by Michael Cox
Yrs faithfully
B.K. (Mrs)
I laid the letter down. Added to my own testimony of encountering the writer at the Duport Arms, it provided powerful confirmation that Emily had met the late Mrs Barbarina Kraus here at Evenwood, not long before the unfortunate womans body had been hauled out of the Thames at Nicholsons Wharf.
I could easily picture the scene the old lady slopping along the terrace in her worn and filthy shoes, a bent and ugly goblin figure beside the tall, noble form of her victim, barely suppressing her malicious glee at having haughty Lady Tansor in her power at last for some wrong that she claimed had been done to her, whilst my Lady strives to maintain her dignity and self-command in the face of her tormentor.
Then I imagined the clutch of freezing fear that Emily must have felt when shown the letter in which, as it would appear, some great secret had been carelessly set down, and which she must now prevent from being published to the world at any cost.
Inspector Gully had been right. It was a case of blackmail, pure and simple. Mrs Kraus had met her untimely end because of a forgotten letter, still carrying the faint scent of long-dead violets, over which her poor infatuated son had dreamed for twenty years and more.
Had the killing of Mrs Kraus been explicitly contemplated by Emily from the first? Could I believe this, even of my fathers betrayer? Perhaps her instructions to Mr Vyse had been exceeded deliberately or otherwise as they had been when her father had been attacked on the orders of Phoebus Daunt. Then I had a sudden vision of Mr Vyses cruel eyes as he listened to her. I could even imagine what he might have said in reply: No half-measures in such cases, my Lady, no half-measures And then the insinuations and circumlocutions, uttered so soothingly, so reassuringly; the knowing looks, no words necessary, everything perfectly understood. Do not concern yourself, my Lady. All will be made well, if you only place the matter in my capable hands
The source of his power over her was now plain. She had been so bewildered by events that she had failed to appreciate the folly of taking such a man into her confidence. In delivering herself from the clutches of Mrs Kraus, she had become caught in the toils of someone more dangerous still.
Placing Mrs Krauss letter in my pocket, I next turned to the communication from Madame.
She began by congratulating me, most warmly, and at some considerable length, on my success with regard to Perseus, confessing that she herself had doubted whether this absolutely necessary outcome could be achieved. She had also considered whether it would pose any risk to our enterprise to take Mr Wraxall into our confidence. To my relief, she saw no objection to it, and was therefore happy to allow me to use my discretion as to how much I should reveal to him of my purpose in coming to Evenwood, and when it would be best to do so, although I was prohibited from revealing my true identity to him, or to anyone else. To Lady Tansor alone, and to no other person, could the truth eventually be made known, when the proof of her crimes had been finally gathered in.
With her letter was one from Mr Thornhaugh:
LITTLE QUEEN,
The end of yr Great Task is now in sight. Keep yr nerve, & all will be very well.
I entirely concur with Madame concerning Wraxall. I know him, by reputation, to be a man of the highest integrity & discretion, possessing besides a most extraordinarily penetrating & subtle intellect. You could have no better ally.
Madame and I are so very proud of you, Little Queen, as we know yr father would have been. It is a great thing you are doing, hard though it is. You have shown yrself in every possible way to be truly worthy, both of the Great Task, & of the ancient Duport blood that flows through yr young veins. For everything you have accomplished, and for what yet remains to be done, believe me, you will be most amply rewarded.
Yr very affectionate old Tutor,
B. THORNHAUGH
P.S. Madame and I were most shocked to hear of the unfortunate demise of R. Shillito. But London is a dangerous place, even in these modern times, & it wd have been awkward, to say the least, had R.S. finally brought to mind the true identity of Edwin Gorst. It is, I regret to say, an ill wind
Having established that Mr Wraxall had returned to North Lodge a few days earlier, I now sit down to write him a note, asking whether I might call at his earliest convenience.
