‘Then you should be ashamed of yourself, Lottie,’ reprimanded the other, turning on her. ‘You should never listen to what’s being said in private conversations.’
‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.’
‘It’s one of the reasons that Ginny Hepworth had to leave. I caught her with her ear to the door of the drawing room and it wasn’t the first time she’d eavesdropped. I asked the colonel to dismiss her.’
‘Ginny told me it was because you didn’t like her.’
‘My personal feelings never came into it,’ said Mrs Withers. ‘The girl was hopelessly slack in her duties. She had to go.’
‘Am I any better?’
‘You’re improving, Lottie, that’s all I’ll say.’
Bolstered by a rare word of praise, the girl finished her sewing and put the needle and cotton away in the basket. She stood up and let the dress fall down to her ankle. The repair was invisible and even won a glance of approval from the housekeeper.
‘Is it true?’ asked Lottie.
‘Is what true?’
‘What I shouldn’t have overheard about the funeral.’
‘There is a problem,’ confessed Mrs Withers.
‘No wonder Mrs Doel is so upset. I think it would be a terrible thing if the colonel is not there alongside his wife. How could he get to heaven if he’s not buried proper in a churchyard?’
‘Be quiet, girl. You know nothing about these things.’
‘I know the Reverend Skelton likes to make up his own mind. He’s told us so in the pulpit. Mother used to make me go every Sunday but I never really liked it because he frightened me.’
‘Who did?’
‘The rector – he makes me shiver.’
‘How can you say that about a man of God?’
‘I’m scared of him, Mrs Withers.’
‘That means you must have a guilty conscience,’ said the older woman. ‘Is there anything else you’ve done wrong, Lottie? Is there anything else I should know?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Come on, girl. You should have no secrets from me. I still haven’t heard why it took you so long to fetch those eggs from Rock Farm yesterday.’
‘I told you – I was chased by this horrible man.’
‘That was just a story you made up.’
‘It wasn’t,’ cried Lottie, hurt by the accusation. ‘He was a pedlar and I met him near the stream. He asked me for a kiss and, when I turned away, he jumped off his cart and chased me. I wouldn’t make something like that up, Mrs Withers, honest.’
The housekeeper studied her shrewdly. ‘Very well,’ she said after a lengthy pause. ‘I believe you. But that still doesn’t explain why you were held up. If someone chased you, you’d have got here faster.’
‘Those eggs were broken. I had to clean up the mess in the basket because I knew you’d shout at me if I didn’t.’
‘Go on.’
‘That’s all there is to say.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ decided Mrs Withers, taking her by the shoulders and staring into her eyes. ‘You haven’t lied to me but you haven’t told me the full truth either. There’s more, isn’t there? Out with it, Lottie,’ she urged. ‘Holding something back is the same as telling a lie.’
The girl was in a dilemma. If she mentioned that she’d seen Adam Tarleton, she ran the risk of a stern reproach. When she’d confided to the housekeeper that Tarleton had been looking at her in a way that unsettled her, Lottie had been roundly chastised and told to curb her imagination. She did not want to repeat the experience. If, on the other hand, she maintained that there was nothing left to tell, she’d be branded as a liar. Either way, there was a penalty to pay.
Mrs Withers shook her. ‘I’m waiting, Lottie.’
‘There was something,’ conceded the girl.
‘I knew it.’
‘But I didn’t do it on purpose – as God’s my witness. I just happened to be there when they rode up.’
‘Who are you talking about?’
‘I saw Mr Tarleton and his friend. I was behind some trees when I heard the sound of horses. They stopped quite close to me.’
‘Didn’t you make them aware of your presence?’
‘I was afraid to do that, Mrs Withers,’ said Lottie. ‘It was the way they laughed. I could tell they’d been drinking.’
‘That much is true,’ said the housekeeper, grudgingly. ‘I could smell it on his breath when he got back here. What happened then?’
‘They talked for a bit but I couldn’t hear a word they said. Then Mr Tarleton gave something to his friend and rode off.’
‘And that’s all?’
