Death at Dawn

by Noreen Wainwright

  Then, something struck her. It was too far-fetched to even think about it, but it was an anomaly–it was one other connection between the Sheridan family and Ellbeck. She should have mentioned it to Henry before now, had intended to…but events had taken over.

  “I had a visit from young Cathy Braithwaite the other day.”

  Henry smiled. “She’s looking a lot better now, a lucky young woman.”

  “Yes, she is. But that isn’t what I want to say. She mentioned about her friend Elsie…I think their surname is Bishop…well, Elsie went into service with the Sheridans.”

  “What?” Henry’s surprise echoed what she’s felt herself when she’d found this out.”

  “I know. I got a shock too when I heard it then I told myself that stranger things happened. If it wasn’t that Daphne had turned up on Julia’s doorstep and the whole business with Giles I don’t think anyone would have thought twice as to why a young girl in service in Yorkshire shouldn’t have a hankering for the bright lights and get a new job in London. I’m sure it happens all the time.”

  Henry looked less sure.

  “I suppose it happens. The normal procedure, I’ve seen is that a girl goes to a local family–or fairly local. Then, she gets experience and if she wants a better position she applies or even joins one of those domestic agencies.”

  “Yes, Henry, you’re probably right but the world has changed you know–girls really don’t want domestic service any more, or at least a lot of them don’t. Anyway, that’s by the by. Elsie’s sister works in the Unicorn where Daphne was staying on one of her many trips up to Yorkshire. One thing led to another and the upshot was that Elsie went to work in London, I’m not sure in what capacity; lady’s maid? Something like that.”

  I know the family.” Edith gave Henry a sharp look. There was something in his voice.

  “They are good people; country people, brought up simply but all hard-working and skilled. But, the war took a terrible toll.”

  Edith’s heart felt suddenly heavy as she prepared to hear yet another sad story of lives pulled asunder.

  “Three of the boys went to France, all the right age, of course. One of the girls joined the land army and another went to work in a munitions factory, became a munitionette.

  Edith felt her heart grow heavier still.

  “The girl was killed in a horrific accident in the factory and Jimmy, the youngest and the liveliest of the lads was killed in the Somme.”

  Edith shook her head.

  “How awful,” she said.

  Edith looked at Henry and saw that he hadn’t finished speaking. He looked distressed, his face tight and his eyes half-closed, as though seeing the girl, seeing Jimmy.

  “That isn’t all. The other two lads came back–Stephen unscathed, as much as anyone could be, I suppose, but the other boy, man now, of course, Davey was damaged in a way that has become more and more apparent as the time went on.”

  Edith felt a darkness approach her and blinked hard, chiding herself. She guessed that Henry meant mental rather than physical damage, but just because of her own misfortunes she couldn’t go the rest of her life avoiding any mention of nerves or mental illness.

  “You mean his mind,” she said and the cold, dark feeling receded.

  “I suppose so,” Henry said.

  “I don’t think I’m breaking any confidences here, I’m not really his vicar and Archie isn’t his doctor. A village apart and all that…but, his nerves were badly damaged by the war. He wasn’t like the worst cases, the poor devils who shake and recoil from noise. To all intents and purposes he returned reasonably normal and for a lot of the time he manages to work with his father; a gamekeeper, must be coming up to retirement, now, the father. Davey helps him, raises pheasants, keeping the vermin down. He does a bit of casual farm work, as well.”

  Henry’s voice trailed off and Edith could tell that his mind was working as hers was.

  “It’s a long-shot, a very big jump between being injured or affected in the war, becoming mentally unstable…” She was thinking aloud.

  “But it’s too strange if there is no connection. Elsie going to work for Mrs. Sheridan…I wonder if we should mention this to the Inspector. I even wonder if we should call on the family.”

  “That’s a risky plan, Edith, but by telling Inspector Greene are we bringing the force of the law down on a family that have trouble enough on their doorstep?”

