Heirs of Ravenscar (10 page)

‘Thank you. Everybody does – I suppose it's cosy, intimate, rather a nice place to be on a wintry night.'

Smiling, Jane nodded, and went back to her food.

Vicky eyed the room which she had decorated about five years ago, just before the war, flattered by Jane's comments. It was a little red box, with crimson silk brocade covering
the walls and hanging at the windows, the Victorian chairs around the table covered in a deeper red velvet, the Turkish carpet underfoot a mélange of reds, pinks and navy blue. The fire burning brightly and the many candles in their tall silver candlesticks added to the warmth, intimacy and elegance of the room on this cold December night.

Vicky usually gave this dinner party every year, just before Christmas. And even during the war she had kept up the tradition. It was always the same people who came, old friends and relatives. It struck her suddenly how clannish they all were, but then the Deravenel family in particular had always been somewhat addicted to their family and oldest friends. All of their lives they had been intertwined with other branches of the family, and most especially the Watkins clan, who were their first cousins. She supposed it was because of shared beliefs and ideals, a particular philosophy, a way of life that drew them into each other's orbit. And loyalty and friendship and constant support were essential elements in their relationship.

She thought of her sister-in-law Kathleen, not present tonight because she had a cold. She was Ned's cousin, sister of the late Neville and Johnny Watkins, both killed in that awful car crash at Ravenscar four years ago. She missed her presence. When he had arrived tonight Will had told her that Kathleen was really quite sick. ‘But not Spanish flu,' he had added swiftly, observing the look of apprehension crossing her face, ‘Just a heavy cold.' Will loved and adored Kathleen, and it had always been a very solid marriage, much to Vicky's gratification.

Fenella's voice brought her out of her reverie, and she looked across at her old friend, who was saying, ‘How is Charlie feeling, Amos?'

‘He's relieved he's safely home, happy that the war's over, Lady Fenella, and he sends his best to you, to everyone. But
he has been wounded, has a really bad leg injury and he limps, uses a cane. But at least they saved his leg. Also, one side of his face is scarred. I'm afraid it was burned.' Amos shook his head, looking suddenly worried. ‘However, he is very cheerful, I must admit, and looking forward to doing something else in the theatre, perhaps producing or writing.'

‘Is he that badly scarred?' Fenella asked, frowning, all of her attention on Amos.

‘As I said, it's only one side of his face that was burned. And the scars are still healing. He told me he might be able to do something about it later, once he's really better. There are apparently new methods for treating burns.'

‘Yes, that's true,' Grace Rose interjected. ‘Actually, skin-grafting and that kind of special surgery goes back to ancient times.'

‘I didn't know that!' Vicky exclaimed. ‘You're a fountain of knowledge, darling.'

Fenella had a thoughtful expression on her face when she looked across the table, said to Vicky, ‘Jeanette Ridgely made a remark to me the other day when she came to help out at Haddon House. Her son was an officer at the front, and he's home now, also wounded. She said he wished there was somewhere wounded soldiers could go, to have some sort of relaxation and recreation, talk to other Tommies. He said that was what his men needed. A place more like Haddon House than a public house, where inevitably many of the men just got drunk.'

‘That's an interesting idea.' Vicky glanced at the others, raising a brow. ‘Don't you agree?'

‘Yes, I do,' Stephen answered, always ready to back his wife in her projects.

Fenella nodded. ‘We could talk to her next week, if you like, Vicky, I know she's volunteered to do two days at Haddon House. I think such a place would be quite
marvellous for the wounded men who are now coming home.'

‘Like a club,' Stephen suggested, sounding enthusiastic. ‘Not the many working men's clubs that have sprung up all over, more like a recreation centre, don't you think?'

Will nodded. ‘A place where they could meet up with other solders, have refreshments, play cards, read … somewhere to go, to get them out of the house, from under the feet of their wives or mothers.'

‘It's an excellent idea, in my opinion.' Edward addressed Fenella and continued. ‘If you decided to do it, Fenella, I'll certainly write a cheque, give you a donation to such a cause.'

