The Cavendon Women (27 page)

“I'm not telling you, Mama,” she answered, laughing. “I want it to be a surprise.”

Once they had hung up, DeLacy reached for the phone again, anxious to speak to Daphne, tell her about the date she had just made. They would get the jewels back at last. Now it was imperative that they finalized the details of the plan.

*   *   *

It was early afternoon when Diedre left the Burlington Arcade shop. She cut quite a swath as she crossed the street and went into Fortnum & Mason, the famous old department store on Piccadilly.

Tall, slender, and elegant, with a shapely head of shining blond hair, she drew numerous glances. Being a beautiful young woman, and chicly dressed, women admired her style, whilst men looked after her longingly, wondering who she was.
Somebody
. No doubt about that.

Once she entered the store, Diedre headed directly to the chocolate counter at the far end of the food department on the ground floor. She bought a large box of her great-aunt's favorite milk chocolates, and once it was packed in a shopping bag, she walked over to the lift and went up to the lingerie floor.

Her intention was to buy beautiful peignoirs, nightgowns, and cami-knickers, which were Paul's favorite.

Paul.
How lucky she was to have found him. He had been right under her nose for ages, and yet they had never spent any time together until her father's wedding.

As Diedre looked at the beautiful chiffon and silk nightgowns she put a hand on her stomach. She could feel nothing at this stage. Yet she was positive she was carrying Paul's child. The mere idea of this frightened her. She would know tomorrow after the doctor's appointment. And she would be facing a dilemma if she was with child.

The scandal would infuriate her father. He loathed scandal. She suspected he was guilty about divorcing her mother, who had her own scandal after running away with Lawrence Pierce when they were both still married. And now Miles was separated and seeking a divorce.

Deep down Diedre knew she would have to tell Paul immediately. She had a strong feeling he was in love with her, and certainly she was deeply involved with him on an emotional level. But would he marry her? She had no answer to that. And what would she do? And then there was her job at the War Office. She loved it and always had. Now there was that rumor about her, another bit of nastiness hanging over her head. And what if someone knew all about her past? Told Paul? She pushed that thought away.

After buying a pale blue silk nightgown and peignoir, she left the store, took a cab to her office in Whitehall. Once inside, she locked the door, sat down in her chair, and put her head on her desk. She felt the tears pricking behind her eyes, but blinked them back. What help was crying? It solved nothing.

A baby
. The thought terrified her, because she was single, yet the idea of having a child also thrilled her. She had never imagined this would happen. And if she really was pregnant, part of her would be jubilant. In the inner recesses of her mind she had always wanted a child.

 

Thirty-five

“Thank you for agreeing to see me earlier than we planned, Lady Gwendolyn,” Inspector Howard Pinkerton said as he walked into the hallway of the Mount Street flat at two o'clock instead of six.

Lady Gwendolyn shook his hand. “No problem at all, Inspector. My next appointment is not until four. Do come into the parlor.”

“Thank you, m'lady,” he answered, and handed his wet trench coat and hat to the housekeeper.

Once they were seated, facing each other in front of the fire, Lady Gwendolyn asked the Scotland Yard detective if he would like tea or coffee, or maybe something stronger.

“A cup of tea would do the trick, m'lady,” Howard answered. “It's turned a bit chilly, and thank you.”

Lady Gwendolyn rang the bell on the wall, and a moment later Mrs. Fontaine appeared in the doorway. “Yes, m'lady?”

“Could we have a pot of tea for two and some sweet biscuits, please, Mrs. Fontaine?”

“Of course, m'lady.” The housekeeper hurried off.

Inspector Pinkerton started to speak at once. Lady Gwendolyn usually wanted information instantly. Clearing his throat, he said, “Life is funny in certain ways, m'lady. By that I mean things can happen quite unexpectedly, and they often solve a problem just by chance.”

“Correct. And that happened to you, Inspector?”

“It did indeed. This past Sunday, Dorothy and I drove down to see my cousin Patsy, who lives in Bath. And quite out of the blue, she mentioned a name I knew … Johanna Ellsworth, the cousin of Alfie Fennell, the two people involved in the rumor about Lady Diedre.”

