The Arnifour Affair (17 page)

“Home?” Nathaniel said the word as though it was bitter on his tongue. “That decaying mausoleum is not my home.”

“Nathaniel . . . , ” Victor pleaded. “You mustn't say that. It isn't true.”

“Of course it's true.” He rubbed his forehead. “I don't belong there. I never have. You do. Elsbeth did. But I never fit in. I need to make my own way.”

“No.” Victor shook his head but made no move to reach out to his son. “Your future's there just as it's been for the past three generations of our family.”

“Eldon's got no use for me. And Kaylin . . . ,” he gave a slight shrug, “I don't think she has much use for any man.”

“But Lady Arnifour—”

“Won't live forever.” He stared at his father. “She only cares about me because of
you,
” he added with surprising gentleness.

“She loves you—”

“She loves
you
.” He glanced at Colin. “I'm sure that's no surprise.”

“Just a moment,” he interrupted, his brow deeply furrowed. “You just said you never fit in the way your father and Elsbeth did. And you've proclaimed that you loved her—
loved her
. But I've misconstrued your intent all this time, haven't I? You loved her, but not in the way I've presumed.”

Nathaniel looked away as Victor raised his eyes to reveal them rimmed with red. I glanced back at Colin and tried to fathom what I'd missed. “Tell me . . . ,” Colin said evenly, “. . . who was Elsbeth to you?”

Nathaniel's shoulders caved as he closed his eyes. “My half sister.”

Victor collapsed onto the bed as I suddenly realized with the swiftness of undeniable truth how that could be.

“Lady Arnifour . . . ,” Colin was saying, “. . . was Elsbeth's mother.”

Victor did not speak as he buried his face in his hands, but I couldn't help thinking Nathaniel looked relieved as he shifted closer to his father and draped an arm across his shoulders. I was certain given the depth of Nathaniel's release that he alone had been privy to this information outside of his father and Lady Arnifour.

“You mustn't be angry with me,” he said to his father with remarkable tenderness. “They were gonna find out. It's why I warned you about lettin' her hire them in the first place.”

“She was worried about you.” Victor sounded wounded by his shame.

“No. She worried about you.”

“I've disgraced her,” Victor choked.

“You've done no such thing,” Colin spoke up. “But I will say—it's a marvel the way you were able to keep such a thing secret.”

“But we didn't.” Victor looked up, pale and drawn. “The Earl knew right off and he wasn't of a mind to help by claiming any such baby his own. No . . . ,” he shook his head as he pulled away from Nathaniel, “he forced her to go away as soon as the morning sickness took hold. Told people she was off helping a sister suffering with child. When she returned she brought our Elsbeth back. Claimed her sister had died in childbirth and the husband couldn't care for the infant alone. It was a good story. No one questioned it.”

“How did Lady Arnifour get her husband to agree to raise Elsbeth as their niece?”

“Money.”

“Of course. . . .” Colin shook his head. “And does anyone else in the household know? Mrs. O'Keefe?”

“No. No one.”

“And how did Nathaniel come to the truth?”

“I told him,” Victor mumbled as he wrapped his arms around himself. “I'm the only family Nathaniel's ever had. I wanted him to know the truth in case something happened to me. I owed him that.” His face was etched with regret.

“Is it possible Elsbeth knew? That she'd figured it out?”

“No.” He sucked in a stilted breath. “Elsbeth had little interest in me. I couldn't see what good telling her would do. I knew she was happy believing she was one of them. . . .” He let his voice trail off.

“Why?”

Victor stared at his hands as though searching for the answer in the calluses and lines therein. Just when I thought he wasn't going to respond, Nathaniel spoke up. “She had no use for him,” he stated. “She treated him like rubbish and acted like she was better than us. Always lookin' down on us. I wish you
had
told her. It woulda served her right.”

“Nothin' good would have come of it,” Victor muttered.

“And so Lady Arnifour paid her husband to keep him quiet,” Colin repeated.

“She did. He spent the whole of Elsbeth's life forcing money from her. You've seen the estate. It's fallin' apart. And now there's only the few of us left to look after it. It's a disgrace.” He shook his head again.

“Then you must be glad he's gone,” Colin said.

“No you don't!” Nathaniel leapt off the bed. “You aren't gonna scab this on my father. Better you take me. The inspector—”

“Oh, to hell with the inspector,” Colin shut him down. “Stop bringing that bloody wretch up and stop confessing to a crime you didn't commit. You're growing tiresome.” He glanced back at Victor. “I assure you I would never try so obvious a way to entrap you if that were my intention.”

