Ann Granger (25 page)

Read Ann Granger Online

Authors: The Companion

BOOK: Ann Granger
13.49Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
‘A friend of Mrs Parry,’ I just had time to reply. Tibbett was upon us.
‘Good afternoon to you, Dr Tibbett,’ I said politely, despite my private scorn for the hypocritical old reprobate.
He stared at me very hard and I remembered that he had been a schoolmaster for many years and was not easily deceived as to what people were thinking. I noticed for the first time that he had very clear bright blue eyes. I supposed that in his youth he had been a handsome man and was so, still.
Tibbett had turned his gaze to Ross. ‘And this?’ he asked icily. He pointed with a long slender kid-gloved finger. I was a little surprised not to see lightning issue from the tip of it. ‘Perhaps you’d be so good as to introduce me to this gentleman?’
‘Certainly,’ I said. ‘This is Inspector Ross of Scotland Yard. He is investigating Miss Hexham’s death and you must have heard about him from my Aunt Parry.’
‘I have indeed,’ said Tibbett, looking and sounding completely unimpressed.
‘And I have heard your name mentioned by Mrs Parry, sir,’ said Ross.
Tibbett was not mollified by this statement but looked even more suspiciously at Ross. ‘And do matters progress satisfactorily, Inspector?’
‘As well as can be expected at this stage, sir,’ replied Ross.
‘Indeed?’ said Tibbett. ‘What stage would that be, I wonder? What clues do you hope to find in Oxford Street on a Saturday afternoon? However, I see you are not letting grass grow beneath your feet in at least one respect. You have finished your conversation with the young lady? I assume it to have concerned a
professional matter although I am puzzled as to what its nature could be. Miss Martin was not a member of Mrs Parry’s household at the time of Miss Hexham’s regrettable disappearance. She did not know her.’
I caught a glint in Ross’s eye. ‘I conduct my enquiries how and wherever I see it necessary, sir.’
‘Then we shall not detain you! You must be a busy man and anxious to be about your public duties,’ retorted Tibbett. ‘Good day to you, Inspector.’
I thought for one awful moment that Ross would at last crack and his cool manner give way to an explosion of rage. Instead he slowly and quite deliberately turned his back on Tibbett and, ignoring his farewell words, said to me, ‘I hope I have not held you up, Miss Martin. Thank you for talking to me.’
He touched his hat, bowed to me and, still ignoring Tibbett, walked off.
‘An impertinent fellow!’ snapped Dr Tibbett.
Having already been obliged to listen to Fletcher’s criticism of Ben Ross, this was altogether too much. Perhaps I had myself just reproached the inspector but that didn’t mean I intended to go on letting others do it.
‘Dr Tibbett,’ I burst out, unable to contain myself any longer. ‘Inspector Ross, in my view, is not the one showing impertinence. How dare you interrupt a private conversation in which I was engaged, and in such a manner?’
I won’t say Tibbett reeled back in amazement but his jaw did drop momentarily and he did take half a step back, if only better to behold the source of the unexpected attack. ‘Do I believe my ears, young woman?’
‘I suppose you do,’ I said calmly. ‘You appear to have excellent hearing.’
Tibbett did not reply at once. He raised his walking stick and tapped his chin thoughtfully with the silver pommel.
‘You have a quick tongue, miss,’ he said at last.
But I knew I had wrong-footed him and followed up my advantage. It would not last long. ‘I believe, Dr Tibbett, you owe me an apology.’
‘I owe you no such thing!’ he spluttered. His face had reddened alarmingly.
I remembered that he was an elderly man and thought I should take care. I had no wish for him to have an apoplectic fit at my feet in the middle of Oxford Street.
I said nothing and held his gaze steadily.
His colour, much to my relief, returned to something more normal. With it, his manner gained its usual calm though I suspected turbulence below.
