The Forgotten Sister

by Nicola Cornick

  ‘A moment—’ She touched my sleeve, staying me. ‘Walk with me. Tell me what ails you.’

  I would much have preferred not to but I had no choice. It was a royal command. Reluctantly I fell into step beside her.

  ‘I have but this moment received the news of my mother’s death,’ I said, carefully. ‘I fear my grief has overset me.’

  ‘I am very sorry.’ Her faded, dark eyes appraised me sadly. ‘I still recall the deep sorrow of losing a parent.’

  I could only imagine that she was speaking of her mother, Catherine of Aragon, to whom she had been inordinately loyal and whose memory she still honoured. The death of her father, the late King Henry, who had been such a tyrant towards her could not have been the cause for much regret.

  ‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ I said.

  ‘You were coming from the tiltyard.’ The impression of a weary, ageing woman was misleading; she was sharp. ‘You were apprising your husband of the news?’

  ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

  ‘I see.’ I thought she probably did. ‘Did he tell you that he is to accompany the King to Picardy?’

  ‘Yes, madam, he did.’

  ‘You had not known?’ She was a shrewd reader of tone and expression. ‘Ah.’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘It is a difficult matter to be a neglected wife, Mistress Dudley, is it not? It is even more difficult to be a childless one.’ Her eyes met mine and I felt a ripple of shock at the pain and disillusionment I saw there. This woman and I were not so dissimilar though she was Queen of England in her own right and surrounded by all the trappings of majesty. She could not command a man’s good opinion or his loyalty, nor could she, apparently, bear his child. Since the supposed false pregnancy she had experienced eighteen months before there had been nothing.

  Something snapped in me then at the accumulated weight of grief and frustration. I grasped her sleeve, pulling her back when she would have walked on, careless of convention.

  ‘Can you help me, Majesty? Please – I beg you. My husband wishes to sell the estates I have inherited from my mother, whilst I wish to run them myself. Would you rule that they should be mine alone? It would give me so much more purpose—’ My voice broke.

  I heard the gasp as people fell silent, some shocked, some prurient, to witness my distress. I did not care. I was looking at the Queen and at her alone, the material of her sleeve scoring my fingers because I gripped so tightly. ‘Majesty—’ I said desperately, but I knew it was too late. The expression in her eyes had hardened into ice. I had misread her; we had little in common after all. She had given King Philip an equal share in her kingdom no matter how little he deserved it. She would not take away my husband’s right to my inheritance. She might despise him but she would not use me to revenge herself against him as I had hoped.

  ‘Good day, Mistress Dudley,’ she said, quite as though I had not spoken, and she withdrew her sleeve from my grasp with unhurried lack of concern and walked away.

  It was then that I saw the ghost boy, across the heads of the crowd. I noticed him because he was standing very still in the shifting throng and he was staring directly at me. He could not have been much above sixteen years, maybe a little more or a little less. He was tall and thin as a rake, dressed like a street player or a beggar, with a short black cloak and cowl, ripped hose and muddy boots. Beneath the edge of his hood his face was pale and his eyes frightened. We stared at one another for what felt like a very long time and it seemed to me as though the flag stones tilted beneath my feet and the earth spun around me.

  ‘Who are you?’ I said. ‘What are you doing here?’

  I doubt he heard my words for the passageway was still full of chattering courtiers. None of them seemed to have seen him, or if they had, they paid him no notice. He opened his mouth to speak. I saw his lips move and tried to listen, tried to hear his words.

  Someone jostled me and did not trouble to apologise, and when I had regained my balance and looked again, the ghost boy had gone.

  Chapter 15

  Lizzie: Present Day

  ‘Thank you for seeing us,’ Arthur said, very formally. ‘We’re grateful.’

  ‘It’s the least she could do.’ Anna contradicted him almost immediately. She shot Lizzie a distinctly unfriendly glance as she pushed past them both into Lizzie’s flat.