It then occurs to me that I should seek out Charlie Skinner, to see what he has to say concerning the rendezvous that he had witnessed between Emily and Mrs Kraus. So off I trip, down the back stairs, and into the white-washed corridor leading to the servants hall. There, to my surprise, I find Mr Randolph.
As he comes down the corridor towards me, the door to the servants hall is pulled softly shut by some unseen person within; but I pay little heed to this, for Mr Randolph is asking me how I am, and how I had liked Florence, and what I had seen and done there, and telling me how splendid I look, et cetera, et cetera a veritable torrent of rapid questions and remarks, to which I hardly have time to respond before another comes my way. Then, suddenly taking my arm, he ushers me, rather unceremoniously, towards the back stairs again.
It is a fine warm day. At Mr Randolphs suggestion, we step outside. Soon we are sitting together on a stone bench overlooking the deep dark waters of the fish-pond, enclosed within its high grey walls.
And how did my dear brother conduct himself in Florence? he asks. Was he an amenable companion? I do hope so.
As I cannot tell him the truth, I say that Mr Perseus was much occupied with his new poem, and that we had seen little of each other as a consequence.
Ah, the great new work! he exclaims, with a rather forced laugh. What a marvel my brother is.
Falling silent, he gazes distractedly at a shoal of large silver-and-gold fish and their progeny, which is gliding languidly towards a patch of sunlit water.
Youre aware, I hope, Esperanza, he says of a sudden, nervously passing his hand through his hair, a habit he has whenever he is struggling with some weighty matter, how much I admire you?
Admire me?
Yes, indeed. I consider it admirable, in every way, that youve come here, an orphan and lacking the comfort and support of friends, and yet youve made yourself so much a part of our family and indispensable, as I well know, to my mother. I hope youre happy. I suppose you are happy, arent you? I we would hate to lose you, you know.
I reply that I have no intention of leaving Evenwood, as long as I can be of service to his mother.
I believe its a rare blessing in this world, he then observes after a little pause, and in a tone of absent reflection, almost as if he were thinking aloud, to know what makes us happy truly happy and then to be given the means of securing it.
And do you know what makes you happy? I ask.
Oh, yes! he returns, with a sudden burst of passion. Absolutely. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.
For a moment, I think that he is about to unburden himself at last regarding his feelings for me; but, as Evenwoods bells begin to chime out eleven oclock, he jumps to his feet to announce that he has business to conduct in Easton.
I havent forgotten our last conversation, you know, he assures me, as we are saying our good-byes. Its been constantly on my mind that I promised to speak to you, on a matter of the greatest importance to me. But there have been reasons that have prevented me from saying what I must, and will, say to you, and so I hope that you can be patient with me, for just a little longer. May I beg that of you?
Greatly relieved that I have been spared once again for a time at least the moment when I must reject his proposal and confess that I am to marry Perseus, I tell him that I shall be happy to hear what he has to say to me whenever he is ready.
He gives me a grateful smile and walks quickly away, through the creaking iron gate in the far wall, and down the gravel path leading to the stables, leaving me alone in the bright May sunshine, wondering how I shall tell him that I can n
ever be his.
II
Return to North Lodge
A REPLY TO my note to Mr Wraxall had been immediately sent back, saying that he would be delighted to see me at North Lodge the following Sunday afternoon.
Come in, come in, my dear, he said brightly, as he opened the front door to my knock. Youre just in time. Youll take some tea, wont you? And some of Mrs Wapshotts famous cake?
Gladly, I replied, stepping inside the dark little hallway. Soon I was sitting once more, tea-cup in hand, in the cramped but cosy sitting-room, with its distant view of the western woods.
Now then, my dear, Mr Wraxall began, I have to tender my apologies. You must be cross with me, for not writing to you in Florence.
No, indeed, I insisted. I knew you would send word of anything you wished me to know.
Well, he replied, there were such things I can admit it now; but I thought it prudent not to commit anything to paper, at this critical juncture in our affairs. But here you are, and now I can tell you everything that has happened in your absence. Weve made great progress, my dear, great progress!
