After – after my uncle died, I had both the chairs burned and bought these you see now. I explained that Charles and I wanted to be married. He asked me why Charles had not come himself to ask for my hand. I told him of Charles’s misfortune in losing most of his money. I stressed it was a temporary setback and he would recover. I asked Uncle Isaiah to make a financial settlement on me the day I turned twenty-one. It was so near.
‘He chuckled. I can see and hear him now!’ Her voice grew vehement. ‘He laughed at me! He said, “What’s this, m’dear? You want me to give you a dowry so that you can marry that rascal?” I protested that Charles was no rascal. “You are too young and inexperienced in the world to know your own mind,” my uncle said. “Especially in so serious a matter. You hardly know the fellow. It will do you no harm to wait. If he truly cares for you, he will understand that, and he will wait.”
‘I could not hide my dismay. I begged him. I said I asked for only enough to enable us to set up a modest home together. My uncle asked, “Why do you want another home? You have a very comfortable home here with me. Come, come, in a month or two you will have lost interest in this fellow, Lamont. You are not in love, my poor child. You have a girlish infatuation for a dandy with a glib tongue. You are a sensible child at heart and in time you will see him for what he is. Or you will have met someone else and fallen for a new beau. Let’s have no more talk of your leaving Fox House and no more talk of money! After all, my dear, I am an old man and frail. One day soon you will inherit all I have. Perhaps then, if you are still set on marrying Lamont, you will do so.”
‘I had to tell Charles that I would inherit it all, but before that day, I would be given nothing. Charles assured me he would wait for me to be free and independent. In fairness, he said, perhaps my uncle wasn’t being so unreasonable. He was over eighty. “I don’t wish your uncle dead,” he said, “but it will not be long before you are mistress of your own future.”’
Amelia uttered an exclamation of annoyance. ‘Charles didn’t know Uncle Isaiah! He continually talked of being a frail old man, but he was as fit as a fiddle.’ She pointed at the oil portrait I’d noticed on my first visit. ‘That is my uncle, hale and hearty when younger. He was still the same at eighty, other than f
or his white hairs and a stiffness in the hip, believe me. Yet my uncle himself frequently declared he was at death’s door. Dr Croft was always coming to the house. He tried telling my uncle that a little less wine and fewer roast dinners, a little more exercise, would cure all his aches and pains, his heartburn, sleeplessness . . . all the “symptoms”, as my uncle was pleased to term them.’
She fell silent.
‘You became afraid,’ I said, ‘that Charles Lamont would not wait for you if Mr Sheldon showed no sign of dying. There were other pretty girls, some with independent fortune, and he was a handsome fellow.’
‘Oh, it was worse than that,’ Amelia said quietly. ‘One evening, a few weeks after our conversation, Uncle Isaiah and I sat at yet another game of bezique. Without warning, he said, “I have been investigating the background of that rogue Lamont. He is a gambler, up to his eyes in debt, a wastrel. You will never marry him on my money! It is my duty to do all I can to prevent you throwing yourself away on him. The scales would soon fall from your eyes if you did marry him. Well, I’ll put a stop to it, not only now, but after my death. I intend to order my lawyers to draw up a new will. I shall leave you a respectable sum in trust. I would not leave you to starve, but you will have to live modestly. The bulk of my money will go to the many excellent charities I have supported in the past. Tell Lamont this. That is my decision. I will not change it. It is for your own good, my dear, and one day you will thank me for it.”’
The next words were clearly the most difficult for Amelia Lamont to speak so far. ‘I was afraid of losing Charles,’ she said very quietly. ‘I knew that without Uncle Isaiah’s wealth we could never be married. He was not able to visit his lawyer about the will the following day because there was such a thunderstorm. Before it broke, the air had been heavy. I had had a headache all day and felt wretched in every way. Uncle Isaiah, needless to say, did nothing but complain. His joints ached. He had difficulty in drawing breath. He thought perhaps he should send for Dr Croft again. He insisted that the fire be lit in here while the storm still raged because, he said, now that it had rained, it would turn chill very quickly and a sudden change of temperature was well known to be injurious to anyone in such delicate health as himself. I came into this room and saw my uncle asleep. The next day the weather would be cooler. Nothing would prevent a visit to the lawyer. I had to act.’
‘You took up a cushion and you placed it over your uncle’s face,’ I said. ‘You smothered him.’
She gazed at me with such hopelessness. ‘So Rachel did speak to you, after all. We were so afraid that she would when we heard that inquiries were being made about my uncle’s death. After all this time! Charles feared that Rachel might seek to save herself by telling everything. I told him I did not think she would. She had too much to lose. But Charles had never liked or trusted Rachel.’
‘No, Mrs Lamont, Rachel Sawyer did not speak. There was another witness.’
‘No, no!’ she retorted with sudden energy. ‘That is impossible!’
‘A gentleman who had been paying a visit in Putney that day was riding back into London. He was caught in the storm and tried to find shelter here. He could make no one hear at the door, so came to that window, over there.’ I pointed. ‘Through it he saw what you did.’
‘But – but nothing was said at the time! This gentleman you speak of, why did he keep silent?’
‘He had his own reason for being discreet about his visit to Putney. But he felt he could not go to his grave without speaking – and recently he gave a full account.’
