A Question of Inheritance (18 page)

‘Risky. But from what you say the kind of man who’s been in the Foreign Legion is one inclined to take risks. As to the whole business with fuses, like I said, his lordship’s intention to fix the electrics in the hothouse was common knowledge. Even so, I’m not sure the timing’s right. I think the wiring job was done much later.’

‘He could have gone back to the Castle.’

‘He could.’ The Superintendent made a note of Saul Ingham’s name. ‘I remember the case. Caused quite a stir. I’m grateful to you, Mr Hawksworth. I’ll get on to London right away and they can find the records from the time. At least we now know who the man is. And he won’t be going anywhere, as I told you earlier.’

Hugo left the police station wondering why MacLeod hadn’t asked what had caused Saul’s animosity towards Lord Selchester, or what he had to do with the financial scandal that had ruined Ingham.

Of course, the Superintendent didn’t know what kind of a man the last Lord Selchester really was. He knew little about Selchester’s very private life. His secret life.

Damn it, the man had been dead these seven years, and his secrets still haunted the present. In the eyes of the world, the late Earl had died with his reputation intact. Hugh knew better.

When they’d found out who had murdered Selchester, Freya had said, ‘What’s the point of blackening a man’s reputation when he’s been dead these seven years?

Leo had agreed with her. Time passed, and the people whose lives had been affected by Lord Selchester would undoubtedly prefer to let sleeping dogs lie.

Perhaps the dogs had woken.

Chapter Twelve

Scene 1

Babs, sitting across from Freya at the kitchen table the next morning, asked if she could draw her. ‘You’ve interesting bones and a kind of old face.’

Freya said, ‘I’m not sure that’s a compliment.’

Babs said hastily, ‘Hey, I’m not saying you look old. I mean you have a face that seems to belong to a different time. I’ve been looking at the portraits in the gallery, all those ancestors. I suppose everyone has exactly the same number of ancestors as everyone else, but most people don’t have so many of them hanging on the wall. And though the styles and fashions of the clothes and the way the artists portray the women, you see the same features again and again. The way the eyes are set, shape of the nose, slant of the jaw.’

‘The Selchester face. And the blue eyes. You’ve got those.’

‘Yup. I’m loving using these charcoal crayons you got me for Christmas. I’ve drawn Polly and Pops so often that it would be I’d like to have a new subject. If you don’t mind.’

Freya said, ‘I noticed you sketching when we were in the Daffodil Tearooms. That’s what made me think you might like those.’ She obligingly sat still while Babs, her head on one side, utterly absorbed, worked her charcoal over the page. Occasionally she smudged a line with a finger as she looked up at Freya and down at the page, working with a swift professionalism that took away all her habitual world-weary languor.

University? That might be Gus’s plan for her daughter; Freya doubted if it was what Babs wanted to do.

Babs finished, in a remarkably short time. Freya said, ‘May I look?’ and Babs handed the sketchbook over.

Freya she was impressed by how Babs had caught not only the physical structure of her face but also a look of wariness in her eyes. It wasn’t something she ever noticed in her looking glass, but she recognised from the inside what Babs had seen from the outside.

‘Can I look at some of your other sketches?’

Babs nodded and Freya began to work her way through the sketchbook. There were some very well-drawn sketches of objects, little miniature still lives, but obviously what most attracted Babs were people. People in motion, people’s faces and expressions. She had drawn three women consulting the tea leaves, a sketch that gave them a witchy quality that made Freya laugh. ‘Mrs P to the left, and look at Martha peering into her cup.’

Babs came round to see what she was laughing at. ‘I saw those when I dropped into the Daffodil Tearooms for cake. Those three were wonderful to draw. I thought if you were doing a modern production of Macbeth that’s what three witches should look like.’

Freya said, ‘You could be nearer the truth than you imagine.’ She turned the page and let out an ‘Oh!’ of astonishment.

‘Whatever is the matter? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘Not a ghost. But I know this man. At least I don’t know him but I met him. Once, on a train.’

Babs turned the sketchbook round to look. ‘He was in the tearooms when we were in there with Pops and Polly. Sitting still and quiet in the corner. Watching everyone and listening hard.’