  ‘Do come in,’ Lizzie said politely. It was the morning after Johnny had disappeared and she had arranged to meet Arthur at ten. She hadn’t expected him to bring Anna with him, though. It wrong-footed her and she was angry for reading more intimacy into their interactions than existed, and for assuming Arthur would come alone. In the dark reaches of the night, lying awake for hour after hour, it had comforted her to think there was some sort of bond between them. Now in cold daylight she realised that she had been naïve. Johnny had never arrived home the previous night. Arthur wanted to find him. She was the last person who had seen him so she might be able to help. That was all there was to it.

  Lizzie felt tired and slow. She’d waited and waited for either the police or Arthur to call to confirm that Johnny had finally turned up. She had kept her light on for hours to ward off a darkness that felt as though it was inside her as well as outside. Finally, she had turned out the light and had lain quietly listening to the sound of the rubbish being collected out in the street, the rolling of empty barrels, the shouts of drunks, all the noises that filled a London night. The city was never silent and at least she did not feel entirely alone.

  Arthur, she thought, didn’t look as though he had slept any better than she had. Stubble darkened his jaw and his eyes were tired. Lizzie couldn’t read his emotions other than the obvious exhaustion and concern for his brother. It felt as though he was deliberately shutting her out, which was an odd, disconnected feeling as though instinct and reason were at war with one another, a deeply uncomfortable sensation. She tried to see things from Arthur’s point of view and then wished she hadn’t. She could see he had every reason to be wary of her. Johnny had come to see her and now Johnny was missing.

  ‘Is there any news?’ she said, and felt hope drain away when Arthur shook his head.

  ‘Johnny still hasn’t turned up,’ he said. ‘We’ve spoken to everyone now, and checked all the places we can think of.’

  ‘You look as though you need coffee,’ Lizzie said involuntarily. ‘Have you been out all night looking for him?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Arthur gave her a brief smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. ‘At least the last time he disappeared he turned up of his own accord, but this time there’s been nothing. Not even a text. I don’t suppose you’ve heard from him either?’

  ‘I would have told you if I had,’ Lizzie said, and Arthur nodded, grimacing.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you would. I was just hoping…’ He shrugged.

  ‘He’s not here,’ Anna called, from the living room. Lizzie raised her brows at Arthur, who had the grace to look embarrassed.

  ‘I apologise for Anna,’ he said. ‘We’re all a bit on edge.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Lizzie said. ‘Come through.’ She caught the corner of his thoughts then; the fact that he too was feeling the conflict between intuition and logic, between affinity and wariness. She sensed he liked it as little as she did.

  Anna was standing in the middle of the living room, hands on hips, looking to Lizzie like a smaller, more self-assured version of Amelia. Physically they shared the blonde hair and blue eyes that had given Amelia her waif-like quality but Lizzie thought that if Amelia had had an ounce of Anna’s toughness, she wouldn’t have tolerated Dudley’s behaviour for a moment. She wondered if Anna’s truculence came naturally but then she remembered how gentle she had been with Johnny that time in the foyer and thought she should cut the younger girl some slack. It was a sentiment she retracted almost immediately.

  ‘You were the last person to see Johnny,’ Anna said. ‘Did you push him into the river?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Anna,’ Arthur said. Anna flushed but th
ere was defiance in her eyes.

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘I’m only trying to find out what happened.’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ Lizzie said. There was a silence. Anna waited for her to say more. Lizzie tacitly refused. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur bite back a smile as he watched them.

  ‘I don’t understand why Johnny came to see you in the first place.’ Anna couldn’t hold back any longer. She eyed Lizzie belligerently. ‘What did he want?’

  ‘He wanted to talk about stuff,’ Lizzie said. ‘About Amelia and Dudley and how he was feeling.’ It wasn’t exactly true; she wasn’t sure whether everything Johnny had done had just been an attempt to get into her confidence and her flat and to take the stone angel. She might tell Arthur that but she wasn’t going to tell Anna.

  Anna gave a dismissive snort. ‘I still don’t get it. Millie’s body is in cold storage, Dudley is being investigated, you’re an accessory after the fact, whatever that is, and Johnny thought it would help to talk to you? Doesn’t he realise how toxic you are? What planet is he on?’