Leaning forward, her eyes riveted on the detective, Lady Gwendolyn asked, “Why did her name come up in Bath?”

“My cousin likes to paint. She's an amateur, of course. Although she's good, mind you. She belongs to a group of local women, and men, who take painting trips. They go to local places, and sometimes abroad. My cousin happened to mention that next spring she was going to France with the group, and that the trip had been planned by Johanna Ellsworth, who was the founder of the group.”

“You discovered something of importance, didn't you, Inspector?”

“I'll say. I didn't want to make a fuss, alarm Patsy in any way. I just asked a few casual questions. I discovered, in due course, that Johanna Ellsworth had had a half brother, who had been killed in the Great War. His name was Ralph Palmer. I inquired if he'd been married to Laura Upton Palmer, and my cousin answered in the affirmative. Naturally she wanted to know how I knew Laura. Fortunately I had an explanation at my fingertips. I said I'd been looking at an open case, that of the death of Maxine Lowe, and that Laura Upton Palmer had been a friend of hers. Patsy knows I often dig around in cases that are still open, so my explanation worked. I just let the matter go.”

“Tell me about Ralph Palmer and Johanna Ellsworth, would you please? I'm extremely curious, Inspector.”

“Johanna's mother, Margot, had a first husband. His name was Horace Palmer, and together they had a son, Ralph. Horace died quite young, when Ralph was only three. Two years later, Margot Palmer married Joseph Ellsworth. A year after that, their daughter Johanna was born, who grew up with Ralph. They were devoted to each other. Apparently she was grief stricken when he was killed in action. My cousin thinks her half brother's death devastated her, and damaged her badly.”

Lady Gwendolyn nodded. “If you love a half brother that much, perhaps a little abnormally, then you must surely dislike a person who came between him and his wife, Laura Upton.”

“I agree. A grudge, perhaps. The thing is, it all checks out properly. It was my day off yesterday, m'lady, and I went to Somerset House. I checked out births, marriages, and deaths, and the certificates are there. They are who we think they are. Everything matches up, and there is no mistake.”

“Do you believe it is Johanna Ellsworth who started the rumor about Diedre and the War Office being unhappy with her work?”

“Yes, I do, Lady Gwendolyn. I honestly felt it was wiser not to press my cousin for any more information, but Miss Ellsworth does sound a bit odd, from what Patsy said. I believe she might be just the sort of person to seek some kind of revenge. Let's face it, whoever it was who started the rumor, they wanted to destroy or badly damage Diedre's career. Diedre was the target.”

“But we can't really prove it, can we?”

“No. Normally, I would have asked for a meeting with Alfie Fennell and Johanna Ellsworth, explaining I was acting as a friend of the family. I would've said I wanted to know if they could provide any more information. It wouldn't have garnered anything worthwhile, but meeting with an inspector from the Yard would have alarmed them.”

Howard paused as Mrs. Fontaine came in with the tea tray. She put it on the table and departed without any fuss.

As Lady Gwendolyn poured the tea, Howard suddenly said, “I hope I'm not being impertinent, but is Lady Diedre likely to get married to Mr. Drummond?”

Glancing up at him swiftly, Lady Gwendolyn exclaimed, “Oh, Howard! You are married to a Swann, and the Swanns know everything, often
before
the Inghams.”

He laughed, and so did she.

Howard said, “If Lady Diedre does marry Mr. Drummond, then the rumor has no relevance, because she will probably live part of the time in New York.”

“
Did
the rumor have relevance?”

“I don't believe it ever did. As I told you, the person I spoke to at the War Office said it was a
mere whisper.
But it obviously troubled Lady Diedre. That's why you and I wanted to get to the bottom of it. And quash it.”

“
It is quashed.
My very great thanks to you, for taking the trouble to find out all that you did.”

“I am always there for you, Lady Gwendolyn.” After sipping the tea, and eating a ginger biscuit, the Inspector said, “I don't have the time to follow through on the Maxine Lowe case at the moment, but I am going to do so. I don't believe she committed suicide, nor do I think it was a homicide. In my opinion, it was an accidental death caused by constantly inhaling two things. The poisonous fumes from lead paint—she was always repainting her homes, apparently—and also arsenic, which comes from the ground. There's a lot of it in surface soil. Maxine Lowe was not merely a devoted gardener, but a fervent one. Her gardens at her country house were famous. I'm going to speak to Harry about this when I have a moment this week.”

