Unlikely Traitors (16 page)

Ursula was soon ushered into Lady Winterton’s front parlor.

“I’m so pleased you’ve decided to visit,” Lady Winterton said, approaching her with a welcoming smile. “After the incident with Mr. Dobbs the other night I was afraid you might retreat into total seclusion.”

“Oh, it would take bit more that Christopher Dobbs’ vulgarity to do that,” Ursula replied.

Lady Winterton took a seat and pulled the servant’s bell for tea.

“I was actually thinking of calling upon you,” Lady Winterton said. “I was summoned to Scotland Yard to be interviewed yesterday by Chief Inspector Harrison and Sir Reginald Buckley.”

“You were?”

“Yes, I guess because of my long association with Lord Wrotham,” Lady Winterton replied. Ursula felt an unexpected stab of jealously.

“What did they ask?” Ursula inquired.

“Oh, it wasn’t a very long interview I assure you. Once they discovered I knew very little about Lord Wrotham’s business affairs in Germany or his movements abroad they soon realized I was of very little interest to them. They asked about Admiral Smythe of course, but since I last saw him two weeks ago at a gallery opening, I had little in the way of information for them.”

Lady Winterton’s maid Grace entered bearing the tea tray. “Daisy’s taken poorly again, Miss, so I thought I’d help out.” Grace was obviously referring to one of the parlor maids and Lady Winterton’s smile stiffened. “Daisy needs to take better care of herself,” she said coolly.

Grace’s light brown curls bobbed as she nodded vigorously. “I’ll speak to her right away,” she said and Ursula noticed the unspoken agreement that passed between them.

Once Grace had gone, Lady Winterton leaned over and confided: “we have observed that Daisy is rather a little too fond of Cook’s sherry. I am only grateful that Grace at least has always been the model of discretion and loyalty—I only wish the rest of my staff could give me such comfort!”

Ursula murmured something inaudible but, she hoped, suitably approving. In truth, Ursula treated her staff with far less formality but she could appreciate Lady Winterton’s demand for discretion.

Lady Winterton poured Ursula’s tea and was soon sitting back in the plush armchair regarding Ursula thoughtfully as she sipped her cup of Orange Pekoe tea.

“You still look as though you are in much need of sleep,” she observed.

“Yes,” Ursula admitted. “In truth I have not been sleeping well.”

“Understandable, but you must take care of yourself.”

“I know,” Ursula smiled wanly as she took a sip of tea. The two of them fell into an easy, contemplative silence before Ursula said. “I wonder did Admiral Smythe say anything at the gallery opening to suggest anything was amiss?” Ursula asked.

“Not to me, he didn’t,” Lady Winterton answered. “He seemed in tolerable good humor that evening. He has never been one for idle chit-chat but I can’t say I suspected he was concerned or worried about anything.”

“I asked Harrison if I could speak to Admiral Smythe’s housekeeper but he refused.”

“I’m not sure she would have been much help anyway,” Lady Winterton said. “I believe she only came three days a week or so. Admiral Smythe preferred dining at his club and besides, I don’t think he had the money to afford full time domestic staff. Pity he never married into money—but he’s been a confirmed bachelor for as long as I have known him—or indeed for that matter, for as long as Nigel knew him.”

“Did Admiral Smythe ever have any female companions?” Ursula inquired.

“Certainly not,” Lady Winterton responded. She eyed Ursula curiously. “Whatever made you ask that?”

“I was just thinking that it seemed a little sad that was all. I mean from the photograph I saw in Oxford, he was not an unhandsome man—surely you would expect him to have female ‘friends’ shall we say?”

“He was a man…” Lady Winterton conceded. “No doubt he had the kind of urges men have—but if he frequented brothels he was discreet about it—I never heard any hint of impropriety or, improper relations of any kind.”

Ursula put her cup down with a sigh.

“Sorry,” Lady Winterton said. “Not much help am I?”

“Oh it’s not that,” Ursula said. “I just cannot stand the fact that I don’t have access to more information regarding the case. I feel as if I’m groping around in the dark.”

Lady Winterton sipped her tea.

“Did Harrison or Buckley show you any of the files they found in Smythe’s office?” Ursula asked.

“No, they said nothing about any of the evidence. They seemed more interested in what I knew about Lord Wrotham’s past than anything to do with Admiral Smythe.”