Freya said, ‘I can see that from your drawing.’

‘I wonder about people when I draw them, and I kind of see inside them, see what they really are. It’s not a facial thing. I couldn’t put a profession to people, I can’t say, he’s a doctor, he’s a lawyer, she’s a secretary or an accountant or whatever. But even so, the drawings say something about what kind of a person they are. If it’s a good drawing, that is. He was a bit weird. If you asked me about him, I’d say he’s a blank.’ Babs took back the sketchbook and looked at the man’s picture thoughtfully. ‘You met him on a train, is he a local?’

‘No. Can I borrow this?’

Babs looked surprised, ‘What, the whole sketchbook?’

‘No. Would it be possible to take this this drawing out? I’d like to show it to someone.’

Babs obligingly removed the page, and she turned to the one she’d done of Freya. She said, ‘I can take this one out too. I think Hugo would like to have it.’

Freya looked at her. ‘Why would Hugo want a sketch of me?’

Looking down at her sketchbook and making another slight adjustment with her pencil, Babs said casually, ‘He likes you.’

‘I hope he does. We’re good friends. Not in a romantic way, though. He has a girlfriend in London.’

Babs waved a dismissive pencil. ‘Oh, girlfriends in London. That’s quite another thing.’ Back in existential mode, she reassumed her bored expression and mooched out of the kitchen.

Freya found a newspaper in one of the drawers and spread it on the table. She laid the sketch on it and was about to wrap it up when Mrs Partridge came in.

‘What are you doing with that newspaper?’

‘I’m only using it to protect this sketch. Why, is it special? It’s several days old.’

Mrs Partridge whisked it away from her and rummaged in a basket under the table for a copy of the
Selchester Gazette
. She smoothed out the pages of the one from the drawer and pointed to a photograph. ‘I want to keep this one, it’s a picture of his lordship coming down the gangplank of the
Queen Mary
, with their ladyships. When he arrived in England.’

Freya looked, not much interested, and then she almost snatched the sheet from Mrs Partridge. She took it over to the window. Yes, there was no doubt about it. Never mind Gus and the girls; what interested her was the man coming down the gangplank several paces behind them. She glanced at Babs’s sketch. There was no doubt about it; he was the same man.

Scene 2

Freya pulled on boots, hacking jacket and mac, and went out to saddle Last Hurrah. He was pleased to see her, but snorted and made a fuss about having his girth tightened by cavorting across the yard. He needed a good gallop, but the ground was too hard for anything brisker than a trot.

Ben came out to watch her go. ‘You take care of him, Miss Freya, and yourself. He’s in a right grievous mood, that horse.’

That was nothing unusual; Last Hurrah’s bad temper was habitual. But Freya loved him for all his faults and wickedness, and it was good to be the saddle. Even if all she could do was walk and trot, it was a relief to escape from the Castle and its conundrums.

Except she wasn’t exactly escaping from them. She trotted over the bridge and turned into the alley that ran behind the Daffodil Tearooms. Richard, who did the baking, worked in the kitchens at the back and he would keep a watchful eye on Last Hurrah. She looped his reins over the gatepost and went in through the back door.

Richard greeted her with a brief wave of his hand. He was doing something finicky with a piping tube and said, ‘Go on in. Jamie’s out front.’

The tearooms weren’t busy. ‘Post-Christmas lull,’ Jamie said. ‘Sit anywhere.’

‘I’ve not come for coffee, but to ask you a question.’

Jamie looked interested. ‘Advice on how to persuade Lady Babs to wear more becoming clothes? Lady Priscilla was quite cutting about her, so I hear.’

‘Nothing to do with her.’ She took out Babs’s sketch and handed it to him.

Jamie looked at it. ‘That’s the man who was here last year. That stranger who came into town. Came and went, about the time Jason Filbert got his come-uppance in the woods.’

Come-uppance was a delicate way of putting it, given Jason’s violent end; he’d been found dead in the woods with a gun beside him. Freya said, ‘Have you seen him again since then?’