As we conversed, in a general way, I asked whether Inspector Gullys feet had been itching. Mr Wraxall laughed.
They have! They have! And with good reason. So now, my dear, if youve finished your tea, and had quite enough of Mrs Wapshotts excellent spice-cake, Ill begin.
This, in summary, is what he told me.
IN THE YEAR 1851, through a mutual friend, Mr Armitage Vyse had been introduced to a rising young poet by the name of Phoebus Rainsford Daunt.
The mutual friend was none other than Mr Roderick Shillito, Daunts old Eton school-fellow. Vyse and Daunt had hit it off immediately, and had soon become close confederates. The bond between them was cemented when they discovered that they shared both a love of the Turf and an aptitude for what Mr Wraxall described as activities of a decidedly criminal character.
Mr Vyse having been recently called to the Bar, his legal knowledge proved invaluable to Daunt in the prosecution of various financial frauds, of which his new friend was the principal instigator. As a consequence of this collaboration, both gentlemen made a considerable amount of money, although the world suspected nothing of their double lives.
This extraordinary disclosure which, I confess, I would have hardly credited, had it not come from the unimpeachable mouth of Mr Montagu Wraxall had been obtained by Inspector Gully from a gentleman by the name of Lewis Pettingale, another former legal man and a junior accomplice of Daunts, lately returned from an extended residence in Australia, and to whom Mr Wraxall and the inspector had been directed by means of a letter, hand-delivered to Kings Bench Walk, and signed A Well-Wisher.
God bless this well-wishing person, said Mr Wraxall. We continue to wonder who it can be. At any rate, he or possibly she has given us a good deal of most useful information concerning both Vyse and Daunt his, or her, knowledge of the latter, in particular, is certainly close, and extensive. But to return to our friend Vyse.
Continuing to practise the Law from his chambers in Old Square, he was in due course introduced by Daunt to his patron, the late Lord Tansor, and to Miss Emily Carteret. His Lordship was impressed by the shrewd and ambitious young barrister and, through his legal advisers, Tredgolds, Mr Vyse was soon being instructed to act for Lord Tansor in a number of actions arising from his many business interests. Later, after Daunts death, he was also involved in the legal work connected with Miss Carterets assumption of the Duport name, and with her being constituted as his Lordships successor.
At the beginning of January 1855 as we already know Miss Carteret left England for the Continent, with the full blessing and support of Lord Tansor. Her purpose, unclear at the time, became the subject of much speculation and gossip.
Here Mr Wraxall paused, his face taking on an expression of the utmost gravity.
What I shall shortly put before you, he said, is of so serious a character that I must ask you to swear that you will not divulge a single word not the merest hint or suggestion to anyone. Can you swear, my dear, on your very life?
Of course I assured him that I would so swear, and that I would keep whatever information he saw fit to vouchsafe to me completely confidential. I did so at some cost to my conscience; for of course I knew that I must break my word by informing Madame of what I was about to be told.
Thank you, my dear, said Mr Wraxall, gratefully patting my hand, before continuing with his story.
WHILE MISS CARTERET was away, in order to reduce, if not eliminate altogether, the risk of her correspondence with Lord Tansor being opened and read, it was arranged that all communications between them would be directed, in the first instance, to Mr Vyse in Old Square. He would then place each letter, unopened, in a new envelope, which he would forward to the appropriate recipient.
Why was it necessary to take such elaborate precautions? I asked.
All in good time, my dear, replied Mr Wraxall, before proceeding with his story.
These arrangements having been made, their trusted intermediary, Mr Vyse, began laying plans of his own. Employing the practical skills acquired during the course of his criminal career, he expertly removed the seals of the letters that passed through Old Square, adding replicated substitutes after having made copies of each letter. But he was even cleverer than this; for in addition to these handwritten transcriptions, he arranged for the originals to be photographed, thus providing him with unassailable evidence of the accuracy and authenticity of the copies.
