“We don’t have the answers yet,” Inspector Knott said.
“What would drive Lovel to murder Miss Lillicrop?”
“There is sure to be a reason, my lady. And I shall discover it.” Inspector Knott chewed the stem of his unlit pipe and fixed a pair of keen brown eyes upon her. “Can you tell me more about your stepdaughter’s former governess? Have you learned what sort of person Miss Lillicrop was?”
“Very little, I’m afraid. Blythe liked her. She was fond of poetry, the Romantics in particular.”
A spark lit up the inspector’s eyes. “Of a romantical bent, was she?”
“I believe so.”
“We have taken a man into custody who was part of a gang of thieves. This gang has struck far and wide and seemingly at random. Beyond that, there is much yet to uncover.” He shrugged. “When he tried to sell the painting, we nabbed him. The thieves held on to it for such a long time because they feared it was too dangerous to sell. Then they panicked. He’ll oblige us with information… soon. As will Mr. Lovel.”
A policeman appeared at the door. He bent to speak in the inspector’s ear.
The Inspector turned to her. “It appears that Mr. Lovel has absconded.”
Vanessa gripped her hands together. It didn’t surprise her that Lovel had slipped through their fingers. “I do hope you can discover his whereabouts quickly.”
“We shall get him, never fear.” He took up his hat. “I shall keep you informed.”
“Thank you, Inspector.”
Blythe appeared as soon as the inspector left. She ran over to the painting. “Oh, they found it! I knew Miss Lillicrop couldn’t have taken it.”
“It’s a pretty scene, isn’t it?” Vanessa said. “All soft grays, creams, and greens.”
Blythe nodded. “I like the white horse, best.”
“Yes, he’s eating the grass.” Vanessa leaned forward. “And there are several caravans there, barely noticeable in the mist, can you see? My goodness, they are gypsy caravans.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Vanessa slept fitfully and woke while it was still dark. She hadn’t slept well, worried that Lovel was still at large. Might he return here? She longed for Julian, yearning to be near him again. Was he missing her too? Or was he too absorbed in his work to even think of her?
Early the next day, Inspector Knott directed the uniformed policemen over the grounds looking for any sign of Lovel. They fanned out across the lawns, disappearing into the wood.
Knott came to see her. “Maurice Lovel is the ring leader of the group of thieves,” he said. “His cousins ran the traveling fair as a cover for their nefarious business, which is why they stole from different counties. Lovel hid some of his spoils at Falconbridge Hall beneath the folly where the broach was found. I’m afraid we shall have to take up more of the floor.”
Vanessa went to the window watching the search in progress. “We suspected Lovel of being a bit of a rascal,” she said. “But certainly not capable of something such as this. Surely he wouldn’t risk stealing a painting from his place of work?”
“I doubt that he did.”
“Then who, Inspector?”
“I believe it was Miss Lillicrop. Mr. Lovel has a reputation as a lady’s man, I believe.”
Vanessa turned to face him. “Yes, he has.” She could believe Lovel had more lovers than Molly. “He might have seduced Miss Lillicrop, but why murder her?”
“It’s simply supposition at this stage. But the man we have locked up has told his version of events.”
Vanessa waited impatiently for him to take out his pipe and tap it against his palm. Once again, he didn’t attempt to light it. A habit perhaps. Or else he feared she would object to him smoking in her drawing room. “We believe that Miss Lillicrop removed the painting from the house without Lovel’s knowledge,” he said. “The gypsy caravans in the painting may have drawn her to it. Like Lovel, Miss Lillicrop might have liked to take things which didn’t belong to her. I expect never to know the whole of it. We have been told by the man in custody that Lovel, so enraged and fearful her actions could bring the police down on his head, struck her down.”
“Poor woman,” Vanessa said. “She just wanted to please him. I’ll be greatly relieved when he’s apprehended. Do you think he is still in the area?”
“I wish I could say confidently that he wasn’t. We’ve uncovered the gang’s cache of valuables. So, it’s unlikely he’ll flee without money. But the fellow’s proving to be hydra-headed. Cut off one head, two grow in its place.”