  He paused and Edith held her breath. She didn’t want to go straight to Inspector Green. As Henry said it was a tenuous link between the Bishop family and Giles; between Mrs. Sheridan and Elsie…”

  She came to a conclusion.

  “There’s something I could do; two things actually. I could talk to Julia, find out if there’s a link and I could talk again to Cathy. I wasn’t listening to her properly, if I’m honest. Then, she mentioned Elsie and it was quite a shock. I’m not sure how long she’s been in London or whether she comes back or even how much Elsie knows about the rest of the Bishop family. From the way she spoke, I thought that she and Elsie had been quite good friends so she may know the rest of the family.

  Chapter 31

  I could get used to this, Bill Brown thought as he sat in the train going down to London, once again.

  “Don’t be getting used to this,” his boss said, with that unnerving ability he had, to mind-read.

  “This is probably a wild goose chase; why the bloody man couldn’t have told us when we saw him last, I can’t understand. In fact, it’s downright unbelievable.

  Bill Brown didn’t think it was unbelievable really. When they’d spoken to Peter Taylor, the man had been shocked and Brown, thought, upset. His friend had been shot, deliberately shot, up in Yorkshire.

  Brown could see how it took time to register, how Peter Taylor had trawled through his memories afterwards and come upon the crucial one, the reason they were going back to London. But, Inspector Greene saw things completely different - black and white and had little time for what he dismissed as stupidity.

  Bill Brown didn’t have a word for how he’d describe this trait in his superior officer, but he knew instinctively that it was a flaw. The inspector couldn’t imagine anyone’s mind working differently from his own. He was an acute man, shrewd but somehow, as Brown saw it, this was a missing link in his character. Without being in any way, vain, Brown knew that he, himself, had it. He could imagine other people’s feelings and failings, all too easily.

  Once again, Peter Taylor was sitting in the padded maroon leather armchair and once again, Bill Brown felt cushioned from the outside world in this well-upholstered, discreetly opulent place. A club - what a strange idea. He wondered if any women’s clubs existed and remembered hearing about the Union Jack club in London, for former nurses. Julia Etherington had been a nurse in the Great War, and Miss Horton, too. He wasn’t exactly sure what sort of nurses. But, he could visualise Julia Etherington speaking softly to a wounded soldier, bringing a light into the room with her vivid colouring and that smile. Then, he remembered what he’d been told about the actual wounds and lung damage those lads had sustained and that jolted him out of his dream; that and Inspector Greene’s voice telling him he looked as if he was miles away.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t think of this before Mr. Taylor,” Inspector Green addressed the man who had gotten to his feet and pressed a buzzer, for coffee.

  “I’m sorry, Inspector. I was very shocked when I heard about Giles. This conversation I had with him, yes, it seemed odd at the time, damned odd, if you must know. But, then, Giles was behaving oddly in many ways. I was concerned about him; angry with him, too, if truth be told but principally concerned, I had a feeling he was heading for trouble, though in a million years I didn’t imagine what did actually happen.” He broke off, as if aware that he’d been talking too much. He was more talkative than he’d been at their last meeting. Brown got the strong impression of a man who needed to unburden himself.

  ‘But, Greene wanted them to
return to the point.

  “So, Giles Etherington was threatened.”

  At that moment, a butler or assistant of some kind brought a tray with a silver coffee pot and accoutrements and china cups that looked out of place here in this place full of men and their cigars and balloon-shaped brandy glasses and copies of the Times and Telegraph.

  He poured the coffee quickly and efficiently and left the room. Brown would have bet his week’s wages that the man knew there was private business afoot and that he should make himself scarce, quickly.

  “So, Mr. Taylor, what’s done is done and while it would have been better if you’d remembered this sooner, we need to hear it now; everything you can remember.”

  Brown was looking at Peter Taylor and saw a flash of irritation pass his face. He wasn’t surprised. Inspector Green was making heavy weather of the matter and in his own view, he should leave the digs now.