She fell back in her chair. ‘I thought only Rachel had seen. She was on her way here with the coal scuttle, as you guessed. I had omitted to close the door and she saw everything. She said I had nothing to fear from her. She wanted only a better life. She was capable, had run her parents’ lodging house, had some education, knew about dealing with tradespeople. She was not content to remain a maidservant. If I would give her the position of housekeeper . . .’ Amelia made a gesture of resignation. ‘I agreed. It was like Faust’s pact with the devil. We could never be free of her. She would come and sit with me like a companion. She would accompany me when I went out on minor errands. It all served to remind me that I could never be without her. Charles hated her from the first and would have sent her packing, so I had to tell him why she must stay, what I’d done. We have lived with this for the past sixteen years. I swear to you I did not know Charles meant to kill her. But to be free of her at last . . .’
‘I must ask you to come back with me to London, Mrs Lamont,’ I said.
‘Yes, of course. Only let me tell them to bring my hat and shawl.’ She stood up.
‘My wife will assist you,’ I said politely.
Lizzie, slightly surprised, got quickly to her feet.
But Mrs Lamont waved to her to be seated again. ‘It is a matter of moments.’ She walked out of the room with a steady step. I heard her call out for Johnson.
‘Go, anyway!’ I urged Lizzie.
Lizzie followed her out and a few minutes later Mrs Lamont returned, with Lizzie, dressed in her outdoor clothing.
‘Then let us be off, Inspector Ross,’ she said briskly.
Her manner was now composed and in complete contrast to what it had been throughout our visit, but I could only feel very uneasy. In those very few moments before Lizzie had joined her in the hall, what had happened?
Chapter Seventeen
IT TOOK some time to return to London and for Amelia Lamont to be taken in charge. I had then to go to Scotland Yard and inform Superintendent Dunn of everything that had happened that morning. Only then could I once more address the matter of Charles Lamont.
He had spent the previous night in the cells at Marylebone Magistrates Court, where he would have had some noisy, drunken and insalubrious company. He had appeared before the bench that morning and been remanded in custody. I had hoped that he had had time to reflect on his situation and I might find him less arrogant. I did not expect to find him cooperative, that would be too much, but at least facing up to reality. Unluckily, I was not his first visitor.
‘His lawyer’s here, sir,’ said the officer at the desk. ‘He came about an hour ago.’
‘How the devil did he get here so quickly?’ I muttered.
‘Can’t tell you that, Mr Ross. But he was very insistent. I had to let him talk to the prisoner immediately.’
As he ceased speaking, a door behind us opened. I turned to see a tall, thin and distinguished-looking gentleman in black enter. His stately demeanour and air of authority indicated the higher ranks of either the Church or the Law. The absence of a clerical collar – and the leather satchel of papers he carried under his arm – suggested the Law. He treated me to careful study before asking, ‘You are perhaps Inspector Ross, the arresting officer?’
‘I am, sir.’ I could not help but feel, as I answered, that I stood on the witness stand and this gentleman was about to dissect my every word.
‘My name is Pelham and I shall be representing Mr Lamont’s interests, should the matter come to trial.’ He paused. ‘I understand you have also arrested Mrs Lamont, is that correct?’
‘We have, sir.’
‘Then I shall be representing her also.’
‘You may be confident that the serious nature of the charges will ensure that both Lamonts stand trial, Mr Pelham,’ I told him. ‘May I ask how it comes about that you have been called in by your clients so quickly?’
‘Certainly, Mr Ross. Mrs Lamont had been expecting you to call on her at home this morning. Her butler had been instructed, ahead of your arrival, that should you take her into custody, he was to contact me at once with the news. She learned from you, during your visit, that Mr Lamont was already in police hands. Therefore she amended her instructions to the butler accordingly, to include both her husband and herself. Johnson, the butler, came to find me the moment you had left the house with Mrs Lamont, to tell me both Lamonts were in police custody; and my services were needed urgen
tly.’
So that was why she had been so composed on leaving the house with me that morning! She had already put in place a contingency plan. She needed only a moment alone with Johnson to confirm his instructions; and tell him that Charles Lamont, too, would need legal representation. She had obtained that precious moment by leaving the parlour promptly before I could ask Lizzie to go with her. Lizzie had arrived in the hallway seconds too late. The ever-loyal Johnson had obeyed to the letter. Amelia Lamont was a clever woman.
‘Then I assume you will now be going to speak with your other client?’ I asked.
He permitted himself a dry smile. ‘Indeed I shall, Inspector Ross. No doubt we will meet again soon. Good day to you.’
Lamont was seated at the rough deal table in the centre of the small cell. He had not shaved that morning, but still managed to look the dandy, for all his rumpled coat.
‘Pelham says you have arrested my wife!’ he accused me, as soon as I appeared and before I could speak.
‘We have,’ I said.
‘More fool you,’ was his reply. ‘She is quite innocent of any wrongdoing. You have been over-zealous, Inspector Ross, not to say extremely rash.’
‘Indeed?’ I took the seat opposite him on the second chair that must have been brought in for the use of the lawyer. I put my hand in my pocket and took out the cufflink concealed in my fist, then put it on the table and withdrew my hand.
Lamont looked down at the trinket. ‘That little thing,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You believe that to be mine?’
‘It bears your initials and is stamped eighteen carat gold with the initials of the maker. It should not be difficult to find the goldsmith. He will remember making – or engraving – an individual object like this and for whom he carried out the work. It will be in his records. The link was found close to where Rachel Sawyer died.’
‘Do you say?’ He still wore that bemused expression. But his mind was working fast. His next words showed he had decided to abandon any pretence the cufflink was not his. ‘I wondered what had become of it. I can’t imagine how it got to where you say it was discovered. Who found it?’