  Lizzie took a deep breath. ‘I’m not an accessory after anything,’ she said, ‘and maybe Johnny recognised that and isn’t as prejudiced as you are. Look,’ she tried to sound conciliatory, ‘would you both like some coffee – or something else to drink? We can have a chat, try and work out what might have happened—’

  ‘I’m not stopping, thanks.’ Anna didn’t let her finish. ‘I only came along to make sure you weren’t hiding Johnny’s body.’

  ‘Anna,’ Arthur said.

  ‘Feel free to search,’ Lizzie said mildly.

  Anna just glared at her. ‘Arthur said Johnny told him that he likes you. He said you were kind to him when he was a kid at Amelia’s wedding. I mean – really? I’m sorry, but he’s totally lost it this time.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Anna,’ Arthur said. ‘Stop this.’

  Anna shrugged. ‘You said so yourself,’ she said. ‘You said you thought Johnny was nuts to trust her.’

  ‘I’m not sure I put it quite like that,’ Arthur said. There was a hint of colour on his high cheekbones. Lizzie wondered how much of their conversation the previous night he had relayed to Anna. She was glad now that she hadn’t said much beyond the fact that Johnny had been to see her and that she was worried for his state of mind.

  ‘I’m walking over to Dudley’s place now,’ Anna said. She jerked her head towards the Millennium Bridge. ‘If Johnny turns up there again and threatens him, Dudley will have him arrested.’ She came closer and Lizzie saw the sheen of tears in her eyes, the despair behind the anger. ‘Did you know Dudley has hired a posse of heavies for protection? It’s in the papers this morning. He claims Johnny might attack him! As though Johnny would hurt anyone.’ A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and she scrubbed it away impatiently. ‘I fucking hate Dudley. This is his fault – Millie’s death, Johnny disappearing… His fault and yours—’ she glared at Lizzie again, ‘behaving as though Millie just didn’t exist, flaunting yourselves all over London—’

  ‘Anna.’ Arthur sounded really angry this time.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Lizzie said again. She met Anna’s angry blue gaze very directly. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I was selfish. I didn’t care about Amelia’s feelings and I’m very sorry about that. I said as much to Johnny last night. But I know nothing about Amelia’s death, Dudley and I have never been romantically involved, and I certainly wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt Johnny. I only want to help him.’

  ‘I don’t see why.’ Anna was relishing the argument as a release of pent-up energy.

  ‘Because,’ Lizzie snapped, ‘Johnny is struggling to deal with depression and I’ve some insight into how that feels. It’s a horrible, horrible thing and Johnny is beyond brave, and if you think I would hurt him in any way then you’re the one who’s lost it.’

  For a moment Anna looked nonplussed then she shrugged. ‘Whatever,’ she said ungraciously. She nodded to Arthur. ‘I’ll call you if I hear anything.’ She marched off down the hall and the door slammed behind her. The air seemed to quiver before settling into quiet again.

  ‘Well,’ Arthur said into the silence, ‘that was interesting.’

  Lizzie took a deep breath to try and regain her self-control. ‘I shouldn’t have snapped at her,’ she said wearily. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘She asked for it,’ Arthur said. ‘Anna always pushes to get a reaction. Sometimes she goes way too far.’ He shifted a little. ‘I’m sorry for all the stuff she said. She’s upset and worried – we all are – but it’s no excuse.’

  ‘I understand,’ Lizzie said. She folded her arms and rubbed them although she wasn’t cold. ‘I know it’s hard to believe I might want to help Johnny,’ she said, ‘but I do.’ She spread her hands in appeal. ‘I helped you the other night, didn’t I?’

  Arthur drove his hands into his pockets. ‘Yes, you did,’ he said slowly, ‘but I still don’t really know if I can trust you. Hell, Lizzie—’ he ran a hand through his hair, ‘no matter what I feel, I don’t know you. It’s entirely possible that you and Dudley might be in cahoots and have cooked up this whole business between you to get rid of Amelia and now to silence Johnny.’

  ‘That’s exactly what the police were getting at when they interviewed me last night,’ Lizzie agreed pleasantly. She took a deep breath. ‘Everyone’s watched too many box sets, I think. But let’s indulge your theory for a moment.’ She caught the glint of amusement in Arthur’s eyes and carried on doggedly: ‘Leaving aside the fact that I’m not a psychopath, I’ve also no motive to kill Amelia. It’s not as though we’re in the Middle Ages, is it? Dudley and Amelia were getting divorced. If he and I had wanted to get together – which we don’t – there wasn’t anything stopping us.’