Jamie blew out his cheeks. ‘Now you come to mention it . . .’ Then he shook his head. ‘I couldn’t say yes or no. There was a man in here just before Christmas, might have been him. I didn’t serve him, we had Ivy helping out and she waited on his table. No good asking her, the Archangel Gabriel could come in for tea and cakes, complete with feathered wings, and she wouldn’t take any notice. Is it important?’ His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Is it anything to do with the murder up at the Castle?’

‘I just want to track this man down.’

‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you, not from what I remember of him. He gave me the creeps. Pale eyes, watchful. Not a nice man.’

Scene 3

Freya came out of the tearooms and stood in the street, uncertain what to do next. When she’d met the man with pale eyes on the train, he’d known who she was. He hadn’t given her his name and she hadn’t asked. He’d worked for her uncle, he’d said. So there was the Selchester connection. What was he doing here now? He might know people here, why should it be anything to do with Gus? Yet he’d been on the liner, when Gus had nearly gone overboard, and he’d been here when that crossbow bolt had just missed the Earl.

Her time was limited, for in a little while Last Hurrah would get impatient with the meagre tufts of grass available in the alley and become restive. He was securely tied, so he wouldn’t break loose, but he might lash out at anyone going past. Although most inhabitants of Selchester were familiar with Last Hurrah and had long ago learned to give him a wide berth.

She’d try the Dragon. If he’d spent any time in Selchester, he must have stayed somewhere, and the Dragon was the most likely place.

It was quiet at this time of day, soon after opening time. Mr Plinth was behind the bar, his shirt sleeves caught up in elastic armbands. He greeted Freya like an old friend and she sat on a stool at the bar.

‘I won’t have anything thank you, Mr Plinth. I’ve really come to ask you something.’ She took out the drawing and passed it to him. ‘I don’t suppose this man has stayed here recently, has he?’

Mr Plinth went on polishing a glass, glanced at it and said, ‘That’s the gent as came for a couple of days before Christmas. A Mr Jenkins.’

Bingo! ‘How long did he stay?’

‘Hold on,’ Mr Plinth said. He vanished and reappeared a couple of minutes later with the hotel ledger.

He ran a stubby finger down the names. ‘We were very quiet then, you don’t get many folk coming before Christmas and not with the weather the threatening the way it was. Yes here we are. Mr Jenkins, London. He arrived on the twenty-second and checked out on the twenty-fourth.’

Freya said, ‘Had he booked in advance?’

Mr Plinth shook his head. ‘He walked in and asked if we had a room. He said he wasn’t sure he said how long he was going to stay, and in fact I wasn’t too keen on him staying over Christmas, because I’d hoped to take the day off. Still, business is business. As it was he took himself off after lunch on the twenty-fourth. Quite sudden.’ He looked up at the ceiling, reflecting. ‘That was the day that his new lordship and Mr Hugo came in to have lunch. Mr Jenkins was sitting in the corner there. Having a sandwich and a half pint. And then, just before his lordship came in, he got up, ever so abrupt, went upstairs, packed his bag, came down, paid his bill and off he went. He must have been heading west or down south, because he wouldn’t have got very far otherwise, not with the snow.’

Freya said, ‘Was he in a car?’

‘Not that I knew. If he had been, he’d have parked here in the car park at the back. I reckon he came on the train.’

Freya thanked him, waved at Pam who was just coming in and left. She rode back to the Castle, mulling over the implications. A rabbit hopped out in front of them, and Last Hurrah shied, nearly throwing her. She gathered him up, patted him on the neck and pulled her mind away from strangers with pale eyes, murder and all the rest of it. Time enough to think about that again when Hugo was back and she could talk it over with him and Leo.

She’d wondered before she came back whether she should tell the police, but they would simply say that she was interfering in things that were none of her business. No, if the police needed to be told, Hugo could do that.

Freya grinned. She knew that Hugo wasn’t best pleased at the way that Sir Bernard had once again left him with a watching brief, as he had done over the murder of her uncle. She didn’t feel sorry for him; he might protest, but he was the kind of man who liked to get to the truth of things. And he knew that the authorities didn’t always go about their investigations in the best way.

Not for the first time, Freya wondered exactly what Hugo had done before he injured his leg. She didn’t believe for a moment that he’d been injured in a bicycle accident. Perhaps one of these days he would trust her enough to tell her. After all, she, too, had her secrets.

