The Ledbury Lamplighters (11 page)

‘That’s what I said,’ replied his host in his usual blunt manner.

‘With all due respect, Mr Catherwood, that was not the only reason for your poor relationship with Montacute, was it?’

‘What are you getting at, Ravenscroft? If you’ve something to say, why don’t you come out with it straight away?’ said Catherwood, clearly becoming annoyed.

‘Very well. I have reason to believe that you and Mr Montacute’s second wife, Enid, were at one time romantically attached.’

‘Nonsense, man, you’ve been listening to idle gossip!’ laughed Catherwood, reaching for another log.

‘We have it on good authority—’

‘Good authority! What good authority?’

‘Rupert Montacute. He said that you and his mother were lovers.’

‘And you believe that drunken wastrel?’ growled Catherwood.

‘He seemed quite assured on that point.’

‘Then he were lying.’

‘So there was never anything between you and Enid Montacute?’

‘I spoke with the lady on one or two occasions, in the early days when I dined at The Gables. That is all.’

‘You see, Mr Catherwood, if you were having an affair with Mrs Montacute, it would explain a great deal,’ said Ravenscroft, seeking to engage the other’s eyes.

‘What are you getting at, Ravenscroft?’ asked Catherwood.

‘Did Nathaniel Montacute discover that you and his wife were on intimate terms, and was that the real reason behind the breakdown of your business relationship?’

‘I’ve had enough of this nonsense, Ravenscroft. I think it’s time you left.’

‘Is that why you stayed on here in Ledbury, long after the breakup of your business relationship with Montacute, so that you could be near Enid Montacute?’ asked Ravenscroft, warming to his subject and keeping one eye on the dog that was beginning to growl at the side of the hearth.

‘Enough, man!’ snapped Catherwood angrily.

‘It would assist us a great deal in our enquiries, Mr Catherwood, if you were to be frank and honest with us. Were you and Enid
Montacute lovers?’

A long pause followed as the two men stared at one another, each testing the other’s mettle.

‘All right, man! Yes, if you must know, Enid and I formed a strong relationship shortly after I came to the town,’ sighed Catherwood, throwing himself down on the old faded leather armchair before the fire. ‘Enid – Mrs Montacute – was dreadfully unhappy, married to that dull old skinflint. As her husband’s business partner, she confided in me – but we were never lovers, Ravenscroft. I would never have done anything that would have caused her ruin.’

‘Nevertheless, Nathaniel Montacute found out about your relationship?’ asked Ravenscroft, leaning back in his chair and trying to sound as understanding as possible.

‘Yes,’ admitted Catherwood after a brief pause. ‘Then he set about ruining me. He made believe that he knew nothing about our affair until he had involved me in all his dubious business concerns. It was not until much later, when it was too late to cancel my investments, that I learnt that he had known about our association all along. He was not happy until he had seen me financially ruined. It was his way of getting back at me.’

‘And afterwards you remained in the town because of Enid Montacute?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘I could not bear to leave her alone with that awful man. I thought that if I remained here, I could see that no harm would befall her. That may be difficult for you to understand, Ravenscroft. We had to be discreet, meeting as if by accident, on the hills, never in the town. She had a reputation to uphold. We hoped that eventually old Montacute would die, and we would be reunited.’

‘You waited a very long time,’ said Crabb, looking up from his notebook.

‘But Enid died before Nathaniel,’ added Ravenscroft.

‘Yes, her death came quite suddenly. I was not invited to the funeral, and paid my own private respects later. The old man had his revenge on me in the end, I suppose. Now he too is dead, and of course you suspect me of his death – but I tell you one thing, Ravenscroft, if I had wanted to kill him, I would have thought of a more ingenious way and I would have done it a long time ago,’ said
Catherwood with bitterness.

‘Thank you, Mr Catherwood. It would have helped if you had told us all this before, but I appreciate your reticence in admitting the truth. We won’t take up any more of your time. Tell me one thing before we go. Why did you not leave after Enid’s death? Surely there was nothing to keep you here after that?’ asked Ravenscroft, standing up.

