“Tell me about Ralph Palmer and Johanna Ellsworth, would you please? I’m extremely curious, Inspector.”
“Johanna’s mother, Margot, had a first husband. His name was Horace Palmer, and together they had a son, Ralph. Horace died quite young, when Ralph was only three. Two years later, Margot Palmer married Joseph Ellsworth. A year after that, their daughter Johanna was born, who grew up with Ralph. They were devoted to each other. Apparently she was grief stricken when he was killed in action. My cousin thinks her half brother’s death devastated her, and damaged her badly.”
Lady Gwendolyn nodded. “If you love a half brother that much, perhaps a little abnormally, then you must surely dislike a person who came between him and his wife, Laura Upton.”
“I agree. A grudge, perhaps. The thing is, it all checks out properly. It was my day off yesterday, m’lady, and I went to Somerset House. I checked out births, marriages, and deaths, and the certificates are there. They are who we think they are. Everything matches up, and there is no mistake.”
“Do you believe it is Johanna Ellsworth who started the rumor about Diedre and the War Office being unhappy with her work?”
“Yes, I do, Lady Gwendolyn. I honestly felt it was wiser not to press my cousin for any more information, but Miss Ellsworth does sound a bit odd, from what Patsy said. I believe she might be just the sort of person to seek some kind of revenge. Let’s face it, whoever it was who started the rumor, they wanted to destroy or badly damage Diedre’s career. Diedre was the target.”
“But we can’t really prove it, can we?”
“No. Normally, I would have asked for a meeting with Alfie Fennell and Johanna Ellsworth, explaining I was acting as a friend of the family. I would’ve said I wanted to know if they could provide any more information. It wouldn’t have garnered anything worthwhile, but meeting with an inspector from the Yard would have alarmed them.”
Howard paused as Mrs. Fontaine came in with the tea tray. She put it on the table and departed without any fuss.
As Lady Gwendolyn poured the tea, Howard suddenly said, “I hope I’m not being impertinent, but is Lady Diedre likely to get married to Mr. Drummond?”
Glancing up at him swiftly, Lady Gwendolyn exclaimed, “Oh, Howard! You are married to a Swann, and the Swanns know everything, often before the Inghams.”
He laughed, and so did she.
Howard said, “If Lady Diedre does marry Mr. Drummond, then the rumor has no relevance, because she will probably live part of the time in New York.”
“Did the rumor have relevance?”
“I don’t believe it ever did. As I told you, the person I spoke to at the War Office said it was a mere whisper. But it obviously troubled Lady Diedre. That’s why you and I wanted to get to the bottom of it. And quash it.”
“It is quashed. My very great thanks to you, for taking the trouble to find out all that you did.”
“I am always there for you, Lady Gwendolyn.” After sipping the tea, and eating a ginger biscuit, the Inspector said, “I don’t have the time to follow through on the Maxine Lowe case at the moment, but I am going to do so. I don’t believe she committed suicide, nor do I think it was a homicide. In my opinion, it was an accidental death caused by constantly inhaling two things. The poisonous fumes from lead paint—she was always repainting her homes, apparently—and also arsenic, which comes from the ground. There’s a lot of it in surface soil. Maxine Lowe was not merely a devoted gardener, but a fervent one. Her gardens at her country house were famous. I’m going to speak to Harry about this when I have a moment this week.”
“Harry is a brilliant young man, and he’ll be happy to help you. There isn’t anything he doesn’t know about gardens and the land. And what you say is very interesting.”
Howard nodded, and stood up. “If you will excuse me, m’lady, I’ve got to be going. I have a meeting at the Yard at five, and I have to unravel my notes and prepare for it.”
“Not a murder, I hope,” Lady Gwendolyn said, as usual filled with curiosity about everything.
“It might be. And it’s no secret; it was in most of the newspapers this morning.”
“Oh dear, I haven’t looked at them yet.”
