He carried the book downstairs and into the kitchen. Braithwaite was sitting with his children and another woman Giles did not recognise. The news had clearly just been told. Lucy was howling into her father’s lap while the boy, not sure if he was allowed tears, sat on his stool, staring at the floor. He glanced up at Giles with terrified eyes, as if he were death himself and not his wretched messenger. The sight was too much for the child and he at once ran from the kitchen.
“Go and see to Jack, Lucy, there’s a love,” said Braithwaite, drying his daughter’s face with his handkerchief. The girl left dutifully.
“This is my sister, Mrs Walker,” said Braithwaite indicating the woman who sat beside him on the settle.
“You didn’t know Ruth Hull at all, did you, Mrs Walker?” said Giles.
“Yes, yes I did, as a matter of fact,” she said.
“You didn’t?” said Braithwaite, with some surprise.
“It was when I was working up at the Hall. When I was in the laundry – remember? She was working indoors. Housemaid, I think.”
“But then she went away, to Lincolnshire or some such,” said Braithwaite.
“Aye, she did. But it was before you were apprenticed, John, that she was at the Hall. She came home again after... well, nothing were ever proved, but everyone thought –”
“Thought what?” said Giles.
“That she’d been thieving,” said Mrs Walker.
“I never heard a word of that before!” said Mr Braithwaite. “Nay, Alice, you have that wrong. I never heard a word of that.”
“Have you seen this before?” said Giles, laying the prayer book on the table open at the inscription.
“That’s Ruth’s?” said Braithwaite. “I never saw that before. Why did she never show it to me? Why did she never –” He broke off and went to the window. “I feel I’ve been married to a stranger, not my Esther. She is lost to me forever, that’s for certain, the woman I courted and married. This Esther, sir, that you are talking of, that is not my wife!”
With which he left the room to see to his children.
Mrs Walker now looked at the inscription in the prayer book.
“They must have been very close,” she said, stroking the little broken heart. “Oh, my poor brother. How will he get on without her? And he said that you told him she was behind a fire in Northminster?”
“It does seem so.” Mrs Walker gave a deep sigh. “Can you tell me anything more about this business with Ruth Hull? When was it you were working for the Wytton family?”
“It were fifteen years back, when I was eighteen or so. I wasn’t there long. Nobody stayed long in that house. The old lord and his lady were not – well, you won’t mind me saying this, sir, being a gentleman yourself – but there are some gentry folk who deserve to be treated with respect because they respect those less well born than themselves. But Lord and Lady Wytton – there was no respect. It was a miserable, cheese-paring house. I have worked in a few big places before I was married, and I can tell you, sir, there is a way of keeping servants and there is a way of losing them. Lady Wytton was in the way of losing them. It’s a wonder they didn’t have Ruth transported instead of just sending her home without her character.”
“You have no recollection of what she was supposed to have stolen?”
“Probably no more than a lump of sugar,” said Mrs Walker. “That would have been enough to do it. Poor, poor girl. She was probably hungry. We all were. Not that I think thieving is right, sir, you understand.”
“No, of course not.”
“It’s just that when one person has so much and another so little – I suppose Ruth was tempted.”
“So we are speaking of about 1825?”
“Yes. Yes, 1825, I remember because that was the summer I met my George, and the summer the rigs burned at the Home Farm. That was a shocking business. A man died.”
“The Home Farm to Raythorpe Hall?” said Giles. “Lord Wytton’s property?” Mrs Walker nodded. “And the cause of the fire?”
“An act of God, they said,” said Mrs Walker. “But who can say?” Her expression grew concerned as she realised the implication of what she had said. “No, no, you can’t say Esther was anything to do with that, can you, sir? Surely not?”
Giles could not give her a comforting answer and so took up his hat and left.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“I wish I could help you, Major Vernon, but my husband and sister-in-law are both out,” Lady Wytton said. She was stretched out on a sofa in her shuttered sitting room. “They have gone for a drive together. Just to get a little air. I wanted them to take the children with them, but Margaret said they had business to discuss and it would be dull for them.”
“Business?” said Giles. “Do you have any idea what they were discussing?”
“No,” said Lady Wytton.
“And has there been much talk of business between them lately?” he said.
She looked up at him.
“You had better sit down if you are going to ask me such grave-sounding questions,” she said. “Please. I feel quite frightened with you towering over me like that! Should I be afraid?” she added, as he pulled up a chair. “I have been, ever since Mr Pierce said that strange thing to me, and then with Mr Hurrell being murdered. It is all so troubling.”
“It certainly is,” said Major Vernon.
“I am glad you called. What you said to me about Margaret and Mr Mark Hurrell –”
“Yes – you told me there was nothing in the rumour.”
“I’m not so sure. The thing is – well, my maid Sarah has been away visiting her sister and so Agnes, Margaret’s maid, has been coming to help me instead. She is a good creature and does my hair nicely, so I must get her to give Sarah some lessons when she comes back. However, she has also been sneezing and coughing and looking very unwell. She said it was nothing, she had just caught a chill because she been sitting out in the rain, and it was her own fault. So I asked her why she did it, and she went so quiet that I knew it was because she was ashamed of why she had done so. And then there was one of those silences – I am sure you know exactly what I mean – and then she burst out with it – that she had been made to wait outside the Hermitage, sitting in the rain while Margaret was inside – alone – with Mark Hurrell!”
