The Riddle at Gipsy's Mile (An Angela Marchmont Mystery 4) Page 18

  ‘Then you didn’t know anything about the marriage?’ said Angela, feeling the greatest curiosity towards a woman who could describe the events of the past few days as a ‘little adversity.’ ‘Had Gil never even mentioned having been married before and perhaps widowed?’

  ‘Never,’ she replied. ‘I knew nothing of the existence of this woman or her son. It came as a complete shock to me.’

  ‘Does Lady Alice know?’

  ‘No,’ said Lucy. ‘She is very weak, and we have been warned not to do anything to upset her, although it has been difficult to explain to her why her own son has kept away from her bedside.’

  ‘Yes, I can imagine,’ said Angela. ‘Is she going to recover, do you think?’

  ‘It’s difficult to say. You know doctors—they never like to commit themselves, but I have the feeling that she may be close to the end.’

  Angela glanced across and saw that Freddy had turned towards them, and had presumably been listening. His face was pale.

  ‘I hope for all our sakes that you’re wrong,’ he said.

  Marguerite fluttered in.

  ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m simply gasping for a drink,’ she said. ‘Freddy, darling, would you mind?’

  Freddy dragged himself up from his seat and poured strong drinks for them all, including Lucy. Marguerite took hers and drank it in two gulps.

  ‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘Well, my dears, we have managed to put two of our number in gaol so far this week. Let’s see if we can make it three by Sunday.’ She saw Lucy’s face and was immediately contrite. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t mean it,’ she said. ‘It’s just my silly humour getting the better of me again. How does one get through this, otherwise?’

  ‘I wish—I wish I knew where Gil had gone,’ said Lucy suddenly. ‘He must be dreadfully scared, and he can’t possibly be in his right mind. We need to find him, or I’m terribly worried that he will do something silly—harm himself, perhaps.’

  Angela’s first thought was that perhaps it would be better for everyone concerned if he did, but she said nothing. Lucy was not a stupid girl, and must surely realize it for herself sooner or later.

  ‘But do you think you could persuade him to come back, if you knew where he was?’ said Freddy. ‘He seems to have disappeared fairly thoroughly. It doesn’t look as though he were intending to come back, in fact.’

  ‘I know I could convince him,’ said Lucy. ‘You see, I am certain he didn’t do it.’

  Freddy looked at her in pity.

  ‘But all the evidence is against him,’ he said. ‘You must see that.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Lucy. ‘But I know Gil. He’s not a murderer. Oh, I know he can be weak, and he’s hardly an intellectual, but he’s a good man. Why, he saved your father’s life, Freddy, all those years ago. How could someone like that kill a woman in cold blood? He didn’t do it, I tell you, and I shall find a way to prove it.’

  It was the most passionate speech Angela had ever heard her make, and she looked at Lucy in some surprise. It was clear that whatever Gil’s past sins had been, Lucy was determined to forget them and concentrate her efforts on assisting him as far as she could.

  ‘Gil is very lucky to have you,’ she could not help saying.

  Lucy set her jaw.

  ‘Some might say I’m being stupid,’ she said. ‘There can’t be many women who would find out that the man they were about to marry already had a wife and yet still be determined to stand by him. But I’m sure the worst thing he’s done is to be very, very foolish. The world wants to think him guilty of murder, I know, but—’ she broke off and looked at the floor, as though embarrassed at her vehemence. Marguerite went over to her and gave her a hug.

  ‘Now, don’t be downhearted,’ she said. ‘I’m sure everything will be quite all right in the end. Why, we have Angela on our side! If anybody can find out the truth, she can.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Angela in dismay, thinking of the harm she had done to her friends already through her inquisitiveness. ‘I can’t do anything. It’s all in the hands of the police now. Inspector Jameson and Sergeant Willis are very capable men, though, and I’m sure they will be absolutely scrupulous in seeking the truth.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lucy with a small sigh, and Angela could almost hear in that sigh the words, ‘but what if the truth is something I don’t want to hear?’

  Soon after that Lucy rose and said she must get back to Blakeney Park, where she had been staying ever since Lady Alice had been taken ill.

