The Secret Rooms: A True Gothic Mystery (44 page)

Charlie was of course being duplicitous. He omitted to tell John that he was in league with Moore, and that – together with Violet – they were about to take steps to corral him into going to St Omer.

Two days later
– on the evening of 18 March – Charlie went round to Arlington Street to see Violet. John’s letter from Merris had failed to arrive. In the absence of any answer from John, and as instructed by Moore, it was important to establish where Stuart Wortley stood in the affair. Their best tactic, they decided after talking it over, was for the Duke to write to the general. It was not, they concurred, a letter that Henry was capable of writing himself. Slow-witted, and prone to ill-considered, angry reactions, he lacked the guile. Charlie would have to draft the letter for him. Violet assured him that Henry would sign it: he was as anxious for John to go to St Omer as they were.

The lights burnt late into the night at Arlington Street. It was a difficult letter to compose. Beyond eliciting a response from Stuart Wortley, its purpose was twofold. First, the general was to be left in no doubt that John’s move to GHQ had the Duke’s blessing. Second, in a bid to ensure his complicity, he was to be flattered into thinking that the Duke was relying on him to provide John with guidance.

Charlie’s masterstroke was the lie around which the letter turned. It did not admit to the fact that the Duke already knew that John had refused the commander-in-chief’s offer.

After drafting the letter, Charlie showed it to Violet:

‘My dear Eddy,’ it read:

I have just heard that John is about to be or has been offered by Sir John French an employment at Headquarters.

I think that John will doubtless turn to you for advice and direction as to what he should do. I would ask you, even at the risk of temporary inconvenience to yourself, to encourage him as far as you can, not to decline an offer of so great importance to himself, which from a natural feeling of loyalty to you, he may not see his way to accept.

I understand the opportunity would bring him into touch with engineering work of an inventive kind, in which I think his capabilities in that direction should ensure his being of use.

I think you will agree with me that for his own sake such a chance should not be lightly discarded.

Yours etc

Rutland

Before handing the letter to a footman, who was to take it to the Duke so that he might copy it out in his own hand, Violet inserted a note below the last paragraph. Ever the consummate flatterer, she knew it was important to make her husband feel that he had at least made a contribution:

‘Then add something like, “I hope you don’t mind me writing,” ’ she wrote: ‘And something of the great praise you have heard of the Division, and its quick moving etc. Your loving VR.’

A week later, on Thursday 25 March, 16 Arlington Street was once again the setting for another clandestine meeting.

Shortly before 7.30 p.m.
, Mrs Seed, the elderly lodge keeper, opened the black wooden gate that screened the house from prying eyes.
It was a wet, blustery evening
. Above her, the wind rattled the octagonal glass mantle which hung from the keystone of the arch that led into the cobbled courtyard. The light inside it was off. A blackout – a precaution against Zeppelin air raids – was in force and the street was in darkness. There, as instructed by Violet, she waited.

Big Ben’s quarter bells chimed in the distance. It was the quiet hour. On the park side of the street, looking up towards the Ritz Hotel, the forecourts in front of the houses were empty. Their occupants were changing for dinner. In half an hour’s time, fleets of cars would fill the street, bringing their guests. But for now it was deserted.

Well into her eighties
, Old Mother Seed, as the family called her, had served the Rutlands since she was a child. Her position was an important one. The lodge was the only route in and out of the house. As Violet’s letters reveal, she depended on Mrs Seed to spy on her children’s movements: she also depended on her when she had visitors she wanted to sequester.

Earlier that day
, Violet had called in on the lodge keeper. She was on her way back from Dorchester House, Lady Holford’s palatial mansion in Park Lane. The house, which was now a hospital for wounded officers, was unrecognizable to her. The famous Velasquez, together with other valuable treasures, had been packed away in the cellar. On the first floor, the ballroom where she had danced as a debutante had been transformed into a sitting room for convalescents. Beds, screens, medicine cabinets and operating tables filled the other reception rooms.

Lady Holford had opened
her hospital in honour of the forty wounded officers that had arrived from the Front. Among them were the first casualties from the Battle of Neuve Chapelle. It was Violet’s
second visit in a week – the previous Wednesday, she had spent the afternoon there with the King and Queen. After a traumatic afternoon sitting at the soldiers’ bedsides, she left after tea.

As Violet hurried home, her priority was to see Mrs Seed. She had explicit instructions for her. At half past seven she was expecting an important visitor. Would she please close the gate after his arrival: no one, she emphasized, must see his car in the courtyard.

At the appointed hour
, the cream Silver Ghost she had warned her lodge keeper to look out for turned into Arlington Street. It belonged to George Gordon Moore.

Stepping aside, Mrs Seed stood in the lee of the arch as the car passed. Then – as instructed – she closed the gates firmly behind her.

An hour later, the Duke, Violet, Charlie and Moore were closeted alone in the dining room.
To ensure their conversation
went no further, the footmen were told to leave the room after serving them. The soft light of the candelabra, the rich tones of the Old Master paintings, the glint of gold and crystal, accentuated the grim expressions on their faces.

A small pile of letters lay on the table in front of them. One was from General Stuart Wortley: it was clear from his reply to the Duke’s letter – the one Charlie had drafted for him – that he had not influenced John’s decision to turn down the job at GHQ.

‘My dear Henry,’ the general had replied:

Some days ago Sir John French wrote to me saying that he had been told John was an inventive genius; and asked me if I would spare him to go to St Omer to consult with the CRE
*
there on the manufacture of bombs and grenades. I told John immediately of Sir John’s letter, but he said that he knew nothing of the making of such articles and could not be of any assistance in that respect.

I saw Sir John and told him this but I said that of course if he wished John to go to St Omer, I should certainly not stand in his way. Since then I have heard nothing more of the subject.

