Picture Perfect (22 page)

Molly Pollard

1785 - 1808

Greatly missed by Albert and Violet

‘
Yes!’ Jack was so pleased he spoke out loud. Here was the name Albert again, the name of the boy the matron at Coram’s Foundling Hospital had said had brought Annabel in, straight from the river. It was too much of a coincidence; this Albert must be the same person. It seemed unlikely that he was Molly’s husband, he hadn’t got the impression from Rollings that Molly had ever married, but it was possible that he was Molly’s son, or more likely, given that it appeared that Molly was only seventeen when she was employed by the Beresfords as a nursery maid, Albert was her brother.

On the far side of the graveyard the bells of St Mary’s pealed out, calling its congregation into church. Jack turned, there was nothing more he could learn from Molly’s headstone, but if she had been buried here it seemed likely that she had belonged to this church, and ten years was not such a long time in people’s memories, surely someone would remember her and be able to tell him more about Albert.

An hour later as the last hymn drew to a close Jack whispered to the old man on his right ‘Has your Father Peter been at St Mary’s for long?’

‘These past thirty years,’ the man said with obvious pride, ‘some people say he got no ambition, but I think he just found where he belongs.’

‘Many thanks,’ Jack murmured, well pleased. He waited in his pew until most of the congregation had left and then he approached the minister. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, might I have a moment of your time?’

‘Certainly,’ Father Peter said. ‘Though I don’t believe we have met before?’

Quickly Jack introduced himself and went on to outline his search for information on Annabel. He didn’t choose to emphasise his Home Office connection this time, but dwelt longer on the human tragedy of the situation and conveniently skipped over the fact that Annabel herself was not at all distressed by the circumstances which had led her to belong to two families. ‘If Molly Pollard were still alive I believe she could explain everything,’ he finished, ‘but she isn’t. Can you tell me anything of those she left behind, Albert and Violet, named on her headstone?’

‘I can do better than that,’ said Father Peter. ‘I haven’t seen Molly’s brother Albert for many years, but her sister Violet was in church this morning, I’ll give you her address.’

Jack left Putney well pleased with his morning’s work. He had gone straight to the cottage to which Father Peter had directed him, only to find that Violet was not at home, but it would be a simple matter to call on her one evening. He briefly considered leaving a note but decided against it in case Violet proved to be unwilling to discuss her sister’s disgrace, if that were so he would do better with his interrogation if she were not forewarned. Whistling, he drove home anticipating lunch followed by a ride in the park where hopefully he would meet with Annabel.

Annabel had also gone to church that morning, to St Joseph’s where both branches of the Black family customarily worshipped when in town and she was eagerly anticipating the chance to talk to her cousins. ‘You look like the cat that got the cream,’ Madeline observed as Annabel sat down beside her and Annabel looked at her in surprise, she had never thought of Madeline as very perceptive, she must be looking particularly smug over her experiences last night, and even now, thinking about Jack, and despite the ambiguity of her feelings towards him, she felt a little smile tilt the corners of her mouth. Still, she wasn’t ready to confide in her cousins yet so she simply said ‘I need your help, I have to catch the man who’s been stealing paintings.’ At that moment the organ sounded a few chords and they all rose for the first hymn and Annabel quickly jostled past Madeline so that she was standing between both her cousins.

‘Have you any idea of where to start?’ Augusta asked her worriedly while in her other ear Madeline hissed ‘Why do
you
need to catch him?’ Then the singing started and Annabel was spared the need for immediate reply.

‘He seems to make his move at every society event I attend,’ she whispered to Augusta as the music drew to a close.

‘Everything?’ Augusta asked, raising her eyebrows.

‘Everything except your musical evening,’ Annabel said ruefully, ignoring Madeline’s repeated question.