  ‘But I shall come back again tomorrow,’ she said. ‘In the meantime, please do try and think of anything that might help us find him.’

  ‘We will,’ promised Marguerite.

  Lucy went out, and the remaining three were left to spend the evening as best they could in the circumstances.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Lucy arrived bright and early the next morning—so early, in fact, that Marguerite was convinced something must have happened.

  ‘What is it?’ she cried when Lucy entered. ‘Have they found Gil?’

  ‘No,’ said Lucy. ‘I’ve come to deliver a message from Lady Alice. She would like to speak to Angela.’

  ‘To me?’ said Angela in astonishment. ‘Whatever for?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Lucy, ‘but she was most insistent in asking for you.’

  ‘Why, of course I shall speak to her if she wants me to,’ said Angela. ‘Shall I go now?’

  ‘If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,’ said Lucy. ‘She is quite awake now, but if you wait until the afternoon then she might be asleep again.’

  Angela took her advice and set off as soon as she could, and shortly afterwards found herself being admitted into the gloomy entrance hall of the old house. A starched maid informed her that Lady Alice was expecting her, and led her up the grand staircase and along to a door at the end of a passage.

  Angela entered. The curtains were drawn partly shut, but in the dim light she could see that she was in a large bed-chamber with wood-panelled walls and an ornately-carved ceiling. In the centre of the room was an old-fashioned four-post bed, and on the wall behind the bed a series of rich tapestries hung. The effect was all very opulent and imposing, although it lacked the personal touch and Angela wondered how comfortable it could be.

  She moved closer to the bed and saw Lady Alice Blakeney lying back against a mountain of pillows. She was wearing a ruffled nightgown, and her hair fanned out loosely around her head. Angela looked at her face. Her skin was as smooth as ever, but it appeared to have taken on a grey hue. Her mouth turned down at the corners and she gazed straight ahead, seemingly at nothing.

  ‘Lady Alice?’ said Angela softly, fearing to disturb her.

  There was a rustle and a sharp movement as the old woman raised her head to look at her.

  ‘Mrs. Marchmont,’ she said. Her voice was weak, but still held a trace of her old imperious manner. ‘Ah, yes, I wanted to see you, didn’t I? Lucy must have fetched you, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘I hope you are feeling better.’

  Lady Alice wafted a hand.

  ‘Not particularly,’ she said. ‘I am very tired. They tell me it’s my heart. No doubt it is wearing out, like the rest of me. One cannot go on forever, no matter how much one might wish to. I don’t suppose I’ve much time left.’ Angela had no reply to that, and Lady Alice went on after a moment, ‘I expect you were surprised to hear that I wished to speak to you.’

  ‘I was, rather,’ said Angela.

  Lady Alice sighed.

  ‘Lucy and I don’t get on, you know,’ she said, ‘but I expect you know that.’

  ‘I had heard something of the sort,’ admitted Angela cautiously.

  ‘Had I been able to find anyone else as suitable as she then I should never have forwarded the marriage, but—well, the fact is that she is the perfect match for him, and for the estate. Most women would not be capable of placing themselves above such personal considerations, Mrs. Marchmo
nt, but I am not most women. Lucy will be an excellent wife for Gilbert, and I shall do everything in my power to make sure that the wedding goes ahead—even if that means removing myself from Blakeney Park.’

  ‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary,’ said Angela. ‘And, anyway, I doubt Gil would hear of it given your current state of health. You must allow that he is capable of making his own decisions too.’

  ‘You know nothing of the matter,’ snapped Lady Alice. ‘Gilbert is my only child, and on him rests the future of the Blakeney Park estate. I love him dearly, but unfortunately he is somewhat weak in the head, as you must have noticed. He wholly lacks the capacity to manage the Park on his own. That is why I selected Lucy for him.’

  ‘Did Lucy have nothing to say about it?’

  ‘Lucy knows a good thing when she sees it,’ said Lady Alice contemptuously. ‘Her family have been closely allied to the Blakeneys for centuries and I am certain that she has intended to marry my son since she was quite a child.’