“When I met with them they brought out all sorts of stuff from Lord Wrotham’s Balliol days—just to make me doubt him I suspect. Did they ask you about a notebook by any chance?”

“They asked me if I ever saw Lord Wrotham write in one, and I said no. Though now you mention it, they did ask me about whether I had ever had any conversations with him regarding ciphers or codes which did strike me as rather odd at the time—though I guess they know about our work with the WSPU.”

Both Ursula and Lady Winterton had worked with the WPSU on trying to implement a coding system for messages sent between branches. This had originally arisen out of concerns that people were infiltrating the organization and tipping off police as to expected protests or other militant activities.

”I expect they asked you because of Admiral Smythe’s notebook,” Ursula said.

Lady Winterton cocked her head. “Notebook?” she queried.

“Yes, they apparently discovered it in some hidden wall safe at Admiral Smythe’s house. It’s encrypted using some kind of numeric code which Sir Buckley is desperate to break. He’s convinced Lord Wrotham had a similar notebook and that he and Admiral Smythe used a book code of some kind to encrypt their notes regarding their missions for Naval Intelligence.”

“I didn’t know Admiral Smythe kept a notebook of his missions,” Lady Winterton said.

“Sounds very clandestine and rather exciting, doesn’t it?” Ursula admitted.

“Though less exciting when you think it may be used to convict Lord Wrotham,” Lady Winterton added.

“True,” Ursula conceded and the atmosphere in the room again turned somber.

“I wonder if we will discover Lord Wrotham kept a notebook too?” Lady Winterton mused.

“If he did, he hasn’t told me about it,” Ursula said and she could not disguise her bitterness. Lord Wrotham’s silence continued to frustrate her—at times it depressed her to think he had such little faith in her.

“You know,” Lady Winterton said suddenly. “I still have some of my old photograph albums, would you like me to get them out for you? There may be a few of Lord Wrotham and perhaps even that firebrand, McTiernay. I have some of Nigel’s old photographs too—though most of these remain on his estate in Ireland.”

Ursula’s mood brightened. “I would indeed like to have a look,” she said.

Lady Winterton left and soon returned bearing two leather bound photograph albums. Ursula sat next to her on the couch and peered over as Lady Winterton showed her the photographs.

“Here’s one taken just after Nigel’s funeral,” Lady Winterton pointed to a somber party of men clad in mourning suits. “That’s Count von Bernstorff-Hollweg, next to Lord Wrotham. You can see McTiernay on the other side.”Ursula noticed McTiernay wore what appeared to be a medallion off his fob watch chain. She looked closely but could not make out anything further.

“It’s a Saint Dismas medallion,” Lady Winterton said, her voice quiet. Ursula jerked back and Lady Winterton regarded her with mild surprise. “Does that mean something to you?”

“No…” Ursula responded quickly. “It’s nothing…” She was not prepared to disclose everything to Lady Winterton yet—particularly one that merely suggested greater complicity between McTiernay and Lord Wrotham.

“Did any of the others wear one?” Ursula asked.

“None of the others were Catholic, my dear,” Lady Winterton reminded her.

“No, of course not,” Ursula said.

Lady Winterton continued to turn the pages. “These are just all of the estate…so nothing of interest really here.” Ursula saw a series of grainy pictures of a squat, uninspiring country house as Lady Winterton flipped the pages over. “They were taken of course before we fell on hard times—the estate’s not much to look at now I’m afraid.”

Ursula knew better than to bring up the issue of Lord Winterton’s financial affairs. It was no secret that his impecuniosity had caused much of Lady Winterton’s family’s resistance to the marriage.

“Ah, here’s one of Nigel’s old photographs from Balliol,” Lady Winterton said and Ursula leaned over eagerly.

In the picture all four men were in cricket whites. McTiernay held his bat nonchalantly tucked under his arm and his stance was one of natural arrogance and ease. Lord Winterton and Count von Bernstorff-Hollweg were standing next to him, their cricket jumpers knotted round their necks, sleeves rolled. Lord Winterton’s pale hair looked silvery and provided a sharp contrast to the dark haired McTiernay and Wrotham. Lord Wrotham, who stood a little behind McTiernay, had a tall ice-filled glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He stared at the camera with the haughtiness of youth and Ursula reflected how idyllic the scene seemed to be—although she had to admit they all looked rather hot and impatient from posing for the photograph beneath the glare of the sun.