“Ah, yes, I saw her there.”
“You did? You found them together?”
“I did.”
“I see, and that is why you thought – oh, I can see that you would. It is rather – why was she there? And that was not the only time. Agnes told me the whole story, how she had gone there at least three times, not to mention when she was made to take letters.”
“And were there replies to these letters?”
“That I don’t know. Why do you not ask her yourself, Major Vernon?” she said. “Would you ring for me?”
So a few minutes later, Agnes Baker came in and confirmed what Lady Wytton had said.
“Did Mark Hurrell send you back with any messages?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think he read Miss Margaret’s letters. Once I saw him throw one straight into the fire.”
“Have you been with your mistress on any other visits?” Giles said. “Or taken letters to anyone unusual?”
“Well, there was Mrs Braithwaite,” said Agnes after a moment. “Everyone has been talking about her going missing, and it set me wondering – worrying, really. Miss Margaret did have something to do with her. I took notes to her and once she even came here. I met her in the back court and brought her in, up the backstairs, to Miss Margaret’s room.”
“And when was this?”
“About a month ago, sir.”
“And were you there when Miss Margaret spoke to Mrs Braithwaite?”
“No, sir, I was told to go away and never tell a soul that it had happened. But I heard Mrs Braithwaite went missing, and so I –” She looked imploringly at Lady Wytton. “I know I should have said something afore, but Miss Margaret,
she does like her secrets and when she tells you to do something, then –”
“Yes?” said Giles. She glanced again at Lady Wytton, looking for permission to continue.
“Tell him everything you know, Agnes,” she said.
“I’m sorry, my lady, I do not like to speak out of turn or against my betters, you know I do not, but Miss Margaret – sometimes it’s as if she has the devil in her. She has a way of speaking, of turning things against you that you do not know what you should do but fall in with her, or else.”
“She has threatened you?” Giles said.
“Yes. She said that she would tell my lady here that –” She broke off, shaking her head. “Oh, I cannot say it.”
“Oh, I am sure it cannot be so bad, Agnes,” said Lady Wytton.
“You will not like it, my lady,” said Agnes. “And if you hear it, you will make me pack my bags.”
“Tell us the whole truth,” Lady Wytton said. “Your place here is safe.”
“Are you sure, my lady?”
“I give you my word. Please will you tell Major Vernon everything.”
“The thing is, I have a little girl, my lady. She’s at my mother’s. She thinks I am her big sister. Miss Margaret got it from me and said that she will tell the whole world and his wife and you and his Lordship, and then I will never get a good place again, will I?” Agnes was now breathless with anxiety.
“How old is she?” said Lady Wytton.
“Two and a half now, my lady. Like your Miss Elizabeth.”
Lady Wytton nodded and sighed.
“How unfortunate for you,” she said. “And the father, he would do nothing for you?” Agnes shook her head. “Your mother has been very good to you.”
“Yes, my lady, I’m lucky, I know I am. And I know I should not have lied to you about it, not because of who you are, but because you are so good and kind to everyone.”
“Just to return to this business with Mrs Braithwaite, Agnes,” Giles said. “You have no idea what Miss Wytton wanted to discuss with her? Did Mrs Braithwaite tell you anything?”
“No, but she was not happy about it, sir, that I can tell you. I just supposed that Miss Margaret had got something on her as well and wanted something from her. But what that might be, I can’t say, sir.”
“That will be all for now,” Giles said. “But I shall want a full statement from you at some point, Miss Baker, about Mrs Braithwaite coming here. If you can try and remember when it was and how it all happened, I will send one of my men to take a record of it.”
“Yes, sir. Has Mrs Braithwaite been found, sir?”
“Yes, I found her,” Giles said. “But unfortunately, she has died of the fever at Axworth.”
Both women looked shocked at that.
“There is fever in Axworth?” said Lady Wytton. “Cholera?”
“There have been some cases, yes.”
“I pray to God it does not come here,” Lady Wytton said. “But then, I heard this morning that Sir Morten had taken to his bed with something that sounded like a fever. And he is never ill! Oh goodness! Poor Mr Braithwaite and those beautiful children. Whatever will they do without her? What a strange, strange tangle all this is!”
At this moment Margaret Wytton herself came sweeping into the drawing room, still dressed in her widow’s black.
“Oh, you are here again,” she said seeing Giles, and then noticing Agnes, she held out the bonnet she had just taken off to her, expecting her to take it. When Agnes did not do so, she added, “Agnes?” as if she were a dog to be brought to heel. But Agnes did not move. “Agnes?” said Margaret again.
“Agnes has just told me some interesting information, Miss Wytton,” said Giles. “And as a consequence you and I must have a serious conversation. In fact, I would like you come back to Northminster with me.”
“What do you mean?” she said, throwing the bonnet onto a chair, and laughing nervously. “Are you arresting me?”