Following Phoebus Daunts death, Mr Vyse immediately began in a quiet but determined way to ingratiate himself with his late friends fiancée, his aim being to secure the good opinion and gratitude of the prospective 26th Baroness Tansor. He now had in his hands a powerful weapon to wield against her, should coercion be required; for as I was soon to learn several of the letters from Emily to Lord Tansor revealed the true reason for her leaving England in the midst of mourning the death of Phoebus Daunt, and why secrecy had been so necessary.
Mr Wraxall paused once more.
And so we come to it at last, he said. But before going any further, perhaps youd like some more tea?
No, thank you, I replied, agog beyond words for him to continue. Im quite refreshed. Do please go on.
Very well. You may be wondering how we have come to know so much about Mr Armitage Vyse and his schemes. All will now be made clear. So, if you are sure you are comfortable, then I think its time to introduce you to Mr Titus Barley.
III
What Mr Barley Knew
RISING FROM HIS chair, Mr Wraxall walked across to a door leading through to the back parlour. Opening it, he said a few words to some person within. A moment later, a man appeared in the doorway carrying a black tin box a very small man, not more than four feet and a few inches tall, of about fifty years of age, but trim of form, and rather handsome in his way, with a large head topped with thick, snow-white hair, and wide, thrust-back shoulders.
He cut a most extraordinary figure, dressed in a tight-fitting, dark-blue tail-coat, with gleaming brass buttons and a stand-up velvet collar, matching old-fashioned knee-breeches, dark stockings, and a pair of buckled pumps, the whole ensemble making him seem like some elfin courtier come fresh from attending the Queen of the Fairies herself.
May I introduce Miss Esperanza Gorst? said Mr Wraxall to the little man, who instantly gave me a low, unsmiling bow, but made no reply, nor even offered his hand by way of greeting.
Mr Barley was formerly clerk to Mr Armitage Vyse, explained Mr Wraxall, who appeared not in the least surprised by the gentlemans offhand manner. He served him for many years
Man and boy, Mr Barley interjected petulantly, in a resonant baritone voice more impressive even than Perseuss, and almost comically at odds with his minuscule person.
As
you say, sir, smiled Mr Wraxall, man and boy. And as I was about to say, as a result of his long-standing service, Mr Barley has come to know a great deal about the character and affairs both professional and private of his employer. Would you like to say anything, Mr Barley?
Not I, he replied, with tremendous emphasis. But Ill take some tea and some of that spice-cake, if you please.
Laying the black box on the floor beside him, Mr Barley sat down to his refreshment, while Mr Wraxall, still smiling indulgently at his eccentric guest, began to speak again.
Youll remember, Miss Gorst, he said, turning towards me, at the last council of war of our triumvirate, that you asked how we suspected a certain ennobled person of being implicated in the murder of the unfortunate Mrs Barbarina Kraus. I indicated then that we had received the information from an anonymous informant. Mr Barley has been good enough to allow me to tell you today that he was that informant.
To this statement, his mouth full of cake, Mr Barley gave an affirming nod.
Of course, discretion has been Mr Barleys constant watchword over the years, Mr Wraxall went on; but circumstances have now arisen, which have if I may so put it encouraged him to lay before the authorities certain documents, and other items, which go to the heart of the investigation into the death of Mrs Kraus. So far, so good, Mr Barley?
Another nod.
May I go on? Very well. Mr Barley is a single gentleman. For the whole of his life, he has lived in Somers Town with his mother, an estimable lady, to whom he has devoted his life. It is with great sorrow, however, that I have to tell you, Miss Gorst, that Mrs Barley has recently passed away.
At these words, Mr Barley placed his plate on the lid of the black box and reached into his pocket to draw out a large handkerchief, with which he proceeded to dab away the tears that Mr Wraxalls statement had summoned up, whilst continuing to say not a word.