“A well-known art dealer, Elliot Converse, was found dead at home a day ago. An apparent heart attack. There are some oddities, shall we say, and Scotland Yard have been called in. His wife went off to Paris a few days before. According to some, she went to meet her lover. Or he was coming to join her. Whatever. But there are suggestions of malice aforethought. Converse was young, in good health, and his death shocked those who knew him. Seemingly the wife’s behavior has been questionable for some time, and there’s a lot of money involved. Converse was well off, successful in the art world. She’s his only heir.”
“I wish you luck, Howard,” Lady Gwendolyn said as she walked with him into the hall. “And thank you again for being such a good friend.”
“It is always my pleasure … remember, I am of the same ilk as the devoted Swanns.”
* * *
Diedre arrived at four o’clock precisely. After giving her great-aunt the box of chocolates, and being led into the parlor, Diedre related her tale about her visit to Cecily Swann’s shop.
Lady Gwendolyn couldn’t stop laughing when Diedre spoke of her encounter with Dulcie. “What an unusual child she is,” she finally said, when her laughter subsided.
“Not a child! A tough little negotiator, not to mention one who is also a blackmailer. Selling me back my good reputation, indeed!”
Pressing down on her mirth, Lady Gwendolyn exclaimed, “Look, you’ve got to admit it, Diedre, she’s a clever one. And you were rather mean to her, you know. Very acerbic, and unkind. She’s obviously never forgotten how you treated her, and now she’s found a way to make you pay. That’s just like an Ingham. We always quite like to get our pound of flesh.”
“I paid through the nose!” Diedre shot back.
“You didn’t have to, though. You chose to, my dear.”
“Yes, I did. Because I rather admire what she’s doing. My hat’s off to her.” Diedre gave her great-aunt a questioning look when she added, “She said you would probably invest. Will you?”
“I think so. I did sort of hint I would. I will certainly give her a lot of paintings and antiques stored at Little Skell Manor. For the gallery. Now, that’s enough of Dulcie. Come over here and sit next to me.”
Diedre did as invited.
Lady Gwendolyn said, “What is happening with your friend Paul? Is it serious?”
Diedre took hold of her aunt’s hand and held on to it. “I’m not absolutely sure, but I think he’s in the right frame of mind. He’s in his late forties and I am thirty-three.”
“A good age, take it from me. You’ve had time to live life a little, before settling down. And you’re still young enough to have scads of children. I suppose you want them, and that Paul does also.”
“I don’t know. We’ve not discussed it.” Diedre stared hard at her great-aunt and, taking a deep breath, she went on, “I think I’m pregnant. I’ve been noticing certain changes in my body for a week.”
If she was surprised at this statement, Lady Gwendolyn was not inclined to show it. She asked swiftly, “Have you seen a doctor yet? And have you told Paul?”
“I haven’t seen a doctor and I haven’t told Paul. I didn’t want to until I was really sure. And I’ll know that tomorrow.”
“Quite right.”
Diedre said quietly, “I feel sure I am with child, Great-Aunt, I just know it. Instinctively.”
“Most women do.” Settling back against the sofa, Lady Gwendolyn asked, “How do you think Paul will feel? About your being pregnant?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“He made you pregnant, Diedre, and it’s his responsibility as well as yours. Personally, I think he’ll be thrilled, and he ought to be. He would be getting a superb woman for a wife, and anyway, he is forty-eight. About time he had a son, or daughter, don’t yo
u think?”
Diedre merely nodded.
Lady Gwendolyn said, “You must tell him as soon as possible. We need to know how to proceed.”
“Yes, I know. I want the baby, Aunt Gwen, I really do. I thought it would never happen.”
“If you are pregnant, I think you ought to marry as soon as possible, Diedre.” Lady Gwendolyn stood up. Walking across the parlor, she added, “Excuse me for a moment.”
After going to the kitchen and asking Mrs. Fontaine to bring in the tea tray, Lady Gwendolyn went into her bedroom and took a flat green jewelry box off the dressing table.
She had just returned to the parlor and seated herself next to Diedre when Mrs. Fontaine arrived with the tea tray. She placed this on the table near the sofas and hurried out.
Lady Gwendolyn handed the box to Diedre, a smile lingering in her eyes. “I picked this out for you long ago, since you are the eldest of Charles’s daughters. It is one of my most treasured possessions, and it’s my gift to you, my dear.”
