The Pigeon Pie Mystery (44 page)

She then went to see Dr. Barnstable, who denied it all. When she brought the matter up with her husband, he told her she was suffering from delusions that constituted the early signs of lunacy. “He said that if I persisted in wanting an exhumation he would have no alternative than to ask Dr. Barnstable to certify me. I then realised that he had been in on it all along. I expect you’ve heard what happened to Dr. Barnstable?”

Mink nodded. “He drowned in the Thames.”

“Just before he died he brought me a letter, then disappeared. Mrs. Nettleship, his housekeeper, went round all the public houses looking for him. The boatman found his body the next day, his pockets full of stones. Having read the letter, I wasn’t at all surprised that he had killed himself. His confession was very frank. My husband had paid him to take Isabella away to stop people realising there was pox in the family. He agreed to do it, not only because of his debts but because my husband threatened to report
him for his drinking. But he said the guilt he felt over what he had done had only worsened his problem, and he found life intolerable. He gave me his profuse apologies, which is something, I suppose. Unfortunately, he didn’t know where Isabella was. He had given her to a woman he’d never met before in the East End, whom he chose simply because she looked like his sister. He gave her some shillings, and told her to take her to a school for the blind.

“Anything could have happened to that baby. I had no idea whether the woman had simply pocketed the money and abandoned her. At first I just walked the East End looking for a blind girl, but it got me nowhere, apart from nearly being killed myself. My only hope was that the woman had a heart and did as Dr. Barnstable requested. So I visited all the homes and charities for the blind, first in London, and then further out. I kept going, hoping I would find her … Eventually I did.

“Of course her name had been changed, but I recognised her instantly. My husband was a very handsome man when he was younger. I’m pleased to say that she’s only inherited his looks, and none of his temperament. She’s four now, and seems to have a gift for the pianoforte. I became a patron of the school, and gave them as much of my husband’s money that I could get my hands on.”

She looked out the window, then turned back to the Princess, her face changed. Her symptoms returned about six months ago, she continued, looking down at her gloves. “He must have got himself reinfected. There’s no stopping my husband when he wishes to enter my bedroom. I couldn’t bear to lose another child …” she said, almost to herself.

Mrs. Bagshot stared at the rug for a moment, then turned her gaze back to Mink. “I didn’t set out to kill my husband,” she insisted. “The idea came to me one afternoon when I called on Lady Bessington while she was still living in these apartments. She was quite distressed, as she’d just lost a Killarney bristle fern. She’d only recently started collecting plants and said that they always
died in one particular room overlooking the river. I thought it very odd, and asked her to show it to me. We went in, and she said that her cat used to sleep there, but it lost all its fur, so she put its bed in another room, after which it was fine. I looked at the wallpaper and guessed that it was arsenical. It was so old-fashioned it must have been put up decades ago.

“I’m sure you’re too young to remember, but about twenty years ago the Queen reprimanded a gentleman for being late for his audience, and he said he had been ill during the night because of his green wallpaper. When it tested arsenical, she had every trace of wallpaper removed from Buckingham Palace. My mother did too in the house we were living in at the time. But of course it wasn’t just green paper that had arsenical pigments. Doctors warned about all sorts of colours …”

Mrs. Bagshot fell silent, then continued her tale. “Lady Bessington was always complaining about the cost of heating her apartments, so I suggested that we swap, as ours was much smaller. Of course my husband agreed. Who wouldn’t want such a view? Eventually the Lord Chamberlain gave in. He’s a distant relative of mine, which helped. I had no problem persuading my husband to use the room as a bedroom, as it faced the river. We’ve had separate rooms for years because of his snoring. Lady Bessington didn’t say anything about the room I slept in, but I didn’t want to take any chances and had the walls varnished. It was a little tip I read in one of my medical books.

“I had no idea whether my plan would work. You read about these poor people who died from the lethal vapours of wallpaper, and it all seemed so random. But there was a chance, given his age and the poor state of his health. I heard him vomiting several times before I left for Egypt. It was a shock, nevertheless, when I received the telegram telling me he was dead. I thought I would be pleased. In fact, I collapsed.”