We have again relapsed into a condition of inactivity chiefly from want of gun ammunition. I do not see how we are going to supply two armies in the field at opposite ends of Europe – it is difficult enough to supply one.

The Division is getting on very well. I have a Brigade and several guns in the trenches.

Yours, Edward Stuart Wortley

The other letters were from John. Short of being ordered to go to St Omer, he was insisting on staying put with the North Midlands. He was not going to be a party to string pulling: ‘my temperament will not allow of it,’ he told Charlie.

While Violet had convened
the crisis meeting, it was Moore who was chairing it. The problem, as he explained, was that the commander-in-chief could not
order
John to go to St Omer. In recent weeks, the press had accused him of cronyism; he had appointed too many aristocratic officers to his staff. Further, John had spurned his offer: he could hardly be expected to reissue it. First, they had to find a means of keeping the offer open without compromising the commander-in-chief. How they were going to force John to back down was a separate issue – one they would address in due course.

In tackling
the first problem, it was Moore who came up with a simple solution. Why not claim that Sir John’s letter to General Stuart Wortley had contained a clerical error? The word ‘bombs’ should have read ‘catapults’. Besides working on explosives, Foulkes’s brigade would be developing missile projectiles. Its remit was to design weapons that could shoot long jets of flame, and hurl canisters of gas, and other chemicals, into the enemy’s lines. John had turned down the job on the basis that he had no experience in ‘bomb making’, but his interest in medieval history was undeniable. The fact that he had no scientific understanding of the dynamics of projectiles, and that his knowledge of catapults was both cursory and incidental to his interest in the medieval period, was irrelevant. The crucial point was that if Sir John could claim that he had meant to say ‘catapults’, and it was John’s historical expertise that he was interested in, he could reissue his offer.

On this basis, General Stuart Wortley was easily dealt with. If he was subtly made aware of the clerical error, and if it was hinted that he would incur the displeasure of both the Duke and the commander-in-chief were he to dissuade John from joining the brigade, he ought not to put up any obstacle.

Then and there, they drafted a letter to the general:

My dear Eddy,

Many thanks for your letter. I can’t help thinking it was a pity John should have been so modest and diffident about himself.

His friends, at any rate, have always given him the credit for a good deal of ability and intelligence in the direction of inventions and contrivances, such as might conceivably have been of some value in these times.

In any case, his interest in such things as bomb-throwers and catapults, and the time he has spent, or wasted, over them is undeniable.

But what troubles me most is that I understand Sir John, who, as you say, had heard of John’s interest in these things, is rather surprised at his decision, and naturally ascribes it to a disinclination to help him.

I have just heard this from one of Sir John’s intimate friends here. I think, if you can spare him, John ought to go to see Sir John, if only to make it clear that it was a want of confidence in himself, and not a want of willingness, that induced what may have been rather a hasty decision.

Yours ever, Rutland

John was last on the agenda. After much discussion, the four of them decided their only option was to tell him that he must do as he was told.

It was left to Charlie to issue his nephew with firm – and elaborate – instructions.

In the letter he wrote to John later that evening, Charlie did not tell him that the strategy he was proposing had been devised over the course of a long, conspiratorial dinner with George Moore –
and his parents
:

Dear Jacko

I have got – again – to write to you upon the subject which I know bothers you very much, but it is simply out of the question that I should shirk it.

I have had
another
interview with Mr Moore whom I believe will be in France within a day or two. It is his wish that I say what I do in this letter, and as it is upon him that all rests in this matter, there is no use in weighing our own opinions against his as to what is best and what is not. You must use your own judgement and do what you think is right.

Your father is writing to your General by this post. In this letter, he says he thinks it was a pity you were so modest about yourself, that your friends, at any rate, have always credited you with keenness and interest in inventions, contrivances,
catapults
etc. He also says that he hears Sir John ascribes your decision to your unwillingness to come and is a bit sad, as he has been told that you take interest in these things. Your father suggests that if you can be spared, you should go over and see Sir John, if only to make it clear that it was really from want of confidence in yourself that you declined.

It is expected that your General will now suggest to you to go over there, and you are not to throw any obstacle in the way. In fact you are to add that you also have heard of Sir John’s feelings in the matter, and that you think as a matter of fact that you ought to go and make peace. As a fact, what I have said of Sir John is true – he
is
a bit sad and surprised at the failure of his little effort.

In the unlikely event of your General suppressing the whole matter, you are to try and revive it by saying you have heard a good deal from England, or from Mr Moore (who does not mind being mentioned) about Sir John’s sadness. If by ill fortune you read this letter after your General has spoken to you, you are to revive the matter as explained. When your General shows you, or reads you, your father’s letter, you are to say – “oh yes, it’s those catapults, I understand it all now” – and then say something about your having worked at them, or interested yourself in them, and talked about them [with Sir John].

If you go back to see Sir John you are to take the line that you are far from being an expert, though always interested, and that you are willing to make yourself useful and do all you can with suggestions etc, however little confidence you have in being of use.

Mr M says that that part is the least to be feared of all. He is convinced that without any real knowledge at all, you are certain to be of use, and I am absolutely certain of it myself. Remember nothing is expected of you.

This is what I was to tell you, and this is the way Mr M wants it done if possible. If it can be done without Sir John having to give deliberate orders, it is far best.

John evidently thought the notion that he should join a top-secret weapons establishment as a leading expert in projectiles was as laughable – and as unethical – as it was. To mollify Charlie, he wrote back to tell him that he would make an appointment to see the commander-in-chief. In truth, though, he had no intention of doing so.

What he did not know was that, at 16 Arlington Street, his family were monitoring his every move.