‘I swear it.’
‘Who was the other man?’
‘I’ve no idea, Mrs Withers. I’ve never seen him before.’
‘Can you describe him?’
‘Well,’ said Lottie, wishing that she wasn’t being held so tightly, ‘he was about the same age as Mr Tarleton, only thinner and with a pale face. He was tall, well dressed and he wore a hat with a feather in it. That’s all I can tell you except that…’
‘Go on, Lottie – spit it out.’
‘If you want the truth, I thought he was very handsome.’
Mrs Withers let go of her and turned away to reflect on what she’d just heard. Lottie was dismayed, fearing another reproof for eavesdropping. She retreated to a corner of the kitchen for safety. But there was no danger. When the housekeeper turned back to her, she was calm and pensive.
‘Yes,’ she confirmed. ‘He is handsome. I noticed that.’
Having toiled over his sermon for a couple of hours, Frederick Skelton was ready to practise it in front of his wife. She was an experienced and attentive listener, having heard hundreds of his speeches and homilies over the years. It was always a pleasure to listen to his well-honed rhetoric even if, as on this occasion, it was liberally spiced with denunciation. Dorcas was enthralled. Her husband had struck the perfect balance between praise and condemnation, hailing the virtues of a wife while criticising the actions of her husband. The sermon was long without being tedious, bold without being insensitive and shot through with a confidence that never lapsed into rodomontade. Had she not been in church, Dorcas would have clapped her hands.
It was not simply the words that Skelton liked to rehearse. The correct gestures were just as important to master. When the sermon was over, he went back to a certain passage and experimented with a different wave of his arm and a novel arrangement of his fingers. Satisfied that all was now perfect, he descended from the pulpit to receive a smile of congratulation from his wife. They returned arm in arm to the rectory, surprised to learn that Robert Colbeck was waiting for them in the drawing room.
‘I didn’t realise that you were here, Inspector,’ said Skelton. ‘My wife and I were in church.’
‘So I understand,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I didn’t think that the conversation we’re about to have would be altogether fitting for a church.’
‘May I offer you refreshment?’ asked Dorcas with practised sweetness.
‘No, thank you.’
She moved to the door. ‘In that case, I’ll leave you alone.’
‘I think you should stay, Mrs Skelton. What I have to say concerns both of you.’
‘Well, at least sit down while you’re saying it,’ said Skelton.
While Colbeck and Dorcas chose the sofa, the rector made sure that he occupied a high-backed wooden chair with elaborately carved arms. From this eminence, he looked down on the others. His air of complacency showed that he had no idea what was coming.
‘If you’ve come on behalf of the family,’ he warned, ‘then let me tell you I’m resolved on the course of action dictated to me by God. I will not have a man who committed suicide buried in my churchyard.’
‘That’s academic, sir,’ said Colbeck.
‘My husband’s word is final,’ insisted Dorcas.
‘Leave this to me, my dear,’ said Skelton before flicking his eyes back to Colbeck. ‘I’m not pr
epared to debate the matter, Inspector. Appeal to the archbishop, if you wish, but he knows that my ministry has been unimpeachable and will surely condone the stand that I’ve taken.’
‘I respect your right to hold that opinion,’ said Colbeck.
‘Is that all you have to say on the subject?’
‘Yes, it is – for the moment.’
Skelton rose up. ‘Then we must speed you on your way.’
‘Not so fast, sir – I’ve not finished yet. I suggest that you sit down again because this may take a little time.’ The rector lowered himself down again. ‘Regarding the cause of the suicide,’ Colbeck resumed, ‘are you aware that the colonel received several letters full of abuse and wicked accusation?’
Skelton frowned. ‘I was indeed aware of it, Inspector, and I railed against the authors of such missives from the pulpit.’
‘Will you accept that such poison-pen letters would have been extremely hurtful and put the colonel under intolerable pressure?’
‘I’ll gladly accept that, Inspector.’
‘Then the people against whom you railed should surely deserve some punishment. In my view, those who skulk behind anonymity are always despicable.’