“Harry is a brilliant young man, and he'll be happy to help you. There isn't anything he doesn't know about gardens and the land. And what you say is very interesting.”

Howard nodded, and stood up. “If you will excuse me, m'lady, I've got to be going. I have a meeting at the Yard at five, and I have to unravel my notes and prepare for it.”

“Not a murder, I hope,” Lady Gwendolyn said, as usual filled with curiosity about everything.

“It might be. And it's no secret; it was in most of the newspapers this morning.”

“Oh dear, I haven't looked at them yet.”

“A well-known art dealer, Elliot Converse, was found dead at home a day ago. An apparent heart attack. There are some oddities, shall we say, and Scotland Yard have been called in. His wife went off to Paris a few days before. According to some, she went to meet her lover. Or he was coming to join her. Whatever. But there are suggestions of malice aforethought. Converse was young, in good health, and his death shocked those who knew him. Seemingly the wife's behavior has been questionable for some time, and there's a lot of money involved. Converse was well off, successful in the art world. She's his only heir.”

“I wish you luck, Howard,” Lady Gwendolyn said as she walked with him into the hall. “And thank you again for being such a good friend.”

“It is always my pleasure … remember, I am of the same ilk as the devoted Swanns.”

*   *   *

Diedre arrived at four o'clock precisely. After giving her great-aunt the box of chocolates, and being led into the parlor, Diedre related her tale about her visit to Cecily Swann's shop.

Lady Gwendolyn couldn't stop laughing when Diedre spoke of her encounter with Dulcie. “What an unusual child she is,” she finally said, when her laughter subsided.

“Not a child! A tough little negotiator, not to mention one who is also a blackmailer. Selling me back my good reputation, indeed!”

Pressing down on her mirth, Lady Gwendolyn exclaimed, “Look, you've got to admit it, Diedre, she's a clever one. And you
were
rather mean to her, you know. Very acerbic, and unkind. She's obviously never forgotten how you treated her, and now she's found a way to make you pay. That's just like an Ingham. We always quite like to get our pound of flesh.”

“I paid through the nose!” Diedre shot back.

“You didn't have to, though. You chose to, my dear.”

“Yes, I did. Because I rather admire what she's doing. My hat's off to her.” Diedre gave her great-aunt a questioning look when she added, “She said you would probably invest. Will you?”

“I think so. I did sort of hint I would. I will certainly give her a lot of paintings and antiques stored at Little Skell Manor. For the gallery. Now, that's enough of Dulcie. Come over here and sit next to me.”

Diedre did as invited.

Lady Gwendolyn said, “What is happening with your friend Paul? Is it serious?”

Diedre took hold of her aunt's hand and held on to it. “I'm not absolutely sure, but I think he's in the right frame of mind. He's in his late forties and I am thirty-three.”

“A good age, take it from me. You've had time to live life a little, before settling down. And you're still young enough to have scads of children. I suppose you want them, and that Paul does also.”

“I don't know. We've not discussed it.” Diedre stared hard at her great-aunt and, taking a deep breath, she went on, “I think I'm pregnant. I've been noticing certain changes in my body for a week.”

If she was surprised at this statement, Lady Gwendolyn was not inclined to show it. She asked swiftly, “Have you seen a doctor yet? And have you told Paul?”

“I haven't seen a doctor and I haven't told Paul. I didn't want to until I was really sure. And I'll know that tomorrow.”

“Quite right.”

Diedre said quietly, “I feel sure I am with child, Great-Aunt, I just know it. Instinctively.”

“Most women do.” Settling back against the sofa, Lady Gwendolyn asked, “How do you think Paul will feel? About your being pregnant?”

“I've no idea.”

“He made you pregnant, Diedre, and it's his responsibility as well as yours. Personally, I think he'll be thrilled, and he ought to be. He would be getting a superb woman for a wife, and anyway, he
is
forty-eight. About time he had a son, or daughter, don't you think?”