“No, I am only asking you to co-operate with me. But it would be better that this conversation took place in Northminster,” he said, “for your own sake – so that everything might be clear and above board.”
“I wish I knew what you were talking about!” she said. “What on earth am I supposed to have done that needs you to have such a conversation with me? I simply cannot imagine!”
“Can you not?” said Giles.
“I am afraid my brother will not be amused by this,” she said, going to the door. “Let us go and see what he has to say about it.”
“Very well,” said Giles, and followed her from the room.
As they crossed the hall, a pair of footmen were carrying a large crate from the front door. There were several others of the same size waiting at the foot of the stairs.
“What are these?” Giles said, noticing that they were being unloaded from the carriage that was drawn up outside. This was presumably the carriage which Lord Wytton and Miss Wytton had used for their drive. It seemed an unusual cargo to have accompanied them.
“Oh, nothing of any importance,” said Miss Wytton airily, heading towards her brother’s study.
“Ledgers,” said Giles, looking into one of the crates. “And papers too, I see. Did you just bring these back from Northminster, Miss Wytton?” She did not answer. “Perhaps your brother would answer that question for us.”
Now she took alarm and went running into the study.
“Edward! Major Vernon is here and he is being most –”
She stopped in her tracks and screeched. Giles dashed in after her to see Lord Wytton standing with a pistol pressed to his temple.
“I shall do it, Meg,” he said. His voice was slurred with drink. “I bloody well shall, you know.”
“No, no!” she screamed and lunged at him so the pistol went flying from his hand and onto the floor. Giles retrieved it while Miss Wytton, in a fury, cracked her palm across her brother’s face. “You stupid, stupid fool! Now you really have ruined everything!”
~
“There’s no chance I could have a proper drink?” asked Lord Wytton. “Brandy? I’d take gin, at a pinch.”
Giles shook his head.
“I would get some sleep,” said Giles. “Your solicitor will be coming in first thing to talk to you. Your sister has seen to that.”
“Ah yes, of course she would,” said Lord Wytton, with a sigh, sitting down on the bench again. “Sees to everything. Thinks she’s so clever. Fact is, Vernon, we wouldn’t be in this pickle if I hadn’t been such a damned fool and listened to her. It was all her idea. Swedish railways be damned! Should never have listened to her. Never take advice from a woman. Never.” He gave a groan, and pressed his hands to his face. “If that damned Arthur Hurrell had done his duty and stood by her, then we’d never have had all this. She’d have been on her back, pushing out little Hurrells, instead of making my life impossible with her ridiculous ideas. Swedish railways!”
“So you made the investment at her suggestion?”
“Yes. And to tell you the truth, it did seem like a good a bet. But she talked it up. That was it. She can talk anything up. Little bitch.”
“And you needed the money?”
“The bank was not exactly making it hand over fist and everything is so expensive these days. My wife, she’s expensive, I’ll tell you that! Shockingly so. She has money of her own, but the tightest set of trustees I ever saw in my life. Never could get a penny out of them.”
“That must be a comfort in the circumstances, then,” said Giles, “that she and your children will have an income.”
“What would be a comfort now would be some hard cash on the table. Perhaps you might talk to her? She likes you. Get her to get them to ease up on me.”
“In the circumstances, it seems unlikely that they would,” said Giles, “and it would be highly inappropriate for me to talk to her about it.”
“But you’ll get her to come in and see me? I need to talk to her.”
“I’m sure she will be here tomor
row,” Giles said. “Now I must go.”
“And there is no chance of a little drop of something, just to get me through the night?”
“I’m sorry, no,” said Giles, and left the cell.
Coming upstairs he met Captain Lazenby in the passageway.
“Would you come into my office, Major Vernon?” he said.
“I understand you have charged Lord Wytton and his sister and you are keeping them here?” Lazenby said, when they were alone together. “Do you think this is appropriate?”
“Yes. Given he’s no better than a common thief and she is – well, I am not sure the extent of it yet, but conspiracy to set a fire and manslaughter is the least of it.”
“But in the common cells?”
“Surely our new model cells are good enough for anyone?” Giles said.
“They are not the occupants I had in mind,” Lazenby said. “There will be a lot of talk if we fail to get a conviction, Major Vernon.”
“You only need look at the books,” said Giles. “Lord Wytton and his sister went and fetched them from the bank premises today, with the intention of doctoring them further or destroying them entirely. They are all the evidence we need to keep them. We have already identified many more accounts being closed without permission to disguise losses. My men have already talked to some of the account holders and they are good witnesses, respectable people who have lost their money.”
“But how is Miss Wytton involved in this?”
“She conspired with Esther Braithwaite to burn down the bank.”
“But she has not admitted that?”
“Not yet. But she will,” said Giles. “Lord Wytton has just told me that it was her idea to invest so heavily in The Stockholm and Malmo Railway Construction Company. If he is telling the truth, she is at the heart of the disaster.”
“But the Braithwaite woman is dead. What she said on her deathbed to you might be construed as merely malicious towards Miss Wytton and an attempt to exonerate herself. I am sure any competent defence will take that line.”
The Echo at Rooke Court Page 22