‘Why thank you so much, Ned, but I hadn't really thought of doing it, not until this moment anyway. But we'll see.'

‘I'll match Ned,' Will promised.

‘Count me in,' Stephen announced. ‘We must show appreciation to our wounded, they risked their lives for us, and you know damned well the government won't do much to help the returning wounded.'

‘Well, how lovely of you all,' Fenella murmured, thinking of the way she and her aunt had started Haddon House years ago. They created a safe haven for abused women and much to their satisfaction it had done wonders in the East End, saved many helpless women from terrible fates.

Vicky glanced at the door. ‘Ah, here is Fuller with the main course.'

Fuller and two parlour maids came into the dining room, carrying large tureens of lamb stew. Once everyone was served they departed, although Fuller returned within seconds to pour the red claret into the fine crystal goblets.

‘Your dinners are always the best,' Edward said at one moment, turning to Vicky. ‘I've loved this stew of yours for years.'

Vicky inclined her head, pleased. ‘Thank you,' she said with a smile. After a moment she added, ‘If we did open
such a place for wounded soldiers, shouldn't we have a canteen? To serve a good lunch to them every day.'

‘I can see this project, which was only just suggested a minute ago, is growing in magnitude,' Will murmured, staring at his sister. ‘The first thing you must do, Fenella, and you too Vicky, is sit down and figure out what such a place is going to cost. Certainly before you do anything else.'

‘Of course you're right, Will,' Fenella agreed. ‘In fact, I must do quite a lot of thinking first, before we get to that stage. We're very busy at Haddon House. We'd need quite a few helpers for such a project …' Her voice trailed off.

‘I know we'd soon have lots of volunteers,' Vicky said in a confident voice.

Edward laughed. ‘Always the optimist, my dear Vicky.'

After dinner, when everyone was drinking coffee and liqueurs in the drawing room, Amos edged towards Edward.

Edward, attuned to Amos after all these years, gave him a quick glance and inclined his head. Excusing himself to Stephen, he took several steps in Amos's direction.

‘What is it, Amos? You look as if you need to speak to me, and quite urgently.'

‘I do need to have a word, sir, but it's not urgent. I can speak with you tomorrow morning, if you'd prefer.'

‘I can't tomorrow morning, I'm afraid,' Edward answered, remembering the appointment Jane had made for them to view the Renoir painting. ‘How about now? Shall we step outside into the hall?'

‘Yes, Mr Edward, if that's all right.'

‘It's fine.' He went over to Stephen, who now stood near the window, and muttered, ‘Finnister needs a word with me. Excuse me for a moment, will you?'

‘Of course.'

Following Amos out, Edward said, ‘Too much staff clearing up out here. Let's step into the library.'

‘Good idea, sir.'

Once they were ensconced in the library overlooking the garden, Edward asked, ‘What's on your mind? You look worried.'

‘No, I'm not worried. It's like this, sir. Last night I had dinner with Charlie at the Ritz, and he went to say hello to another officer, who'd just come into the restaurant. A major he'd been in two different hospitals with. When he returned to the table I asked him who the man was, and he said he was a friend by the name of Cedric Crawford.'

Edward was so startled to hear this name from the past he simply gaped at Amos for a moment, genuinely dumbfounded. Finally, he said, ‘The Cedric Crawford who lived with Tabitha James? Is that who you mean? Well, I suppose you do: after all it's quite an unusual name.'

‘That's right, sir, and I don't think there are two of them.'

‘So you're obviously planning to do something about this, knowing you as well as I do, Amos.'

‘I'm taking them both to dinner tomorrow. I hope to establish his identity at least.'

‘And then what?'

‘I thought I would ask him about Tabitha James.'

‘Will he tell you the truth? We both agreed she wasn't murdered, because if she had been the police would have been involved at the time, whatever Grace Rose said when you found her. After all, she
was
only four.'

‘I'm hoping he can tell me what Tabitha's fate really was, and also where she's buried. I think that would be a good thing for Grace Rose to know, Mr Edward. Set her mind at rest.'

‘She's talked about this to you, hasn't she?' Edward
murmured, as perceptive as always, and understanding Grace Rose as well as he did.

