Our Lady of Pain (23 page)

“And what was the present?”

“I don’t know. That awful Thomson creature appeared with a gun and ordered us down into the garden.”

Harry surveyed Roger with contempt. “You may as well give it to her now.”

“I must have lost it,” mumbled Roger, wondering whether it might be possible to die of shame. During his many travel adventures, he had always been surrounded by a protective retinue of servants and had never before been in any danger at all. All he wanted to do now was to get as far away from Rose as possible.

“Here’s the brandy. Pour Lady Rose a stiff measure,” Harry ordered.

The door opened and Kerridge walked in with Inspector Judd and six policemen.

“That’s her,” said Harry. “Get her off to the prison hospital. I want her well enough to stand trial.” Rose let out a little sigh of relief as the lady’s maid was carried out.

“Now Lady Rose,” said Kerridge, “we’ll need to take a statement from you.”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” asked Harry.

“It’s all right,” said Rose. “I’ll do it now.”

Roger trembled. She would tell them how he had pleaded for his own life. But Rose, in a flat little voice, merely described how they had both been forced to walk down into the garden and how Thomson had confessed to the murder.

Roger corroborated her statement and then pleaded to be allowed to go home. He left the room without saying goodnight to Rose or offering to return Harry’s cloak.

Lady Polly was standing by the drawing room window. Her husband was sleeping in an armchair behind her. “What can be keeping her?” fretted Lady Polly. “It’s nearly dawn.”

A gentle snore was the only reply she got.

And then a car stopped outside. To her alarm, Lady Polly saw Harry helping Rose out.

“Wake up!” she screeched at her husband. “She’s arrived! She’s with that terrible Cathcart. Oh, what went wrong? Roger was supposed to propose to her.”

Rose had not taken a house key with her. Lady Polly ran down the stairs as she heard the loud sound of the door knocker. She flung open the door and howled, “What is the meaning of this?”

“We will tell you all,” said Rose. “Something terrible happened.”

In the drawing room, where her father was now awake, Rose told them about the happenings of the evening.

“This is all your fault,” said the earl, glaring at Harry.

“How can it be?” asked Rose. “He saved my life. Roger was no help. He would have run away if she had let him. All he did was wet himself.”

“You must not say such things,” exclaimed Lady Polly. “Captain Cathcart has led you into danger.”

“It all started when I went to see Dolores and found her dead,” said Rose. “If I had not been so stupid as to go and see her, then I would never have been involved or in danger. You must thank Captain Cathcart for saving my life and then let me go to bed. I am weary.”

“I suppose thanks are in order,” said the earl. “Go off with you, Rose. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”

“I must go to Scotland Yard tomorrow,” said Rose, “and I would like Captain Cathcart to escort me.”

“Oh, very well,” said Lady Polly.

Rose left the room and Harry watched her go with sad eyes. Bernie had given him a very detailed report of that outing to Richmond. Harry guessed that Rose had enjoyed such easy company, such fashionable company, and thought she could please her parents by marrying such an unexceptional young man.

“I had better leave as well. I will call for your daughter just before noon. She is very tired.”

When he had left, the earl grumbled, “Fm afraid we’re stuck with him. But did you see his evening coat? Great shiny mark of the iron on the back of it. No gentleman should go out of the house like that.”

Lady Polly said in a weary voice, “If he had been a gentleman like Roger, then our daughter might be dead. We’ll need to let him marry her.”

Harry appeared early in the office the next morning. After telling Bernie the events of the previous night, he said, “I’ve got a couple of small cases for you, but before that, I would like you to go to the hospital and make sure Mrs. Becket is all right. I have asked Mr. Becket to spend the day with my new servants and instruct them in their duties.”

Bernie brightened. He seized his coat. “Mrs. Becket wanted some romances. I’ll buy some from a bookshop on the way there.”

Daisy smiled when Bernie entered her hospital room.

“I’ve got you the books you wanted,” said Bernie. He read off the titles.
“The Dukes Passion, Lady Janes Dilemma,
and
Shop Girl to Countess”

“Sounds just the thing. I should be out of here by tomorrow.” Daisy’s bandages had been removed. She put a hand up to the shaved part of her head and said, “I must look a fright.”