Chapter Thirteen

Scene 1

To Hugo’s surprise, when he got off the bus in Selchester that evening, planning to walk up to the Castle, he saw Gus standing by the bus stop. He was wearing a voluminous tweed coat, of a most un-English cut, and his hat and horn-rimmed glasses would have made him stand out in Selchester or anywhere else in England.

Hugo climbed down from the bus and went over to Gus. ‘What are you doing here?’

Gus’s eyes were on the bus. As it trundled off, Hugo could see all the faces turned to watch them. No, not them: Gus.

Gus said, ‘Sometimes I feel like a freak show.’

Hugo said, ‘It’s simply polite curiosity. And novelty. You’re not yet the familiar figure around here that your father was.’

Gus said, ‘Freya told me you usually caught this bus, and I thought I might walk back to the Castle with you. They’re are a few things I wanted to ask you and it seems impossible anywhere in Selchester to have a conversation without it being known by everyone within the half hour. I’m not even sure in the Castle that someone isn’t above or to one side listening in. Intentionally or otherwise.’

Hugo laughed. ‘Including Polly’s ghosts?’

Gus’s expression was serious. ‘Those ghosts of hers worry me. And they worry her, too.’

‘I get the impression that you haven’t exactly taken to the Castle.’

‘I find it strange. Perhaps I’m spoiled, having been brought up in America where we’re used to our creature comforts, but the stone walls and flagstone floors aren’t what I’d call cosy. It’s almost as though the place breathes history at me. Of course, you could say it’s my history and I must get used to it, but the truth is, I’m not familiar with English history.’

‘You’d probably be more at home in a Roman villa.’

Gus grinned ruefully. ‘And isn’t that the truth? You haven’t been at the Castle for long. Did you find it oppressive when you first came?’

Hugo hadn’t ever considered this. ‘No. I’ve lived in far worse places, and there’s such a housing shortage in England that I was too relieved to have a roof over my and Georgia’s heads to care where I was.’

‘I suppose one becomes accustomed to almost anything,’ Gus said. ‘After all, I didn’t feel out of place in Oxford and the rooms I had in college went back a good many centuries.’

They came to the bridge and paused to look down into the black, swirling water. ‘It’s quite a river,’ Gus said. ‘Does it ever flood?’

‘Yes, apparently, although it hasn’t while I’ve been in Selchester. The locals all treat the river with respect, there are some evil currents.’

They took the turning to the Castle drive. Hugo said, ‘In daylight and in good weather I sometimes take the shortcut. I wouldn’t venture on it at this time of year and in the dark. Too likely to slip.’

Gus said, ‘I gather your lameness is due to a bicycle accident. Will you always have to walk with a stick?’

Hugo said, ‘Probably. I’ll certainly always be lame. But my leg’s getting stronger month by month.’

‘Does it cause you much pain?’

Hugo said, ‘From time to time. That, too, is getting better.’

They walked on again a little way in silence and then Gus said, ‘I was talking to the police today. They came up to the Castle to see me. I gather from what the Superintendent told me that they’re inclined to think the intended victim of the electrical contrivance was me and not Oliver.’

‘Yes. The Superintendent is working on that theory.’

‘Who would want to kill me? Why?’

‘That’s what the police are trying to find out. The other question is who would want to kill Oliver? No one knew he was coming; he has nothing to do with Selchester, other than a single previous visit. No one here except for Sonia knew him.’

Gus said, ‘And it seems it was a last-minute decision of Sonia’s to bring him. So the police are asking why would any of those present want to kill him? Myself included, for if he were the victim I would be as much a suspect as anyone else.’

Hugo said, ‘Did you have any particular animosity towards him?’

Gus dug his hands deeper into his coat pocket and said slowly, ‘I was kind of annoyed with him over one thing. He told me that if I found I had any items not listed on the inventories, he could arrange for a private sale. He seemed confident that I’d be happy to go along with such a scheme, even though it was dishonest and dishonourable. I don’t like paying tax any more than the next man, but however unfair and however high taxes seem, I reckon it’s a citizen’s duty to pay them. I don’t like cheating.’

