Murder on the Old Road (25 page)

Seb made his escape with Tess, and Georgia sympathized. It was easy at his age, especially with drink loosening tongues, to say too much and even to distort the truth. She shouldn't place too much reliance on what he had said. That was what she told herself, but she could not help doing so. What Seb had said fitted in all too well with what she remembered of that evening. And what a motive if, driven beyond endurance by Anne's intransigence, one of them had seized the opportunity to force the issue.

Georgia retreated into the house to find a drink and some food, still wrestling with Seb's information. Anne hadn't apparently cared about development in the long term, only in her lifetime. Which pointed surely to her desire and Robert's to skip a generation. She wondered if Jessica, too, realized the implications, as Julian or Val must surely have told her about Anne's disclosure. Georgia could see her sitting alone in a corner, looking rather white, and went over to her.

‘Are you all right, Jessica? Can I bring you a drink?'

‘It's good of you, but no.' She did not sound well. Then, out of the blue, she added, ‘My boys don't always see eye to eye.'

However true, that seemed an odd statement to make at such a time. ‘Tonight's success bodes well for your proposed theatre and other plans. Your sons are united over them.'

Jessica smiled. ‘In theory. But which one has the prize?'

It seemed unfair to take advantage of Jessica in a rare moment of weakness, but Georgia could not miss the opportunity. ‘You mean the Becket bones,' she said flatly.

Jessica stared at her vacantly. ‘It's not about theatres or bones. Perhaps it was once, but not now.'

To Georgia's frustration, just as Jessica seemed about to continue, Julian arrived with a look of thunder on his face. ‘I hope you're not pestering her with questions.'

‘No,' she retorted. ‘Your mother looked ill, so I came over to see if I could help.'

‘I heard you talking about the Becket bones.'

‘And why not?' Jessica roused herself indignantly. ‘Val says you have our jewel in the crown.'

Julian went white with fury. ‘I do not. My darling brother has. Why can't you see that? And you –' turning to Georgia – ‘stop meddling. You're upsetting her.'

‘Not me,' she replied firmly.

‘I agree, Georgia.' Val appeared from nowhere at their side. ‘It's you, Julian. Don't you have any sense of restraint? This is hardly the place to be brawling over our family affairs in front of poor Georgia.'

‘Family affairs?' Julian's eyes glittered. ‘What family? You're not a Wayncroft, remember? You're an unwelcome guest at that party.'

‘Julian—' Jessica said sharply.

‘It's no use, Mother. I've had enough. You can get out, Val. We don't need you. Seb and I can run things very nicely without your destructive input.'

Val's face turned a sickly colour, but before he could speak, Jessica intervened. ‘Enough,' she said. ‘Nothing changes
yet
. You understand me, both of you? We can't afford it. Either you or Val have the answer, and Chillingham needs one.'

There was a dead silence, then Julian, completely ignoring Georgia and Val, helped Jessica up and escorted her away. Val took one look at her. ‘I need a drink,' he said.

‘Please do. I'll be fine on my own.'

Val looked ill at ease, but without outright rudeness could hardly leave after that.

‘I was looking at the memorial in the church, the one to the victims of the raid in 1942, and I noticed the name Bonneur,' Georgia said chattily. ‘I remembered Anne telling me that you married into that family.'

‘Not the same family,' he said too quickly for credibility.

‘Someone said a relative of his came to Chillingham in the 1980s asking for information about him. Then he ran off with Fred Miller's wife. I thought it might be through him that you met your wife.'

‘It wasn't. It's a common enough name. My ex-wife had no connection, so far as I know. If you'll excuse me . . .' He walked away without a glance back at her, which told her that she had rattled not one, but at least two cages this evening.

As was often the case with after-show parties, she could see that by now there were two distinct groups, the outsiders and the insiders, the latter being the cast and stage staff. It was almost as if the insiders were declaring themselves a united family for the last time. From her own knowledge of drama groups, once everyone had resumed his or her daily life, the sense of unity would vanish. The walk back to Chillingham would postpone that for a day, however, and tomorrow she would be walking with them. For tonight, however, she had had enough, and when Luke came up to join her, he made no demur when she suggested leaving.