Nathaniel dropped next to his father again.

“I
am
glad he's gone,” Victor finally said. He looked small and inconsequential next to his lanky son, but there was a fire behind his eyes as he spoke. “He was a vile and hateful man who took some great pleasure in making his wife miserable.”

“A man isn't guilty for wishing something to be so!” Nathaniel growled.

“Of course.” Colin slid his gaze to me for an instant. “Though I suppose that depends on how badly he wants that thing.” He came over to me. “In this circumstance I agree with you, Nathaniel. As I have repeatedly told you both, I am not accusing either of you of anything. I am only gathering information.” He paused, but neither of the Heffernans even glanced at him. “There is one more thing I should very much like to know, Victor. You claim the Earl extorted money from his wife for years to remain silent about Elsbeth's progeny, yet he seems to have suffered from a reputation for being endlessly short on funds. How do you explain that?”

“It was a ruse, Mr. Pendragon.”

“A ruse?”

“To demonize his wife.”

“Ah . . . ,” Colin said in a tone I recognized to be fraught with skepticism. “Then that is a thing he must have wanted very much, for it seems to have cost
him
as well.”

“You don't know how much he hated her,” Victor muttered. “A man like that cuckolded . . .”

“Ours can be such an unforgiving gender.” Colin smirked as he turned on Nathaniel. “I think you're right to stay here, Nathaniel. Despite the coroner's findings, I doubt Inspector Varcoe would be of a mind to allow you to return to the Arnifour estate.”

“I have no intention of ever going back.”

Victor glanced at his son but kept quiet. He'd either lost the will to argue or finally come to understand the irrefutable truth of what Nathaniel had been saying.

“Stay out of sight,” Colin warned as we headed for the door. “But I'll expect you to remain available should I wish to speak with you again.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” he muttered tersely. “Not yet anyway.”

CHAPTER 25

T
he next morning Colin and I rode out to the Arnifour estate without the courtesy of any advance notice. He was eager to catch the lot of them at home, unsuspecting, to see what we might discover. As we clattered across the forecourt I caught the shadow of a face peering out at us from between the curtains of an upstairs window. The sight reminded me of just how many places this enormous house offered a person to hide. In effect, it made Nathaniel's flight to Whitechapel seem redundant. He would probably have been safer hiding in the moribund wings of the estate.

“You needn't wait,” Colin said to the driver. “We'll make our own way back.” I was puzzled by his pronouncement and wondered how he meant for us to get home again, but decided not to second-guess him. If this was to be a day of the unexpected, and we were certainly starting it out that way, then I was determined to allow things to unfold as they would.

I climbed the porch steps and pounded on the door as Colin came up beside me, the rhythmic clacking of our cab's wheels receding as we waited for the dour Mrs. O'Keefe to answer my knock. It took several minutes, as it inevitably does when unannounced visits are made, as nothing is at the ready and the staff can seldom be counted on to make haste. And why would they? Certainly no one of consequence would
ever
arrive without proper notification.

“I should've guessed,” Mrs. O'Keefe said when she finally pulled the door open. She stepped back, wearing the disparaging look of a headmistress, her black eyes glittering with disapproval.

I was needled with discomfort as I walked past her, and yet Colin appeared quite oblivious. “You will announce us to your mistress, please,” he said, and though he bothered to use the kindness of a pleasantry, it was obvious he did not mean it as a request.

“Madame has only
just
risen.” Her note of scolding was unmistakable.

“I'm sure,” he muttered as he moved across the foyer. “We shall wait in the study as always.”

“Of course,” came her clipped reply. “Most unorthodox,” she stated in full voice as she turned on her heels and headed for the foyer staircase.

“And so it is,” Colin called after her. “But we Brits are too conventional anyway. Perhaps more of such behavior would serve us better.”

“Must you antagonize?” I hissed under my breath.

“Antagonize?” He looked wholly innocent as we settled before the unlit fireplace in the study and he began rolling his usual crown between his fingers. “Is that what I did?”

“And what would you call it?”

“Yes . . . well . . .” He shrugged. “She really should learn her place.”

I started to laugh, the incongruity not lost on me between Mrs. O'Keefe's behavior and that of Mrs. Behmoth, but before I could say anything, Colin shoved the crown into his pocket and jumped up, a warm smile spreading across his face as he said, “Lady Kaylin . . .”