Diedre’s eyes were wide with surprise and pleasure. She lifted the lid and gasped. Placed on the black velvet was a brooch in the shape of a long, curling feather made entirely of diamonds. “It’s gorgeous. Thank you so much, Great-Aunt Gwendolyn. How generous of you.”
“It was always intended for you, and I’m so glad you like it. Now it seems most appropriate for you, since a man also called Paul gave it to me … my late husband.”
“How lovely to know that, and it’s exquisite.” Diedre held the brooch, admiring it.
“Paul actually designed it and had it made. You see, he wasn’t titled, though his family were landed gentry. He used to say he wasn’t good enough for me, which made me laugh. To me, he was the most wonderful man, a true gentleman. I would tease him, and say he was the feather in my cap. And just before our marriage he handed me that diamond feather. To wear in my cap, he said.”
“You know I’ll treasure it, and pass it on if I have a daughter. Or a daughter-in-law one day.”
“Getting back to your Paul. Tell him tomorrow if you are pregnant.”
“I will. But what if he doesn’t want to marry me?”
“He will. I saw how smitten he was with you at the supper party.”
“I realize I’m in love with him,” Diedre finally admitted.
Her great-aunt said, “If he proposes, get married here in London. And as soon as possible.”
Diedre nodded her head. “I will.” She took a long swallow of the tea her great-aunt had poured, and ate another cucumber sandwich. She was suddenly starving.
Lady Gwendolyn drank some tea, and poured herself another cup. She then said in a low, quiet voice, “I had a bit of bad news today, Diedre. Mark Stanton came to see me. Apparently Lavinia is quite ill. She has a tumor on her lung. Cancer.”
“Oh no! How terrible. Poor Lavinia.” Diedre scowled. “You know, I thought she didn’t look very well at Papa’s wedding. And to be honest, I’ve often wondered if she was ill that day, because she was so mean. And yet she isn’t normally like that, she’s usually so nice, and friendly to us all.”
“Mark Stanton wants to marry her, but she won’t agree. She says she doesn’t want to be a burden. He’s apparently been in love with her for years.”
“Is she having treatment? Can she be cured?”
“I don’t know, nor does he. But he thinks she has a few years left, with the right medicines. So I am praying for her.”
“Oh God, so will I. Pray, I mean. Poor Lavinia, and she’s not that old.”
Lady Gwendolyn had detected a certain compassion and sympathy in Diedre, and she rushed in: “I want her back in the inner circle of the family again. It’s been a difficult time for her. She cannot be punished any longer, Diedre, not when she is ill, probably even dying. Do you agree with me?”
“I do. How can I help you?”
“By standing by me, if push comes to shove in the family.”
“I am by your side,” Diedre avowed.
“I shall rely on you. Now to another matter, Diedre. I had a visitor a short while ago, Inspector Pinkerton, whom you know, since he’s married to Dorothy, another Swann.”
“I do know him, yes, and he looked into the rumor. Which he discovered was a whisper. You told me all that.”
“He found out something else. He was in Bath last Sunday, visiting his cousin, and by coincidence the name of Johanna Ellsworth came up. She is a member of the same painting group as his cousin. Seemingly, Johanna had a half brother who died in action in the Great War. His name was Ralph Palmer and he was married to a friend of yours and of Maxine’s. Laura Upton Palmer. Apparently they separated before he joined the army.”
Diedre held herself perfectly still and simply nodded. “Yes, the three of us were friends, in the same circle. Laura died, and then later Maxine passed away, as you know.”
“According to Inspector Pinkerton, Johanna adored her brother; they were extremely close. He is certain she is the one who invented the rumor about you being pushed out of the War Office. His theory is that she hated you for various reasons.”
Diedre was unable to say a word. She sat staring at Lady Gwendolyn, trembling all over. Her heart was palpitating, and she was floundering.
“The inspector reminded me of his earlier conclusion, which was that there was never much of a rumor. I related this to you, Diedre. Earlier this afternoon he confided that this whole matter was a downright lie, created to harm you, or scare you. He says the matter is closed. So we must now push it away from us, and get on with our lives.”
