‘Yes.’
‘I have always rather detested the name Oberon,’ confessed Ron, a little sheepishly. ‘That is why I shortened it to Ron.’ He chuckled. ‘I suppose most people assume Ron is short for Ronald; it usually is.’
‘For me, that was one of the final pieces of the jigsaw,’ said Rose. ‘Lady Lavinia insists on calling my husband by a pet name, even in public. It is quite a ridiculous name, but she gave it to him when they were children and I suppose the name has stuck. It struck me that Oberon was quite an unusual name and somewhat old-fashioned. If a person were called Oberon and did not like the name, I wondered what he could shorten it to. It came to me all of a sudden that it could quite easily be shortened to Ron.’
‘And then you realised that I must be Oberon?’
‘Everything fell into place if you were. Not just your clothes, or the fact that you had picked up the pocket watch to examine the initials on the casing, or even that Alec Dewhurst did not wish to be referred to as Oberon in public. There were other things too, like why you lied about the initials on the pocket watch.’
‘Right from the start I suspected that my … my mother had killed Dewhurst. If she had assumed Alec Dewhurst was her son and then had discovered he had deceived her … I had no reason to suppose anyone else had a motive for wishing the fellow dead.’
‘Except for yourself, of course,’ Rose said quietly.
‘Yes,’ said Ron with a rueful smile. ‘I can see why you might have thought that.’ He got up and began to pace the room. ‘When I discovered I was the son of the Duchess of Grismere, I hated her like poison for abandoning me. It never occurred to me I should ever meet her.’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘We moved in rather different circles. I never wished to lay eyes on her but, when I did, I found I couldn’t bring myself to tell you my suspicions concerning her guilt. I suppose in a way I wanted to protect her. That was why I told you that stupid lie about the initials on the watch; it was very clumsily done.’
‘It was your conversation with Alec Dewhurst that first put me on the right track,’ Rose said. ‘I didn’t hear it myself, of course, but I believe Lady Lavinia remembered it pretty much word for word. One thing struck me at once. Why was Mr Dewhurst so adamant that his companion was not the Duchess of Grismere? One would have expected a man like that to have boasted if he had secured the affections of a duchess. The answer, of course, was that it was essential to his plans that you be kept in ignorance concerning his companion’s real identity. For, if you knew, what was to stop you going to the duchess and informing her of the truth? That was why he tried his hand at blackmail. He was not to know that your employer already knew of your criminal record.’
‘But how did Alec Dewhurst know that the duchess had a son born out of wedlock?’ piped up Mr Kettering, feeling that it was high time he contributed to the conversation.
‘Mr Thurlow told him, didn’t you?’ Rose said gently, turning to Ron, who nodded sheepishly. ‘I daresay you confided a great deal to him while the two of you were in prison. You told us yourself that you struck up quite a friendship with Mr Dewhurst in the mistaken belief that he was a decent fellow.’
‘If only I had gone to my … my mother as soon as I discovered Dewhurst’s little ruse,’ said Ron glumly. ‘If I had not been so reluctant to speak to her, then –’
‘You are not to blame for what happened,’ said Rose quickly. ‘It must have been a terrible shock for you to realise that your mother was staying at the hotel.’
‘But I might have saved poor Miss Peony’s life,’ protested Ron. ‘I don’t care a jot about what happened to Dewhurst; he brought it upon himself, but Miss Peony …’ he faltered.
‘I have often wondered why Miss Peony sought to protect the duchess,’ reflected Rose. ’The only conclusion I have reached is that she knew the real reason why she killed Alec Dewhurst.’
‘Are you suggesting that she overhead their quarrel?’ said Mr Kettering.
‘Yes. That’s to say, in a manner of speaking. It is pure conjecture, of course, but I believe Miss Peony crept up to the Dewhursts’ rooms with the intention of returning the pocket watch. No doubt she intended to place it beside the door, or somewhere near, where it was certain to be found. I think she peered in at the window and witnessed some of the quarrel. I believe it quite possible she could read lips, on account of being deaf. Anyway, I think she was able to make out enough of the row to understand the gist of what was being discussed. I daresay she was still wondering what to do with the pocket watch when she saw Alec Dewhurst set off towards the cliff and the duchess go after him a minute or two later. I have no doubt that the duchess’ manner was furtive; she would have kept to the shadows for fear of being seen, and I think Miss Peony was sufficiently intrigued to follow them.’
‘Are you suggesting that Miss Peony saw the duchess kill Mr Dewhurst?’ exclaimed Mr Kettering, with a shudder. He looked appalled at the idea.
‘Yes,’ said Rose. ‘If you remember, Miss Hyacinth told us her sister was awfully upset when she returned.’