‘My dear friend, Mrs Parry,’ he said, ‘has suffered greatly from the improper behaviour of her last companion and its sad but predictable results. I would not have her embarrassed a second time. You arrived in London only Tuesday last, I believe. We understood you to know no one in town. Yet I find you this afternoon, chatting in a friendly manner with a young man, here in Oxford Street.’
‘Quite,’ I said, ‘in the middle of this crowd. Hardly a tête-à-tête! I am not behaving like a maid on her afternoon off, flirting with any young man, which your manner suggests.’
‘You express yourself with some want of delicacy,’ he said with distaste. ‘I did not know the young man was the police inspector. He seems to have gained preferment at an unsuitably young age. The sight, as I beheld it, did not bode well for the future. I have my good friend’s interests at heart. One might say, in the circumstances, yours, too. No doubt the inspector is a handsome fellow and a police inspector might appear to some, though not to me, a dashing occupation. Remember the fate of Miss Hexham!’
If he thought he was getting away with that grudging admission, he was wrong. He was trying to reclaim the moral high ground. I was determined he should not have it. We were like children playing ‘King of the Castle’.
‘I express myself frankly,’ I told him. ‘As it happens, I have some slight acquaintance with Inspector Ross dating from childhood. Mrs Parry will be happy to explain it to you. I still await your apology, Dr Tibbett.’
‘Wait and be damned!’ he burst out, crimson flaring in his cheeks again. He bit off the words and pursed his lips together.
‘Well, well,’ I said. ‘Now you express yourself with some lack of delicacy, sir.’
His mouth twisted in a sneer. ‘You are a clever girl,’ he said quietly, ‘and a bold one. I am sorry to say I find increasingly that there is a type of modern young woman who fancies she may speak as freely as a man. I am an old-fashioned fellow who believes that woman is the greatest ornament to her sex when she realises the boundaries Nature has set for her. Perhaps your hero Darwin should have given some thought to that when he was drawing up his ideas on natural selection. If you imagine that I shall apologise to you, you are very much mistaken. Moreover, I strongly advise you to curb your tongue. The opinions of a provincial doctor’s daughter might carry some weight in the limited society of your home town but not here. You are dependent upon charity and should remember it and conduct yourself accordingly. Most of all, I should warn you that you act unwisely in making an enemy of me!’
I opened my mouth to advise him that people who lived in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. But it would be unwise to reveal that I had seen him the previous day in the company of a common prostitute. I had angered him but he did not fear me. If he ever thought he had reason to do that, he would act swiftly and ruthlessly to eliminate the threat, persuading his dear friend Mrs Parry to turn me out forthwith.
‘Good day, sir,’ I said, turned on my heel and walked off.
I found by the time I had left him too far behind to be any longer in his sight that I was shaking. It was not fear but anger which caused my emotion. To be honest, some of the annoyance
was directed at myself. Perhaps I’d been foolish to lose my temper so obviously. He would complain to Aunt Parry, I thought. Perhaps I’d be dismissed? No, for the time being she needed me and my link to Ross.
But perhaps he wouldn’t say anything of this meeting to his friend Julia Parry? He had not come off the best in our duel, or so I fancied. He had not apologised but neither had he forced me to back down or pretend a respect for him I didn’t feel. He would not wish, I decided, to let anyone know that a young woman, a mere lady’s companion at that, had criticised his behaviour to his face … and got away with it. He was my enemy now; that was clear. Henceforth he’d seek to undermine my position with Aunt Parry whenever he could, but he would be subtle in how he went about it. He was a bully. Bullies hate those who face up to them. But they take care not to offend them again openly. Like a Chinese Mandarin, a bully cannot afford to lose face.
I WAS still in an unsettled state when I reached Dorset Square. It seemed a good idea not to go into the house straight away and let Simms see that I was upset. He couldn’t fail to notice it and might well mention it to Mrs Parry on her return; she in turn might tell her suitor. I certainly didn’t wish Dr Tibbett to know I’d returned home in any distress. He would take the greatest satisfaction from it.
