The Riddle at Gipsy's Mile (An Angela Marchmont Mystery 4) (32 page)

‘
Only when you have something up your sleeve.
’

‘
Good gracious! I had no idea of it. But to answer your rather ungenerous question,
’
she went on
,
‘
I am not plotting anything.
’

‘
Then what do you know?
’
he said.
‘
Come on, out with it.
’

‘
I don
’
t know anything. As a matter of fact, I prefer to deal with solid evidence too,
’
she said.
‘
Let us just say I have the feeling that something is going to happe
n soon.
’

‘
Such as what?
’

‘
I don
’
t know exactly. But whatever it is, we won
’
t have to wait long.
’

‘
Why not?
’
said Jameson.

‘
Why, because Gil is in prison, of course,
’
said Angela.

Something did indeed happen soon, although it was not exactly w
hat Angela had foreseen, for the very next day Lady Alice Blakeney died. She drew her last breath on Tuesday evening, with Gil by her side
—
since Lucy had sent an urgent summons to Littlechurch police station to say that the old lady was not expected to la
s
t until morning, and he had therefore been granted special permission to visit her bedside. Two burly policemen accompanied him, and stood in stolid embarrassment at the side of the room as Gil wept over his mother
’
s body and kissed her hand. After a dece
n
t interval, they coughed and took him away again.

‘
At least she won
’
t have the pain of seeing her poor son put on trial,
’
said Marguerite, when she heard the news after breakfast on Wednesday.
‘
Now there
’
s just Lucy left to take care of him. Why, Angela, d
arling, what
’
s wrong? You look worried.
’

Angela hesitated.

‘
It
’
s nothing,
’
she said.
‘
Lady Alice
’
s death caught me by surprise, that
’
s all. I had thought perhaps
—’
she stopped.

‘
What?
’

‘
I don
’
t know,
’
murmured Angela.
‘
I
’
m just a little concerned about Gil.
’

She stood up and went out of the room to begin packing her things. She was planning to return to London that day, since Miles was home now and Marguerite did not need her any longer. In the hall she ran into Miles himself.

‘
Letter for you, Angela,
’
he s
aid. He handed her an envelope and went off, frowning absently over his own post.

‘
A letter? For me?
’
said Angela in surprise. She looked at the envelope. It was made of thick, creamy paper and was closed with a rather ornate seal bearing the initial B. He
r heart began to beat rapidly. Devoured with curiosity, she went into the empty parlour, sat down and ripped it open. The letter was written in a faint, shaky hand which was difficult to decipher, but as far as Angela could make out, it read as follows:

B
lakeney Park

Friday, 28th October

Dear Mrs. Marchmont,

You will no doubt wonder why I am writing to you, given that we have met only once or twice and can hardly be said to be close acquaintances. Indeed, I am not entirely sure of the answer myself. I ca
n only say that, having met you, I believe that you are the most suitable person to entrust with this confidence
—
not, you understand, because I feel any particular sympathy between us, but because from objective observation, you strike me as reasonably se
n
sible and trustworthy
—
two qualities which are, unfortunately, not often found together in a woman. Lucy, for example, while being eminently practical and intelligent, I consider to be underhanded and duplicitous (as you know), while Mrs. Harrison, whom I
b
elieve to be a most honest and truthful woman, can hardly be described as wholly rational by any right-thinking person. In addition, I understand that you are well thought of at Scotland Yard, having helped them solve a number of difficult cases in recent
times. I have no doubt, therefore, that you will know how to act when you receive this. I do not send it to the police directly, since they are men and I do not expect them to understand my motive in doing what I have done. As a woman you, perhaps, will b
e
able to explain it to them.

Very well, then, since circumstances appear to have forced me to explain myself, I shall begin. You know, of course, that Gilbert is my only son, and that, following the death of his father some years ago he inherited the Blake
ney estate in its entirety. In addition, you cannot have failed to observe that Gilbert, while a decent and honourable man in many respects, is not gifted by nature with an abundance of intellectual capacity. Delightful though he is (and please believe th
a
t as his mother, I am exceedingly fond of him), he is undoubtedly somewhat weak in the head. As such, he was admirably suited to a life in the army, which he embraced with great enthusiasm when given the opportunity, but much less so to the responsibility
of running a great estate such as Blakeney Park. I had seen and understood this when he was quite a child, and so I always intended that when he grew up, he should marry a woman who would be capable of compensating for his mental failings with a first-rat
e
brain of her own, since the future of the estate was at stake.

I knew Lucy Syms from a girl, and suspected that she might have the qualities I required, so I watched her progress closely as she grew up, and she did not disappoint me in that respect, sinc
e she grew up to be a most capable young woman. I disliked her personally, but never saw anyone else who seemed to possess the particular abilities that were necessary, and so I swallowed my antipathy and encouraged the friendship between her and my son a
s
far as possible. Fortunately, they had known each other since childhood
—
although she is a few years younger than he
—
so there was no awkwardness between them to overcome, and I had no doubt that they would do as I wished and marry once she was old enough,
since Lucy could hardly object to a man of his position and wealth.

Then the war came, and Gilbert went off to fight. I feared that in the meantime Lucy might be tempted by one of the other young men who passed through the area, but I need not have worried
: she knew what she wanted and was prepared to wait for it. Sure enough, when Gilbert returned, they became reacquainted
—
but much to my annoyance, it seemed only a friendly feeling on Gilbert
’
s part. The situation was not helped by the fact that my son ha
d
a series of nervous episodes in the first few years after his return, but eventually he seemed to recover, and he and Lucy began to grow closer.

