Ned said, ‘You looked as if you were about to tell me something, Lily, but changed your mind. What was it?’
‘Nothing,’ she lied, and went on, ‘Shall we look at the menu, I am a little hungry.’
He nodded and signalled to the waiter who was by their side in a split second. He gave them the menus, recommended various items and departed.
Lily said, ‘I think I will have Dover sole: it’s light.’
‘So will I. And what would you like first?’
‘Nothing really—well, perhaps a cup of bouillon soup. I find if I eat anything heavy at night I suffer from indigestion these days.’
He smiled, leaned into her, and whispered, ‘You poor thing…I can’t wait to see our child, hold her.’
‘Oh you’ve decided on the sex, have you? A girl, eh?’
‘Well, you know how much I love women,’ he answered before he could stop himself; he could have bitten off his tongue and looked suddenly chagrined, shook his head, seemed somehow helpless.
Lily simply laughed, being a wise woman.
Edward said, ‘What shall we call the baby? Lily?’
‘I’d like to call her after you, so I prefer Edwina.’
‘Edwina Lily, how about that?’
‘And Edward, if it’s a boy, is that all right with you, Ned?’
‘Anything you want, my darling. I do adore you, you know.’
The waiter returned and took their order, and they sat back, happy at being together in this elegant restaurant, enjoying each other and sharing the evening, at ease in their relationship.
It was after their first course that Lily suddenly announced in a quiet, rather subdued voice, ‘Ned, I want to ask you something. It’s really important for me to discuss it with you, and I must have an answer from you tonight.’
Alarmed, he looked at her swiftly, and exclaimed, ‘What is it, Lily? Is there something wrong? What on earth’s the matter?’
‘I’m not sure how to begin, because it’s a morbid subject but I have been troubled…’ She took a deep breath. ‘Let me start again. As you know, I was an only child, and my parents are dead. I have no other family, only a few good friends, most particularly Vicky. And because I’m alone in this world I’ve worried about something quite a lot lately. Women do die in childbirth, you know. It’s not unheard of, and I worry that I could die. And then what would happen to the baby? Our baby. So I want to know your thoughts on this, Ned. I couldn’t bear it if the child were put up for adoption.’
Startled by her words, he was also appalled at the thought of Lily dying and their child being put up for adoption, lost to him forever. He didn’t have to think twice before answering her immediately. ‘You’re not going to die, I promise you that. You’re a healthy young woman, and you take good care of yourself. You’ll both be fine. But if something ghastly did happen and you…died in childbirth, and the baby lived, you know I wouldn’t permit our child to be adopted. Never, Lily. Never. Please trust me on that. I promise you I would take the child, bring it up.’
‘You’d do that alone? How would you handle it? What about other women? You’ll get married one day. A wife might not be overjoyed at the thought of your illegitimate little girl or boy. Am I not right?’
‘Yes, perhaps you are. But I believe my mother would happily raise the child, with the help of a nanny. And of course I would see the child all the time. Does that satisfy you?’
‘Yes, it does! And it was the answer I was hoping you would give, Ned. You see, I know women, know how easily the child of another woman could get in the way in a relationship.’ Lily gave him a huge smile, and squeezed his arm. ‘If anything goes wrong, then your mother can take over…I’m so happy you suggested it.’
He took her hand in his, squeezed it. ‘Lily, let’s not talk about your dying…I can’t stand that thought, I really can’t. Let’s be happy tonight, happy that we’re together.’
TWENTY-NINE
Edward Deravenel was not easily rattled. In fact, he was almost always composed, in control. This afternoon, as he walked at a measured pace down the corridor to John Summers’s office, he was perfectly at ease with himself and with the world. And he had a good idea why he had been sent for by Summers. There was news.
When he arrived at the door of Summers’s office he knocked and walked straight in; he was not at all startled to see Inspector Laidlaw sitting there with Rob Aspen. He had expected him to be there.
‘Hello, Inspector,’ he said, and looked across at the two other men. ‘Afternoon, Summers, Aspen.’
They both responded, and John said, ‘Come and join us. ‘We’re waiting for Oliveri so we can begin.’