I decided to take a leaf from Bessie’s book: sit here in the square for a little while and watch the children and their nursemaids until I had calmed down and my face was no longer – as I suspected it was at the moment – beetroot red.
I took a seat on a bench which had dried off. It was cool but pleasant enough in the watery sunshine and the previous night’s heavy rain shower had freshened up the grass and leaves. As my breath returned to its normal pace my cheeks stopped burning. Two little boys ran past bowling hoops with great expertise on the gravel path and shouting merrily.
‘Master Harry!’ cried one nursemaid despairingly. ‘Do watch out for the puddles and your boots!’
But the little boys careered on and I remembered with what pleasure I had splashed through puddles when their age, and how cross it had made Molly Darby who had to clean my boots. I was beginning to feel at peace and ready to go home - as Aunt Parry’s house was for me, at least for the time being
- when I heard myself hailed for the third time that afternoon.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Martin.’
This time the voice was polite and slightly nervous. I looked up and saw James Belling with his hat in his hand, bowing.
I returned his greeting.
‘Are you waiting here for someone or may I join you for a moment?’ he asked next.
I indicated that he might sit down if he wished. I wondered what inspired this desire for conversation with me and whether I might use it to learn something. I was now convinced his first meeting with me had been contrived. This time, however, he had not come from his house but appeared to have been returning there.
‘You weren’t called upon to escort your mother and Mrs Parry to Hampstead?’ I asked.
‘No, fortunately. They have gone to some tea party or other where it will be all sponge cake and gossip. I have been spared.’
He really sounded as though he meant it. I saw that a book protruded from his pocket and asked him what he was reading.
He flushed, took out the book and showed it to me. ‘It is Mr Darwin’s account of his voyage as a young man in the ship, the Beagle. It is not a new book now but one I have read and reread.’ His tone grew wistful. ‘I wish I could do as he did when young and travel in unknown parts to take note of all the various natural life. But even if such a chance were offered to me, my father would never cough up the money.’
‘Your father is in London?’ Mrs Belling had spoken a great deal of her children but not mentioned their father, yet I hadn’t received the impression she was a widow.
‘He is away on business. He is in South America. I asked if I might go with him but he wouldn’t have it.’ James sounded resentful. ‘I might have retraced some of Darwin’s own steps! However my father made it plain that I should not be allowed to
do so. He said I might come if I’d take an interest in his work, but then it was my turn to refuse.’
‘And what business is he in?’ I asked.
‘Railways,’ said James gloomily.
Another one!
‘So you don’t intend to follow him into the same career?’ I prompted.
‘Not if I can help it!’ he retorted with some energy. ‘I have no desire whatsoever to cover this country and every other in the world with lines of metal track carrying smoke-belching monsters and huge numbers of people from one place to another at such speed that all they see from the carriage windows as they go along is a scenery changing at such a rate, there is no chance to spot anything of real interest.’
‘You would travel slowly and stop to turn over stones and study plants and animals.’
‘Yes,’ he said defiantly. ‘I should and, indeed, I do, whenever I can.’
‘Please don’t think I am criticising you!’ I begged. ‘I quite understand. I have also read that book you have there and I’ve read
The Origin of Species
, too.’
His pale face turned pink with enthusiasm and he leaned forward. ‘You have? My dear Miss Martin, you can’t imagine what pleasure it gives me to hear you say that. There are so few ladies who take a real interest in natural studies – other than pressing flowers and painting insipid watercolours, which passes for an accomplishment with them.’
‘I am largely self-educated,’ I confessed. ‘I never went to any school. I had a governess for a few years, but she wasn’t greatly educated herself, and after that my father took over my schooling. But he was busy so I’m afraid it was left to me to gather scraps of learning wherever I found them. He did keep a good library and I read every book I could lay my hands on.’
‘That is splendid!’ said James fervently. ‘I believe girls should
be permitted access to serious books and be encouraged to think deeply. My sister, who has a perfectly good brain, has never been allowed to use it. My mother seems to think that somehow it would impair Dora’s chances in the marriage market.’