Eventually, after some prompting on my part, he acceded to my wishes and asked Lucy to marry him. (Please do n
ot suppose, by the way, that I forced him into an engagement against his inclination: I knew he was very fond of her and that they would be happy together, but suspected that without a little encouragement nothing would ever come of it.) All that was left
for me to do then was to swallow my dislike of Lucy and wish them well, although that proved a little more difficult than I expected, given that I was forced to spend more time in company with her than I liked. Nonetheless, I regarded the arrangement with
satisfaction and firmly believed that the Blakeney estate was now in safe hands.

You will, therefore, readily comprehend my shock and dismay when I received a letter last August from a woman calling herself Lily Blakeney, who claimed to be Gilbert
’
s wife.
She hoped I would forgive the intrusion, but she had no choice, she said, since she had written to Gilbert twice without receiving a reply, and so, as the matter was an urgent one, she was taking the liberty of writing to me instead. She explained the cir
c
umstances of the marriage, and said that they had parted shortly afterwards. A month or two later, she had discovered herself to be in a delicate condition and had tried to find him, but without success, and in some way or other had got the impression tha
t
he had died. She therefore returned to her family to bring up her son alone, and had done so until July of this year, when she happened to read the announcement of Gilbert
’
s engagement in the
Times
and discovered to her surprise that her husband was still
alive. At first, she did not believe that Gilbert was deliberately contemplating bigamy; rather, she supposed that he had thought her dead too and therefore considered himself free to marry again. However, after having written to him twice without receiv
i
ng a reply, she was now wondering whether it might not be a deliberate act, since it was hardly likely that both the letters she sent to Blakeney Park had gone astray, and if Gilbert had read them there was no excuse at all for ignoring them.

The letter fi
nished by requesting that I take steps to prevent the marriage from going ahead, at least until arrangements could be made for the first marriage to be legally dissolved
—
she had no idea how this might be done, although of course an annulment was out of th
e
question since the marriage had resulted in legitimate issue with the birth of her son. She had no claims to make in regard to herself, she said, but she was anxious to secure her son
’
s future and see to it that he was admitted to the family as the right
f
ul heir of Blakeney Park. Of course, she did not expect me to believe her story without evidence, and if I
—
or better still, Gilbert
—
would only agree to meet her, she would furnish us with copies of her marriage certificate and her son
’
s birth certificate,
which would attest that the date of his birth tallied with the date of the marriage, and that everything was perfectly in order.

This letter, as you will imagine, caused me no little consternation and alarm for a day or two. My first reaction, on reading i
t, was immediately to reject its contents as untrue and to throw the thing in the fire. I cannot say that it surprised me to discover that Gilbert had entangled himself with a woman of low reputation who was now attempting to make some money out of the as
s
ociation
—
as I have said, he is not the brightest of men and is rather easily taken advantage of
—
but that they were legally wed I had no doubt was a lie. However, she claimed to have a son, and seemed to think that he would fall heir to the Blakeney estate
one day. This was something that could not be easily dismissed: a son, whether legitimate or not, presents a solid obstacle that a money-grabbing chorus-girl does not. This woman might put forward a legal claim and make things very awkward for us if she c
h
ose, and with such a cause hanging over our heads the wedding would be spoilt, which would be an inauspicious beginning to the marriage that I had been desiring for so many years.

I hesitated as I considered how to act, and after pondering the matter for
some time I wrote back to the girl as politely as I could. I made no secret of the fact that I had been surprised by her letter, since I had known nothing of the marriage, and that I had no idea why my son should have kept such a thing from me, or why he
h
ad not replied to her letters: perhaps they had gone astray. Moreover, I agreed that Gilbert must have believed her to be dead, and that the situation was indeed rather awkward in view of his current engagement to another woman. Given the circumstances, h
o
wever, and since there was much to be decided upon, I had no hesitation in inviting her to Blakeney Park to talk about the matter in person, and to consider together how to proceed if she and Gilbert wished to dissolve the marriage. I said that I was sure
she would not object to bringing with her the certificates in question, since it was as well to be certain that all was in order. As a precaution, I also asked that she bring with her my letter, as I had no wish for it to fall into the wrong hands and per
h
aps cause a scandal: naturally, it would be better for all concerned if the matter could be resolved privately without becoming public knowledge. If everything proved to be as she said it was, then she was very welcome to stay at Blakeney for a week or tw
o
while the affair was settled.

She wrote back, expressing her relief that I had taken the news so kindly, and said that she was sure something could be arranged without any publicity. She said that if it were not inconvenient to me, she would come down to
Hastings on the 7th of September, but would stay only one night: she was anxious to return home and tell her son the news about his change of circumstances, since he presently knew very little about his father. Perhaps afterwards she would come to Blakene
y
again, and this time bring the boy. Until then, however, she would say nothing to anyone.

This suited me perfectly since, as you will no doubt have guessed by now, I had plans of my own. First, I had to ensure that Gilbert would not be there when Lily arr
ived, and so I arranged to send him away on business for a few days. He went off obediently, leaving the way clear for me to act. On the afternoon of the 7th of September I sent our chauffeur, who is fortunately a taciturn fellow with little interest in t
h
e goings-on of his betters, to meet the girl at Hastings and bring her back to Blakeney. She arrived, and finally I saw her in person and could judge her for myself. I had not believed in her sincerity for a second when I read her letter: I assumed that h
e
r story of wronged innocence and anxiety to resolve the matter discreetly was a lie, and that in reality she was out for anything she could get. When I met her, of course I knew immediately that I was right. She was even more common than I had supposed, a
n
d there was a shrewd, calculating air about her that spoke of her real intentions. She was not interested in her son
’
s claims: what she wanted was money.