At this very moment Alfredo knocked and walked in, looking somewhat harassed. ‘Afternoon, everyone,’ he said in an offhand, rather casual way, and took a chair next to Edward.
Inspector Laidlaw pushed his chair back a little, so that the other four men in the room were in his line of vision. ‘Well, gentlemen, I’m here to tell you that I don’t have very much news to give you. We have done a very intensive investigation into Aubrey Masters’s death, and we’ve come up empty-handed.’
‘What exactly does that mean, Inspector?’ John Summers asked, steepling his fingers, a habit of his, and frowning at the detective, looking displeased.
‘There are no suspects. We don’t believe anyone gave him digitalis, because there seems to be no reason anyone would want to kill him. He led a plain life, somewhat humdrum, in fact. It was a dull marriage, his wife is a bit reclusive, but there were no other women.’
‘But did he have a heart condition?’ Rob Aspen asked, ‘and did you manage to trace Dr Springer?’
‘He did not have a heart condition, nor was he prescribed digitalis because he didn’t need it,’ the inspector explained. ‘We did find Dr Springer, and he turned out to be a psychiatrist, one who is a follower of Dr Freud. He could throw a little light on Mr Masters’s life in general, although he did show us the medical files pertaining to Mr Masters. He explained that Masters was concerned with his lack of sexuality, worried that this problem was affecting his relationship with his wife. Apparently he firmly believed that she felt neglected.’
The inspector paused, then added, ‘Dr Springer was analysing him.’
‘So did he die of an overdose of digitalis or not?’ Alfredo now asked, a trifle impatiently. He was in a hurry, wanted this meeting to come to a conclusion so he could talk to Edward Deravenel privately.
‘Yes, he did,’ the inspector confirmed quietly.
‘There was an inquest this morning, wasn’t there?’ Edward said, as he stared at the Scotland Yard man.
‘Indeed there was, Mr Deravenel, and the coroner brought in a verdict of accidental death.’ Laidlaw paused for a moment, then finished, ‘In my opinion there could be no other verdict than this. My sergeant and I believe that Masters accidentally poisoned himself with his vegetarian mix of seeds and pods, the stuff he ate, and apparently had eaten for years. It could have built up, the toxicity. The medical examiner thinks that anyway.’
‘Didn’t you examine his vegetarian mix at his home?’ Edward gave the detective another hard stare.
‘We did indeed, but there was nothing much there, and certainly there was no digitalis in the mixture we did find. You see, the idea was to buy everything fresh several times a week, at least so Mrs Masters told us.’
‘And where did he buy the mix?’ John Summers thought to ask.
‘That’s the problem: we don’t know,’ Laidlaw answered, and added, ‘His wife told us he brought the mixture home with him in a plain, unmarked brown paper bag, so we have no idea what store he bought it at. I told you, we’ve come up empty-handed, I’m afraid. Case closed, gentlemen. There was no crime, in our opinion.’
‘Thank you very much, Inspector Laidlaw,’ Edward said courteously, immediately rising, walking over to the detective, shaking his hand. ‘I, we, appreciate everything you’ve done to solve this, and I suppose it will always remain a
mystery, won’t it.’
‘That’s right, sir, it will,’ Laidlaw answered, and took his leave of them.
Edward followed the detective, walked him down the corridor, as he had in the past, heading in the direction of the grand staircase. When they reached it, Edward turned to Laidlaw and said, ‘Inspector, if you ever need anything, need help, whatever it is, please come to me. You’ve been most diligent, and very courteous. Deravenels and I appreciate everything you’ve done.’
‘Very little it seems to me, sir, and thank you for your kind offer. I’m sorry, too, Mr Deravenel, that we haven’t been able to solve the attack on you. It wasn’t for the want of trying.’
‘Another mystery,’ Edward murmured, offering him a warm and genial smile.
A moment later, alone in his office, Edward reached for the phone on his desk and picked up the receiver. Then he instantly replaced it. Why make a telephone call to Neville now? It wasn’t necessary. The newspaper boys would soon be out on the streets, touting the latest afternoon editions and screaming the headlines. Best to let sleeping dogs lie, he decided, and waited for Oliveri to come into his office.