I turned to find Kaylin standing in the doorway wearing crop pants, a crisp white blouse and hunter green tailcoat, and high black boots, her delicate features alive with a most welcoming smile of her own.

“Kaylin,” she chided. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“The pleasure is ours.” Colin nodded his head.

She waved him off with a laugh as she took a seat across from us. “Such a flatterer. Emmeline says a man who flatters intends only to deceive.”

“I assume you're referring to Mrs. Pankhurst?”

“I am.” Her smile grew.

“I rather think she is correct . . . at least most of the time. Yet she's wrong where I am concerned, for what possible motive could I have for idly filling the head of such a charming woman as yourself?”

“Perhaps you interpret her statement in too narrow a context?”

“Do you suppose? It would seem to me that Mrs. Pankhurst had only the most literal intent in mind.”

“And I believe you underestimate her. She
will
make a difference one day, Mr. Pendragon. She will be remembered as a pioneer for the rights of
all
the oppressed.”

“You must forgive me,” he smiled, “I don't mean to disparage, but I think the only way your Mrs. Pankhurst will be remembered is if she chains herself to the gates of Buckingham.”

She scowled. “And I would have thought you to be a more forward-thinking man.”

“One cannot be progressive without first taking into account reality. For instance, I think you will agree that it's impossible for a solitary man to push an ox up a hill. The trick is to convince the ox that the top of the hill is where it wants to be.”

“I do hope she's not lecturing you about that wretched sisterhood again. . . .” I turned around to find Eldon leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded across his chest. “She does go on so.”

Kaylin remained rigidly still for a moment, looking as though she were taking in her brother's disheveled appearance through the back of her head. When she finally deemed to turn to him, however, I could see her face begin to tighten. “Suffering from those dreary tremors again this morning, Eldon?” she scoffed.

He did look very much the worse for wear, having clearly slid on a pair of slacks that appeared to have spent some considerable time in a wad, and a shirt dotted with a mélange of stains, its tail fully asunder. I don't think his hair had even had the benefit of a quick run-through by a hand, and yet he was able to rouse his perpetual rogue's grin as he padded barefoot across the study to the small bar. When he swept past his sister I could see how morbidly pale he looked in contrast to her flushed, healthy glow.

He took a quick shot of something and smirked at her. “How like Mother you're becoming. It's so unflattering.” He moved out from behind the bar and glared at me and Colin. “Tell me, gentlemen, have you managed to hunt down that scoundrel Nathaniel yet?” I glowered back at him. “No?” he continued when neither of us answered him. “Let me guess. I'll bet you're still concentrating on interviewing everyone this family has ever spoken to. You'll be wanting to dig up my pet rabbit, Cecil, I'm sure. I used to tell him all sorts of horrid little secrets.”

“I have no interest in Nathaniel at this point,” Colin answered.

“Really?! Do tell.” Eldon's lack of earnestness was matched by the smirk blemishing his face.

“You can be such a bore!” Kaylin snapped.

“Now, now . . . if you please . . .” Colin leaned back in his chair and I could almost hear his eyes rolling. “I presume you're going for a ride?” he said to Kaylin.

“I am. The horses don't get enough exercise with Nathaniel gone. I don't think they should suffer for the things we've done.”

“Speak for yourself,” Eldon groused. “Do you need me, Mr. Pendragon? Because I have an engagement this morning.”

“I do have a couple quick questions.” He stood up and moved over to the fireplace, squaring himself off between the two of them. “How old were you when Elsbeth was brought here?”

“Elsbeth? What difference does
that
make? You think she killed our father and then beat herself senseless to cover her tracks?” He snickered, but to her credit, Kaylin kept still.

“Humor me.”

“How the hell am I supposed to remember something like that? She's been here forever. Isn't that enough?”

“I was almost three,” Kaylin spoke up. “Mother told me I was almost three when she brought Elsbeth home. That would have made you six.”

He shrugged with disinterest and slouched back to the bar. “It amounts to most of our lives. I assume that's what you're getting at. She was like our sister. . . .” He waved his arms expansively. “She was like the dear sister I never had.” He laughed.

“And what of her parents?” Colin pressed. “What happened to your aunt and uncle?”

“Dead.” Eldon came around and flopped into a chair. “A yachting accident. Or maybe it was boredom?”

In an instant Kaylin stormed across the room and slapped her brother across the face with a crack that echoed in the confined space. It was startling, and even more so when the red-hot print began to rise on his cheek. “Have you no respect for
anyone?
” she seethed. “Has your drinking robbed you of all decency?”