  “Yes, well, Inspector, I’m not sure how much of a big thing it was, even at the time. It was all part of a picture. Giles was behaving strangely…” He paused and Brown could almost see himself checking his thoughts and words. Brown had liked him the first time they’d met and now he could imagine the man’s clash of loyalty. Even though his friend was dead, he had been a real friend and it pained Peter Taylor to say anything critical of him.

  “Giles has been unsettled on and off, ever since the war. The affair with that woman was a symptom of that, if you ask my opinion. When I met her, I thought he’d taken leave of his senses.”

  Brown thought, and I agree with you there.

  “She was so completely wrong for him; a woman who created scenes and drama wherever she went…but, she was a distraction. Then, he couldn’t settle in the country. He played with the country estate management thing for a while. He became very bored of Yorkshire life.” He looked at the two men and shrugged. “Sorry and all that. Country life isn’t for everyone, is it?”

  Inspector Greene sighed and Brown fervently hoped he’d keep his impatience in check. The inspector was impatient, but Brown knew there was also an underlying excitement. He’d believed from the start that politics and London lay at the heart of Giles Etherington’s death–now it looked as though he just might be vindicated.

  Brown still didn’t think that was the case and the death of Daphne Sheridan had done nothing to change his view. The politics which he thought were a bit cranky–a rich man’s indulgence - were a diversion. Maybe the preoccupation with this side of life was Inspector Greene’s walk on the more dangerous side of life; spies and intrigue and involvement with the rulers of the land.

  “Giles had plenty of money which certainly wasn’t the case for all returning officers. No doubt you will have seen some of the protests in the 20s?”

  Again, Greene sighed and shifted in his seat and this time, his impatience must have been obvious to Peter Taylor.

  “I’m sorry, Inspector. Anyway, as I said the last time I spoke to you, Giles wanted to get into politics, represent your own neck of the woods. You would have expected him to stand as a Tory, but I think he hated them, most of all. To his eyes, they were lily-livered and were no match for what he saw as Bolsheviks, home-grown Bolsheviks I mean. I’ll be honest, I thought it all overblown nonsense, but like I said there are plenty of others who share his view. I tried to argue that the British people were too sensible to rise up and overthrow the government. But, I suppose that argument doesn’t hold water when you think of what has happened…a world war, terrible massacre, what’s happened to Russia. I couldn’t argue all that with Giles and I did understand his concern. I thought he was misguided, though.”

  He glanced at Inspector Greene, who was now beating a light tempo on the arm of his chair with a pen.

  “Inspector, I am getting on with my story, I’m just trying to paint a bit of a picture.”

  Greene must have taken hold of his impatience for he answered, “Of course, Mr. Taylor,” and Brown breathed a little more easily.

  “About six months ago, Giles told me he’d had a threatening letter, an unsigned letter. He laughed about it actually. But, I think he was more worried than he let on. He showed it to me. It was a handwritten note warning him off politics, except it referred to public life. I remember that phrase.

  “Can you remember anything else about it, any detail?”

  “Well, it had come through the post. It was brief and it referred to his officer career in the war.”

  He looked down at his cup. Brown saw him swallow.

  Green allowed a short pause and asked, his voice low.

  “What exactly did the note say about Giles Etherington’s war career?”

  “Very little. Look, Inspector it was a short note. It told Giles to stay away from public life and that what he did in France wouldn’t be forgotten and that was it.”

  Greene pushed his chair back and stood up, in a restless movement, uncharacteristic of him. Brown thought that he was desperate to get back to the case, that he felt they were at the point of making sense of both murders.

  “Giles was involved in a couple of court-martials in France. It was part of his job, Inspector. There were two cases of desertion. Mercy was shown in one case and the soldier was sentenced to several months internment; the other man was shot.”

  The words fell heavy into the rich air of the club room and Brown felt an awful urge to be sick. Sweat broke out on his top lip and he could feel it cold on his back between his shoulder blades. Of course, he’d heard about this sort of thing and he could even see why it happened but heard like this, spelt out like this, it was shattering and he cursed himself for a fool for every stupid thought he’s given to wishing he’d been old enough to fight in the war.

