Our Lady of Pain (22 page)

Read Our Lady of Pain Online

Authors: Marion Chesney

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Traditional, #Traditional British, #Women Sleuths, #Historical, #Contemporary Women

At last, the cab stopped. “I believe this is quite a good place for lunch,” he heard the man say. “We can have lunch in the garden.”

She answered something as their voices faded away.

After a few minutes, Bernie cautiously lifted his head. He recognized the Star and Garter at Richmond.

Some people were passing, so he ducked down again. Then he tried again. No one around.

He nipped out of the rumble and strolled into the pub. He went to the bar and ordered a half pint of beer and then carried it to a table where he could look out into the garden.

He felt a pang of envy. They looked such a handsome, carefree couple. He took out his notebook and began to write.

His stomach rumbled after half an hour but he did not want to order any food and then lose them if they suddenly decided to leave. He regretted his decision after an hour.

Just when he thought they meant to spend the whole afternoon in Richmond, he saw the man calling for the bill and Lady Rose adjusting her driving veil.

He left quickly, getting a sour look from the barkeep, who obviously did not favour customers who only ordered one drink and stayed for a long time.

Bernie went outside, looked around, and jumped back in the rumble.

As the couple approached the car, he heard the man say, “Are you going to the masked ball at the Twenders tonight?”

“I believe so.”

He laughed. “I have a secret. I have already asked your parents’ permission to escort you.”

“How delightful,” he heard Lady Rose say. “I must thank you for lunch.”

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.”

The car drove off. Bernie planned to escape when they stopped outside Lady Rose’s home. He knew if he stayed in the rumble, he might end up locked in a garage somewhere.

He waited when he heard them descend, waited until he heard them mount the steps to the front door. He poked his head up. The man was kissing Lady Rose’s hand. He quickly jumped down from the rumble, glad the enamoured couple had eyes only for each other.

When he was back in the office, he went in to see Harry and delivered his report. Bernie was not yet up to the mark in society gossip and did not know of Harry’s on/off engagement to Rose. So he was taken aback by the blind fury on Harry’s face when he delivered his report.

“Have I done something wrong?” asked Bernie plaintively.

Harry pulled himself together with an effort. “No, you have done very well.”

“Would you like me to follow Lady Rose to this masked ball?”

“No, I shall be going myself. I would like you now to go to Bart’s Hospital and visit Mrs. Becket and ask her if there is anything she or her husband needs.”

When Bernie had gone, Harry telephoned Lady Glensheil.

“That man who left your tea party with Lady Rose yesterday,” he said. “Who is he?”

“Oh, that must be the catch of the Season, the Honourable Roger Sinclair, Lord Cherm’s eldest son. Captain Cathcart, I am sending you a cheque for finding my jewels and exposing that dreadful woman.”

After Harry had finished talking to her, he replaced the receiver and sat staring bleakly into space. He had an awful feeling he was losing Rose.

Becket had gone to survey the new apartment. Daisy lay listlessly in her hospital bed. She was grateful to the earl and countess for having got her a private room, but at that moment she would have welcomed the company of a general ward.

The door opened and a nurse said, “Visitor for you.”

Bernie entered the room. Daisy looked at this stranger. He was tall and thin with black hair and a sallow, clever face and a beaky nose and long humorous mouth.

“I’m Bernie King,” he said, drawing a chair up to the bed. “I work for Captain Cathcart. He asked me to call on you and see if you need anything.”

“I would like some books,” said Daisy. “The ones Lady Rose has left for me are a bit too clever. I would like some romances.”

“I’ll get them to you. Now, how are you?”

“Pretty awful. I keep thinking about the baby.”

“You’ll have others.”

Daisy shuddered. “Not if I can help it. Don’t let’s talk about me. Let’s talk about the case. What’s been happening?”

Bernie told her all about Thomson, the lady’s maid. Then he told her how he had been asked to follow Lady Rose and keep an eye on her. He described the trip to Richmond and how he had hidden in the rumble.

Daisy began to look animated. She pulled herself up higher on her pillows. “Oh, Gawd,” she said. “The poor captain. Rose does get tired of him not turning up to take her places.”

“They’re going to a fancy dress ball tonight. Don’t worry. The captain’s going as well.”

“Wait a bit. Does he think this lady’s maid might have done those murders?”

“Could be.”

“But where would her brother have come into it?”

“This Thomson might have persuaded the brother somehow. Say, he called on Dolores for money and she got tired of him and threw him out. Thomson hears about the will leaving everything to him. She encourages him to call again. But this time he finds his sister dead. Stunned, he does what Thomson tells him, takes some jewellery. Thomson then tells him later that they can pin the murder on Lady Rose. She finds out about Madame De Peurey. They both go to Paris. Jeffrey is sent out to follow Rose. Madame de Peurey is killed and Thomson herself, maybe dressed as a man, maybe not, tries to push Lady Rose in the Seine and leaves that note.”

“I wish I were out of here. I used to be Lady Rose’s companion before I got married. I miss being with her. What about you? How did you come to be working for the captain?”

“I was in the police force. I was getting bored pounding the beat and saw the captain’s advertisement. He liked me and got Mr. Kerridge to intercede so that I could quit the force immediately. They weren’t bothered. I was only an ordinary copper.”

“You’re obviously a Londoner.”

“That’s me. Brought up in Whitechapel.”

“Me too,” said Daisy. “You’ll never believe it, but I used to be a chorus girl at Butler’s.”

“Gosh, I used to go to Butler’s.”

They began to reminisce about places in Whitechapel and people they had known. Daisy was happy for the first time in a long time. Then the door opened and Becket came in.

Daisy introduced them. Becket glared at Bernie.

“Got to go,” said Bernie. “I’ll bring you those books.”