By now I was beaming at him. After Dr Tibbett’s lecture on a woman’s place this was music to my ears. ‘Frank Carterton has told me of your interest in fossils.’ I said.
‘Frank is a good fellow,’ James told me earnestly. ‘He and I were at school together. That is, he is a year older than I am and so a year above me. But he was very kind and took me under his wing. Boys’ schools can be brutal places, believe me, particularly if a boy is bookish and no good at sports. I shall always be grateful to Frank.’
An idea struck me. ‘Were you both, by any chance, pupils of Dr Tibbett?’
‘No, thank God! ’ cried James immediately and then apologised. ‘I should have said “thank goodness!” or perhaps nothing at all.’
We both burst out laughing.
‘Dr Tibbett has a poor opinion of ladies who read serious books,’ I said.
‘DrTibbett has a poor opinion of mankind in general,’ returned James. ‘Apart from himself and a few chosen mortals, that is.’
We had thus disposed of Dr Tibbett.
‘Tell me,’ James went on, ‘what do you think of Mr Darwin’s arguments?’
‘Ah,’ I said, ‘there I am hardly qualified to give an opinion. I’m not sure I followed all of his explanations, to be honest. I am full of admiration for the depth of his scholarship and the extent of his observations. Sometimes it seems to me there are gaps in his reasoning. I think he is aware of it himself.’
‘For example?’
‘Oh, he arrives at a conclusion that all the horses, donkeys and zebras in the world are descended from a common ancestor but he finds that all the dogs in the world cannot be. Why not? There
can hardly be more difference between a drayhorse and a zebra than there is between a greyhound and a King Charles spaniel. But then, I am neither a naturalist nor an animal breeder. I do find Mr Darwin to be singularly obsessed by pigeons.’
A city pigeon landed at my feet as if on cue and began to strut back and forth.
James laughed. ‘His findings are not complete. How can they be? We are only just beginning to understand the world about us. I am only sorry,’ he added suddenly, ‘that Frank has no interest in natural history. I have tried to persuade him but it is useless. If he were interested I could have asked him to come with me on my field trips. I go all over the country, you know.’
‘Frank told me you had been to Dorset, fossil-hunting,’ I said carefully. ‘Do you travel north, as well?’
‘Oh yes, I go wherever I can. It’s fascinating to observe the change in flora and fauna from south to north and the effect of the seasons, which come earlier or later depending where you live, and varying climates.’
The nursemaid had gathered up the little boys with the hoops and led them away. Other children and the adults with them had also disappeared and James and I were alone in Dorset Square. It must be teatime. I should go myself or someone might see us sitting here alone and report it either to Mrs Parry or, more dangerously to James, to his mother.
I got up and he rose somewhat reluctantly.
‘I must go now,’ I said. ‘It has been very interesting talking to you, Mr Belling.’
‘Believe me,’ he said earnestly. ‘It has been a very great pleasure.’
‘To find a lady who reads?’ I said, daring to tease him.
‘Oh, they read,’ he said dismissively. ‘My sister reads; but utter rubbish. If ever I give her a more serious book, my mother takes it out of her hands immediately. Madeleine was the same. She read a great many books but they were all badly written romantic tosh.’
It was as if a shower of cold water had suddenly drenched me. I felt myself freeze and I forced my voice to sound light and casual.
‘You discussed books with my predecessor?’
He flushed. ‘Yes, she—’ James hesitated. ‘Look here, Miss Martin,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Can you keep a secret?’
Now he had put me on the spot. Yes, of course I could keep a secret. But my recent conversation with Ross was fresh in my mind. If James was about to tell me something that shed light on Madeleine’s disappearance and death, I should have to pass it on. On the other hand, James wouldn’t tell me a thing more if he doubted my discretion. Besides, my word once given, I couldn’t break it.
I compromised. ‘I hope you don’t think I’d be indiscreet?’ I said.