Luke had decided to stay over at Becket House, but again he left early on the Sunday morning, promising to be back to meet her as the pilgrims arrived home. When she went in for breakfast, Peter was waiting for her, but before she could even begin to tell him about the previous evening, he said, ‘You've heard?'

‘Heard what?'

‘Julian Wayncroft.'

‘He was there last night and—'

‘Attacked last night.'

Her head began to reel.
Julian
? ‘What happened? Is he dead?'

‘No, but critical, so Molly says. She had the news from Lisa. He was run over.'

‘How? Where?' she asked.

‘Apparently while walking to his car, where Jessica was waiting for him.'

‘Accident?'

‘No one stopped. Jessica didn't see what happened, and so the next person out had the happy surprise of finding him.'

Georgia tried to cope with this new horror. An accident would be pushing coincidence to its extreme. She could not face a heavy breakfast and so compromised with a slice of toast and tea. Then Luke rang her mobile.

‘I've had Tim on the phone,' he said.

‘We've heard about Julian.'

‘He's beside himself, poor chap. Kept saying it couldn't happen again. It couldn't be one of them.'

‘Is the walk still going ahead?'

‘Believe it or not, yes. Don't know about the celebration.'

‘But Aletta and Val—'

‘Aletta, Seb and Jessica are at the hospital. It seems Val has nobly offered to lead the triumphal walk back for the rest of them. Tim asked me to tell you it's leaving from the cathedral as planned at two p.m.'

Georgia switched off her mobile with mixed feelings. Half of her wanted to go nowhere near the Old Road, and the other half knew that Peter would point out that that was all the more reason for her to do so.'

‘I take it from your expression that you don't want to go,' Peter said.

‘No, but I should. I haven't told you yet what happened last night.'

A keen look. ‘Do so, and make it good.'

His eyes gleamed as she related Seb's staggering information. ‘I'll ring Will Whitton with that. It takes us a whole lot further.'

‘You mean Will.'

‘And possibly us as well.'

When she went on to tell him of the spat with Julian and Val, Peter almost crowed with delight. ‘
Yes
.'

‘I'm glad you're pleased,' she said drily. ‘Val wasn't. He had to contend with the threat of being evicted, plus my bringing up the subject of the bones again.'

‘Tell me the exact words Jessica used, if you can.' When she did so to the best of her ability, he continued, ‘The references to “the jewel in the crown” and “the answer”. Answer to what?'

‘Both refer to the Becket bones, I presume.'

‘Really,' Peter said with satisfaction, ‘this case is
most
interesting.'

‘Which case?'

‘You do right to remind me. But Bonneur, Georgia, Bonneur.'

‘Val didn't like my bringing up the name one little bit.'

‘Understandably so, I believe. I have not been idle,' Peter announced. ‘I researched army records for Private J. Wilson. Not an uncommon name, but I think I have the right one. Went with the Royal Engineers in the Expeditionary Force to France in 1939; based in England in 1942, having been evacuated from Dunkirk in 1940. As was Robert Wayncroft,' he added.

‘And as were well over three hundred thousand other men,' Georgia pointed out.

‘That is true.' Peter looked complacent. ‘I would suggest that if Lt Christophe Bonneur was alive and well in Canterbury in June 1942 then it's odds-on that he was in the Free French forces also evacuated from Dunkirk.'

‘As were roughly twenty-five thousand of his countrymen.'

‘Wilson and Bonneur died in the raid. Robert Wayncroft survived.'

‘Which only means that he felt that his fellow servicemen deserved a memorial.'

‘But why were they all in Canterbury in the first place? Robert, I understand, but neither of the other two was stationed nearby.'

‘On leave?'

‘Perhaps. It'll take more time to get at the Free French force records, but the same question mark hangs over Bonneur.'

‘Where's this going, Peter?'

‘Like all good journeys – to Canterbury. I also did some research into the Bonneur family. Did you know that it goes back to medieval days?'

‘So do all families. They're just not all on record.'