‘You understand nothing, Ravenscroft. Enid Montacute lies buried in the churchyard here at Ledbury. That is why I remain in this awful town.’

Ravenscroft allowed himself a brief smile before he and Crabb made their way outside.

‘Do you think he killed Montacute?’ asked Crabb as the two men walked back down the narrow, winding lane towards the distant lights of the town.

‘Possibly. Of all our suspects, he had perhaps the strongest reason to see Montacute dead. It must have been frustrating for him to know that the woman he clearly loved was forced to live every day with his arch enemy, and that he was powerless to do anything about it. As he said, though, he could have killed Montacute years ago, so why wait until now?’

‘Could not bring himself to do the fatal deed?’ suggested Crabb.

‘You may be right. Either way, I find it strange that Catherwood still remained here after Enid’s death. I don’t really accept that he had no desire to move because he simply wanted to continue visiting Enid’s grave every day. In fact, I don’t believe that Mr Catherwood is as heartbroken as he makes out.’

‘We could bring him into the station for further questioning. It was Catherwood, after all, who discovered Robertson’s body. Very convenient, if he killed the coachman as well.’

‘You are forgetting one thing, Crabb – although Catherwood had every reason to kill Montacute, he does not appear to have had any reason to see off the coachman.’

‘Why did that fellow come to Ledbury? On Christmas Eve as well?’

‘That is what we need to find out tomorrow. There has to be someone in this town who met up with him, who knows what brought Robertson here.’

Suddenly, Ravenscroft pulled up sharply. ‘Do you hear that,
Crabb?’ The two men stood still, listening in the cold night air. ‘I thought I heard something moving in the undergrowth just behind us!’

‘Could be an animal of some kind?’ suggested Crabb.

‘I don’t think so. I’ve had the distinct impression that we have been followed ever since we left Catherwood’s house,’ said Ravenscroft, looking quickly around him.

‘Could be one of Catherwood’s dogs got loose?’

‘Unlikely – the animal would have attacked us by now. Come out, my man, and show yourself!’ shouted Ravenscroft. ‘It’s no good, we know you are there!’

‘I’ll double back, sir, and see if I can see anyone in the wood on our left,’ said Crabb, setting off at a brisk pace.

‘Be careful – these woods can be treacherous in the dark. I’ll look in the undergrowth on this side. Don’t go far, and try and keep the path in sight at all times, if you can.’

‘Right, sir,’ said Crabb.

‘Show yourself!’ shouted Ravenscroft again, straining to see any kind of movement in the darkened wood. ‘Step forward and show your face!’

The two men continued with their separate searches for a full minute or more.

‘Anything, Tom?’ asked Ravenscroft as the two men were reunited once more on the path.

‘Nothing, sir, although I thought I did hear something moving deeper into the wood. Nothing on your side, sir?’ asked a breathless Crabb.

‘No. Whoever it was has made a quick exit once he realized that we had discovered his presence. Someone had evidently taken it into his head to follow us. I wonder why, Crabb? What possible reason could anyone have to be following us on such a night as this? It does not make sense. I suppose it could have been a poacher, or even an animal, as you suggested. Nevertheless, we will need to be on our guard,’ said Ravenscroft, resuming their journey back towards the town.

‘Whoever he was, I don’t envy him being out here in this cold,’ said Crabb, shivering.

‘I think we have done enough for today. Time you and I, Tom, returned to our respective homes. We have two good wives awaiting
our return, and I must say I’m particularly looking forward to a good supper and a quiet, relaxing evening in front of my warm fire!’

The church clock struck the hour of eleven as they buried the old banker, Nathaniel Montacute. Ravenscroft and Crabb positioned themselves in the corner of the churchyard, and watched as the coffin was placed in the old family vault.

‘It’s interesting to see who’s attending the old man’s funeral,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘Obviously the family are all here – Edith the grieving widow being supported by Maurice Montacute, Rupert standing alone. There’s Doctor Andrews, and I think I can see Onslow, Chambers the cook, Rivers – and yes, Midwinter the solicitor.’