There was a long pause, during which Rose caught Mr Kettering’s eye. Interpreting the look she gave him correctly, the hotel proprietor made a hasty excuse and left the room. Ron Thurlow barely waited for the door to close behind Mr Kettering before he turned to face Rose and said in a quiet voice, full of emotion:
‘Will you tell me, your ladyship, what was written in that note you passed to my mother?’
‘Yes,’ said Rose. ‘I wrote that there was a strong possibility that her son would be arrested for the murders and that, if she cared for him, she should confess to the crimes.’
‘But that wasn’t true!’ cried Ron. ‘The very fact that Miss Peony wrote to the murderer when she thought it likely that I would be arrested proves that.’
‘Possibly,’ agreed Rose, ‘but without the duchess’ confession we had no real evidence that the letter had actually been delivered, and certainly not to whom.’ She held up her hand as Ron Thurlow made to protest. ‘I believe the letter was conveyed to the murderer in the way I described, but I had no proof, and besides a very good case could be made against you, you know. You have admitted yourself that on the night of Alec Dewhurst’s death you had realised he was impersonating you. Who is to say you didn’t quarrel on the edge of the cliff?’ Ron made a face. ‘You see,’ said Rose gently, ‘it was necessary for the duchess to confess her guilt as much to protect the innocent as to punish the guilty.’
There was an awkward silence and then Ron said:
‘Was that all you wrote?’
‘No,’ said Rose quietly. ‘I told her that, if she confessed, I should send Oberon to her.’
‘I see,’ said Ron. ‘Did you know … did you know what she was going to do? Did you know that she would take an overdose of her sleeping mixture after I left her?’ He gave a start. ‘But of course you did! You told me to be quick, that there was very little time.’
‘I did not know for certain, of course,’ replied Rose, choosing her words with care, ‘but I thought it very likely. I knew she had the sleeping mixture and that she would not want the scandal of a trial.’
It was quite a long time before Ron Thurlow spoke; then he said:
‘She told me that she had never stopped loving me. She even wrote to the duke before she took the sleeping draught to ask him to do what he could for me.’ Ron’s face brightened a fraction. ‘I met the duke in Athens. He sent for me. He was terribly cut up, as you can imagine. Really, he is the most remarkable man. He was awfully frail, but quite determined to see me. He told me he had loved my mother very much and that he intended to fulfil her last wish. I rather got the impression that he plans to treat me like the son he never had. I shan’t inherit the title, of course, but I shall be very well provided for.’ He lowered his head and said quietly. ‘Not that I deserve it, of course.’
‘I can’t think why not,’ said Rose. ‘It was a very selfless act you did, Mr Thurlow, going to prison in place of another. I can’t think of ma
ny people who would have done that. I think the duke will be very fortunate to have you for a son.’
‘Darling, I daresay you won’t believe me,’ remarked Lavinia to her sister-in-law, as she reclined on one of the bentwood and wickerwork chaises on the hotel terrace, ‘but I think I am rather going to miss her.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose I had grown rather fond of the woman in a strange sort of way.’
Rose regarded her companion and smiled. Lavinia was referring to Miss Hyacinth, who had left the hotel some half an hour before. They had accompanied her as she made her way down the cliff path to the beach, and had stood on the sand and waved at her as she had climbed into the boat, which was to take her to Athens to begin her return journey to England. The Adlers had gone with her, Mabel complaining loudly that the sea looked jolly rough and that she hoped she was not going to be sick, while Miss Hyacinth fussed over her like a mother hen. Mr Vickers had already been seated in the boat, a broad grin on his face. Not only was he returning to good old Blighty, but he was a far richer man into the bargain. For the duke had taken the precaution of paying the private enquiry agent a substantial amount to ensure his silence concerning the tragic events that had occurred on the island.
‘I do hope Miss Hyacinth will be all right,’ continued Lavinia. ‘When she returns to Clyst Beech I mean, or whatever that awful little village is called where she lives, and that she could never stop talking about. It sounded dreadfully dull. I do hope she won’t be terribly lonely without her sister.’
‘Clyst Birch,’ corrected Rose, ‘and you needn’t worry. Miss Hyacinth is going to stay with the Adlers.’
‘For a few weeks, perhaps,’ said Lavinia, ‘but she will have to go home eventually.’
‘I should be very surprised if she ever returns to Clyst Birch,’ said Rose.
‘What do you mean?’ Lavinia forced herself into a sitting position with the aid of her elbow so that she might better view her companion. It took a moment or two for enlightenment to dawn on her. ‘Surely you’re not suggesting …?’ She faltered, unable to continue her sentence, her eyes bulging at the very thought.