‘But…’ Madeline said again into the sudden silence and stopped abruptly as several faces turned their way reprovingly. Annabel resigned herself to having to defer further discussion at least until after the sermon, but as she settled back in her pew to listen she wondered why Jack was choosing to go to church in Putney that morning, he had never mentioned any relatives or friends living in the area and obviously he was not going there for the day if he planned to ride in Regent’s Park that afternoon. She would ride herself that afternoon, accompanied by the Black’s groom, that would be chaperonage enough, and Bill had shown last time that he was quite willing to follow her at a discreet distance and allow her private conversation with Jack. It was hard to envisage how they might kiss in so public a place though, unless they happened to find a convenient grove of trees.She gave herself up to delicious contemplation of the possibilities.

A sharp dig in her ribs from Augusta’s elbow startled her out of her reverie. ‘That’s it!’ Augusta hissed and Annabel found herself tuning into the sermon.

‘…take two of every animal, omit none…’

She looked at Augusta in the greatest puzzlement, ‘You think we should visit a menagerie?’

Augusta shook her head. ‘That’s not the point; one of the lessons here is on being meticulous, leaving nothing out. We need to make a list of everyone who has been where you have, and cross off anyone who has not been present every time.’

Annabel looked at Augusta in dismay. ‘But there are hundreds of people who’ve been invited to the same things that I have!’

Augusta frowned and Annabel could see her thinking hard. ‘Then we need another theft,’ she said at last, ‘a theft at a more exclusive occasion.’

‘But I see that you are getting restive on this unusually warm April morning,’ the vicar’s voice was suddenly louder and Annabel looked up at him guiltily and found that his mild gaze was directed at herself and her cousins. ‘It is time for another hymn, will you all please rise.’

‘Exclusive, like a small dinner party?’ Annabel asked as the congregation shuffled to its feet.

‘Perhaps,’ said Augusta, ‘but that might be too small an occasion for the thief to make his move.’

‘Not the Beresfords’ dinner parties,’ Annabel said and then she and Augusta seemed to be struck with the same thought at the same time. ‘But I couldn’t do that!’ she said in a loud whisper as the organist struck up once more. ‘I couldn’t invite someone to the Beresfords with the express intention of allowing them to steal one of the Beresfords’ paintings! Could I?’

Pre-occupied as she was with her plans to catch the thief and her plans to ride that afternoon Annabel couldn’t help noticing her father was in a particularly good mood as the Black family walked home from church.

‘Two weeks to the opening of the Royal Academy’s summer exhibition,’ he said when he saw her looking at him, ‘and this evening I have been invited to a preview of selected works, it is most exciting.’

Annabel stumbled as Augusta dug her hard in her back, but she did not need her cousin’s prompt to see the opportunity here. ‘Ooof, Papa, may I come with you tonight? I would love to see the paintings.’

‘Of course,’ Colonel Black said, ‘I thought perhaps you might be busy with the Beresfords again, but if you are not I would be delighted to have you accompany me.’

Augusta dragged Annabel back, out of Colonel Black’s hearing. ‘Take a notebook and pencil with you,’ she instructed while Annabel listened meekly, she had faith in Augusta’s advice. ‘Pretend to make notes on the paintings, but actually compile a list of everyone who is there, as long as a painting is stolen this evening will be exactly what we need.’

‘So I don’t have to persuade the Beresfords to invite my list of suspects to dinner?’ Annabel said hopefully, although it seemed the perfect way to identify the thief, she had felt a little guilty at entertaining the idea of planning to have one of the Beresfords’ pictures stolen.

‘You may still need to,’ Augusta said solemnly, ‘next time you see them you should bring up the subject.’

When she set off for her ride in Regent’s Park that afternoon Annabel found she was easily able to put all her worries aside, it was a fine day, sunny but with a gentle breeze and when she mounted her horse she found that Hatton had a spring in her step which matched her own. To begin with she walked sedately down Rotten Row, then feeling eyes upon her she turned in her saddle and looked back up the avenue but was disappointed to see no rider other than her groom. Consoling herself with the thought that Jack had not specified what time he intended to ride she urged Hatton into a gentle trot and after a few minutes she heard hoof beats behind her. She slowed her horse to a walk and Jack brought his bay up to match his pace with her mount.

‘Good afternoon,’ he said, tipping his hat and Annabel thought he looked especially cheerful today.