‘Quite a few others as well,’ added Crabb, looking at the thirty or forty figures who were busy filing out of the church and taking up their positions at a respectable distance from the main party.

‘Montacute was quite an important figure in the community. Besides being the town’s banker, he had twice been mayor. There are no doubt many prominent people here today who are anxious to pay their respects, and who wish to be seen to do so.’

‘Can’t see Catherwood amongst them,’ said Crabb.

‘I would not have expected the man to have attended. After all, he has his reputation as a recluse to uphold. I find it sad that everything eventually comes to this – a few minutes of orderly grief in a cold churchyard whilst the world continues with its unremitting progress. Montacute’s place has no doubt been waiting for him all these years, next to his two wives and alongside all the other Montacutes, but I wonder who will remember him in a
hundred years time?’ said Ravenscroft in a reflective mood.

‘Who will remember any of us?’ said Crabb.

‘Only our families, it is to be hoped. The future lies with your son, and with Lucy’s son, and with their children, who are as yet unborn. I wonder what kind of world they will create, what kind of problems they will encounter?’

‘Don’t like funerals, sir,’ muttered Crabb.

Ravenscroft allowed himself a brief smile. The vicar was uttering the last words of farewell. Edith Montacute placed a wreath on top of the family vault and then cried on Maurice’s shoulder. Rupert held back, looking lost and forlorn.

‘Look over there, Crabb!’ said Ravenscroft, suddenly pointing across to the other side of the churchyard. ‘Do you see that figure standing just by the trees?’

‘That tall gentleman wearing a long black coat and hat?’

‘Yes. He seems to be taking an interest in observing the funeral. He is too far away for us to identify him. Look, he has noticed that we are looking in his direction and has moved out of view. Quickly, Crabb, move as discreetly as you can and see if you can catch up with him and ask him to return. I’ll continue to watch here.’

Ravenscroft watched as his constable set off across the churchyard, but he knew that the figure had gone and that Crabb would be fortunate indeed to catch him. Edith, Maurice and Rupert began to make their slow way back to the waiting coach, as the other mourners began to pay their respects one by one. As he moved nearer, Anthony Midwinter, the solicitor, came forward to meet him.

‘A cold morning, Ravenscroft.’

‘It is indeed, Mr Midwinter.’

‘You asked me, Inspector, to let you know when the will was about to be read.’

‘I did indeed.’

‘I will shortly be making my way back to The Gables. After some refreshment, I will undertake the reading of the will. I have explained to the family that you will be present – as an observer only, of course.’

‘I thank you, Mr Midwinter. I will join you presently.’

The old solicitor nodded and began to make his way out of the churchyard as a breathless Crabb rejoined Ravenscroft. ‘I’m afraid
I was too late, sir. The fellow was gone by the time I got there. I looked down Church Street and back the other way but he was nowhere to be seen.’

‘Don’t worry, Tom, you did your best. Whoever it was disappeared quickly enough as soon as he noticed that we had observed him. It seems as though we were not the only ones who had an interest in attending the funeral today.’

‘Could have been our murderer, sir?’

‘Who knows? I wished we could have got a better look at him. Under that long coat and hat he could have been anyone. I had a strange feeling, though, that I had seen that man somewhere before.…’

Later that morning, Ravenscroft and Crabb stood in the corner of the dining-room at The Gables, observing the people who had arrived for the reading of the old banker’s will. In addition to the Montacute family – Edith, Maurice and Rupert – and a number of their servants, including Rivers the gamekeeper and Chambers the cook, the two policemen also noted that Andrews and Onslow were present. Anthony Midwinter, the family solicitor, had already taken his seat at the head of the table and was busily engaged in reading through some of the papers that lay before him.

‘Don’t think much of this sherry,’ muttered Crabb.

‘I think I’m inclined to agree with you,’ replied Ravenscroft, discreetly returning his glass to the table. ‘I don’t know what it is but they always seem to serve the poorest kind of sherry at funerals.’

‘Eats are not too bad though,’ whispered Crabb, helping himself to another sandwich.