He pushed himself to his feet, towering above her, and for a moment I thought he might pummel her back, but he only stepped around her and stalked back to the bar. “We all have our crutches,” his voice was low and flat as he refilled his glass, “whether it be drink, drugs, pleasures of the flesh, or that women's claptrap you subscribe to, so I wouldn't point fingers.”

She stared at him with a mixture of fury and revulsion before storming out of the room.

“Insufferable bitch,” he said as he downed a shot.

“What are you talking about?” I turned at the sound of Lady Arnifour's voice to find her standing in the doorway, a vision of hurried preparations, her thick makeup indelicately applied, her dressing gown clutched tightly in a thin hand, and her dark wig the slightest bit askew. “What have you been telling them?”

“The truth,” he sneered. “But I do hope that doesn't cause you to lob another grenade at me.”

She didn't flinch. “You confuse the venom you find at the bottoms of your bottles for truth. Now get upstairs and pull yourself together.”

He glared at his mother like he was staring at muck caught between his toes, but she didn't waver the slightest as she scowled back at him, and after a moment he had little recourse but to storm from the room with what dignity he could muster.

Lady Arnifour closed the doors behind him with a look I couldn't quite gauge before turning back to us with a forced smile that failed to contain a shred of welcome. “I'm afraid I must apologize for my son's behavior yet again. It seems he is always displaying the worst of himself when the two of you are here.”

“You mustn't,” Colin replied as he flashed his own hollow grin. “After all, we did descend upon you without notice.”

“I'm sure you have your reasons,” she said, moving into the room and perching on the edge of a chair like someone who didn't expect to be there long. “Do you bring news?”

“I've not solved the murders if that's what you're asking, but I have come into some information which I simply must discuss with you.”

Lady Arnifour flicked her gaze to me before abruptly springing to her feet and going to the windows. I was certain I'd spotted a look of concern in her eyes so was not surprised when she kept silent for a few minutes. I peered over at Colin and found him focused on her back and knew he meant to wait her out. And so we stayed that way until I heard the sound of a galloping horse draw near and caught sight of Kaylin bolting past. In the brief moment it took her to cross my field of vision I recognized the skill with which she drove her handsome mount. Lady Arnifour also seemed to soften as she watched her daughter thunder by, and although she did not turn back to us, she did finally begin to speak.

“Poor Kaylin has suffered the sole responsibility of caring for our horses since Nathaniel's disappearance. Victor just doesn't have the heart for it.”

I took note of her informal, almost intimate use of Victor Heffernan's name and realized, in that one small gesture, that everything had changed.

“I would appreciate your providing me a closing statement, Mr. Pendragon,” she continued, “as I won't be requiring your services any longer.”

“A closing statement?” He lurched out of his chair. “But I haven't finished my investigation. I haven't solved the ruddy case.”

She persisted in staring out the window in spite of the fact that Kaylin had long since passed from her view. “I understand all of that, Mr. Pendragon, but as I brought you into this sorrowful mess, so I am now removing you from it.”

His face soured. “May I ask—”

“You may not,” she cut him off. “I don't owe you an explanation, only the remuneration for your services.”

“You're making a mistake.”

“Perhaps. But it is mine to make.”

“I
will
solve this case.”

“Not at my expense.” And with that she turned from the window and faced us, her expression as tight as granite.

“I see,” he said grimly. “Then am I to understand that you're no longer interested in seeing justice served in the deaths of your husband and daughter?”

I almost gasped as he flung the question at her and could tell by the mortification on her face that she was equally stunned.

“How
dare
you . . . ,” she blustered, but it was evident that the comment had struck bone.

“You hired me to discover the truth and that's exactly what I've been doing.”

“I hired you to prove the innocence of a man and you have done that. Nathaniel's flight speaks for itself. The inspector has men searching the city for him and in time, perhaps, he will be found and brought to justice. I suggest you accept your success, Mr. Pendragon, and take heed with such wild innuendos.”

“You know as well as I do that Nathaniel is innocent.”

“Your presumption is offensive.”

“My presumption is no more offensive than your willingness to allow that boy to pay for a crime he did
not
commit,” he snarled at her.

She stormed across the room and flung the doors wide. “We are finished here,” she seethed. “I will thank you to leave.”

He took his time walking to the door, holding her gaze with his own. “Very well,” his voice was measured and flat, “but know that I'll not allow him to be turned over to the Yarders and I would caution you against doing the same.”