A policeman came to the door. “It appears that Lovel has scarpered, Inspector. We searched his room over the stables. His belongings are gone, and the stable boy hasn’t set eyes on him for several days.”
Knott followed him out only to return a half hour later. “I must remove my men. They are needed elsewhere and there’s nothing further we can do here.”
“But what if Lovel should return?”
“That would be foolish of him and he’s not a foolish man. Still….” he hesitated, “I’ll have a policeman stationed nearby.”
Knott departed, leaving Vanessa to pace the floor. He had spared little sympathy for Miss Lillicrop, believing her to be a thief. Vanessa remembered the drawing of a butterfly she’d found in the desk of the attic bedroom the first day she’d arrived. What had happened to it? She hurried up to the attic again and opened the drawer. It was empty.
Seeking out the upstairs maid, she asked her if she had seen it.
“I did, my lady,” Millicent said. “I moved it with your things and put it in your dresser drawer. The bottom one.”
In her bedroom, Vanessa knelt to open the drawer of the heavy mahogany dresser. She removed the drawing and studied it. With her newly acquired knowledge, she recognized it as a black and vermillion Catagramma, and it was most certainly Julian’s work. Had he given it to her or was Knott right, did Miss Lillicrop, like a bowerbird, like to take things that appealed to her?
Another restless night passed, and the next day boded to be just as long and disrupting. Vanessa was sitting in the drawing room after lunch when she heard a rap on the front door. Soon after, Johnson entered. “A telegram has arrived, my lady.”
Holding it in her shaking fingers, Vanessa read it. “His lordship is coming home, Johnson,” she said as a bolt of pure joy rushed through her. “But, wait! His boat is docking later today! He wishes me to meet him. I’ll tell Blythe; she’s practicing her scales.” Julian was coming home to chaos. What had happened to bring him home so early? Might he be wounded or ill?
Heading for the schoolroom, she met the housekeeper in the corridor. “Mrs. Royce, I have splendid news. His lordship is returning today.”
“Today, my lady? Indeed, excellent news.”
“Would you alert Cook?”
“I’m sure she will want to prepare a special dinner. I’ve managed to replace Dorcas when she marries Bert Jenkin from the dairy.”
“Well done, Mrs. Royce. I expected to find it difficult to hire staff while this investigation goes on.”
Mrs. Royce coughed and fidgeted with the jet beads at her throat. She had recently taken to wearing jewelry and had arranged small ringlets in front of her ears to soften her sharp features. “There’s another matter I wished to raise with you, my lady.”
“Of course, Mrs. Royce, what is it?” Vanessa waited for the older woman to speak; she had never seen her appear so discombobulated.
The housekeeper cleared her throat again. “Mr. Johnson has requested my hand in marriage. And I’ve accepted him.”
This had become the best-kept secret at Falconbridge Hall. “That’s wonderful, Mrs.
Royce.” Vanessa patted the woman’s arm as a worrying thought struck her. “I do hope this doesn’t mean you and Mr. Johnson will leave us.”
“We hope to remain in service here, my lady, if that’s acceptable.”
“I’m so pleased to hear it. You’ve become extremely important in the running of this hous
e and you both mean so much to the family.” Vanessa watched fascinated as Mrs. Royce’s lips stretched into a rare smile. “I hope you have your wedding party here in the servants’ hall and that his lordship and I may attend,” Vanessa said. “I know I can speak for Lord Falconbridge in this.”
Mrs. Royce’s face went a deeper shade of pink. “We’d be honored, my lady. Might I be so bold as to say how pleased we are to have you as our mistress? It does my heart good to see Blythe so much more contented.”
“That’s kind of you, Mrs. Royce. I must go and tell Blythe the news. She is supposed to be practicing her music, but she hates the scales.”
My, what love could do, Vanessa thought as she hurried to the schoolroom, marveling at her mellowing housekeeper.
There was a distinct absence of any kind of music as Vanessa opened the schoolroom door. Was that minx lost in a book? The room was empty. She went straight to the day nursery where Agnes was folding clothes. “Where is Blythe?”
“I thought she went in search of you, my lady. She was hoping for one of Cook’s freshly baked biscuits.”