‘You told him so?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he think you might report him to Morville’s?’

‘Not in so many words. I could do that, and I certainly won’t use them when I do come to sell anything, because they should be more careful about the people they employ. On the other hand, they may be aware of what Oliver got up to and chose to turn a blind eye, because it could bring them more business. But I’d like to feel I was dealing with people that I could trust.’

‘From what I know of the art world you might find it quite difficult to find people to trust. What you need is an expert who doesn’t stand to make any money from what you decide to do.’ An idea came into his head. Emerson would know someone, or might even be prepared to advise himself. ‘With regard to that I might just know the very man. Leave it with me.’

‘I’d be obliged to you. That’s not really what I wanted to talk about though, although I suppose it might be connected with the murder. What I am kind of concerned about is that the police think that somebody had it in for me. They brought up that stuff about the liner, when I nearly went overboard, and it seems they’re looking into the incident in Oxford when I was almost a hit-and-run victim.’

‘And the crossbow. The convenient crossbow.’

‘All of those, if they were intended to harm me, were supposed to look like accidents. Although at first sight what killed that unfortunate young man might have been taken to be an accident, the fact that the wiring had been tinkered with was bound to be discovered. It seems to me a very different kind of thing.’

Gus was no fool. He had thought this through. Hugo decided to take the bull by the horns. ‘There’s a man staying in Selchester who it turns out had a grudge against your father. He wasn’t aware your father was dead and you’re now Lord Selchester. So he can’t be ruled out as someone with a motive for attempting to murder you.’

‘Any idea what the quarrel was between him and my father?’

‘He’s not saying at the moment, but he might, once he’s adjusted to the new reality.’

‘Lady Sonia would benefit financially were I to pass on and therefore I suppose Rupert as her fiancé might be a suspect. Only I don’t buy this fiancé business. Do they seem to you like an engaged couple?’

‘The person to ask about that is Freya. She knows Sonia better than anyone. They grew up together. I hardly know her, but from what little I do know of her, I would never expect her to behave as other people do.’

Gus said, ‘Rupert? He seems to me a smooth fellow, rising in the world, an ambitious well-connected politician. We have a lot of those in America. He’s a familiar type.’

‘Yes, Rupert is smooth. Although what goes on behind his well-mannered exterior is not obvious.’

Gus drew his tweed coat more firmly around him and pushed a stone out of the way with his shoe. ‘I don’t like to think that somebody hates me enough to want to do me in. I have academic enemies, what scholar doesn’t, but they slay me in print, in the columns of the learned journals, not in person.’

Hugo, trying to lighten the mood, said, ‘Georgia suggested that somebody has it in for Earls.’

Gus laughed at that and said, ‘I’m beginning to think I have it in for Earls. I don’t think I’ll ever feel like one or learn how to behave like one.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Priscilla give me the name of a tailor in Savile Row, she says I need new clothes, that I can’t go around looking like an American. I am an American.’

‘Not entirely. Not now.’

Gus said, ‘I’ll always be an outsider. Look at Freya, she grew up here, like Sonia. They understand the Castle and its ways and the town and its people, although Freya tells me the Castle and town never really mingle.’

‘It’s always been that way for the English aristocracy. They often don’t make their lives where their country houses are. Your father’s centre of his life was really London – Parliament and his government work. The Castle was a duty and obligation and a place where he liked to be from time to time. I think he had very strong feelings about it. But that’s quite another proposition to moving to a new place and a new life. Where you have to establish yourself and put down roots.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Gus said. ‘In the small town where I grew up, if you hadn’t been there for thirty years or so, you’re a newcomer and an outsider. There’s more to it than that here, isn’t there? I wouldn’t have thought in this day and age that this whole business of being an Earl and rank and so forth could mark one out as being so apart from most people.’

Hugo said, ‘It could take you half a lifetime to accustom yourself to the English class system. It’s all changing now, thank God. It started to be shaken up after the first war and now after this war, things are very different.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

‘You can make yourself into whatever kind of Earl you want. You have responsibilities to your tenants, of course, but I can’t see you falling down on that. Your father was, from what I heard, an excellent landlord.’

‘It seems such a tremendous task, looking after this Castle and everything that goes with it.’