‘I think Father Adler and Miss Hyacinth will make a very good couple. They are most ideally suited.’
‘But matrimony at their age,’ protested Lavinia, making a face.
‘Even you will be Miss Hyacinth’s age one day, Lavinia,’ said Rose, leaning back on her sun lounger. ‘There is little doubt in my mind that they shall be perfectly happy.’ She closed her eyes, only to open them quickly at the sound of Lavinia giggling.
‘I’ve just had a thought. Poor Mabel. Fancy having Miss Hyacinth for a step-mother! She’ll fuss around her dreadfully. You saw what she was like on the boat. The poor girl won’t have a moment’s peace.’
‘I think Miss Hyacinth’s ministrations are just what Mabel Adler needs,’ said Rose. ‘Her father adores her, of course, but he has allowed her to become rather spoilt and rather too used to getting her own way.’
She put a hand up to her mouth to conceal a smile, for she might as well have been talking about her friend. Fortunately Lavinia did not appear to see any similarity between herself and the vicar’s daughter, and carried on talking in a similar vein. Rose, well used to her friend’s idle chatter, listened with only half an ear, her thoughts returning to the moment when Miss Hyacinth had made her farewells.
‘I can’t thank you enough, dear Lady Belvedere,’ Miss Hyacinth had said, in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘My poor, dear sister would thank you too, if she were here with us today …’ her voice had faltered. Rose had thought the woman was on the verge of tears and had smiled at her compassionately.
‘If only I hadn’t taken –’
‘You won’t believe how many people have told me that it was all their fault that the deaths occurred,’ Rose had said, rather firmly. ‘But really there is only one person to blame for what happened, and that is the murderer. I should like you to promise me that you will remember that. You were a very good sister to Miss Peony. I think she was jolly lucky to have had you for a sibling. Now, dear Miss Hyacinth, I should like you to think about yourself.’
‘You are too kind, really you are.’ Miss Hyacinth had bent forward and lowered her voice. ‘You were frightfully good about your brooch and Mr Dewhurst’s pocket watch. I … I should like to tell you that I shall never take anything again, I promise you, not for so long as I live. It has always been rather a weakness of mine. I always returned them, always. Father and Peony found it dreadfully embarrassing. I suppose that was why I was encouraged to stay at home and keep house. I always said to dear Peony it would be quite different if only I had one fine piece of jewellery of my own that I could sit and admire.’
‘Then I should like you to have this,’ Rose had said, producing from her pocket the small silver brooch designed in the shape of a bow. The sapphires had caught the light.
‘Oh no, I couldn’t possibly,’ Miss Hyacinth had protested feebly.
Rose had pressed the brooch into her hand. ‘I should much rather you have it, dear Miss Hyacinth. I think it will look much nicer on you than it does on me.’ Miss Hyacinth had smiled, though there were tears in her eyes, and Rose had squeezed her hand.
‘I suppose we could invite Miss Hyacinth and Mabel for a visit,’ Lavinia was saying. ‘To Sedgwick Court, I mean. I’d simply die to see Mabel’s face when she sees the extent of the house and grounds. Wouldn’t you? It rather puts this hotel to shame, don’t you think? And Miss Hyacinth would simply adore Sedgwick village. I daresay she’d get on frightfully well with your mother. I say, Rose, you look a bit peaky. Are you all right?’
‘I just feel a little sick, that’s all. I don’t think I ate enough breakfast.’
‘You felt ill yesterday morning too,’ said Lavinia. She was just on the point of lying back down on her chaise, when she sat bolt upright, struck by a tremendous thought. ‘I say, Rose, you don’t think you could possibly be –’
‘Lavinia, you mustn’t say a word to Cedric, promise me,’ said Rose quickly. ‘I am not going to tell him until I am quite sure.’
‘I shan’t breathe a word,’ exclaimed Lavinia, though her excited tone suggested otherwise. ‘Oh, wouldn’t it be exciting if you were? Of course, I should never want to have children myself. They’re absolutely horrendous for one’s body, not that I suppose you’d care, but I should absolutely hate to be fat. One hardly ever gets one’s figure back, you know. I suppose Ceddie will want a boy, to inherit the title and all that, but I should absolutely adore it if you had a little girl. I have always wanted a niece. I say, do you think there’s any chance she’ll be just like a little version of me?’
‘Heaven forbid,’ Rose said laughing. ‘I shouldn’t wish that on any child!’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I am extremely grateful to Thomas Cook for permitting me to consult their collection of archive travel material and, in particular, I would like to thank Paul Smith, their Company Archivist, who provided me with invaluable help and assistance.
Murder on Skiathos Page 32