‘Good afternoon,’ she said demurely. ‘Did you have a pleasant morning?’

‘I did,’ Jack said. ‘It was most productive.’

‘Productive?’ Annabel said, surprised at his choice of words. ‘I thought you were in church, did you go there to pray for a miracle which has since materialized?’

‘In a manner of speaking,’ Jack said. Annabel looked at him distrustfully, there was a particular tilt to the corner of his eyes which she realized she had come to associate with him being about to try to best her.

‘What happened?’ she asked, the tilt increased.

‘I’ll tell you,’ he said, leaning towards her conspiratorially, ‘if you tell me what you did at the Cavendish’s ball.’

‘Oh,’ Annabel said, exasperated. ‘I can’t believe you’re still asking me that. I was in the fireplace if you must know.’

‘In the fireplace!’ Jack repeated and she was pleased to see he looked quite taken aback. ‘What on earth were you doing there?’

Annabel shook her head and smiled at him, ‘I didn’t agree to tell you that,’ she said, ‘I said I’d tell you what I did if you told me about your miracle. Now tell me.’

For a moment Jack looked quite stunned at finding that she’d bested him, then he grinned, ‘I’ll tell you, but you won’t be any happier with my answer than I am with yours. I was given the address of a - of an elderly lady named Violet Pollard.’ He wasn’t, in truth, sure that Violet Pollard was elderly, and in fact it seemed likely that she was still relatively young, but he had suddenly realized that describing obtaining the address of a lady as a miracle would not quite maintain the mood of duelling camaraderie which he was enjoying so much. He need not have worried, they had reached the end of Rotten Row and as they turned the horses Annabel gave a little yelp of startlement. ‘What is it?’ he demanded, suddenly alert to their surroundings and realizing that since they’d met he hadn’t taken his eyes off Annabel, which wasn’t sensible for someone in his line of work. People were strolling beneath the trees that lined the path and he thought one man looked familiar, but no one seemed to be presenting any kind of threat. ‘What is it?’ he asked again, more gently.

‘I, I just thought,’ she seemed uncharacteristically shaken and then said ‘you’ll laugh.’

‘I won’t,’ he promised solemnly although he could not see what possible threat could be present.

‘
I thought someone was following me,’ Annabel said in a small voice. ‘I know it’s silly, but there was a man, last night, at the gardens. He spoke to me and I thought I saw him just now.’

‘
It’s perfectly possible that someone you spoke to last night is walking in the park this afternoon,’ Jack said neutrally. Although that was quite true he couldn’t quite dismiss the feeling that Annabel was right to suspect something sinister. ‘Nothing will happen to you while you are riding with me,’ he added firmly. ‘Do you see the man now?’

Annabel peered among the trees. ‘No,’ she said and shook her head. ‘Perhaps I saw someone else entirely,’ she sounded impatient with herself and a little embarrassed, Jack found it oddly touching.

‘
You are quite safe with me,’ he repeated and was rewarded with a sudden smile which made his heart beat faster.

‘
Shall we canter?’ Annabel asked gaily, it was as if all she had needed to know was that she had his protection for her natural merriment to be restored and Jack felt on to p of the world.

Chapter 12

Annabel dressed with more than her usual care, in a daringly low-cut dress of copper silk, knowing for sure that she would see Jack that evening at the Royal Academy’s preview of its summer exhibition. She had mentioned to him as they rode that she would be there tonight and was gratified by his enthusiastic response. His eyes had lit up as he said ‘Then I shall see you there, I had wondered if I might but it seemed too presumptuous to ask.’ Then as they parted he had kissed her hand and even now she could still feel the warmth of his lips on her skin, very glad she had decided not to wear her riding gloves. She did not, however, forget her real objective in asking her father to take her with him that night and into her reticule she slipped a notebook and pencil ready to make a list of everyone present. Then she had to hope for a theft, she felt a little guilty about that but there was always the possibility that it would be Dermot Leahey’s work which was stolen and his pictures all looked to her as if he had dashed them off in an afternoon and she did not feel that if the thief took one of them it would be any great loss to the art world.