The Missing Duchess (19 page)

'Come now, Stepfather. It isn't like you to give in so easily. You're a fighter, remember?' And with a shrewd glance, he added softly: 'Your emotions are too involved with this one.'

Emotions. Yes, Vince was right.

'You had something more you were going to tell me, I believe,' said Vince gently.

'Had I?'

'I think so. Such as who was sleeping in your daughters' bed last night.'

Damn, thought Faro. Why hadn't he made up her bed or, more to the point, why hadn't he checked it to make sure? Another blunder like leaving the broken glass outside.

He sighed. 'I gave a benighted traveller shelter. You saw what the weather was like.'

Vince ignored that. 'And -' he prompted.

'What do you mean - and?' Faro tried to sound outraged, hoping his tone would discourage any further discussion.

'I want to know more about this stranger. Was this benighted traveller tying to escape? Was there a fight? Is that why the window was broken?'

'Of course not. It could have been anything, a flying roof-tile during the storm, I expect.' Faro had already decided on this as a promising explanation.

'Come now, Stepfather. You and I both know better than that. This window was broken from the inside, otherwise the glass would have been on the sill, not in the garden. What was going on?'

At his Stepfather's expressionless face, he asked gently, 'Who are you trying to protect?'

When Faro looked away, Vince murmured: 'A lady's honour, perhaps.' And when he didn't answer. 'I suspect there is a lady involved. I'm as gallant as the next man, so you'd better tell all. I might even be able to help.'

Faro remembered ominously that the last person who had suggested he might be able to help had been his cousin Leslie and that had ended in Sandy's death. Faro felt he would never quite cease to blame himself in some measure for the lad's tragic end.

'Miss Fortescue stayed here last night -'

And Faro told him the whole story, omitting that after coming to his bed to report a suspected burglar, she had stayed there too.

'What extraordinary behaviour,' said Vince. 'Why on earth should she do such a thing? Unless -' He paused.

'Unless what - ?'

'It is possible that the lady wanted some attention from you and by pretending - of course, it is a ridiculous suggestion.'

That wounded Faro into saying: 'I don't find it in the least ridiculous.' Too late, he saw that he had fallen neatly into the trap.

Vince's smile was triumphant. 'Ah!'

'Oh, very well. She was scared, so she said. She spent the rest of the night with me.'

Vince nodded, he wasn't taken aback as Faro thought he might be. 'So what happens next?'

'How the devil do I know!'

'Stepfather - don't explode - I'm trying to help, remember. All I want to know, for your own good, is - are you in love with Miss Fortescue?'

'I haven't had time to think about it,' said Faro shortly.

'Then I suggest you take time to do just that.' When Faro looked hard at him, Vince continued: 'Sounds rather as if she might be a suitable wife for you, if she could be persuaded to leave the warmer climate of Luxoria -'

Faro laughed. 'This is incredible. For once, the situation is reversed and I find myself having to listen to the sort of advice I am usually giving to you.’

'Don't change the subject, if you please,' said Vince sternly. 'Are you contemplating asking her to be your wife?'

'No,' said Faro shortly.

'And why not? In the circumstances it would seem appropriate. Making an honest woman - and so forth -'

'According to convention, Vince, but then I have never been a slave to convention and I'm too old to start now.'

'You could try.'

Faro shook his head. 'I'm not in the least sure that Roma -Miss Fortescue - is bound by convention either. She seems as impulsive as her royal mistress. And talking of that, do you honestly see an ex-royal lady-in-waiting settling down in Sheridan Place and running a policeman's household?'

'You're not a policeman, you're a very senior detective, and not at all bad-looking, come to that. Yes, Stepfather.' Vince considered him thoughtfully. 'Even a quite conventional woman might just leap at the prospect.'

'Rubbish. How could I support her in the luxury she has been used to in the household of Luxorian royalty?'