‘Yes, she has. I've even taken her down to Whitechapel at different times, with Mrs Vicky's permission of course. And naturally she's been to Haddon House over the years. Nothing's ever been hidden from her. Mrs Vicky has always believed in telling her the truth.'

‘And rightly so. It would've been silly to keep things a secret.' A reflective look settled in Edward's eyes for a moment, and he stood holding the brandy balloon, staring into its amber depths. At last he said, ‘Find out what you can, Amos. It will be quite interesting to hear what he has to say. But don't expect too much, because perhaps he doesn't know much of anything. After all, he could have left her. Or she could have left him … it's all something of a mystery … and one we might never fathom.'

I
n all his years as a policeman and then a private investigator, Amos Finnister had learned about people and knew how to read them. He had a psychological insight into most, and usually understood the motivations of others. This aside, he had acquired a certain charm. He was at ease with people from all walks of life, and they were at ease with him. Certainly he had a way with them, handled them with expertise and finesse.

And this was most apparent on Friday evening, when Charlie and Major Cedric Crawford dined with him at the Ritz Restaurant. As it turned out, he discovered that the major was the perfect English gentleman, well mannered and genial, and from a distinguished family. And Charlie was being himself tonight,
playing
the perfect English gentleman as he had done so often on the stage in London and New York.

Amos knew how to make people relax, and by the time they were halfway through dinner he had the major laughing,
and sharing stories, some of which were hilarious. And as Amos joined in the general hilarity, told stories himself, and chatted mostly about inconsequential things, he listened and watched, trying to observe the major surreptitiously in order to properly weigh him up.

By the time they had eaten the main course, Amos felt comfortable enough to broach the subject of Tabitha James. At a given moment he glanced at Charlie, a quizzical expression on his face, and Charlie gave him a quick nod.

After taking another sip of the good French wine he had ordered, a Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Amos put down his glass and leaned back in the chair, not wanting to appear intrusive or in any way threatening.

Speaking in his ordinary, neutral tone, Amos said, ‘I wonder if you'd mind my asking you something, Major?'

‘No, not at all. What is it you'd like to know, Finnister?'

Having worked out a simple story before dinner, one based on truth, Amos had it ready and on the tip of his tongue. ‘Before I begin I'd just like to explain something … I'm wondering if you happen to know a friend of mine.'

The major's eyes were glued on Amos. ‘Who would that be?'

‘Lady Fenella Fayne. Have you ever come across her?'

‘No, I haven't, I'm afraid. But I do know who she is, I think everyone does. Great philanthropist, so I've read, and a woman who has devoted her time, energy and money to helping women … women at risk, shall we say? I believe she's the widow of Lord Jeremy Fayne.'

‘That's correct, and her father is the Earl of Tanfield. Some years ago Lady Fenella tried to find a friend of hers from Yorkshire, where she herself comes from originally – a lady friend who had disappeared in London. She did manage to find out, through another acquaintance, that her friend had ended up living in the East End, in Whitechapel or
thereabouts, and that her friend had been acquainted with a gentleman by the name of Cedric Crawford. That wasn't by any chance your good self, was it Major?'

Cedric Crawford nodded at once, showing no signs of embarrassment or reluctance to admit to knowing the woman Amos was referring to. ‘I did know a lady who lived in Whitechapel by the name of Tabitha James. I knew her quite well, actually. You see, she was an extremely close friend of a fellow guards officer, Sebastian Lawford. At one moment I did believe they were going to marry – they were very much in love. But unfortunately that did not come to pass.'

‘And why was that, Major, do you know?'

‘Oh yes, I'm afraid I do. Tabitha James became very ill. Actually, she had contracted consumption, and then she was felled by double pneumonia. Before I knew it, she was dead and gone.'

‘I see. So you went to their home in Whitechapel, did you?'

‘It was Tabitha's home, in point of fact. She wouldn't move to a better place for some reason – though, with all due respect, Seb had tried to install her in a cottage that was more than comfortable. I have no idea why she was so obdurate.' He shook his head, and finished, ‘It was all very sad because she was obviously a genuine lady: what I mean is, a woman of breeding.'