  ‘I see,’ said Angela. This was all very interesting, but surely Lady Alice had not called her to Blakeney simply to explain her feelings towards her future daughter-in-law?

  Lady Alice seemed to have realized the same thing, for she said, ‘But of course you will not be interested in our petty family squabbles, although I’m afraid I called you here precisely because of one of them.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Angela.

  The old woman turned her face with difficulty towards her.

  ‘Where is my son?’ she said suddenly.

  Angela hesitated, not knowing what to say. The fact of Gil’s disappearance had been deliberately kept from his mother on the instructions of her physician, who feared that the news would be too much for her heart to bear.

  ‘Why, I—’ she began.

  ‘Oh, you need not pretend, Mrs. Marchmont,’ said Lady Alice. ‘I am not stupid. Gilbert has not come to see me since I was taken ill on Sunday. They told me that he was keeping away so as not to disturb me, and yet Lucy has been here several times. He has gone off somewhere, and I want to know where.’

  ‘I think perhaps you had better ask Lucy,’ said Angela. ‘I’m not sure it’s my place to talk about it.’

  ‘I have already spoken to Lucy and heard what she has to say,’ said Lady Alice, ‘but I want to know whether she was speaking the truth. I understand you are a trusted friend of the police, Mrs. Marchmont, so perhaps you can tell me: is my son wanted for murder?’

  Here she grew agitated and began to breathe with difficulty.

  ‘Oh!’ exclaimed Angela in alarm, looking about her for the bell.

  ‘My medicine,’ whispered the old lady, gesturing feebly towards a little bottle that rested on a side-table. ‘Two drops.’

  Angela administered the medicine as requested, and after a minute or two Lady Alice began to breathe more easily.

  ‘Perhaps I ought to go,’ said Angela. ‘Shall I summon your maid?’

  ‘Would you be so kind as to pour me a glass of water?’ said Lady Alice. Angela filled a glass from a jug that stood near at hand, and gave it to her. She took a sip and handed it back. ‘Thank you. I am quite well now, but I have been warned not to allow myself to become agitated.’

  ‘Then perhaps this is not the best moment to have this conversation,’ said Angela reasonably.

  ‘I must know, Mrs. Marchmont. Where is Gilbert? I am his mother and I have a right to know. Is he on the run?’

  Angela saw that she was determined to pursue the matter. She nodded slowly.

  ‘It appears he is,’ she said. ‘He has not been seen since Sunday. Pardon me, but what exactly did Lucy tell you?’

  ‘She told me that the dead woman you found the other week was a chorus-girl who married my son many years ago, and that he killed her in order to avoid becoming a bigamist. Is that known to be true?’

  ‘I’m afraid it is true that he was married,’ said Angela, ‘and the fact of Lita’s body having been found near his home makes it look rather as though he were responsible for her death. That is certainly what the police would like to find out. However, as Gil is not here to answer their questions they are choosing to interpret that as confirmation of his guilt, and are anxious to find him so they can question him.’

  ‘I understand Miles Harrison has confessed to having helped Gilbert dispose of this woman’s body,’ said Lady Alice. ‘Did he see Gilbert kill her?’

  ‘No,’ said Angela. ‘Gil telephoned him after she was dead, to ask for his assistance.’

  ‘Then there is no evidence that my son committed the murder. Tell me, Mrs. Marchmont—do you believe him to be guilty?’

  ‘He has certainly behaved as though he were, by hiding her body and then running away,’ said Angela cautiously. ‘And even if he is not, I don’t suppose the police will be looking for anyone else. They have ample evidence to send him to trial, assuming they can find him.’

  ‘That is no answer at all,’ said Lady Alice. ‘I want to know what you think.’

  Angela hesitated, then said, ‘I don’t like the poison. It doesn’t seem to fit the facts as we know them. And as for motive, he is not the only one—’ She was about to go on, but thought better of it.

  Lady Alice nodded.

  Very well,’ she said, ‘now I must decide what to do to bring him back.’

  ‘I don’t think you ought to be doing anything at present,’ said Angela.

