The Penny Green series Box Set

by Emily Organ

  Ralph Lombard stood to his feet. “Glenville,” he barked. “Is there any truth in what your wife says?”

  “Nothing but the ramblings of a hysterical woman,” replied Mr Glenville.

  “Am I in the clear now, Inspector?” asked Viscount Wyndham. “Are you satisfied that the potassium of cyanide on the chair I selected had nothing to do with me?”

  “We’re not quite finished yet, Wyndham,” said James. “Bear with me for a moment longer. Remember our Mr Evans; the man we think murdered Elizabeth Wiggins? A cursory search of Mr Evans’ papers this morning revealed that he had been in contact with someone within this room.” He paused to look around. “And that person is Mr Glenville.”

  I gasped.

  “You’re wasting your time now, Inspector. You already have your culprit,” argued Mr Glenville.

  “Have you ever met with a professional criminal who calls himself Mr Evans?”

  “No.”

  “Mr Evans’ papers reveal that you paid him the sum of one hundred pounds at the end of February. Is that correct?”

  “I don’t recall giving money of any amount to a man called Evans,” replied Mr Glenville. His dark eyes never wavered from James’ face. “Perhaps he used a different name, but I certainly wouldn’t have paid money to aid someone in carrying out a nefarious deed.”

  “Mr Evans is a nefarious man, Mr Glenville,” said James. “You paid him to murder Elizabeth Wiggins. It seems the nosy maid had heard too much.”

  Mr Glenville laughed. “Wherever have you got this idea from, Inspector?”

  “Elizabeth Wiggins, who you knew as Betsy, overheard you and your wife discussing how to rid yourselves of your troublesome daughter.”

  “What nonsense, Inspector. You have no evidence to back up your preposterous claims!”

  “As Miss Sophia grew into a young woman, she demonstrated an independence of mind and a strength of character incongruous with your plans for her,” said James. “She was a modern woman who identified strongly with social reform, such as women’s suffrage and fair conditions for factory workers.

  “Having betrothed her to Dudley Lombard while she was a young girl, you and your wife increasingly despaired as she became less consistent with your plans with each year that passed. As the wedding drew near and you learnt of her indiscretions, you felt that the girl had become more trouble than she was worth. Perhaps you had both hoped she would elope with her lover, and that would be the end of it. Only her lover wasn’t ready to leave. He had a family to support.”

  Mr Glenville’s face assumed a bored expression. “You’re an excellent storyteller, Inspector,” he said.

  “In addition to your worries regarding how this rebellious young girl could ever manage the family business, you were also concerned about the shame she would inevitably bring to your family,” continued James. “Her attempt to run away was an embarrassment too far. What if the establishment discovered the trouble you were having with her?

  “She was engaged to be married to the son of your friend, but then you have another daughter, don’t you? You considered whether Jane would be a more suitable wife for Dudley, and Mr Lombard had already proposed such a match. As your wife suggested, once the Lombard gin distillery was owned by your daughter Jane, it wouldn’t have been too much trouble to push the Lombards out.”

  Mr Glenville chuckled and shook his head.

  “Together, you and your wife hatched a plan to be rid of your daughter and fix the blame on Viscount Wyndham, a man you had many disagreements with over your son, Maurice. One of you deliberately planted the empty packet of cyanide on the chair upon which he had been sitting to shift the suspicion onto him.”

  “Sheer foolishness, Glenville!” laughed Viscount Wyndham. “Looks like you’ll be needing a lawyer now, eh?”

  “You’re a fool if you believe a single word of this, Wyndham!” snarled Mr Glenville.

  He turned back to James. “If this is what happened, Inspector, how would my wife or I have emptied a packet of poison into Sophia’s glass without anyone noticing? It would have been impossible!”

  “But not completely impossible,” said James. “The best theory I could come up with is as follows. You emptied the packet of cyanide into your own glass, Mr Glenville. Then somehow you created a diversion which allowed you to exchange your glass with your daughter’s while everyone’s attention was elsewhere.”