‘I heartily agree with you.’
‘What punishment would you advise, sir?’
‘That’s for the law to decide.’
‘Did you issue no warnings from the pulpit?’
‘I said that they should be exposed and imprisoned for their crime,’ recalled Skelton. ‘I’d show them no mercy.’
‘Then we find ourselves in an awkward situation,’ said Colbeck, taking out the letter from his pocket. ‘This was the last message of hatred sent to the colonel. He died without opening it.’ He proffered the envelope. ‘Do you wish to read it, sir?’
‘Of course I don’t.’
‘Is that because you know its contents?’
Skelton frothed with outrage. ‘I find that remark both ill-mannered and insulting.’
‘What about you, Mrs Skelton?’ asked Colbeck, offering it to her. ‘Would you care to read it?’
‘No, Inspector,’ she replied, firmly, ‘I would not.’
‘You seem to be playing a silly game with us, Inspector,’ said Skelton, ‘and I must ask you to stop.’
‘Oh, it’s not a game,’ said Colbeck, pulling the card from his pocket. ‘This was sent to Agnes Reader in acknowledgement of some flowers she kindly bought for the church. I was struck by the curious similarity between the writing on the card and the letter.’
‘It’s pure coincidence.’
‘But you haven’t seen them side to side.’
‘I don’t need to, Inspector.’
‘I’m sure that Mrs Skelton will know why they are similar,’ said Colbeck, noting the guilty blush in her cheeks. ‘If I brought paper and pen, I daresay she could produce something that’s also eerily similar.’
‘I’m sorry,’ asserted Skelton, getting to his feet, ‘but I must ask you to leave. I’ll not have you hurling these vile accusations at my wife. Your behaviour has been unpardonable. Dorcas would never dream of composing the kind of letter to which you refer.’
‘I accept that, sir. But because Mrs Skelton wouldn’t dream of putting such filthy innuendoes on a sheet of stationery, it must have been dictated to her – by you.’
‘How dare you!’ howled Skelton.
‘He knows, Frederick,’ said his wife, quivering.
‘Be quiet!’
‘There’s no need to berate your wife,’ said Colbeck. ‘After all, she was only obeying her husband when she wrote these words. You couldn’t possibly do it yourself, of course, because you’ve often had correspondence with the colonel and he would have identified your hand at once.’ He looked at Dorcas. ‘How many did you send?’
‘Five,’ she replied.
‘I told you to be quiet!’ snarled the rector.
She was appalled. ‘You’ve never spoken to me like that before.’
‘Just do as I say.’
‘I always do, Frederick.’
‘We seem to have reached an interesting point,’ said Colbeck, savouring the flash of marital dissension. ‘One of you is ready to admit culpability and the other one denies it.’
‘My wife admits nothing,’ said Skelton. ‘I speak for her.’
‘Are you telling me that she wrote neither of these messages?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m telling you.’
Colbeck got up. ‘Then it will be instructive to see if you maintain the pose of innocence when you’re asked the same question under oath in a court of law.’
Skelton attempted to brazen it out, meeting his visitor’s gaze with silent defiance. When he glanced at his wife, however, he saw that she was in great distress, exuding a guilt and remorse she was unable to hide. Questioned by a lone detective, she’d blurted out a confession. Under cross-examination in court, she’d be hopelessly unable to tell a succession of lies. Skelton’s nerve began to fail him. One of his eyelids began to flicker and he shifted his stance. When his wife began to sob, he knew that he was lost. Putting an arm around her, he looked at Colbeck with a loathing that was edged with respect.
In a short space of time, Skelton’s life had been transformed. Fifteen minutes earlier, he’d stood in his pulpit like a minor prophet dispensing wisdom to lesser mortals. He’d taken up arms in what he believed was a moral crusade and was ready to smite all who opposed him. At a stroke, he’d been deprived of his weapons and forced into ignominious surrender. Further humiliation would follow.
‘What do I have to do?’ he asked, dully.
‘The first thing you have to do is to instruct your curate to take the service tomorrow,’ said Colbeck.