  ‘Don’t be absurd,’ said Lady Alice. ‘My son is innocent, and I must prove it. You are a sensible woman, Mrs. Marchmont,’ she went on, ‘and, it appears, to be trusted. Can I rely on you to let me know when Gilbert is found? I dare not depend on Lucy, who has already tried to keep the news of his disappearance from me for several days.’

  ‘She kept it from you because the doctor told her to, not out of spite,’ said Angela. ‘I believe you do Lucy an injustice, Lady Alice. Perhaps she is not to your taste but I don’t think she is deliberately plotting against you. I believe she is very fond of Gil and would hate to see him come to harm—indeed, she has said as much to me—so she is hardly likely to try and hurt you, since to do that would be to hurt him too.’

  ‘I’m afraid you don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Lady Alice. ‘We understand each other very well, she and I,’ she went on somewhat obliquely. Angela saw there would be no convincing her and determined to waste no more breath in defence of Lucy.

  ‘Very well, I shall see to it that you are informed when your son has been found,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Lady Alice. ‘And now if you would have the goodness to ring for my maid, I shall bid you good day.’

  Angela left the house, thinking about what Lady Alice had said to her. Did she really trust Lucy so little that she believed her to be lying about Gil? Angela found the relationship between the two women unfathomable.

  ‘Well, William, it looks as though the cat is out of the bag now, and Lady Alice knows all,’ she remarked as they drove back along the narrow lanes to Gipsy’s Mile. ‘She must have got wind of what was happening and asked Lucy about it. I wonder Lucy didn’t say anything when I saw her this morning. It’s a pity she couldn’t have kept the secret.’

  ‘From what I’ve heard, the two ladies don’t exactly get along,’ said William, ‘and now that Lady Alice is so ill maybe Miss Syms thought that if she told her about Mr. Blakeney it might hurry her along a little, so to speak.’

  ‘Do you mean Lucy was hoping to give Lady Alice another heart attack? Surely not!’ said Angela, half-laughing.

  William cocked his head and looked expressively as though to say, ‘Stranger things have happened,’ and Angela paused for a moment to wonder whether it was true. Gil’s troubles aside, it would certainly make their lives a little easier to have Lady Alice out of the way. But then she thought of Lucy’s open, sensible face and rejected the thought.

  ‘I believe you are becoming a cynic, William,’ she said.

  ‘Maybe I am, ma’am,’ he replied. ‘But after hea
ring about all these people who hate each other, who could blame me?’

  Angela glanced at him curiously. There was that word again: ‘hate.’ Alvie Berteau had said that someone must have hated Lita to have murdered her, and now William was using the same word in connection with Lucy and Lady Alice. Was hatred really what this case was all about?

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Angela arrived back at Gipsy’s Mile to find that Lucy had just left—which was something of a relief—and that Marguerite had been along to Littlechurch and stood bail for Miles, who had been released, with instructions not to leave the area. He was sitting in his usual easy-chair, looking even more white and drawn than usual, while Marguerite danced attendance on him, but he managed a smile when Angela came in, and spoke to her in much his usual manner.

  ‘I expect you’ve heard I’ve been rather an idiot,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve heard something of the sort, yes,’ replied Angela with a smile.

  ‘Of course, it’s nothing to the trouble Gil’s got himself into, but it’s bad enough,’ he went on. ‘The police are talking about ten years.’

  ‘Oh, don’t, darling,’ cried Marguerite in distress. ‘You mustn’t think like that. You did it with the best of intentions, to help a friend.’

  ‘It was very wrong of me,’ said Miles, ‘but poor Gil was in such a state I rather lost my head, I think.’

  ‘But what happened, exactly?’ said Angela. ‘I mean, I know what you did, but how did Gil explain the fact of having a dead body to get rid of.’

  ‘Why, the fellow was barely coherent,’ said Miles. ‘All I understood from him was that this was some girl he had married years ago, and she’d turned up and given him a terrible shock, and now he was terrified that his mother and Lucy would find out and cancel the wedding, when everything had been so neatly organized between them.’