‘She was indeed. She was Lady Tabitha Brockhaven, and her late father was the Earl of Brockhaven,' Amos informed him.

It was obvious that the major was surprised; Amos thought he looked thunderstruck, even a little disbelieving. He waited, wanting this information to sink in.

Cedric Crawford frowned, and he sounded dubious when he eventually asked, ‘Are you sure of that, Finnister? I mean … a
title
? Goodness me.'

‘Yes, I am sure. Absolutely. Anyway, a moment ago I mentioned Tabitha's home. You did go there then?'

‘Oh yes, quite a few times. It was in 1904, the spring I think. Yes, that's correct. You see, I was about to travel to Europe with my father and my two sisters. We were going to the family villa in the South of France, and then I was moving to Paris. Permanently. I wanted to be a painter and my father had agreed I could attend the Beaux Arts. In fact, he was footing the bill.'

‘But you were a guards officer, weren't you?' Amos probed.

‘Oh yes, but the old man, well, he was a good sort, my pater, he let me do what I wanted, more or less. So he put up no resistance when I resigned my commission. His father had been rather a bully, so I was led to understand, and Father sort of –' Cedric paused, shrugged, ‘tended to go the other way. Indulged me. Spoiled me rotten, I expect. Anyway, he agreed with me that I wasn't cut out to be a soldier.'

‘But you rejoined the army when war broke out, and you were both wrong as it turned out, weren't you, Major? Since you must have been a very dedicated soldier from what Charlie tells me. You performed great acts of courage, so much so you are about to be awarded the greatest honour in the land, the most prestigious medal a soldier can receive for valour in the face of the enemy … the Victoria Cross.'

The major looked suddenly bashful, and he merely nodded, turning pink. He took a sip of his red wine.

Amos now leaned across the table, and asked the question he'd been holding back. ‘In the spring of 1904 did you come across a little girl living with Tabitha?'

‘Good Lord, yes, I'd forgotten about her for a moment. Tabitha did have a daughter. A toddler. Yes, yes,
of course
. Now what
was
her name … I've got it! She was called
Grace
.'

‘You don't happen to know what happened to Grace, do you?'

‘Not really.' The major rubbed his hand over his forehead, frowning slightly. ‘You know, now that I think about it, the last time I saw the child was the last time I saw Tabitha.'

‘Can you remember what happened that day?' Amos sat back, sipping his water, and waiting, a sense of excitement growing inside him. His eyes rested on the major reflectively. He was very intent on arriving at the truth.

‘I remember it was quite a nice day,' Major Crawford began. ‘Sunny, if a little cool. I went to Whitechapel with Seb Lawford because he wanted to persuade Tabitha to move to a better place, a decent cottage which he had found in Hampstead, near the Heath. He asked me to help him move her things, and we arrived in a hansom cab. Tabitha was there, but she wouldn't agree to move or leave that … hovel. She was stubborn. We both noticed how dreadfully ill she looked, and she was coughing … coughing her heart out. Seb sent me to talk to the woman who lived several doors away, down the street. She had a teenage daughter who apparently sometimes looked after Grace. He wanted her to come to the house and watch Grace whilst we took Tabitha to the hospital. I can't remember the girl's name, but she agreed, and she came back with me. As I recall, I gave her a guinea to wait until we returned. Then Seb and the girl helped to get Tabitha into some of her clothes, and he and I carried her out to the hansom, and we took her to the hospital.'

‘Which hospital was that, Major Crawford?'

‘The one on Whitechapel Road, it's called Royal London Hospital. Very old place. Naturally, they kept her in the hospital, she was so very ill.'

‘And what happened after that?' Amos asked quietly.

‘Seb returned to Tabitha's place in Whitechapel, and I took a hansom cab back to my father's house in Queen Street in Mayfair. We left for France about five days later.'

‘But you said Tabitha died. You must have seen your friend Sebastian Lawford before you left, didn't you?'