“What books?” demanded Becket after Bernie had left.

“Never mind,” said Daisy in a dull voice. “I want to go to sleep now.”

Let us have a quiet hour,
Let us hob-and-nob with Death
.

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

Roger had found out from Lady Polly that Rose planned to go to the ball as a Roman lady and delighted her when he arrived to escort her attired as a Roman soldier.

She could not help noticing that he had very fine legs.

Rose knew she would be the envy of every debutante there and was human enough to look forward to it after having been regarded as one of society’s failures.

She decided to forget all about Harry and enjoy the evening. Rose called on Aunt Elizabeth before she left, as that lady was leaving for Scotland on the following day.

“You look much happier than I have ever seen you,” said Aunt Elizabeth. “Go off with your young man and have a splendid time.”

Harry was furious. Always anxious to help those in need, he had employed a retired detective, Tom Barnard, as his gentleman’s gentleman. In pressing his evening coat, Tom had left a glazed iron mark on the back.

“What am I to do now?” raged Harry.

Tom was fat and round and his face never betrayed any emotion. His wife, Martha, who now worked as Harry’s housekeeper, was built along the same lines and she had the same sort of impassive face.

“Why did you not leave the job to your wife?” he raged.

“I thought valeting was to be my duty, sir,” said Tom.

The door opened and Martha came in carrying a black velvet evening cloak. She curtsied and said, “I found this in your wardrobe, sir. If you put it about your shoulders and wear your black mask, it will look very dashing and I will have your evening jacket restored tomorrow.”

“Oh, very well,” snapped Harry. Then he relented. “I know you are new to all this. I will get Becket to spend a day with you, Tom, and he will instruct you as to what to do. Now, help me on with my clothes!”

Roger swung Rose round in the steps of a waltz. He was feeling elated. He had received permission from Rose’s parents to pay his addresses to her. Nestling in a little pouch attached to his belt was an engagement ring.

After the waltz had finished and the guests were beginning to move towards the supper room, he whispered, “Come out onto the terrace with me. I have a present for you.”

Rose hesitated. But he had said nothing about a proposal. “Very well,” she said, “but just for a few moments. I am quite hungry. An unfashionable thing to say.”

They walked to the long French windows at the end of the ballroom and he ushered her out onto the terrace.

To Rose’s alarm, Roger got down on one knee and took her hand. “Rose,” he said earnestly, gazing up into her eyes. “I—”

The terrace windows opened and a masked devil stepped out.

Roger looked round in irritation. To Roger’s horror, a gun appeared in the devil’s hand and a female voice said, “Get up, you, and the pair of you walk down into the garden.”

Roger got to his feet and stared in terror at the masked woman. “Is this a joke?”

“No joke. Move.”

For a moment Roger stood paralysed with fear and then his bladder gave.

“Move,” ordered the woman.

They walked down the steps into the darkness of the garden.

When they were deep in the darkness, the woman removed her mask. In the dim moonlight filtering through the trees, Rose recognized the maid who had been dragged out of the tea party.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Does it matter?” jeered Thomson. “Well, I’ll tell you. You and that captain of yours have ruined all my plans. I kill you, he suffers. You flounce around London society without a care in the world. Now you know what it is like to be frightened.”

“I’ve got nothing to do with this,” gasped Roger. “This is between you and Rose.”

“What a coward you are! What do you think of your precious beau now, Lady Rose? Cringing and pissing himself. Well, he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Thomson,” said Rose. “You were Dolores Duval’s lady’s maid. You murdered her.”

“Why not? The trollop would have come to a bad end anyway.”

Harry had been scouring the supper room for Rose. At last, a debutante said with a giggle, “If you are looking for Lady Rose, she went out on the terrace with Mr. Sinclair.”

Harry ran to the French windows and let himself out. He stared around.

Then, from down in the garden, he heard a man’s voice pleading, “Please let me go.”

Harry seized his stick and moved silently and quickly down into the garden.

“It’s no use begging,” he heard a cold female voice say. “You’re first.”

Roger fell to his knees and burst into tears.

Rose gazed coldly at Thomson. If she had to die, then she would do so with dignity.

Thomson raised the gun. Then an arm brandishing a stick with a gold knob came out of the darkness and struck her a vicious blow on the head. Thomson collapsed on the ground.

Harry gathered Rose in his arms. “There now, my sweet,” he said. “It’s all over now.”

“She confessed to the murder,” said Rose. “I heard her. Roger heard her.”

“You!” Harry barked at Roger. “Get up off the ground and go into the house and telephone the police.”

“I can’t,” wailed Roger. “I … I’ve wet myself.”

Harry looked at him in disgust. “Come, Rose. You will need to do it while I guard this creature. You, Mr. Sinclair, will need to wait for questioning. Here, take my cloak.”

Rose hurried off into the house. She drew aside her hostess and told her the police were to be called immediately. There was a murderer in the garden. The alarmed hostess ordered footmen to go into the garden and then called the police.

“There is no need to alarm your guests,” said Rose. “If you could find us a quiet room.”

She was led to a study to await Harry.

Rose sank down into a chair and began to cry. She was crying not only over the fear of having nearly been killed but because the dream of Roger had been exploded.

When she heard footsteps approaching the study, she hurriedly dried her eyes. Roger came in wearing Harry’s cloak. He slumped down in another chair and buried his head in his hands. Then Harry came in followed by footmen carrying the unconscious Thomson. Harry ordered them to lay her on the floor and then knelt down beside her.

He raised her head and looked at Rose. “She’s still alive. I would not have liked the complications if I had killed her.” He turned to one of the footmen. “Fetch brandy.”

He pulled a chair up next to Rose and held her hand. “Why did you go out on the terrace?”

“Roger said he had a present for me. He said it would only take a few minutes.”

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