“Quite,” murmured Underwood, “But what precisely did he want of you?”
“We were to dress up fine – he gave us the money to buy the clothes and paid for the hotel we stayed in. Then we were to get to know the soldiers well enough to learn their names. There was a special signal we were to give when we found that Pennyfather fellow. Tilly, that’s my companion, was to rap him on the arm with her fan, frequent like, so that he would see her – said he would be watching. She was to get so friendly with him so that he thought he was in with a chance. The man said he would take care of the rest.”
Underwood looked thoughtful. It seemed innocuous enough. No wonder the women had not suspected foul play. The plan was probably to use Miss Mills’ name to entice Pennyfather to the place where he was killed. No note was found on his body, but that would take no time at all to remove.
“You were not told to cause a disagreement between Swann and Pennyfather?” he asked, wondering where the younger man had come into the plot.
“No, that was Tilly using her noddle. A bit of competition always makes the gentlemen more keen.”
So it was not intended to frame Swann for the murder; that had probably been a fortuitous circumstance for the murderer.
“Could you describe the man who made these requests?”
She gave a malicious grin, “He might have worn a uniform, but he didn’t fool me. You can’t be in this game and not know your prey! That youngster was a back door usher, I’d swear to it. Showed not a mite of interest in any of the girls, and some of them are worth looking at, believe me.”
Underwood once more looked so mystified that Toby guffawed, both at his blank expression and at the woman’s turn of phrase.
“She means that he was a man who prefers the company of other men,” he said delicately.
This Underwood did understand, having studied the cultures of both ancient Greece and Rome. He blushed slightly and gave Toby a rueful grin, “I ought to have been able to work that out for myself,” he said, “Never mind. Tell me, madam,” he added, “would you be able to recognize this man if you saw him again?”
She shrugged nonchalantly, “Could do, I suppose, but I won’t.”
He looked shocked at her stark response, “What do you mean? The law requires that you do so.”
“The law can go to the devil!” she exclaimed. “You’ve just admitted this fellow is a cold-blooded murderer. Do you think I’m going to be the one to point the finger at him? I may not have the life of ease that you enjoy, my friend, but I’m not ready to leave it yet!”
Underwood had no choice but to leave the matter there. He had no power to arrest her and he was convinced that by the time he could get Sir George Gratten to Braxton to bring her in for questioning, both she and her friend Tilly would have melted away into the crowds that peopled these small islands. Manchester, or even London, beckoned and once in those great cities, the chances of finding the women again were negligible.
It was hardly a satisfactory ending to the quest, but at least they now knew that there had been a plot afoot to entice Pennyfather away from the safety of the company of his comrades and Swann was unlikely to have been involved.
But who was, and why?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
‘Viresque Acquirit Eundo’ – She gathers strength as she goes
As was his habit, Underwood rose late and went in search of breakfast, only to be surprised by the presence of a desolate and still snivelling Violette at the table in the dining room. She was engaged in pushing food around her plate but appeared to be eating very little of it.
Underwood wished her, “Good morning,” but judiciously made no other remark. He liked to take his morning meal in peace and was not about to endanger this by venturing an opening gambit which would allow the obviously unhappy girl to pour out her troubles into his unwilling ears.
Verity bustled in with a filled platter for him and tutted loudly at Violette’s lack of progress with her food, “My dear girl, I know for a fact that you spent half the night weeping into your pillow, so I beg you will please try to eat something or you will make yourself quite unwell.”
Violette raised tragic eyes to her hostess’ face, “I’m sorry, Madame, I did try, I promise you, but I have not the appetite for anything.”
“I wonder if perhaps a cup of spa water might aid you in restoring your desire for Mrs Underwood’s delicacies?” said Underwood diffidently, though he was aware that he was rather exaggerating in crediting Verity with the provision of their meals. They had a very competent and extremely tolerant cook in the shape of Ginny Murdock, who also aided Verity in keeping house, washing, cleaning, baking and occasional childcare. She was currently rather sulky as she felt Sabrina could be doing a great deal more about the house, especially with the little girls, and would certainly be willing to do so if only Mr Underwood had not taken her in such dislike. Ginny, who had been with the family for less than a year, was not aware of the ex-slave’s role in Underwood’s recent serious illness as the family had chosen to underplay it for Toby’s sake. The Underwoods generosity of spirit in inviting all and sundry to share their roof tended to have a detrimental effect on their ability to keep staff. To be fair to their previous two cooks, it was somewhat disconcerting to suddenly find oneself catering for an extra four or five mouths at short notice, and not as infrequent an event as it perhaps ought to be. Ginny was much younger than the other two ladies had been and Verity lived in hope that might mean she was more amenable.
Verity took her husband’s suggestion to be helpful, which to a degree it was, though, with Underwood there was almost always an underlying reason for apparent thoughtfulness. He needed to go into town to see Jeremy James and he would find it a great deal easier to escape the domestic toils if Verity also felt it necessary to travel to Hanbury, rather than to stay at home and attend to tiresome, but urgent, household tasks. He knew that Verity had been eying his study with a view to giving it a good turnout and he would have been forced to help her, if only to ensure that she did not, in her enthusiasm, disturb any of his papers or get rid of any of his books. What she considered to be rubbish and what he felt he could not live without were two very different things.