‘He came to see me only two days after we had taken Tabitha to the hospital. And yes, she
had
died, she had a virulent case of pneumonia, not to mention consumption. It was her lungs, I think, they were horribly congested, she had trouble breathing.'

‘At that time, did he mention the little girl Grace?'

‘No, he didn't say anything, and I didn't think to ask. We, that is the family, were going abroad for three months, and I was packing for a much longer stay in Paris. It was somewhat chaotic, I'm afraid –' Cedric Crawford broke off as if suddenly something had occurred to him. ‘What happened to the little girl, Mr Finnister? I hope nothing bad.'

‘No, not really, thank God.' Amos cleared his throat, went on, ‘When Lady Fenella was looking for Tabitha, I know she checked all of the hospitals in the area, because I helped her. But she didn't find Tabitha registered. Don't you think that's a bit odd?'

‘Yes. But then again, no, I don't. You see, she was using the name Mrs Lawford … Mrs Sebastian Lawford … Seb thought using his full name would offer her protection in that rather rough area of London. Anyway, he had a pet name for her, as well. He always called her Lucy. I've no idea why, but what I do know for a certainty is that he registered her as Mrs Sebastian Lawford, Christian name Lucy. I was standing right next to her when he spoke to the nurse.'

‘I understand, and so will Lady Fenella. Everything has become clear. Tell me, Major, did Sebastian Lawford invite you to the funeral? Or tell you where she was buried?'

‘No, he didn't say, but I couldn't have gone because of the problems of the family leaving, and, as I said, my father's house was chaotic until the day we left.'

‘I think I would like to meet Sebastian Lawford, if you
would help me to locate him. Do you know where he is, Major?'

‘Yes, I do.'

‘And where is that, if I might ask?'

‘In a grave in France. He was killed at the battle of Ypres, the third battle. He died in my arms, Mr Finnister. So you see, I can't help you with that. So sorry.'

‘You
have
helped me. You've given me the name of the hospital, and hopefully they will be able to tell me where Tabitha James, or rather Mrs Sebastian “Lucy” Lawford, is buried. I'm certain they will have that on record.'

‘Is it important, knowing that?' the major asked curiously.

‘Oh yes, very much so,' Amos murmured, and added, ‘thank you again, Major, thank you.'

It wasn't unusual for Amos to go to Deravenels on Saturday, even though the offices were closed over the weekend. He often went in to tidy up his paperwork, and do other small jobs, which he couldn't attend to during the week.

But on this Saturday morning he had a specific purpose when he arrived at the grand old building on the Strand. The uniformed commissionaire touched his cap, said ‘Good morning, Mr Finnister. Weather for ducks, ain't it, sir?'

Amos grinned at the older man. ‘Good morning, Albert. And indeed it is the right kind of weather for our fine feathered friends.' As he spoke he closed his umbrella, then hurried across the grandiose marble entrance foyer and up the staircase.

The reason he had come to the office was to list the names of cemeteries in the vicinity of Whitechapel, and make a few telephone calls.

His first call was to the Royal London Hospital,
Whitechapel, where he quickly discovered the records office was not open on weekends; this was an answer he had fully expected. He then dialled Ravenscar, and when Jessup, the butler, answered, he announced himself, spoke to the butler for a moment or two, and then was put through to Edward Deravenel.

‘Good morning, Amos,' Edward said. ‘I'm assuming you have some sort of news for me.'

‘Good morning, sir, and yes, I do. It was the right Cedric Crawford, as we had thought on Thursday, but he was not the man involved with Tabitha James.'

‘How strange!' Edward exclaimed. ‘That friend of Tabitha's, Sophie whatever her name was, seemed so certain about Cedric Crawford.'

‘According to Lady Fenella, yes, she did. But according to the major it was his fellow guards officer, Sebastian Lawford, who was the man in question. And I do believe Major Crawford.'

‘And an easy mistake, I suppose, to muddle Crawford and Lawford,' Edward commented.

‘That's right, Mr Edward, and the major kept referring to him as
Seb
last night. Seb Lawford or Ced Crawford, what's the difference when you don't actually care about the facts?'

‘And Sophie didn't, is that what you're saying?' Edward asked.