When Diedre remained silent, continued to sit immobile, staring at her great-aunt, Lady Gwendolyn added, “If Paul proposes to you then you will be giving in your letter of resignation to the War Office imminently, and getting married. Finis, as the French say. If you don’t get him to the altar, you can still work at the War Office. After a leave of absence.”
Diedre was at a loss, did not know how to respond. She was staring into the distance, wondering how much her great-aunt knew about her past. And what if Paul found out about her love affair with Laura? This thought troubled her. How would he react?
As if reading her mind, Lady Gwendolyn said, “I’m not a person who judges anyone, Diedre, and you certainly know that. We are alike in so many ways. Live and let live, that has always been my philosophy of life.”
Lady Gwendolyn sighed and shook her head. “I just wish you had trusted me enough to share your grief with me, when Laura died, so that I could have comforted you. You see, I do care about you, Diedre, and what happens to you. You are part of my family. I love you.”
Diedre was sitting bolt upright, a look of profound shock on her face. She opened her mouth and no words came out. Leaning back against the cushions, she closed her eyes. Very slowly, tears leaked out from under her lids, and trickled down her cheeks.
Lady Gwendolyn rose, left her alone, and went into her bedroom. She returned a moment later with a handkerchief. Sitting down on the sofa next to Diedre, she pressed the handkerchief into her hands.
“Look at me, Diedre,” she finally said. “Please look at me.”
Eventually Diedre turned her head, faced Lady Gwendolyn, and answered her. “I was afraid to tell you about my friendship with Laura. To tell anyone. Not even Maxine really knew. No one did. We were discreet.”
Diedre paused, bit her lip. “Ralph knew, and now I realize Johanna did. But I had no idea she existed. Laura never mentioned her husband’s family. It had been a difficult marriage … Ralph abused her, and his family were hostile. That’s all I knew about the Palmers.”
“Oh, my dear, how terrible. For her, and for you. But now it doesn’t matter, not any of it. However, I’m still very sad that you had to live with your grief alone, without comfort.”
“I did. And I worked very hard, threw myself into my work. There was never anyone else in my life. Then I was suddenly lucky, this past July, when I got to know Paul better, and became involved with him. Finally my pain gradually went awa
y.” Diedre paused, then added, “I’ve begun to realize how important he is to me.”
“I know that. He loves you, too. Take my word for it. I’ve been around. The old story no longer exists, that’s my attitude. It has vanished into thin air.”
“But what about Howard? He knows the full story about Laura, doesn’t he?” Diedre sounded concerned.
“He’s more than likely forgotten it already … that silly rumor about the War Office, and also your relationship with Laura Upton. He’s working on a murder case. I know that’s not the answer you want, but you should know that this is how his mind works. He’s a brilliant detective. The new case has taken over.”
Diedre nodded and wiped her eyes. “I understand, Great-Aunt. And I suppose it was all just a piddling thing to him.”
“It was, Diedre.”
“The past is gone,” Diedre murmured softly.
“It has indeed. It’s lost in the mists of time. And you must never forget one thing.” Lady Gwendolyn stared into her eyes. “Howard Pinkerton is married to a Swann. And that’s tantamount to being a Swann. He will protect you always, Diedre. You are safe.”
Thirty-six
“It’s funny, isn’t it, the odd things that make us love people?” Paul Drummond said, taking hold of Diedre’s hand resting on top of the table.
She stared back at him, raising a brow. “What do you mean?”
He did not answer at once, studying her contemplatively, wondering where to begin. The two of them were seated in the restaurant of the Ritz Hotel, at a corner table overlooking Green Park.
Diedre sat waiting patiently, glad he had invited her to lunch. Yesterday she had discovered she was pregnant. He had called her at eight this morning, insisting she meet him. Naturally she had agreed, because she planned to give him her news. She had a mountain of work at the War Office, but she knew she could catch up later. And now, here she was. Her heart was in her mouth, knowing what she must tell him. She hoped he would be pleased.
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