He arrived within two minutes.
Seating himself in the chair, Alfredo gave Edward a long questioning stare and said, ‘So, what do you think?’
‘I think the inspector is a damned fine policeman who has found absolutely no evidence of murder.’
‘Do you think Aubrey Masters committed suicide?’
‘I’m not sure, to be truthful. He might have killed himself, but let’s take the coroner’s verdict as the gospel truth, shall we?’
‘But naturally, old chap,’ Alfredo said, poker-faced. ‘However, between you and me, I’ve found enough evidence to have had him hung, drawn and quartered if he’d been alive. He was definitely skimming, and Jack Beaufield and James Cliff were in on it with him. And others on the job locally.’
Edward grinned. ‘So we’ve got the two who are still alive by the cojones, have we?’
‘Oh yes, indeed, we surely do. It’s taken a bit of digging, if you’ll excuse the unintended pun, by Aspen and Christopher Green but we now have even more evidence required to get those two out. I can’t wait to tell Neville Watkins.’
Vicky Forth had the hansom cab take her to Whitechapel; once they arrived at the High Street she alighted, reminding the driver that he was to wait for her.
Hurrying away from the horse-drawn cab, she made her way through several mean, bleak little streets until she arrived at the reclaimed old building now named Haddon House. She knocked on the door and waited, looking up at the darkening sky. A storm threatened and it was beginning to drizzle.
The door was opened within seconds, and the young woman standing on the threshold smiled when she saw Vicky. ‘Mrs Forth, how nice to see you again, and so soon! Fenella is in her office, do please come in.’ She opened the door wider and ushered Vicky inside.
After hanging Vicky’s top coat in the hall cupboard, the young woman said, ‘Come along, I’ll take you to her office.’
‘Thanks, Dora, but I do think I know the way by now,’ Vicky replied, laughing.
Fenella Fayne jumped up when she saw Vicky in the doorway of her office and immediately came around the desk, greeted her old friend affectionately.
‘Let’s sit over there by the fire,’ Fenella suggested. ‘It’s turned chilly today, and it’s damp as well.’
‘It’s not very nice out,’ Vicky murmured, sitting down in one of the wooden chairs which Fenella had pulled up to the grate. Clearing her throat, she said, ‘I’d like to get straight to the point, Fenella. I’ve made up my mind. I do want to come and work with you here.’
Fenella’s face lit up, and she exclaimed, ‘Oh, Vicky! I’m thrilled. And I can truly make use of you.’
‘That suits me fine,’ Vicky answered, and continued, ‘I know you’re overworked. I can give you two full days every week. Would you like me Tuesday and Wednesday? Or Wednesday and Thursday?’
Without even having to think twice, Fenella replied, ‘Tuesday and Wednesday is so much better, Tuesday being closer to the previous weekend. We get quite a few injured women coming in for help on Mondays and Tuesdays.’ Fenella shook her head sadly. ‘You see, Vicky, their men have been in the public houses for most of the weekend, and the women get knocked about when the men get home from the pubs.’ Fenella grimaced and continued, ‘Not a pretty sight, I’m afraid, some of these women. Black eyes, broken bones.’
‘I do have a few nursing skills,’ Vicky reminded her friend, ‘and you said the other day you needed someone who would make stews, soups, that kind of fare. I’m quite a good cook actually.’ She smiled. ‘But I’ll do anything you want, even scrub floors. I just feel I must help in some way. There’s such poverty here in the East End.’
‘Vicky, there’s so much you can do, even taking on some of my paperwork would be a godsend. Now, I would just like to mention there are a few little rules. If I may explain them to you?’
‘Yes, of course, please do.’