In the kitchen, Cook was rolling out dough to add to the tray of biscuits cooling on a rack. “You must have missed her, my lady. Miss Blythe asked for a carrot to take down to the stables.”
Vanessa tamped down a sense of panic as she rushed out the kitchen door. She picked up her skirts and ran to the stables. The stable boy was alone. “Have you seen Blythe, Jim?”
Jim’s face reddened. “Yes, my lady. She visited her horse and was so upset that Buttercup hadn’t been exercised for so long she took her out.”
“How could you have let her go? She is never to ride alone.”
Jim shuffled his feet. “I told her that, my lady, but she insisted I saddle up Buttercup. I’m on my own here, with Lovel gone and the new groom not yet started.” He shook his head. “No good in me asking old Capstick to speak to her. She’s got him wrapped around her little finger. I hoped she’d be back before you came looking for her.”
“Saddle Flora. Be quick! I’ll ride astride.”
Once saddled, Jim led the horse out of the stable. With dread tightening her chest, Vanessa with Jim’s assistance mounted Flora and seized the reins.
“Do you really think you should, my lady? I mean you’ve not been riding long.”
Vanessa silently agreed with him. “Run and tell Johnson what has happened.” Lovel was still at large. She prayed that Blythe would appear from the direction of the bridle trail.
Astride the horse, Vanessa felt far more secure in the saddle. She reached the trail and urged Flora on. There was no evidence that Blythe had ridden this way. Once she reached the meadow, Vanessa pulled Flora up. She shaded her eyes with a hand, searching the landscape.
The flat land stretched for a mile, ending in the copse of weeping willows growing along the river where they’d ridden that day with Lovel. She felt sure Blythe wouldn’t go that far alone. Her concern for her horse might cause her to rebel against authority, but she wasn’t ordinarily a naughty child. Vanessa turned her mount and cantered back across the grass. Flora, who had been languishing in the stable, enjoyed the outing and stretched out beneath her. Vanessa’s bun unraveled, spreading her hair over her face and shoulders. She swatted a lock back and glanced down at her skirts hitched up over her thighs almost to her garters. She could do little about it. She reached the fork in the path and hesitated only a minute or two before riding into the wood.
After the episode with Miss Patterson, the shadowed, muffled silence sent shivers up her back. “Blythe!”
Her call was met with silence. Gasping with fear and exertion, Vanessa rode on. She called again as birds fluttered away through the trees.
Nothing.
There was a pile of fresh horse dung on the path. Blythe would not ride here alone. A terrible thought struck her. Unless she was not alone or in control of her horse. She shuddered and called Blythe’s name again, riding deeper into the trees, emerging into the glade where she’d found Miss Patterson that day beside the big oak tree.
Lovel suddenly appeared in front of her. He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her off the horse. Holding her wrists in such an iron grip she feared he would break a bone.
“Let me go, you’re hurting me!” she yelled at him, helpless against his brute strength.
“I knew you’d come.” He was dressed in gypsy attire, a leather jerkin and peasant shirt. Over the full trousers, he wore a sash, and tucked inside was an evil-looking knife. A bright bandana covered his head.
“Where is Blythe? What have you done with her?”
A new black beard sprouted from his jaw, and his eyes were bloodshot. He wore a gold ring in one earlobe and looked almost mad and decidedly dangerous. “If you want to see Blythe again, you’ll do what I say.”
“Bring Blythe to me now!”
Lovel’s gaze roamed over her as she tugged at her skirt. He took in her hair hanging almost to her waist, and a disturbing light appeared in his eyes.
“The police are here. They’re searching for you.”
“We’ll be long gone before they arrive.”
“What do you want? Why have you risked coming back here?” She found herself breathless. “It surely can’t be for revenge. You were always treated well.”
“The watch confiscated our cache of money and valuables. Money for me to leave the country. I fancied trying my luck in Australia. They say you can rise to the top there if you use your brains.” He straightened and, to her relief, loosened his grip on her wrist, his expression abstracted. “I, a Romani prince, have been treated like horse dung beneath people’s feet in this cursed country. If you want Blythe back unhurt, you will go to the house and get money. I’ll take jewels, anything valuable. But I prefer money.”