He looked relieved and I felt a monster of duplicity.
‘Of course you would not,’ he said. ‘Well then, the fact is I had met Madeleine before, before she came here to London, I mean. I accompanied my mother on a visit to her friend in Durham. I was very keen to go and hoped to add to my studies. I had, of course, to put in a certain number of appearances at my mother’s side. I met Madeleine while I was there. She was companion at the time to some crotchety old lady and I felt very sorry for her. I engaged her in some conversation because everyone else was ignoring her. I am sure my mother doesn’t remember seeing Madeleine at that time. If, indeed, she did physically see her at all. That Madeleine was in the room doesn’t mean my mother took in her presence. She certainly didn’t speak to her. I’m sorry to say that, for my mother, people like Madeleine don’t exist.’
‘And I am sorry to say I can well believe it!’ I heard myself say before I could prevent it.
He gave an apologetic smile. ‘She has slighted you,’ he said. ‘Don’t take it personally. She takes a rather grand attitude. Anyway, when Madeleine arrived here in London she remembered
me at once. She was delighted to find an acquaintance and especially that it was me. I was somewhat alarmed, to be honest, because of my mother, you understand … I couldn’t have Madeleine greeting me like an old friend every time we were in the same room.’
His expression begged my understanding. I nodded encouragingly.
‘I persuaded Madeline she ought not to let it slip that we had met before, so we cultivated a certain distance when we were in company. But I used to see her here from time to time, sitting in the square as you were doing. She was usually reading. I think she liked to get out of the house. She was very unhappy and lonely. I would stop and exchange a few words with her, generally about the book she had in her hands. It was invariably the same sort of thing.’ He sighed. ‘I was appalled to hear the news of her death. She was harmless, you know, but rather—’
‘Foolish?’ I suggested.
‘I was going to say stupid,’ James said with unexpected frankness. ‘Because of that I was always a little scared, you know, that she would reveal we’d met in Durham and both of us remembered the meeting. My mother would have insisted Mrs Parry turn Madeleine away at once. She would have been convinced we were on the verge of an understanding, which is ridiculous. But when my mother takes an idea in her head there is no shifting it. I should never have heard the last of it.’
I could well believe that, too. But Madeleine
was
stupid, I thought. James could not be sure of her. And as for Madeleine, had she seen James’s interest as a simple act of kindness or something more? For her had the idea of an understanding been so ridiculous? Would it not have been just the kind of Cinderella tale she was so fond of reading? Alas, for Madeleine there would be no happy ever after.
‘I must go indoors,’ I said. ‘It wouldn’t do for us to be seen gossiping here together.’
For all I knew, Dr Tibbett might pop up again. At the very least, some servant either from Mrs Parry’s house or the Belling residence might spot us and report the matter. Among the servants in any household of substance there is generally one spy.
The thought struck me with a sudden force. Yes, but who in the Parry household was the spy? Nugent, who was closeted daily with her mistress and had time to impart the latest news as she curled her hair? I didn’t think so. Nugent appeared a woman singularly unlikely to gossip. No, it would be Simms, I decided. Simms who glided about so noiselessly, as Frank had pointed out. His employer might not be the only one to whom he passed snippets of tittle-tattle. I hadn’t forgotten how I’d seen him in private conversation with Dr Tibbett at the front door on my first evening in that house. Frank had remarked that the butler and his wife had it ‘very comfortable’ in their present situation. They had ample opportunity to observe Dr Tibbett’s visits and speculate on his intentions. Simms would ensure that whatever happened, he and his wife would not be the losers by it. I was doubly glad I’d waited here in the square until I’d regained my composure and not gone straight home.

Other books

Soul Cage by Phaedra Weldon
At Fault by Kate Chopin
An Easeful Death by Felicity Young
The Girl From Home by Adam Mitzner
Breathe, Annie, Breathe by Miranda Kenneally
His to Protect by Elena Aitken
The Beast by Alianne Donnelly