‘But it’s my church with my congregation.’
‘That makes no difference, sir.’
‘I’ve already written my sermon. My wife listened to it.’
‘I did,’ she said through her tears. ‘It was inspiring.’
‘What you both did to the colonel was less than inspiring,’ said Colbeck with quiet intensity. ‘If your congregation knew the depths to which you were prepared to sink, they’d be sickened.’
‘I felt impelled to do it,’ bleated Skelton, grasping wildly for extenuation. ‘The colonel was a man of many faults, as Miriam found out to her cost. She was blessed in her first husband and cursed in her second. He killed her, Inspector,’ he said. ‘As sure as I’m standing here, the colonel murdered his wife and it was my bounden duty to arraign him for the crime.’
‘But that’s not what you did, sir, was it? Not having the courage to write and sign your own letter, you passed the burden to Mrs Skelton. That’s shameful,’ said Colbeck with scorn. ‘What sort of a husband hides behind his wife like that? What sort of a man makes a woman write foul words and coarse phrases that must never have entered her head before?’
‘It’s true,’ said Dorcas. ‘I hated writing those letters.’
‘They were necessary, my dear,’ argued Skelton.
‘They were necessary for you, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘because you had so much bile to unload. When the killer is caught – and he soon will be – you’ll realise that you denounced an innocent man then tried to forbid him access to your churchyard.’
‘He mustn’t be buried here. It would be a sin.’
‘As I said at the start, that’s academic. The decision is no longer in your hands. It will be taken by someone with more compassion and with more knowledge of the law of the land.’
Skelton sagged. ‘Will you ruin me, Inspector?’
‘You brought ruin upon yourself,’ Colbeck pointed out, ‘and the tragedy is that you tainted your own wife in the process.’
The rector looked down at Dorcas with a mixture of apology and despair. Years of exerting unquestioned authority over her had come to an end. The woman who’d loved, honoured and obeyed him in every particular had been dragged down to a level that degraded her. He realised how it must look to a dispassionate obse
rver. A hint of shame at last crept into his eyes.
‘What will happen to us?’ he asked.
‘That’s a matter for the archbishop,’ said Colbeck.
Skelton shuddered. ‘You’ll tell him about this, Inspector?’
‘That’s your prerogative, sir. When you compose your letter of resignation, you must explain it how you will. I can’t find the words for you,’ said Colbeck with studied coldness, ‘and, on this occasion, Mrs Skelton will not be able to write on your behalf.’
Caleb Andrews could not believe his ears. Though he came home to receive a welcoming kiss and knew that a tasty supper awaited him, he was stopped in his tracks by the news that his daughter had spent part of the day travelling on the Great Northern Railway.
‘Inspector Colbeck had no right take you,’ he protested.
‘I only went as far as Peterborough and back,’ she said.
‘Going to King’s Cross was far enough, Maddy.’
‘It was such a lovely surprise.’
‘Well, it’s come as a nasty shock for me. I don’t like the idea of you charging off to a different part of the country without a moment’s notice. Inspector Colbeck should’ve given you more warning. For a start,’ he said, ‘I should have been told.’
‘Robert was only in London for an hour or so,’ she explained. ‘Inviting me to join him was something he did on the spur of the moment. I could hardly refuse.’
‘Well, no,’ he muttered, ‘I suppose not.’
‘It was an adventure.’
‘Tell him to ask my permission next time.’
‘No,’ she said, grinning, ‘you tell him yourself.’
He washed his hands in the kitchen then ate his supper with her. It was all part of a comfortable routine that they’d settled into over the years. Andrews had accepted that it was destined to end.
‘What will I do for supper when you go, Maddy?’
‘Make it yourself.’
‘I can’t even boil an egg.’
‘Then you must get your new wife to do it for you,’ she said.
‘What new wife?’
‘The one you keep hinting you’ll move in here as soon as I leave.’
‘I haven’t met her yet,’ he said.
‘I thought you had a whole flock of ladies interested in you.’
Railway to the Grave Page 20