‘Kindly be constructive, Georgia. In medieval times the head of the Bonneur family was very close to the kings of France. It supported the king at all times. It shot to real power under King Louis VII, who seems to have been devoted to pilgrimages. He was also the first husband of Eleanor, who later married Becket's adversary Henry II of England and a large part of France. Both Henry and Louis did penance at the tomb of Thomas Becket.'

‘So?' A few bells were beginning to ring in her mind.

‘Big shot Henry II decided it would be fun to extort that huge ruby, the Regale, out of Henry VII as a donation to the shrine, which helped save his own pocket.'

‘Isn't that the jewel that disappeared into the King's coffers in Tudor times and not long afterwards disappeared for good?' She stopped as Peter's implication hit her. ‘Do you mean,' she asked incredulously, ‘that the jewel in the crown Jessica was talking about was
that
and
not
the bones?'

Peter nodded. ‘I invite you to consider that possibility. Also, I recall you told me that the Wayncroft papers contains the injunction that “your heritage is wisdom”, and the Bible tells us that the price of wisdom is above—'

‘Rubies,' she finished for him.

Peter sighed with pleasure. ‘Consider, therefore, that the heritage of the Wayncrofts might actually be to protect that ruby and not the bones?'

‘But—' She was instantly springing to the defence of her own interpretation and took a deep breath. ‘A long shot, Peter. All sorts of questions. It's a big jump from our guess to assuming that Julian has this jewel—'

‘Or Val, according to what you told me. They each assume the other has it.'

‘That doesn't make sense.'

‘No, but I really smell rubies. That
does
make sense. Think of all that lovely money Val could make just for himself if he had it, without Julian having any legal claim on it. And Julian the same.'

‘It's too way out.'

‘Is it? Val married into the Bonneur family. There would be a big market for the jewel in France if he has it, together with provenance for it. It would have not only the value of the jewel itself, but also the accompanying prestige of France having regained its own. Val needs money for himself, not for the Chillingham estate.'

‘I accept that, but Val denies his wife was part of the family.'

‘He would, wouldn't he?' Peter said reasonably. ‘And remember a Bonneur came over in the 1980s to hunt for an ancestor. He might also have been looking for the jewel.'

‘So what's your thesis?' Georgia was slowly beginning to think Peter could be on the right track.

‘More of a hypothesis than a thesis. A thesis suggests evidence, and ours is heavily circumstantial. The Regale seems to have disappeared from the public record after the reign of Queen Mary, and it is presumed to have been sold amongst other crown jewels when the monarchy was hard up in the seventeenth century. Queen Mary was a Catholic, believing devoutly in the need to restore the Roman Catholic faith to England, together with St Thomas and all his brother and sister saints. Now if you had a big jewel like that, which had been stolen from a saint's shrine, might you not want to bequeath it back to its home?'

‘Yes, but I'd send it straight back to Canterbury Cathedral.'

‘Mary wouldn't. She would have been all too well aware that Elizabeth would succeed her and not turn the country back towards Rome. If Mary sent it to Canterbury, Elizabeth might well pinch it back again. Where, therefore, would Mary send it?'

‘To France? That was still Catholic enough, and it was the Regale's original home.'

‘Perhaps. But the Bonneur family thinks it's here with the Wayncrofts. Let us theorize that, in the mid twentieth century, Christophe heard a rumour of its survival and whereabouts and tried to claim it or steal it, according to your point of view. He was killed in an air raid and no more was heard of him. Forty years later his son or nephew came over to check this out and was told about the war memorial in Chillingham church. Robert Wayncroft was away, and whom else he met apart from Jeannie Miller is unknown, but Val comes to mind. Christophe and Jeannie are no longer alive. Natural causes, I'm sure.'

‘If you're right, Peter, where is the Regale now? Either Julian or Val is lying – or both, in which case it's still hidden. And it's not in the Shrine, even if it ever was.'

‘It should have gone to the heir after Robert's death. I doubt very much if he would have given
that
to Anne for safe keeping. But it doesn't seem to have done so. Hence Julian's fury yesterday evening. In his view the Regale is his heritage, and not to be sold by Val to the highest bidder.'