Sucking oxygen into her lungs, Vanessa looked directly into his black eyes and saw the fear there. He was like a cornered rat fighting to find a way out. “I insist on seeing Blythe first.”
Lovel took a fistful of her hair and wound it around his fingers, jerking her head back.
“Would you like me to soften you up first? I’m happy to do it. I can show you how a real man loves.”
“A real man?” Vanessa scoffed. “I am married to a man worth a thousand of you.” She remembered the sounds Lovel had made in the folly and shrank with horror. “A woman has died in this clearing. You are inhuman.”
He shrugged. “She was with child. Weak she was.”
“So you refused to marry her. Her family would have cast her off.”
“She was not of gypsy blood.”
“You are a murderer! You killed Agatha Lillicrop.”
He hesitated, as Vanessa searched the trees frantically for a sign of Blythe. “I didn’t mean to kill her,” he said after a pause. “She made me angry. I hit her a bit too hard.”
She was chilled that such a violent man had Blythe in his power. “Let Blythe go! Have you no conscience?”
“I can’t afford a conscience. Only the rich can indulge themselves. You wish to see the child?” He put a hand to his mouth and made a hoot like a barn owl. Immediately, a swarthy man stepped out of the bushes at the far side of the glade. He held Blythe struggling in his arms, small and vulnerable, her blue eyes huge with fear.
“Release Blythe, Lovel, and I’ll do as you say.” Vanessa tried to pull away, but he held her tight. “You can have both jewels and money. But you must let Blythe go first.”
He shook his head. “That’s not how it works. First give me the money and then the child goes free.”
Vanessa drew in a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm while her fingers curled into fists to strike at him. “I’ll get them. Promise me you won’t hurt her.”
“I’m glad you see sense. You’re a smart one all right.”
Lovel caught hold of Flora’s reins. His big hands touching Vanessa with shocking familiarity, he hoisted her onto the saddle and slapped Flora’s haunch.
“Don’t worry, Blythe, I’m coming
back for you!” Vanessa yelled, riding as fast as she could make Flora go.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Julian’s ship docked. With a boom, the steamboat nudged the wharf, sending a spray of gray-green water into the air. Deckhands scurried to raise the gangplank. Hurrying from the ship, he shivered at the cold breeze off the Thames and searched the crowd for Vanessa and Blythe.
There was no sign of them.
Perturbed, but assuming the telegram had gone astray, he said his goodbyes to the men and went to look for an available hansom. He crossed the road and walked past a shop’s newsstand. He glanced at it, came to an abrupt halt, then turned back. Blazed across the front page was Woman found murdered at Falconbridge Hall. “Christ!”
Julian swung round, spied a free cab, and darted out into the traffic to hail it.
***
When Vanessa reached the rose garden, Johnson ran across the lawn to take the reins. She jumped down. “Lovel has Blythe. He and a gypsy are waiting in the glade where the woman died,” she gasped. “Lovel wants money or they’ll hurt her.”
Johnson swore as he tried to catch his breath. “Beg pardon, my lady. What would you have me do?”
“Ring the inspector but tell him to keep the police away until I have Blythe in my care.” Vanessa was already running. She called back, “Impress on Knott that he must not take any chances with Blythe’s life. I’ll fetch the money. After I get Blythe safely away, they can arrest Lovel and shoot him for all I care. Make that absolutely clear, Johnson. And tell Mrs. Royce to make sure everyone remains in the house. Absolutely no one is to go outside.”
Showing remarkable speed, he raced past her. He reached the house and was on the telephone when she ran up the stairs.
Once in Julian’s bedroom, Vanessa retrieved the piece of paper with the safe’s combination written on it. She pulled back the painting that hid the safe, relieved that Julian had shown her before he left. She carefully followed the instructions, held her breath, and pulled the leaver. It clicked, and the safe door opened. Removing the velvet box, she emptied the necklace and earrings into her hand then shoved them into her skirt pocket. There was a wad of notes there, too as he’d promised, and also a pistol. Dare she take the gun when she had no knowledge of how to use it? She didn’t even know if it was loaded. Might the sight of it inflame Lovel and make him even more dangerous? Stuffing the money into her other pocket, she ran from the room.
The Mystery at Falconbridge Hall Page 20