  I thought about the moment just before Sophia had died, when we were all distracted by Tipsy, the trick-performing dog.

  Mr Glenville laughed. “If only I were that clever, Inspector!”

  “You are, Mr Glenville. And I suspect that your loyal butler, Mr Perrin, and equally loyal housekeeper, Mrs Craughton, were willing to turn a blind eye or even assist where required. Miss Sophia was also a great nuisance to them.

  “And as your daughter lay dying, you placed the empty packet of poison on Viscount Wyndham’s chair. You probably hoped he would return to the same one so everyone would connect him with the cyanide. However, Mary Lombard sat down on the chair, which perhaps diluted the intended effect.”

  “This fairy tale involves an awful lot of conjecture, Inspector,” said Glenville. “This is little more than a story you have concocted to suit your own means. You have no proof of anything. You entered my home because you were already carrying out an investigation on the behalf of a man who bears me nothing but animosity. You thought I didn’t know about Mr Conway and his intentions to ruin me? And then you encouraged this woman,” I jumped as Mr Glenville turned his eyes toward me, “to use lies and subterfuge to gain access to my home.”

  I met his dark gaze and my knees suddenly felt weak.

  “Is it any coincidence that my daughter died within a few days of Miss Green beginning her work here, under the pretence of being a maid? And notice how she conveniently uncovered the so-called evidence. It was Miss Green who discovered the note in the library. It was Miss Green who encountered my daughter on her return from an alleged encounter with her suitor. Miss Green who heard Maisie after she had followed Sophia one evening. And Miss Green who discovered Maisie after she fell! There is too much coincidence in that, Inspector.”

  “Miss Green is a respected news reporter,” said James.

  “This is all part of a plan masterminded by Scotland Yard and the Morning Express,” said Mr Glenville.

  “With all due respect, Mr Glenville, you are quite mistaken,” Chief Inspector Cullen interjected.

  “Miss Green was sent here to charm me, and once she had done that she set about framing me for the death of my own daughter.”

  “It’s not true, Mr Glenville,” I said. “Mr Conway asked me to work undercover in your household, and during my time here I mistakenly believed that you were an honest man. I defended you when others criticised you, and up to the very last moment I could never have believed that you would cause your daughter any harm. I still struggle to accept that you and your wife have done such terrible things to these innocent young women. As a reporter, I pride myself on being a good judge of character, but on this occasion I have been wildly mistaken.”

  I felt a lump in my throat, and Mr Glenville smiled at me.

  “We got on well, didn’t we, Miss Green? I can’t tell you how disappointed I was when I discovered the truth about you. There was something that didn’t seem quite right about you from the start, but in a pleasant way. You were different from everyone who had worked here before. That’s why I kept searching your room. I wanted to discover the real you. And I did. It turns out you are even more fascinating than I first thought. The daughter of a famous plant-hunter, nonetheless! It’s a terrible shame you allowed yourself to be talked into this scam by Scotland Yard. Why do you wish to make it look as though I murdered my own daughter?”

  “Because you did.” I felt tears in my eyes.

  Mr Glenville shook his head.

  “No. I see now that you’re a part of the conspiracy against me,” he said. “I can’t tell you how disappoin
ted that makes me feel.”

  “Come along, please, Mr Glenville,” said Chief Inspector Cullen. “We need to take you down to Church Court station.”

  He took Mr Glenville’s arm, but my former employer shrugged him off. Within a couple of strides, Mr Glenville had reached my side. He held his hand up around my throat in a vice-like grip.

  My head knocked against the wall, and I couldn’t breathe. My wide eyes stared into his.

  “And to think I once had faith in you,” he snarled. “You’re nothing more than a temptress!”

  I tried to pull his hand away, but it felt like a steel clamp, gripping harder and harder.

  I tried to mouth the words, “Let go!” but already my vision was becoming cloudy. I could hear distant cries and shrieks. Glenville was speaking to me, but his words were too muffled for me to understand. My sight and hearing were closing down. My body fought for air, but Glenville was too strong.