There was silence.

“You didn’t consider divorce?” the Princess asked.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of all those women stuffed into the court’s public gallery with their opera glasses and brandy flasks, feasting on the carcass of my marriage.” She paused. “I must apologise for your maid having been dragged into this. Had she been charged, I would have immediately come forward. I couldn’t have lived with that on my conscience too.”

WHEN MINK RETURNED TO WILDERNESS HOUSE
, she found the constable standing in the garden, smoking a cigarette. “The Inspector’s inside,” he said, with a jerk of his head. Searching through the rooms, she eventually found him in the attics, peering under a dustsheet. He turned on hearing her footsteps, and immediately demanded to know where her maid was.

“I’ve no idea, Inspector. But I do know how the General died,” she replied, explaining he had been slowly poisoned by the arsenical wallpaper in his bedroom, which had been put up by a resident years ago. “I tested it by holding a scrap into a candle flame to see whether it smelt of garlic. It was one of those handy household tips I read in a magazine. Still, I’m sure you’ll subject it to proper analysis. Perhaps if it had been green, someone might have suspected it earlier.”

The Inspector continued to stare at her.

“I hope you weren’t going to make an arrest on the assumption that no one would care about what happens to a poor Indian servant,” she said. She looked at him in silence for a moment, then added, “I found my Sherlock Holmes book, by the way. I shall give it to you. You may find it useful. Now, in the absence of my maid, may I show you to the door?”

When the police eventually left, Mink sat down in the drawing room and stared ahead of her, unable to believe that it was finally over. She hadn’t told the Inspector about the role Mrs. Bagshot
had played in her husband’s death. It would be impossible to prove, should she deny it. But what worried her more was whether a judge would take the General’s behaviour into account. Feeling the urge for a brandy, she rang the bell and sat for a moment with her eyes shut. When there was no reply, she suddenly remembered that Pooki was still hiding, and she started hunting through the house. While opening her wardrobe, she heard the shouts of the excursionists, and, recognising a voice, looked out the window.

“I’VE GOT A RIGHT PAIR IN THERE,”
muttered William Sheepshanks as the Princess paid him her penny entrance fee. “Been lost for ages. If you see a thin Indian woman with big feet and that doctor who messed up the Lancers, I’d be obliged if you’d escort them out. They’ve been causing mayhem, believe me. They’re worse than Harris when he got lost in the maze in
Three Men in a Boat
. At one stage there were twenty-four people following them, assuming they knew the way out, including a Swiss Alpinist and a fellow from Stanfords, the mapmakers. I’ve been keeping a close eye on that doctor. He has the look of a tunneller about him.”

IT TOOK A WHILE FOR POOKI
to take in the fact that the police were no longer coming to arrest her. Sitting next to each other on the drawing room settee, Mink tried once more, repeating how the General had died and that she no longer had anything to fear. Finally the maid buried her face in her apron and sobbed so forcefully that she shook. She wept for the Maharaja, who had saved her life and taken her in all those years ago when no one else wanted her. She wept for her mother, whom she feared would die of shock if she were hanged. And she wept for the Princess, who loved her enough to save her.

“Most mistresses would have dismissed me, ma’am,” she said,
drying her eyes. “Now I will live to see your wedding to that doctor, which makes me very happy.” As she started to leave, she suddenly turned and planted a kiss on Mink’s forehead. She then ran out, closing the door quickly behind her. The Princess remained where she was, head bent, letting a tear of relief tumble onto her dress.

CHAPTER XVI
The Princess’s Dr. Watson

IVEN
Dr. Henderson’s spectacular disgrace on the dance floor, Mrs. Nettleship still hadn’t dared broach the subject of his progress with the Countess. The humiliating incident had already been gleefully recounted in a report of the evening by the
Surrey Comet
, which endeavoured to solicit a comment from the perpetrator before going to press. But the housekeeper closed the door on the journalist, telling him that the general practitioner had more important things to do with his time than to defend himself against accusations of having two left feet.