“I can’t help but wonder,” Ursula said, as Lady Winterton closed the photograph album. “What really happened between these men—what prompted them to become involved in this case?”

“I’m afraid only Lord Wrotham can answer that,” Lady Winterton said, “or perhaps the Count, if you find him.”

“If Admiral Smythe really was murdered, I feel certain that it must have been someone he knew, someone close enough that he would never have suspected…” Ursula’s voice trailed off distracted by her thoughts. “Poisoning seems so personal somehow…and the timing too, so that it would look as if Lord Wrotham was responsible. It makes me wonder whether the person we’re looking for didn’t also have a grudge against Lord Wrotham…”

“Such a theory sounds a trifle absurd,” Lady Winterton said quietly.

“I know,” Ursula replied, rubbing her eyes. “When I see those photographs it makes me doubt that any of this could be even possible…but then…”

“Then?” Lady Winterton prompted.

“I remember what happened to my father,” Ursula replied. “And I know that though the past can bury secrets, it can never hide them forever. One day, the sins of the past always come back to haunt you.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ursula received word from Pemberton by the first post the following morning, that the citation for the case she was looking for had been located, and she had permission to go to the Temple Library to peruse the case at her earliest convenience.

Ursula scrambled to finish her breakfast while Julia got her clothes ready, and by half past nine Ursula was striding down Temple Lane towards Church Court and the Temple library, ready, she hoped, to discover a little more about Lord Wrotham’s enigmatic past.

As Ursula entered and took the volume of King’s Bench reports that had been left for her to her seat, she could feel the stares of the other members of the Temple Inn—for it was hardly usual for a woman to be gracing their library with her presence, let alone actually reading a law case. Ignoring their disapproving looks, Ursula opened up the volume of the King’s Bench reports to the place that Pemberton’s clerk had marked. In the glow of the green and brass table lamp she started turning the pages, her initial excitement fading. The more she read, the more she worried that she was wasting her time—what possible relevance could a commercial case that was almost a decade old have on Lord Wrotham’s arrest for treason?

Nevertheless she gritted her teeth and continued. The case must have arisen soon after Lord Wrotham ‘took silk’ and was appointed King’s Counsel. It was an appeal to the High Court in the King’s Bench Division pertaining to an alleged breach of contract between a company established for speculative investments (El Dorado Investments) and the Imperial Gold and Diamond Mining Company. Although most of the discussion centered on the arcane distinction between conditions and warranties and allegations of oral promises made, Ursula was able to grasp that the dispute fundamentally came down to an issue of expectations. El Dorado investments (as per its name) represented a group of investors who had hoped to get rich from gold and diamond mining in Guyana and, when these riches failed to materialized, they sued the Imperial Gold and Diamond Mining Company. Ursula was not surprised to see reference to two directors of the company, Fergus McTiernay and Count von Bernstorff-Hollweg, but she noted that neither Admiral Smythe nor Lord Wrotham’s association with the company was mentioned. Ursula was unfamiliar with the legal issues discussed, but it was obvious as she read the decision of the Lord Chief Justice (who represented the majority opinion), that Lord Wrotham had not only destroyed the claimants’ arguments in the lower courts, he had also managed to dash all grounds of appeal. Accordingly, El Dorado Investments not only lost the appeal but was also forced to pay all legal costs associated with the case—grounds enough for resentment no doubt—but motivation to contrive evidence against Lord Wrotham for treason? Unlikely.

“Damn and blast!” Ursula muttered under her breath as she put the heavy tome aside. An elderly barrister clad in black gown and grey wig shot her an outraged look as he passed. Cheeks reddening, Ursula sighed, frustrated that so far she had made little progress. Had Harrison given her the file about Guyana merely to divert her attention from the real issues? In her current state of mind, she could not be sure. All the information she had so far obtained seemed to obfuscate rather than illuminate the truth, but then, Ursula reflected ruefully, the same could also be said about almost everything in Lord Wrotham’s past.

Ursula was relieved to find the Inner Temple all but deserted as she crossed Church Court and hurried along Crown Office Row. Today, at least, she had been granted a respite from the constant hounding of reporters eager for information on Lord Wrotham’s case. As she walked through the gardens towards the Victorian Embankment and the place where Samuels had been instructed to wait, a short man in a brown sack suit approached her. He bowed, tipping his bowler hat as he did so, before handing her a piece of folded paper. Ursula took and opened it reluctantly.