‘Cheers everyone,’ he said, grasping the full glass Steven was holding out to him. ‘Let’s drink to Christmas Eve, and to all the Scrooges of the world.’
39
Sister Veronica waited outside Maud’s bedroom door, listening for any sound from inside. The smell of the woman’s flowery perfume hung in the air. Nothing. She pushed the door with her foot and it swung open. The room was empty, except for a blue suitcase lying in the middle of the bed. So Maud must still be around in Chalfield Hall somewhere. She would have had time to return to her room and grab her suitcase, what with all the kerfuffle with Florence, if she’d been intending to leave the house for good.
Padding off as quietly as she could, which wasn’t very due to the old house’s creaking floorboards, Sister Veronica searched the upstairs, then took herself back down the sweeping staircase and looked in the living room, conservatory, study, and kitchen. Of course, there was the old back living room, now never used, that had been mad old Henrietta’s favourite place to sit and hold court in, she remembered. An eerie feeling came over her as she found it and opened the door, remembering how she’d hated going into that dark room as a child. Not much had changed in there, it was a place frozen in time. White covers had been thrown over the furniture and collections of cobwebs and dust abounded in all the corners; the musty smell of past memories pervading throughout. She remembered how mad old Henrietta, always dressed in black, would grab any child who had displeased her, and keep them in a tight hold on her lap for hours as a punishment. It hadn’t happened to her much, she’d always liked to please the adults and rarely stepped out of line. But Tarquin had been a cheeky boy, and she could see him now – squirming and calling out as Henrietta held him tightly on her knee in the dark room for what seemed like eons – a sentence for a mild misdemeanour.
The room was empty – no Maud. Feeling grateful that she did not have to enter the space, but increasingly confused about where on earth the woman could be, Sister Veronica closed the door and walked on. She checked the various storage rooms, the utility area, all the large walk-in cupboards and the pantry. She even forced herself to go down into the wine cellar, and look around the cold, dark place, taking a brief walk among the racks of bottles. No one there, thank the Saints.
Now for the garden, she thought, puffing back up the stairs into the much more welcome bright kitchen. The rooms that Giles and Florence had recently done up were much lighter and more inviting than the rest of the house, she thought, walking out into the biting winter air. Perhaps that was Florence’s reasoning behind the renovations; an attempt to bring the house out of the dark ages and make it a friendlier, warmer environment. The large front living room was cosy, too, but the rest of the house was still chilly and Gothic, so dimly lit, with a plethora of cold décor and furniture. It didn’t help that most of the windows were so small – the lack of light added to its peculiar atmosphere. For a moment she wondered if mad old Henrietta lived on there as a ghost, haunting her favourite room, and gliding down the rest of the corridors at night, hoping to scare the wits out of an unsuspecting family member. Then she reprimanded herself for being so ridiculous and said a prayer to the universe, apologising in case she’d offended anyone out there with her thoughts of the dead, God rest their souls.
Heading through the herb garden and wrapping her arms round herself to ward off the cold, Sister Veronica thought about Maud’s connection to the family. She didn’t actually know much about the woman, just that she was Giles’ only surviving cousin, and that she’d always seemed like a harmless part of the furniture – turning up at family gatherings when they were all young – just after Flo had met her future husband and Sister Veronica was a novice nun – and smiling vacantly at everyone but never giving away much of her personality. She must have enjoyed the gatherings then, always turned up but seemed happy on the outside. Maud’s past was a mystery to her, she hardly knew anything about it, and felt slightly ashamed that she’d never asked. As far as she knew the woman had never married. And up until a couple of hours ago, she’d been pretty sure that she’d never had any children.
She checked in and around the summer house but there was no sign of life. Trudging over the frosty grass, she headed towards the moss-stained greenhouse. Ah, was that a movement she saw through the uncleaned windows? Yes, there was another one. As she got closer, she saw that it was indeed Maud in there. The woman appeared to be standing by the door. She turned the handle and opened it as Sister Veronica approached.
‘Hello, Sister,’ Maud said, giving a neat smile. She took a step to one side. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. Do come in.’
40
Now even Rufus was feeling hammered. He knew he was, because he was starting to believe he was the most important, charming, friendly person in the whole pub, and was acting accordingly. This, he knew from past experience, was a sign that he might be getting slightly out of control. It was as though he was observing himself from the outside in; listening to himself gabble on at Romilly and Steven, watching his huge hand gestures as he explained his foolproof plan of reparation to them, unable to stop himself from acting like an inebriated idiot, or more accurately – a fool.
‘None of us ever deserved to be treated so shoddily by Giles,’ he was saying to them, his eyes intent. ‘Can’t you see? The man was a tyrant, he robbed me of my savings, and you, Steven, of months of wages, and more importantly, your job. All so he could keep up his deluded fantasy of being a successful, rich businessman. It’s madness, the reality must be known. We need to be the ones to tell everyone what Giles was really up to. And we have to do it right now, go to Chalfield Hall and take charge of the situation. Tell everyone what we know, and force Florence to put it right. Are you with me?’
‘Yes,’ Steven said. He tried to put his glass back down on the table but missed. Romilly gasped as she watched the remaining drink land inside her open handbag.