“My dear, I could not agree more, but what of the children – and were we not about to clean your study?”
“The study will still be there tomorrow,” he reminded her stoically, as though the very words did not send shivers down his spine, “And Sabrina can take care of the children, can she not? In fact, I think it is high time we made the arrangement a permanent one. You need a little more free time to pursue your own work and Sabrina has too little to occupy her. As Gil frequently reminds us and I know to my cost, the devil makes work for idle hands.”
Verity was astounded by this concession, but she was far too wise to remark upon it. A typical male, Underwood was more than able to reverse the decision if he felt there was any possibility that he had been manoeuvred into it by feminine wiles. Let him think he had come to the conclusion all on his own rather than by months of careful manipulation by his loving wife, Sabrina and his old friend Toby. Never had three people worked so hard to show a woman in her best light! If Underwood had ever thought it odd that his daughters always seemed to be playing happily with Toby’s wife under his study window whenever he was working in there, he had not remarked upon it.
Violette had observed this exchange between husband and wife with growing disquiet and when Verity said heartily, “Very well, I shall ask Toby to bring the carriage around just as soon as I have changed into my outdoor shoes. Come Violette, you must do the same.”
She shrank from her hostess as though she had offered her poison, “Oh, no, no, pray do not ask me to go. I cannot show my face in Hanbury ever again. I would rather die!”
For once Verity chose to be strict rather than warmly sympathetic, “Nonsense, my girl, we are not going to let that horrid Thickbroome win. You will come to the Pump Rooms with me as my companion and let him dare t
o proffer one word of criticism of my actions and he shall hear a few home truths that will make his ears ring. Now, come along.” With that she swept the young French woman off to find her shoes and Underwood was able to finish his meal in relative peace.
They need not have concerned themselves. The Wablers and their comrades had already been to the Pump Rooms, declared it so poor of company that it was as dull as ditch water and had decamped to one of their favourite hostelries. Underwood felt no compunction in following them – it was so early in the day that even the Wablers were probably drinking coffee and nothing stronger. He settled his wife in her usual seat, surrounded by her cronies, kissed her hand, bowed to the other ladies, then took himself off in search of them.
It was not entirely due to eagerness to join the Wablers that he left so precipitately, for he noticed that Martha Jebson was amongst the ladies, looking smug and preening herself over something one of the others had said. The smile slid from her face as soon as she saw Violette in Verity’s company, but she dared not challenge the undisputed Queen of Hanbury society and sank into a sulky silence. It did not prevent her, though, from sending occasional poisonous glances in the direction of her erstwhile maid servant.
No sooner had he wended his way across the room and out of the door than Miss Lilith Sowerbutts joined them, looking after his retreating figure with an expression of regret.
“Is that the celebrated Mr Underwood I see? What a shame I have missed him again. I have been trying this age to catch him and introduce myself.”
Verity was always polite, even to young ladies who seemed to be impertinently interested in her husband.
“It is Miss Sowerbutts, isn’t it? You have been pointed out to me, but we have not yet been formally introduced.”
The young lady tore her gaze away from the now almost vanished Underwood and smiled down at his wife, “I do beg your pardon. How rude of me to encroach. My only excuse must be that I have no mutual acquaintance whom I could ask to perform the civilities for me. Do tell me that I am forgiven!”
The smile was so conciliatory and engaging that Verity found herself smiling warmly back, “Of course. Please do join us, Miss Sowerbutts.”
Miss Sowerbutts gladly accepted the invitation and began at once to chatter pleasantly and at length and Verity could only be glad that a slight cold had kept Lady Hartley-Wells indoors for several days, for she would surely have uttered a sharp reprimand at such hoydenish behaviour in one so newly arrived in town. Ellen Herbert was busy most mornings, helping with her husband’s patients and caring for her sons – her income did not run to nursery maids such as the other ladies employed – and so she rarely joined the group. Cara and Mrs Milner were also absent, having gone shopping together. They had bonded very nicely over this shared enterprise, much to Verity’s relief, for she found traipsing around the shops a sore trial and was coerced into doing so far more often than she would have chosen.
“I understand you have a brother, Miss Sowerbutts?” Verity ventured to enquire, when the incessant speech finally ground to a temporary halt.
“Please, call me Lilith. I do think excessive civility is tiresome, don’t you? Yes, I have a brother, Gervase. He is about somewhere. He rarely leaves my side as he feels responsible for me, since we are alone in the world.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Verity, all her sympathy awakened by the thought of the two orphans, with no one but each other to call upon. “Was your bereavement recent?”
“Not at all, our parents died many years ago, but until this year we were in the care of an older cousin. The very moment I reached my majority, Gervase and I made our escape.”
“Dear me,” said Verity, “you were unhappy with your cousin, then?”
“Oh dear me, yes!” replied the other gaily. “You must know what petty tyrants women can be, once they have you in their power. Since they have no dominion over men, they needs must flex their muscles over any unfortunate female who strays into their path. Take my word upon it, my dear, never accept a favour from a woman unless you have no other choice. You’ll be forever expressing your gratitude and it will never be enough, though you crawl on your belly like a dog.”