  ‘Bumping off Amelia would save Dudley having to pay alimony,’ Arthur said, ‘but actually it’s more likely that Dudley’s motive would be financial gain in a different way. Dudley’s lost – or rather, he’s spent – almost all he ever earned. He’s close to bankruptcy. Whereas Amelia was a very rich woman. Perhaps you didn’t know, but our father left her a fortune. She inherited just about everything from him.’

  Lizzie was taken aback. ‘No, I didn’t know that,’ she admitted. ‘Dudley never mentioned it.’

  ‘Well,’ Arthur said, ‘I don’t suppose he would. Amelia was always portrayed as the clinging one, wasn’t she, living off Dudley’s money and success. It was far from the truth.’

  Lizzie felt a judder of remorse. That was exactly how she had viewed Amelia. She’d made assumptions because Dudley was so brash and full of his own importance. Suddenly she didn’t feel as confident that Dudley had no motive. She’d viewed any involvement on his part in Amelia’s death as fantasy, but if he was going to inherit a fortune from her that didn’t look good at all. She could see why the police would be suspicious.

  ‘Inheritance is a minefield, isn’t it?’ she said with feeling. ‘Didn’t you mind being cut out of the will? And what about Anna and Johnny?’

  Arthur laughed. ‘I’m not big into inherited wealth, to be honest. I wanted to make my own way. I talked about it with Dad. He left Anna and Johnny a trust fund each for school and university fees but we felt Millie was the vulnerable one who might need it one day.’

  ‘Because of Dudley,’ Lizzie said bluntly.

  Arthur didn’t deny it. ‘We all thought the marriage wouldn’t last long,’ he said. ‘They were very young, Dudley has a short attention span, and Millie never really found anything she was good at. Dad gave her the money to buy Oakhangar Hall and left her his investments to give her an income. It’s all Johnny’s now,’ he added. ‘He was the sole beneficiary of Millie’s will. She rewrote it to cut Dudley out when he asked for a divorce. He gets nothing.’

  ‘Whoa,’ Lizzie said. ‘Does Dudley know that?’

  ‘He’ll know now,’ Arthur said drily.

  ‘And Johnny?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Not that he’d care. I imagine he’d return it all in a h
eartbeat if he could have Amelia back.’

  Arthur gave her a curious look. ‘Did Johnny tell you that last night?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lizzie said. ‘He said he’d do anything to have Amelia back again.’ She sighed. ‘OK, well I get that you don’t like Dudley and that you might even believe he would want to get rid of Amelia somehow but do you seriously believe that I would be capable of murdering her, never mind harming Johnny?’

  Arthur’s mouth twisted. ‘I don’t think you would murder someone; not unless they threatened you or something or someone for whom you cared deeply.’ He paused. ‘But you might cover up a crime for someone you loved, or even connive in it. I don’t know. I don’t know you well enough to say.’

  Lizzie was startled to realise that she felt angry. She wanted Arthur to think better of her than that and it annoyed her that it mattered so much to her. Arthur, she realised with a pang, was trying to ignore any intuitive link between them and rely on logic, which was completely understandable but hurt her more than she cared to analyse.

  ‘So, your theory is that I helped Dudley kill his wife because I was madly in love with him,’ she said coldly. ‘And that Johnny knew something to incriminate us so we dealt with him too?’

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ Arthur said, ‘but even if it’s true that you don’t love Dudley in that way you have always cared about him. You said so yourself. You might misguidedly try to help or protect him.’

  Lizzie absorbed this. She didn’t want to admit it, but Arthur’s words did make sense. The thought that he would ever believe her complicit in such a crime was hard to hear but she could see that from his point of view she couldn’t be trusted. If she was going to convince him she would need to be completely honest about everything that had happened with Johnny and even then, there would be no guarantee he would accept it.

  ‘Well,’ she said, on another sigh, ‘trust me far enough to let me make you that coffee and then we can talk about Johnny and you can judge for yourself.’