‘Sorry, Rom,’ Steven said, barely able to open his eyes. ‘I’ll buy you a new one.’
‘You don’t have enough money to buy me a new bag,’ Romilly said, her words slurring.
‘Which is exactly why we need to go and confront Florence,’ Rufus said, standing up, using the tabletop as leverage. ‘Come on, chaps, now’s the time. Let’s go and take back what is ours.’
‘Fine with me.’ Steven staggered to his feet, bumping into the table.
‘Oh, all right then.’ Romilly tried to stand up, too, but couldn’t. The men each took hold of one of her arms and lifted her upright, which took quite an effort due to her enormous height and weight. In a strange, three-legged race kind of effort, they made their way slowly out of the pub in a huddle.
‘To Chalfield Hall!’ Rufus punched the air once they were outside, as snowflakes began to fall all around them. ‘The revolution has begun.’ Unsteady on their feet, and swaying slightly, they set off in the direction of the house.
41
Sister Veronica, inwardly berating herself for taking such a risk, stepped inside the greenhouse. Maud shut the door behind her and stood against it, blocking any possibility of an escape.
‘So you’ve been waiting for me?’ Sister Veronica said, looking the woman straight in the eyes. ‘Why would that be then?’ An earthy smell filled the air around them.
‘Because you’re a nosy old crow who can’t keep out of other people’s business.’ Maud smiled gently in her usual way, but her eyes were hard, cold. Sister Veronica felt the adrenaline pump round her insides with even greater haste.
‘Well that’s as maybe,’ Sister Veronica said, feeling in her skirt pocket for the folded paper. She grasped it, pulled it out and unfolded it. ‘But I can tell you one thing, Maud. My inquisitive nature often leads me to uncover truths that other people try to hide.’
Maud stared at the yellowing document. Sister Veronica turned it round so they could both see the typed writing on it. The letters were slightly uneven and it looked as though an old-fashioned typewriter had been used to produce the lega
l statement.
‘It says here that you are Ophelia’s birth mother,’ she said quietly. ‘Doesn’t it, Maud?’
The woman hadn’t taken her eyes from the paper. A long minute passed without either of them saying anything.
‘So what if I am?’ Maud said eventually.
‘Is that why you’ve been doing all this?’ Sister Veronica risked a quick look out of the grimy window, rather hoping to spot another human being in the garden. Preferably the police. But there was no one, just some gently swirling snowflakes, some now settling on the ground. ‘For Ophelia?’
‘Doing what?’ Maud turned to her. ‘I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about, Sister.’ A slightly confused expression washed over her plump face but her eyes remained as focused as a hawk’s.
Sister Veronica sighed.
‘Look, I know it was you who killed Giles,’ she said. ‘And Digby. And at lunch you tried to murder Florence too, didn’t you, Maud?’
Maud stared at her.
‘Did I?’ she said. ‘Have you got any evidence to prove your wild claims, Sister?’
‘I have a motive for you.’ Sister Veronica glanced at the paper she held. ‘A very persuasive one, in fact. It clearly states here, that you are Ophelia’s birth mother, and that you willingly gave her up for adoption to Tarquin and Marina all those years ago. What happened, Maud? That must have been a very stressful time for you. What on earth went on that led to you having to give your own flesh and blood away?’ Sister Veronica, swallowing down the anger she felt for the attack on Florence, was trying to breathe calmly. She wanted answers, wanted Maud to explain herself before anything else happened. The police would be arriving any minute if Wilfred made the call correctly and then she could hand the whole mess over to them. Until then, she would try and get as much information out of the woman as possible, and the best way to do that, she thought, was to seem as calm and understanding as she could.
‘Stressful?’ Maud repeated. ‘Oh yes, Sister, it was just a tiny bit taxing, being forced to give away my beloved daughter.’
Ah, Sister Veronica thought, nodding. Now we might be getting somewhere.
‘I’m so sorry, Maud,’ she said. ‘For everything you’ve had to go through. Who made you give Ophelia up for adoption?’
‘My parents,’ Maud said, and for once her nondescript smile had been replaced by a look of hatred. ‘I’d become close to my father’s apprentice, David Gilbey. He lived with us for a while, so him and Father could get up early to work in the bakery. We weren’t as rich as Giles back then, Sister. Giles’ fortune is all new money, self-made. His parents and mine came from much more lowly stock, you know. I was in love with David, at least for a time. When I found out I was expecting a child I was terrified, back then being an unmarried mother brought shame on the whole family, and I knew my parents would be horrified when they found out. They’d always been hard on me, they weren’t naturally very parental. They believed that the more severe they were, the better I’d turn out.’
‘So you tried to hide your growing belly,’ Sister Veronica said. ‘I can totally understand, Maud. You must have been so fearful of their reaction.’
‘I was.’ Maud nodded slightly. ‘I was hoping David would make an honest woman of me, ask me to marry him. But he never did, underneath it all he was a coward. Once he found out I was pregnant he handed his resignation to my father and moved away.’
Sister Veronica shook her head.
‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ she said, meaning it. A few men – and sometimes women – were indeed cowards when it came to parenthood, for some reason shirking responsibility, unable to look after the perfect little human they’d created, unwilling to support the woman they’d so readily impregnated.
‘Obviously I grew so big that my mother noticed one day,’ Maud said, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. ‘She told my father and they shouted at me, called me a cheap whore. My mother said I would stay inside the house until the baby was born, then I would give it up for adoption immediately. One day, my mother’s father – Henrietta’s brother Hugh – told her that Henrietta’s son Tarquin and his wife Marina had found they couldn’t have children, and were desperate to adopt a child. “Perfect,” my mother said. “We can keep it all in the family, no one ever need know.” She negotiated the adoption with Tarquin and Marina, her only terms were that no one ever be told who Ophelia’s parents were, not even anyone in the family. There just needed to be one document, she’d found out, to make the whole thing legal, but other than that the baby’s parentage could remain a secret. Tarquin and Marina readily agreed, and kept their word. They never told anyone. The only proof that I’m Ophelia’s mother is on the paper you have in your hand. Goodness knows how it came to be in Giles’ study, but I suppose Henrietta’s affairs passed on to him and Florence when she died. If he ever read the paper and knew about it, he never told me.’
‘No,’ Sister Veronica said. ‘I don’t think Florence knows either. Everyone certainly did a good job of keeping the whole matter hidden. But why go to all this trouble to erase Giles? What on earth was the point of that, Maud?’ Her brow crinkled as she tried to understand.
‘I suppose I can tell you more about it now, Sister,’ Maud said. ‘The truth is that I’m dying.’
Sister Veronica renewed her stare into the woman’s eyes.
‘Is that why the hospital called the other day?’ she said.
‘Yes.’ Maud nodded. ‘I have end-stage lymphoma that’s spread throughout my body. Tumours everywhere, not that you would know it to look at me. I wear a lot of rouge on my cheeks to look as healthy as possible, and although I have lost quite a lot of weight I’m still big, so people don’t suspect there’s anything wrong with me. There’s nothing more the doctors can do now, I’ve been through all the treatments over the last two years and they haven’t worked. But I knew there was a gift I could give my daughter before I died, and I was hoping to do it without any nosy old busybody interfering.’ She glared.
‘Go on,’ Sister Veronica said.
‘Giles ran a very successful business,’ Maud said. Ah, Sister Veronica thought. She obviously doesn’t know about Beresford’s Breaded Wonders failing, and about Giles siphoning off what was left of the money. ‘And he and Florence own Chalfield Hall. I saw his will one day – I know Florence will have made out a separate one and I’ve never seen that, only Giles’ – and I saw that after Florence, the next person he would leave his estate to is me, being his only living blood relative. And obviously the person I would leave all my assets to is my daughter, Ophelia.’
‘Oh I see,’ Sister Veronica said, understanding Maud’s skewed logic all at once. ‘So you thought that by killing off Giles and Florence, you would inherit everything from the business and maybe something from the house and then leave it all to Ophelia? And you got up earlier than usual and left me that poison pen letter, warning me to stop interfering – by which you meant helping Florence get to the bottom of who was behind her husband’s demise – because you wanted your plan to be carried out without interruptions?’
Maud nodded.
‘She was taken away from me the day after her birth, Sister.’ A tear ran down Maud’s cheek. ‘As soon as I saw her I felt a love so powerful that I can’t describe it. She was as beautiful then as she is now. I haven’t been able to give her much, but I wanted to make sure she would be looked after long after I was gone. And to do that I needed to give her money.’
‘And you never thought that maybe Florence might have left a separate will, passing on everything to Magnus, if anything was to happen to her, after Giles’ death?’ Sister Veronica said, her voice gentle. ‘I don’t think it works as simply as that, Maud. The house would never have gone to you, it gets passed down in Florence’s family, and would go to whoever Florence stated in her will.’
‘But Beresford’s Breaded Wonders is different,’ Maud said. ‘I’ve seen Giles’ will, I know he left it to me, after Florence. And that’s his pro
perty, nothing to do with your side of the family at all.’
‘That’s true.’ Sister Veronica nodded, trying to level out her breathing. There was no way she was going to enlighten the woman about the fact that there was nothing left in Giles’ business at all at this stage, other than a hefty debt. She could see Maud was getting angry and didn’t want to inflame the situation more than she needed to.
‘And Digby?’ she said. ‘What about him, Maud?’
Maud’s eyes raged.
‘Every time I’ve seen Ophelia since Sam was born, she’s seemed more and more miserable,’ Maud said. ‘I may not be a relationship expert, Sister, but I know what misery feels like, goodness knows I’ve felt enough in my life. I knew there was something wrong in that marriage, and I could see Digby wasn’t treating her nicely, even before you lot picked up on it. The way he carried on when Lucie confronted him was the last straw. I had to free my daughter, and as the doctors have only given me a few months to live, it had to be now, this Christmas. I knew I’d never get another chance. And I don’t regret doing it, she and Sam are free to live as they choose now, happily hopefully, without that abusive bastard of a man breathing down their necks.’
The Tormented Page 17