'Oh, do stop being such a snob, Stepfather. Greater social leaps have been taken - and are being taken - every day. And I am assured by those who know that love is a bridge.'

'Love.' Faro shook his head sadly. 'I'm afraid I haven't got to that yet, Vince. I'm still bewildered by the whole thing, by a situation over which I seemed to have no control. All I can say is that I'm just damned sorry that it happened -'

'Then why didn't you send her packing before it began?'

Faro shivered. 'Because there was something wrong -'

'Wrong? How?'

'The whole night was odd, out of time, somehow -enchanted. Oh, I can't explain -'

'Can't you? Well, I can. It's happened to me many times,' said Vince. 'It's called infatuation, Stepfather. And I am very experienced in that particular field - as well as you know,' he added bitterly.

'I've also fancied myself in love, Vince, but truly, I have never felt - well, taken over. I've always turned my face against magic, don't believe in it.'

Ignoring his stepson's cynical expression of disbelief, Faro continued: 'And yet last night, it was as if there was some other force here in this house. I even dreamed of the Luck o' Lethie -'

The famous fertility symbol.' Vince frowned. 'I hope not. What if she has a child -'

'Oh, don't be so damned ridiculous, Vince. I dreamed of the Crusader alive, leaving his tomb. It was all so vivid.'

Vince's expression said that he was unimpressed and Faro went on hastily, 'Look, I neither want, nor do I expect does she want, any lasting relationship. Not even a transient one, for that matter. There are too many mysteries surrounding that lady and her mistress.'

'Dangerous waters, I'd say,' Vince agreed. 'Best steer clear of them.'

Faro sighed. 'And talking of dangerous waters and the advisability of discretion, Cousin Leslie brought up the subject of our missing Duchess.' He stopped, reluctant to accuse Vince of betraying his trust.

But Vince merely smiled. 'Did he indeed?' What was he on about? 'I didn't realise you had confided in him?' He sounded surprised.

'I hadn't. But apparently you had,' Faro said angrily.

Vince's mouth dropped open and Faro cut short his protests.

'I gather you had rather a lot to drink and, well - in absolute confidence with a relative, of course - you let slip the whole damned business of the Royal disappearance.'

'I did WHAT?' Vince shook his head. 'I swear to you, Stepfather, I never mentioned it. I wouldn't, would I, for heaven's sake.'

'Not in the normal scheme of things, lad, but you know as well as I do what you're like when you have taken a drink. Throw all your cares away and all discretion to the winds. You've never overcome your student recklessness -'

'Wait a minute. My own secrets, I grant you. I can't be guaranteed to keep them. But not confidences relating to your criminals - or my patients. Such are sacrosanct.'

'Well, someone told him -'

'Honestly, Stepfather. I didn't. You must believe me. I never said a word -'

'Not that you remember, anyway,' said Faro coldly.

And Vince's further protests were cut short as the front doorbell rang and Mrs Brook admitted the doctor's first patient of the day.

Chapter 17

Hurt and angry at Vince's lack of discretion, Faro gathered his notes on the case which he would read on the train to Aberlethie.

As he glanced through them, there was something at the back of his mind, a significant fact or comment that had failed to register when he had heard it. Of the utmost importance, he felt this was the vital clue that still eluded him and held the solution of the mystery.

He sat down. The morning train to North Berwick was forgotten as in his precise neat handwriting he added to his notes an account of the death of Sandy Dunnock and his purchase of the violet cloak -

As he wrote, the scene came vividly before him -

The jewellery Miss Fortescue had told him that her mistress was wearing on that fatal night. He drew out the list, checked the items again.

‘
A gold chain with its eight-sided cross -' The same chain which he suspected was the one he had recovered from the Wizard's House lay in the open drawer beside him.