“No, you look fine.”

“Sit down, Mr. King.”

“Bernie, please.”

“Then sit down, Bernie. Has anything else happened?”

Bernie told her all about the drama in the garden and the arrest of Thomson. “Oh, that is wonderful,” said Daisy when he had finished. “Rose will have nothing to worry about now. I do miss her. I liked being companion to Rose. We were like sisters.”

“But you’re married now and have a new home to go to.”

A shadow crossed Daisy’s expressive little face and she plucked nervously at the blankets.

“You must be mourning for your baby,” said Bernie sympathetically.

“I feel unnatural because I’m not. You know how the upper classes say the lower classes don’t have the same fine sensitive feelings as they have. Maybe it’s true.”

“Rubbish.”

“I feel a failure as a wife, that’s all. Now I’m to be a lady of leisure. What am I going to do with myself all day? I wish I could go back to being a companion to Rose. I wish …”

Daisy bit her lip in consternation. She had been on the point of saying she wished she had never got married. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Here, now,” said Bernie. “What can I do to cheer you up? I know, I’ll start to read one of those books to you. You just lie back and listen.”

He started to read, using different voices for the characters, until Daisy began to laugh. Then she said contritely, “I shouldn’t be laughing.”

“Course you should. Best medicine there is.”

The door opened and Lady Polly came in, followed by a footman carrying a large basket of fruit.

She eyed Bernie. “Who is this person?”

“Not a person, my lady. Mr. King works for Captain Cathcart and he has brought me some books.”

“I’ll be off,” said Bernie hurriedly. Daisy sadly watched him go.

“Now,” said Lady Polly, “I have had my servants move all your belongings from Chelsea to your new home. My maids have cleaned your flat and everything is ready for you.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“What is this trash you are reading?” asked Lady Polly, picking up
Lady Jane’s Dilemma.

“Just some romances. I didn’t feel like reading anything heavy.”

Lady Polly flicked the book open to the first page. “How is Lady Rose?” asked Daisy, but Lady Polly had become absorbed in the romance and did not hear her.

Rose sat silently beside Harry as he drove her to Scotland Yard. It was raining so she was wearing an oilskin coat, hat and goggles and shielding her head with a large umbrella. There was no danger of the umbrella being whipped away because the traffic was so bad, the motor seemed only able to inch along.

She remembered the sunny day with Roger at Richmond. It seemed very far away now.

At Scotland Yard, Rose took off her wet outer clothes with relief and followed Harry to Kerridge’s office.

“Come in, Lady Rose,” said Kerridge. “Are you recovered from your ordeal?”

“I hope so,” said Rose. “I gather you want a detailed statement.”

“My officer there will take it down. Just begin at the beginning.”

Harry watched Rose anxiously as she began to speak. She described the events of the evening but without describing Roger’s cowardice.

When she had finished, Kerridge said in a fatherly voice, “Thank you. I’ll let the captain take you home now. You will need more rest.”

“Actually, I think I will go and see Daisy.”

“I’ll take you there,” said Harry quickly.

Rose gave him a small bleak smile. “I would rather see Daisy alone, if you don’t mind.”

“Then I shall drive you to the hospital. I suggest when you are ready to leave that you telephone Matthew Jarvis and get him to send a carriage for you.”

Another silent journey while Harry tried to think of things to say while Rose sat beside him, her back ramrod-straight and her face shielded by the large umbrella.

At the hospital, Harry made to accompany her into the building, but Rose said, as if speaking to a stranger, “No, leave me. I shall do very well.”

And Harry sadly watched her go.

Daisy smiled as Rose walked in. “Your mother has just left. Lady Polly has been so kind.”

Rose divested herself of her rain clothes and sat down wearily. “Tell me all about it,” said Daisy.

“I am tired of talking about it,” said Rose, but once more she described what had happened.

When she had finished, Daisy asked, “But did Roger, Mr. Sinclair, not try to rescue you?”

“It was awful, Daisy. When we first went out on the terrace and he got down on one knee, I knew he was going to propose. And I would have accepted! But then he became so frightened he begged Thomson to let him go. He was prepared to run away and leave me to my fate. I thought he was so strong and adventurous and yet he just crumbled.”