  I had once trusted this man, and now I was to die at his hands. In front of everyone else. In front of James. Why wasn’t someone stopping him?

  Chapter 51

  When I came to, I discovered that I was lying on the floor of the library. My head throbbed with pain.

  The portrait of the ghost twins swam into view as it sat close by, propped up against the cabinet.

  “Penny,” I heard James say softly.

  My throat hurt too much to reply. James’ face was directly in front of me, but I flinched, frightened that Glenville was somewhere nearby.

  “It’s all right, Penny,” James said soothingly. “He’s gone now. Cullen’s taken him away.”

  Another face joined James’.

  It belonged to Lady Wyndham.

  “Would some laudanum help?” she asked gently.

  I managed to shake my head.

  “No thank you,” I mouthed. “I just want to leave this accursed place.”

  Chapter 52

  “Well done, Penelope!” Eliza said encouragingly as she rode alongside me on her bicycle. “You’ve managed to walk half the length of North Ride! She’s recuperating well, isn’t she, Mr Edwards?”

  “Wonderfully well,” said Mr Edwards with a grin.

  “You’re both speaking about me as if I were a small child,” I replied sullenly.

  The trees in Hyde Park were in full leaf. Nearby, some children were throwing bread to a flock of pigeons. The sun felt warm on my face, but my legs were feeble.

  “You survived strangulation, Penelope!” said Eliza. “We’ve been so worried about you, haven’t we, Mr Edwards?”

  “Terribly worried,” he added.

  “I’m fine,” I said, lifting my hands to my neck, which still felt tender.

  “You’ve only been resting for two days,” continued Eliza. “It’s not enough. You should have spent at least a week in bed!”

  “I don’t want to be in bed, Ellie. I need to be out and about.”

  “Stubborn,” whispered my sister to Mr Edwards. “She’s always been terribly stubborn.”

  “I can hear what you’re saying about me,” I said. “I’ll come out for a walk on my own next time.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. You’ll be attacked or murdered. You’re a magnet for trouble,” scolded my sister.

  “I don’t do it on purpose.”

  “Of course you don’t. No one intends to attract trouble, do they?”

  I rolled my eyes and continued walking. Up ahead, I could see a man and two women walking towards us.

  “I remember the last time we were here, Mr Edwards. You regaled us with a most fascinating history of Hyde Park,” said Eliza. “Remind me when it was first opened to the public again?”

  “During the seventeenth century,” he replied. “King Charles the First admitted the public at that time. Before that, it was a hunting park originally created for King Henry the Eighth.”

  “I do love your head for facts, Mr Edwards,” said Eliza.

  He blushed at the comment.

  “King Henry may have charged after a deer on his horse along this very stretch!” she continued.

  “It’s unlikely that this path was here at the time.”

  “But he might have ridden in this location.”

  “He might indeed.”

  I watched the approaching threesome and thought that the man looked familiar.

  “The park also used to be a popular duelling spot,” added Mr Edwards.

  “Did it really?” said Eliza. “Call me a silly romantic, but I always fancied the idea of two men fighting a duel over me!”

  The man approaching us wore a bowler hat.

  It was James.

  “I say! Isn’t that your inspector?” asked Eliza.

  “The chap who came into the library a few weeks ago?” asked Mr Edwards.

  “Is it?” I said. “Oh yes, I suppose it is.”

  I noticed James’ step falter slightly as he realised who I was. Then he grinned and strode on ahead of his companions.

  “Penny!” he called out. “What a pleasant surprise!”

  “Hello, James!”

  My eye was drawn to the women behind him. One looked older than the other, and was leaning on a walking stick for support.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs Billington-Grieg and Mr Edwards.” James stopped and doffed his hat.

  Mr Edwards did the same.

  “How lovely to see you all. What a lovely Sunday afternoon!” said James.

  He spoke through a fixed grin, and I felt as uncomfortable as he looked.