Hugo said, ‘Delegate. You have plenty of people who know what they’re doing. As long as you choose the right people and keep an eye on them in the right way, they’ll run things for you. It doesn’t have to be a full-time job.’

‘That’s what my father did?’

‘I never knew your father but I do know that his wife, virtually ran the estate and the Castle in the thirties. Before she went off to Canada.’

‘Are you suggesting I should marry an Englishwoman and pile all these responsibilities on her shoulders? I can’t think any woman worth her salt would be prepared to take that on.’

Hugo laughed. ‘Not if you put it like that, no. Somebody might be willing to take you on, Gus, simply because you are you.’

The darkness made it easy to speak of things two Englishmen probably never would. They were both outsiders, which is why Gus could talk to him like this.

Gus went on, ‘I sometimes think I should have married again. For the sake of Babs and Polly. It’s hard for girls to grow up motherless. But of course you know that with your Georgia. She’s quite a character.’

Hugo said diplomatically, ‘I’m glad that she and Polly seem to be getting along better.’

Gus said, ‘They’ve got some scheme going. I’m not sure what it is, but it seems to be taking up a good deal of their attention. Babs is helping them, which is good. I can’t say that she seems to be settling here, but it’s early days yet.’

‘It’s disconcerting to have a murder inquiry on your doorstep within a few days of arriving here.’

‘Georgia seems to take it in her stride.’

Hugo said quickly, ‘It isn’t callousness, I assure you. I think because of the manner of our mother’s death and the hardship of growing up during and after the war, she’s developed something of a carapace. It doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel things, but I think she’s learned to cope with them at an earlier age than most girls do.’

Gus sounded horrified. ‘Heavens, I would never accuse the young lady of being callous. I do worry that it’s affected Polly. She’s had another nightmare, although not such a noisy one.’

‘Isn’t it better now that she’s sharing a room with Babs?’

‘It is, but she still complains that the room is creepy. I agree with her, with the big fireplace all those rooms have and the full-length windows and the panelling – it is like something out of a horror movie. But there you are, at the moment it’s our home and I don’t see what I can do about it. I just have to hope that she can grow accustomed to it. And not get fanciful about these ghosts she claims to see.’

Scene 2

As they drew near to the top of the hill and went through the great archway with its portcullis, the moon was obscured by a passing cloud. Hugo looked up into the night sky. ‘The weather is changing.’

Gus said, ‘I thought it wasn’t feeling quite so cold.’

‘I don’t think there’ll be a frost tonight.’

When they went into the kitchen, Mrs Partridge greeted them with a weather update that confirmed this. She’d listened to the forecast on the wireless and there was a front coming across the country. ‘It’s going to get warmer, and there’s already a thaw with possible flooding from the melting snow,’ she said with relish. ‘It’s only a lull, mind you, they say a few days of wet and windy weather and then, come the New Year, there’s going to be a big freeze and a lot of snow.’

Gus and Hugo were glad to get into the warmth and light of the kitchen. Freya was sitting at the kitchen table with Magnus on her lap. ‘It’s a shame the thaw didn’t come sooner; think of all those people who couldn’t get away for Christmas.’

In which case, Oliver would have left the Castle on Christmas Eve and would still be alive. Hugo knew that Freya was thinking just the same, but the thought was left unspoken.

Mrs Partridge said, ‘I told Lady Sonia, and she’s in a right paddy about it. She said that she and Rupert would leave immediately, but Superintendent MacLeod says they can’t for the moment.’

Freya looked dismayed. ‘Oh Lord! Where is she?’

‘She’s gone off to take a bath, one of those long ones she has that use up all the hot water. Full of potions and lotions, and she’ll come out smelling like a film star.’

Freya said, ‘If it puts her in a better temper then let’s be glad of it. What about Rupert?’

‘He said he had letters to write and some work to attend to.’ Mrs Partridge paused, a disapproving look on her face. ‘He’s installed himself in his late lordship’s study. Lady Sonia said it would be all right.’

She looked at Gus, who said cheerfully, ‘He’s welcome to it. I don’t think it’s a room that I’m going to want to use much. Where’s Polly?’