‘You won’t be called Mrs Forth once you start working with us, but Mrs Vicky. It makes the women feel more at ease, not using a surname, and actually they don’t even want to call you by your first name either. They also feel awkward about that, think it’s too familiar. So I devised a compromise. The same thing goes for titles…I’m not Lady Fayne or Lady Fenella to them but Mrs Fenella, and Dora is not Lady Dora but Miss Dora. Two other rules. Their husbands can visit them if the women are here for a few days. But they must be absolutely sober and they must remain on the ground floor. Finally, we never press the ladies too hard, if they don’t want to discuss how they were injured. They are extremely protective of their men, you see. Oh, one other point. Sometimes they bring a small child with them, and we let the child stay here until the mother is well again. And I think that’s about it.’
‘I understand everything, and I’ll certainly do the best I can. My heart will be in it, Fenella, I can assure you of that.’
‘I know that, my dear, and I can only say thank you from the bottom of my heart for volunteering in this way. You are a sight for sore eyes. How’s Lily? I haven’t seen her lately.’
‘She’s very well, Fenella, and she did ask me to give you her love.’
‘Thank you, and mine to her. She’s such a wonderful person. Only last week I received several bundles of clothes from her, all of them useful. They can be remade, simplified. I just sent her a note thanking her.’ Fenella suddenly stood up, and continued, ‘When will you be able to start helping us, Vicky darling?’
‘I’ll be here next Tuesday morning, if that’s all right?’
‘It is, and by the way, always remember to book yourself a hansom cab to pick you up in the late afternoon. They are very scarce, hard to find around here.’
A few minutes later as she walked back to the hansom cab waiting for her near the High Street, Vicky thought about her friend.
Fenella was the widow of Lord Jeremy Fayne who had been killed in a hunting accident several years before. She was now twenty-seven, and had once told Vicky that helping the needy and downtrodden women in the East End had helped to assuage her grief to a certain extent, given her a purpose in life. Although she had worked at Haddon House, a charity founded by her aunt, Fenella had been somewhat reclusive in her widowhood until very recently. For the past nine months she had been socializing once more, living in two entirely different worlds. Vicky admired her, admired Fenella’s fortitude, strength and generosity of spirit. She was going to do her best for Haddon House.
Edward sat in a comfortable chair in the Smoking Room at White’s, waiting for Neville to come. Johnny, Will and he had arrived twenty minutes earlier, but the other two had decided to ‘knock a few balls around the table’, as Johnny put it, and they had gone into the Billiards Room.
Nursing a whisky and soda Edward drifted with his thoughts, mostly thinking of Deravenels and the detailed plans for the takeover. Everything was coming together.
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Occasionally he caught a wisp of conversation from other men in the room, and he smiled inwardly. Men could gossip just as easily as women.
The three men who sat at the table next to him, smoking cigars and relaxing after a day at business, were talking quite loudly. He cocked his ear for a moment.
‘The King’s going to Biarritz, dragging dray loads of servants with him, of course,’ one of the men said.
‘And Mrs Keppel, no doubt,’ said another.
There were a few titters, and then the third fellow exclaimed, ‘Heard what Churchill said recently? That Mrs Keppel should be appointed First Lady of the Bed Chamber.’
All three men laughed and even Edward was amused, had to stifle a chuckle. The King and his long-standing mistress were often the butt of jokes.
Another voice piped up, ‘Northcliffe’s Daily Mail is really backing Balfour and his government.’
‘Balfour won’t last.’
‘The Tories have to stay in power.’
‘Couldn’t agree more, old chap. By the way, I’m thinking of buying an electric car.’
‘Good Lord, that’s brave of you.’
‘Oh, they’re perfectly safe.’
‘Purchasing one of Mr Ford’s models, are you?’
‘I’m not yet sure, old chap. Two English engineers, Mr Rolls and Mr Royce, are bringing out their own model. I might just wait for that.’
‘Stick with British-made, that’s my opinion. That’s what it’s all about, you know. Got to keep the Empire flourishing. We’re the greatest country in the world, don’t you know?’
‘I’ll drink to that, Montague.’7
‘Kipling has another book out. Amazing the way these chaps keep turning out masterpieces—Galsworthy, too, has a new hit. And George Bernard Shaw is putting on yet another play.’
‘Prolific, that’s the only word for those writer chaps.’
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