  Greene sounded cool, but Brown knew him well enough to know he was angry.

  “This is crucial information, Mr. Taylor and I can’t tell you how unfortunate it is that we didn’t have it sooner.

  Peter Taylor pressed his lips together and nodded, but Brown saw he wasn’t going down without a fight.

  “With hindsight I suppose it is important, but it was an incident that happened six months ago. Much about Giles’s life was erratic in the last couple of years and in some ways this was just another example of that.”

  Greene, once again let the short following silence do the talking for him.

  “What can you tell me about the court martial or both of them actually?”

  Peter Taylor shook his head and his face tightened.” Bill Brown saw a slight movement in the man’s jaw line and wondered if he was actually grinding his teeth.

  “It was a grim awful business and Giles and I never spoke of it after the war. I was and I am completely against it; rough justice or however you care to label it. Giles held a different view and while I can follow the logic of that view I could never agree with it.”

  He paused, “you know the view, sacrificing the few for the benefit of all. How, in battle anything that weakens the resolve or the spirit of the men has to be stamped out. Some would argue that it’s only a version of the thinking that allows men to fight in war at all. I see it differently; gross inhumanity that I think future generations will find appalling. In fact, there is a move already to grant posthumous pardons to some of the men who were shot. The establishment vigorously opposes any such move…but, Inspector, I don’t know. I think the day might come, maybe in not in our lifetimes but one day. Some of these court martials were held quickly, in the field and the punishments were carried out immediately.”

  Greene coughed.

  “The fact remains that this possibly gives someone a strong motive to get revenge on Giles Etherington.”

  What about Daphne Sheridan? Brown thought but he kept the thought to himself.

  Angry as the inspector was, Brown saw the gleam of triumph in his face and in the vigour of his stride as they set off to the war office.

  Chapter 32

  Edith heard Aunt Alicia’s voice when the operator put her through and winced. She had neglected her aunt since
Giles’ death.

  “I’m wondering if you could possibly call on me, my dear. I’ve had a call from a young woman in search of some housework, cleaning and so forth, not to live in, as far as I could make out. I asked her to call to see me this morning–well, lunch-time, really.”

  Edith’s mind worked overtime. The whole question of domestic help for Aunt Alicia had been exercising her and Archie; well, principally her, for a considerable time now. Since, the debacle with Esther Kirk no satisfactory solution had been found and they’d made do with a series of live in companion cum housekeepers from agencies, none of whom had been particularly satisfactory nor for that matter prepared to make the arrangement any more permanent.

  The question of her coming to live with them in Ellbeck had been raised and firmly refused by Aunt Alicia and they had agreed that this must be respected. She was getting older and rather frail but she still had her faculties and her zest for life, not to mention her independence.

  Now, Edith’s thoughts raced. She was going to speak to Julia; she’d promised Henry she would take him with her. But, it could wait, she supposed.

  “She’s has a sister, Elsie who was with the Arbuthnots. I know she left them and went to London but I can’t hold that against Vera, the girl who’s coming to see me. She’s older too and, it seems, wanting to come back to Ellbeck, permanently after being spending time, in London, herself, working in service.”

  Edith felt the breath catch in her throat and her hand gripped the receiver so tightly that her fingers hurt. This was the strangest thing.

  “Aunt Alicia,” she cut into her aunt’s voluble stream.

  “Yes, dear, I’m sorry I’m running on. Comes of spending too much time on my own, I expect.

  “What time is it she’s coming, Aunt Alicia?”

  Edith’s mind was doing some rapid rearranging of her day’s agenda. It didn’t happen very often in life but an opportunity to meet this Vera had been dropped into her lap in a completely unexpected manner. She was going to do her very best not to waste it. Apart from this, alarm bells were sounding, distantly but distinctly. There was no was no way that Aunt Alicia was going to be put anywhere in the path of danger even though it was impossible at the moment to see a connection with the Bishops and the murders. The fact that her aunt had once shared her home with the poor disturbed Esther Kirk was still enough to send a shiver through Edith.