  The two women joined us, and I knew who they were before James introduced them. The younger woman had a wide, apple-cheeked face, with fair curls peeking out from beneath a flowery bonnet. The older woman had the same face, but with rather more lines. Both had smiling blue eyes.

  “This is Charlotte and her mother, Mrs Jenkins,” said James.

  He told them our names and my face began to ache from the false grin I had adopted.

  “It’s lovely to meet you at last,” I said to Charlotte, keen to demonstrate that I was entirely comfortable with her status as James’ fiancée. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Likewise!” she giggled. “James has told me all about you. You must be a very clever woman to be a news reporter!”

  “Has he?” I replied with surprise. “You don’t have to be particularly clever to be a news reporter. In fact, I often think you need to be rather foolish.”

  Everyone laughed politely.

  “Much like being a detective, in that case!” giggled Charlotte.

  The others laughed politely again.

  “The police force,” tutted Mrs Jenkins. “I always told Charlotte: ‘Whatever you do, don’t go marrying someone in the police force.’ And what does she do?”

  I noticed that James’ face was rather red. I had never seen him so flustered before.

  “What a lovely bicycle you have there, Mrs Billington-Grieg,” said Charlotte. “Are you permitted to ride it in the park?”

  “I should hope so. No one has arrested me yet,” replied Eliza.

  “How are you faring, Penny? Are you fully recovered?” asked James.

  “Oh yes. I’m fine, thank you,” I lied.

  “She’s not really,” interrupted Eliza. “She’s still rather weak. I told her she should be in bed.”

  “Absolutely,” added Mr Edwards. “Miss Green is trying to do too much too soon.”

  “Well that’s Penny for you.” James smiled. “I’ll let you know as soon as I have the start date for the Glenvilles’ trial, Penny. We’re about to charge Craughton and Perrin for aiding and abetting.”

  “That’s impressive work, James,” I said.

  “With assistance from Cullen and Trotter, I should add. Actually, I’m not sure how much assistance Trotter has given us, but he likes to remind us that it was his case to begin with.”

  “Naturally,” I said with a laugh.

  “That’s enough shop talk, darling,” said Charlotte. “I’m sure Miss Green doesn
’t want to be bothered about work on a lovely Sunday afternoon.”

  “It’s what police officers do,” said Charlotte’s mother. “They’re married to the force first. That’s what I have to constantly remind you of, Charlotte. Police force first. Wife second.”

  “Penelope also has an obsession for her work,” Eliza chipped in. “She regularly works on Sundays.”

  “It’s the same with James!” laughed Charlotte. “Goodness, you can see why they get along so well, can’t you?”

  I exchanged a glance with James. We both wished we hadn’t had to meet under these circumstances.

  I reached for the chain around my neck and pulled it up from beneath my collar.

  “I almost forgot. I need to return this to you, James,” I said as I detached his grandfather’s ring from the old locket chain.

  “Oh that? There’s no need.”

  “But you gave it to me for luck while I was working undercover. Although I’m not sure how much luck it brought me in the end.”

  “Isn’t that your grandfather’s ring?” asked Charlotte, eying it curiously.

  “I think it is, yes,” James replied uncomfortably.

  ‘But isn’t it precious?” asked Charlotte.

  “Not really. Only sentimentally. A little bit.”

  James coughed, and I could see that whatever he chose to say would offend either me or his wife-to-be.

  “Hang on to it for now, Penny,” he added.

  “If you’re sure. I thought you might want it safely returned.”

  “Well, we must continue with our stroll. How lovely to meet you all!” said James with forced cordiality as he doffed his hat again.

  “And lovely to see you,” I said politely.

  James gave me a good-humoured grimace when no one else was looking. We all bid each other goodbye and walked on.

  I overheard Charlotte asking James about his grandfather’s ring again. I smiled, wondering, whether it would cause trouble between them.

  “Well that was rather neat and tidy, wasn’t it?” said Eliza once they were out of earshot. “You both met each other with each other’s partners!”