‘I think it best if we occupy these two chairs in the corner, where we won’t be in the way and where we can observe the behaviour of the people as the will is read. I must say that I am very intrigued to see what the documents says, and to find out more from Mr Midwinter later as to why the old man drew up this latest document not more than six months ago.’

‘You think the new will might give us some clues as to who might have murdered Montacute?’ asked Crabb.

‘You never know. People have often been known to kill off their relations in a desperate attempt to acquire their wealth. There is
nothing like the prospect of a handsome legacy to stir the crooked church mouse into direct action. Ah, I think Mr Midwinter is about to begin.’

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said the solicitor, clearing his throat, ‘if you would care to be seated for the reading of the will.’

One by one the assembled group seated themselves round the large mahogany dining table.

‘Before we begin, I should perhaps explain that Inspector Ravenscroft and his assistant are with us today as observers. As you know, the inspector is investigating the untimely demise of Mr Montacute—’ began Midwinter.

‘Damned interference, I call it!’ growled Onslow, giving the detective a severe look.

‘I have no objections to Mr Ravenscroft’s presence,’ said Maurice, ‘and I am sure that Mrs Montacute does not mind either.’

Edith Montacute gave a brief nod of her head.

‘Now we come to the reading of the will—’

‘Excuse me, sir,’ said the maid suddenly entering the room, ‘but there is a gentleman who is at the door and insists that he is present for the reading.’

‘Who on earth—’ began Maurice, but before he could complete the sentence, Catherwood strode into the room.

‘What the deuce!’ protested Onslow.

‘Good morning to you all,’ said Catherwood, walking quickly over to one of the chairs and seating himself.

‘Look here, Catherwood, this is most irregular. You have no business being here,’ said Maurice, standing up from the table.

‘I have every right to be here, Mr Montacute. Your father was my business partner for a number of years, and as such I have every intention of hearing the reading of his will.’

‘My father dissolved the partnership many years ago,’ protested Maurice.

‘That’s as may be, but I still have an interest in the hearing of the will,’ replied Catherwood, leaning back in his chair.

‘This looks to be fun!’ interjected Rupert, smiling.

‘Be quiet, Rupert! Mr Midwinter?’ said Maurice, turning to the solicitor for assistance.

‘I agree, it is somewhat unusual, but as a will is a public document, I cannot see that we can prevent Mr Catherwood from
being present.’

‘Very well,’ sighed Maurice, regaining his seat. ‘Please proceed, Mr Midwinter.’

‘Interesting, sir,’ whispered Crabb in the corner of the room.

Midwinter adjusted his spectacles and after clearing his throat, looked down at the document before him and began to read. ‘“This is the Last Will and Testament of me, Nathaniel Jacob Montacute, banker and owner of The Gables in Ledbury, in the county of Herefordshire, made this day August 1, in the year 1888, the fifty-first year of the reign of our sovereign Queen Victoria. I give my soul to Almighty God and desire that my body be placed inside the Montacute family vault situated in the churchyard of Ledbury chuch in the county of Herefordshire. Firstly, I do appoint my good friend, Major Charles Onslow, and my solicitor, Anthony Midwinter, as executors of my will – and I give (free of duty) to the said Charles Onslow and Anthony Midwinter the sum of fifty pounds each in friendship and for their duties, as executors of this, my will. Secondly, I give the sum of twenty-five pounds each to Philip Rivers and Agnes Chambers, in gratitude for their many years of loyal and faithful service. Thirdly, I leave the sum of one hundred pounds to the almshouses of St Katherine in the town of Ledbury, the money to be invested in South African securities and the interest to be shared between the inmates on Easter Day of each year. Fourthly, to my former business partner, James Catherwood of Ledbury, I leave the sum of one pound exactly—”

‘Serves you right, Catherwood!’ interrupted Onslow, giving a hearty laugh.

Catherwood said nothing but Ravenscroft thought he detected the flicker of a brief, sarcastic smile across the Yorkshireman’s face.