‘
A gold bracelet with a snake's head and ruby eyes -'

He threw down the pen with an exclamation of triumph. For he knew where he had seen the bracelet. On Mrs Dunnock's wrist as she leaned over the stairhead in Bowhead's Wynd, brandishing a fist at Leslie and himself, screaming abuse -

He saw it again slipping from her arm, falling at their feet. Saw Leslie throw it back to her -

The violet cloak, the visit to Aberlethie could wait. They were suddenly of minor importance compared to a visit to Bowhead's Wynd and a confrontation with Sandy's mother.

It was not an interview Faro looked forward to as he climbed the odorous stairs. The door was opened a couple of inches and one of the Dunnock children peered out.

From inside, a shout: 'Who is it?'

'A man - I dinna ken him.'

‘
Tell him yer ma's no weel.'

Faro pushed his way in. 'I must talk to her.’

The room was crowded with mourners and Faro hated intruding on the woman's grief. Sandy had been coffined. He lay on a trestle-table at one end of the room, his countenance pale and angelic in the face of death.

As Faro removed his hat and stared down at the lad, had he been able to lay hands on Batey at that moment, he would have dragged him here, forced him to look at this pathetic sight. Surely even his cold heart would have felt remorse for this sad waste of a young life.

Pushing his way through the neighbours, he observed that there was food and drink in plenty at this wake. Those he encountered knew who he was. They stepped aside hastily, averting their heads as if to avoid recognition or the touch of his shadow. He was unpleasantly aware of murmurs and hostile stares, of fists shaken after him.

Mrs Dunnock regarded him dully. 'What do ye want wi' us now? Have ye no' done enough?'

'I'm sorry, Mrs Dunnock. I bitterly regret what happened, but my men weren't responsible for your lad's death. You ken that fine well. The man chasing your lad had naught to do with us.'

Watching her closely he opened the bag, took out the violet cloak. He had the satisfaction of seeing recognition - and fear - as he asked:

'Is this yours?'

'Mine? Chance would be a grand thing.' She laughed harshly. 'I didn't steal it either if that's what you're getting at. I had nothing to do with that.'

That was all Faro needed to know. She had confirmed his suspicions of some connection between Sandy's family and their cronies regarding the disposal of the dead woman's garments. They had guessed their resale value and without too many scruples had removed them and substituted a beggar's ragged gown.

He guessed that whatever had happened, her clothes had not suffered from immersion in the water as had Roma Fortescue's. It fitted into the pattern that, terrified, she had died of a heart attack.

He held up the cape again to let Mrs Dunnock have a good look. 'Did Sandy find it, then?' he asked gently.

In answer she turned her face away. 'I dinna ken - I dinna ken anything about it.'

Faro nodded. Thanks for your help. I am grateful.' As she gave him a look of surprise, he leaned forward and took her wrist as if to shake her by the hand. A quick look confirmed that the bracelet with its snake's head was no longer there.

That bonny bangle you were wearing,' he said lightly, 'have you lost it?'

The fleeting panic in her eyes was swiftly replaced by mockery. 'Oh, is this what you mean?' And from her apron pocket she took a large brass curtain ring, the kind gypsies in the Lawnmarket sold for ten a penny.

Faro shook his head. 'No. The one with a snake's head.'

Avoiding his eyes, she said calmly. This is the only bangle I've ever had. The only kind the likes of me could afford.'

So she knew the value of the other one, Faro thought, as she continued: 'Your eyes must be going bad, mister, with staring into other folk's business.'

'Is this man bothering you, Meg?' The Hogan brothers came over. 'Get going, Inspector, there's nothing for you here. Leave the poor soul to mourn her lad.'

Faro left with the dubious satisfaction of knowing that Mrs Dunnock had lied. She had recognised the cloak and had been told to get rid of the bracelet.

The Hogans were certainly involved. They would have helped with the sale of the bracelet and the proceeds would have bought the abundant food and drink littering the table. Whoever was behind that sale, Faro thought grimly, was responsible for both deaths - of the woman in the West Bow and the drowned man in St Anthony's Chapel.