“Very true, Mademoiselle,” said Violette quietly.
Martha, who had so far kept what she considered to be a dignified silence, could hold her tongue no longer. The moment the French girl dared to speak, she lashed out at her. She had been furious to be upstaged by the newcomer and livid that Mrs Underwood, a woman she had come to believe was her friend, had sided with a mere servant, so she had no misgivings at fully venting her spleen, uncaring of who was listening or what they might think of her outburst.
“Hush, you, you despicable creature!” she snapped viciously, “No one gave you leave to join in the conversation of your betters. Keep your opinions to yourself, guttersnipe. Didn’t they once hang a monkey thinking it was a French spy? No wonder. You are all ill-mannered apes!”
The gasps of shock at this breach of every tenet of polite society were not only audible, but the expressions on every lady’s face would have alerted even a deaf man to the horror this comment produced.
“Mrs Jebson, you go too far,” said Mrs Lethaby harshly, for she had made something of a special friend of the younger woman, seeing in her an ally for the various little disagreements that occasionally arose between the shop-keepers of Hanbury. Such discord, it should be said, was generally caused by Mrs Lethaby herself, who was never happier than stirring the pot, but it did not suit her purposes to have Martha make an enemy of all there by such unforgivable behaviour. “Should you not be at home, caring for your children, now that you no longer employ a nurse maid?”
“Not locked them in a room on their own, I trust,” added Mrs Simpson, who made no secret of her dislike of the apothecary’s wife.
Martha flushed uncomfortably, for she had threatened just such an action before Will had lost his temper with her and told her to take herself off if she felt so strongly in need of a rest from the cares of motherhood and he would watch the children himself. He had left the unfinished tasks in the shop and taken them to walk around the park.
“Of course I have not,” she snapped, “but I should like to see you cope with my troubles, then perhaps you would not be so quick to judge. None of you know what I have been through,” she added pathetically, searching her reticule for a handkerchief and dabbing at non-existent tears.
Surprising everyone, Adeline Thornycroft suddenly took part in the conversation. She was a quiet woman, who saw much and said little, and carried an air of sadness that not even marriage to that rapscallion Jeremy James could completely lift.
“I have some experience of the matter,” she said softly. “I had the charge of my foster-niece for a good while and I can vouch for the difficulties. She was a deaf mute and was challenging at times, but it broke my heart when she was taken from me.”
Martha turned to look at her, astounded that anyone could possibly try to steal her thunder by presuming to have a worst case than her own, “You obviously were not caring for her well enough, or she would not have been removed from your guardianship,” she said swiftly, and without the least sensitivity, so eager was she to demonstrate her own superior maternal instincts.
“Not at all,” answered Adeline evenly. “Her father had been hanged for murdering her grandmother and her mother sentenced to 10 years hard labour for assisting him, but in the end the judge took pity on the child’s plight and her mother was released after only two years whereupon she claimed her child back, as was only right. However, I could wish that she had been made to serve her full term, for she put the girl into an asylum when the charge of her grew too onerous. I visit whenever I can, but it is not a happy existence for poor Melissa.”
They were all silent at hearing this sad tale. Of course Verity knew of it all already, for it was none other than Underwood who had uncovered the perfidy of the odious Adolphus Gedney and sent him to the gallows for the poisoning of his mother-in-la
w.
The story had an entirely unexpected effect upon Martha Jebson. Her face took on an altogether unpleasantly calculating expression, “You mean there are places I could send the girls to be cared for?” she said, entirely missing the point of the story.
Both Verity and Violette spoke in the same instant; Violette to say, “Oh, no, pray do not send Prue and Minta away. That would break Will’s heart.”
“You could not do anything so wicked,” said Verity, and her louder exclamation fortunately drowned out Violette’s error in calling her ex-employer by his first name and with such unrestrained passion.
“I’ll thank you both to mind your own business,” said Martha tartly, “If you care so much, Mrs Underwood, take them off my hands yourself. You seem happy to take in any dirty little waif or stray that comes your way.” She looked pointedly at Violette, who met her eyes with a defiant stare. Violette found in that tense moment that she not only disliked and distrusted Martha Jebson, she positively hated her.
Miss Sowerbutts had watched this exchange with astonishment. She had intended to inveigle herself into their company in order to meet the famed Mr Underwood, but she had hardly expected such an entertaining development. In order to take some of the heat out of the confrontation, for she could see that Verity was growing red-faced with suppressed fury, she gave her own opinion of the case.
“I know a little about these things, Mrs Jebson, was it?” she asked and Martha nodded to acknowledge that she had named her correctly. She went on, “I understand such places are prohibitively expensive – or at least, the good ones are. As to the rest, well, as with everything in life, you get what you pay for.”
Martha was in no mood to be placated, “Mr Jebson will find the money if it is for the care of his precious children – he cares more for them than for me, I dare swear. But, after all, why waste resources on them? They barely know their own names, so I doubt they will much care where they are, provided their bellies are filled.”
A Place For Repentance (The Underwood Mysteries Book 6) Page 25