‘“… James Catherwood of Ledbury I leave the sum of one pound exactly, in recognition of the disservice he has caused me. Fifthly, to my son, Maurice Montacute, I leave my partnership in Cocks and Biddulph, the bank of Ledbury, as I know that he will carry on the traditions of the said bank with his usual diligence and fortitude. Finally, I leave the rest of my estate, including my house The Gables in Ledbury, my stocks and shares and all my worldly possessions to my wife, Edith Montacute née Henshaw, to hold the same absolutely for her own sole and separate use. Signed this first
day of August, eighteen eighty-eight, Nathaniel Jacob Montacute.”’

A long silence followed as Anthony Midwinter looked up from his reading and began to wipe his glasses on a large pocket handkerchief.

‘Thank you, Mr Midwinter. Gentlemen, if you will excuse me,’ said Maurice, suddenly standing up from his seat and beginning to leave the room, his face strained and ashen.

‘Maurice!’ called out Edith, but Maurice had already closed the door behind him.

‘Gentlemen, Mrs Montacute. I bid you good day,’ said Catherwood, also standing up and about to make his departure. ‘I thank you, Mr Midwinter.’

‘Well, that’s a fine kettle of fish,’ whispered Crabb, as the other members rose from the table.

‘Lord bless the master!’ exclaimed Chambers the cook, beginning to cry. ‘I knew he would always remember us.’

‘Come now, Mrs Chambers,’ said Rivers the gamekeeper, placing his arm round the cook’s shoulders. ‘That won’t do. Let us go down to the kitchens and toast the master’s health.’

‘If you will excuse me, I must go and see if I can find Maurice,’ said Edith, quickly leaving the room.

‘Major, if you would care to accompany me back to the town?’ said Andrews.

‘Yes. Right, could do with a walk. Clear the air and all that. Good day to ye,’ replied the major as he and the doctor departed.

‘Bloody old skinflint, left me nothing!’ said Rupert, banging his fist down on the table. ‘Nothing! His son. I tell you, Midwinter, it is not to be borne!’

‘I’m sorry, Rupert. There was nothing I could do for you. I tried to reason with your father—’ began the solicitor.

‘For God’s sake!’ exclaimed Rupert, striding out of the room, his face red with anger.

Ravenscroft and Crabb rose from their seats and joined Midwinter.

‘Poor Rupert. He seems to have taken it quite hard. He is the second son, though, I suppose,’ said the solicitor, gathering up his papers.

‘I thought Maurice took it hard as well,’ said Ravenscroft.

‘Yes, one would have thought that his father would have provided more for his first son, although he will want for nothing as he has inherited his father’s share in the bank.’

‘Looks as though Mrs Montacute gets practically everything,’ said Crabb, replacing his notebook in the top pocket of his tunic.

‘Mr Midwinter, you say that Nathaniel Montacute drew up the will last August, only a few months ago. Did he give any reason as to why he was making a new will?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘None. He just asked me to call upon him one day, and requested that I draw up the new will. I think he was anxious that his new wife would be provided for in the unexpected early eventuality of his own death.’

‘The will seems particularly harsh in its treatment of both Maurice and Rupert. Rupert is obviously the younger son and was not on good terms with his father, but Maurice has been left only the partnership in the bank.’

Midwinter said nothing as he replaced the will inside his briefcase.

‘Mr Midwinter, Nathaniel Montacute obviously made an earlier will. Can I ask how this present will differs from any former document?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Mr Montacute drew up his previous will some ten or twelve years ago. In that document he provided for his then wife, Enid, should she outlive him – and I believe he was more generous towards Maurice, leaving both The Gables and his investments to his son on condition that he looked after Enid during her lifetime.’

‘That is very interesting. And Rupert, how did he fare in this earlier will?’

‘I believe he was again left nothing. I think the rest of the terms of the will were the same, with bequests to Onslow, myself, Rivers and Chambers – and of course the bequest to the St Katherine almshouses.’

‘Thank you, Mr Midwinter. You have been most helpful. I think my constable and I will be on our way now. Thank you for allowing us to attend the reading,’ said Ravenscroft, beginning to leave the room.

‘Glad to have been of some assistance, although I fail to see how Nathaniel’s will can assist you in your enquiries into his murder.’