“Not like the captain?”

“No, not like him.”

“Your parents must be very grateful to the captain. Before she left, Lady Polly said, ‘I’ll need to let them marry now.’ ”

“I don’t think I want to marry Harry.”

“Go on!”

“You know, Daisy, I am tired of being society’s rebel. When I was with Roger, things seemed so gay and easy. I began to see how happy I would be with someone cheery and undemanding. I do not want any more adventures. But don’t look at me like that. You have your Becket, and all’s well that ends well.”

“I don’t want to be married,” said Daisy in a small voice. “I want to go back to the way things were.”

“You are depressed because of the loss of your baby.”

“I’m not. Not now. I feel unnatural. I feel the whole pregnancy was a dream and my marriage as well. I sometimes wake up and think I’m back in Belgrave Square with you. Then I realize I’m not and I cry.”

“I’m sure we are both suffering from shock.”

“Maybe. I had another visitor this morning. Bernie King. He works for the captain. He brought me some nice trashy books to read.” Daisy giggled. “Lady Polly took one away with her.”

“And what is this Bernie King like?”

“Ever so amusing. He comes from Whitechapel, same as me. Oh, Rose, what am I to do? I want a divorce.”

Rose looked alarmed. “Daisy, once you are out of here and established, you will feel better. Besides, we are moving to the country soon and Mama has already said that you and Becket can come with us so that you may have some fresh air. So we will be together like the old times.”

“Well, that’s at least something,” sighed Daisy. “But the old times will never come back now.”

Harry and Kerridge had been told that Thomson was now conscious and they went to the prison hospital, where she was chained to the bed.

Her eyes glittered with fury as she looked at them. “How could you behave so wickedly?” asked Kerridge.

“What would you know about it?” she spat out. “You, the bourgeois and you, the slumming aristocrat, playing at being a detective. Do you know what it’s like to be brought up in poverty? Then have to work one’s way up through the ranks of servants to become a lady’s maid? Always having to smile and crawl and watch people stuffing themselves with mountains of food while there are people starving in this country? Pah. Jeffrey was an easy tool. He kept calling for money and she would only give him a little at a time. He grew discontented. Then this Dolores said she did not want him coming around any more. She was getting threatening letters and she did not want anyone to know of her previous existence down the East End.

“Then Jeffrey told me that she had left a will leaving everything to him. I worked on him. I persuaded him that if I could get his sister out of the way, then he would inherit everything and he could pay me half for my trouble.

“He hummed and hawed until the last day, when he tried to talk to her and she screamed she never wanted to see him again. I gave him some of her jewels and told him to leave it to me.

“I thought Lady Rose would be accused and we would be free from suspicion, but of course I should have known an aristocrat is never under suspicion. It’s one law for the rich and one for the poor.”

“It’s the same law for all,” said Kerridge. “You will be hanged by the neck until you are dead, and good riddance.”

When they left the hospital, Harry asked Kerridge, “Did Jones write those letters?”

“Yes, he’s admitted to it.”

“I haven’t been pestered by the press,” said Harry.

“We’re keeping it quiet until the trial. Amazingly, none of the guests at the ball seems to have known what really went on. So what are your plans now?”

“More detective work,” said Harry. “Lost dogs, scandals to be covered up, that sort of thing.”

“What about Lady Rose?”

“I don’t understand you.”

“Are you getting married?”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

But Harry could not bear the idea of a rejection. He had a feeling that if Rose refused him, it would be final.

Rose longed for the departure for the country. Her brief popularity had gone. It was put about that she had turned the catch of the season down. The Duchess of Warnford told everybody who would listen that she had discovered in Paris that Rose was seriously unconventional and would probably remain a spinster until the end of her days.

Daisy, too, longed for the day of departure. She was borne to her new home in Bloomsbury. Becket then had to go off immediately to chauffeur Harry.

The flat faced north. It was furnished in the heavy, oppressive furniture of the last century. The windows were shrouded in blinds, net curtains and heavy damask curtains and the rooms were dark.