The Doctor's Daughter (The Peg Bradbourne Mysteries Book One)

by Sally Quilford

  “Hello, Gerry.” She still could not get used to thinking of him as Harry Carter.

  He smirked. “Better call me Harry now.”

  Peg sat down. She should have hated him, but she could not bring herself to do so. “Just tell me why,” she said. “No. Start with how.”

  “We were travelling back from the front together, me and the real Gerry Sanderson. He told me all about Bedlington Hall, and all about his inheritance and the mother who would not claim it, but how he planned to as soon as the war was over. He had never been here, didn’t know anyone, but he wanted Bedlington Hall.”

  “Were you friends?”

  “Hardly. It’s like I said to you, war makes strange bedfellows. I was the camp thief. The one they relied on to beg, steal or borrow the things they lacked. But none of them would have invited me home to meet mother. I was useful to them when they needed it. No more, no less.”

  “Did you kill Gerry Sanderson?” Peg asked. “Did Veronica and Percy Fletcher find out about it? Is that why you killed them?”

  “I haven’t killed anyone, Peg, you have to believe that. The ambulance crashed on the way back, just as I said it did. The real Gerry Sanderson and the crew died. I was lying there for ages before anyone came along. It gave me time to think. Your cousin and I had both taken shrapnel in the leg, so all I had to do was swap his papers for mine. I was born in a bad part of London, but in my … career… I’ve pretended to be all types. The impoverished heir to a huge stately home was no real stretch. But I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “How did they find out the truth?”

  “They brought in someone from our regiment earlier today, and he knew straight away who I was. I could have killed him, but I didn’t. I always planned to tell the truth if it came out. I’d say I was shell-shocked or something and didn’t know who I was. But I suppose I became too comfortable, being with you. I started to really believe I could do this. My only regret would be leaving you behind when I emigrated. That was my plan, you see. Sell everything and then disappear to where nobody knew me. Would you have come with me? Even if I’d told you?”

  Peg’s heart said yes, but her conscience demanded otherwise. “No. Because you were so scathing the other day about people who inherited money, making out they were useless and hadn’t earned it. But you didn’t earn any of it either, Gerry … or Harry … or whatever your name is. You just thought you’d take it and I don’t believe for one minute that I entered the equation.” Peg stood up, with as much dignity as she could muster. “A man like you doesn’t go for a girl like me. You just played me along, as the doting cousin. That’s all.”

  “You’re the best thing about this place, Peg, and don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

  “Why should I believe you? You’re a liar and a thief.” The pain in his eyes when she spoke so harshly seemed real.

  “Yes, that’s what I am,” he said bitterly. “Harry, good for a bit of tobacco or some coffee, but not quite good enough for the great niece of a grand old lady.”

  A tear rolled down Peg’s check. “Oh, you bloody idiot,” she said, before she fled the room sobbing.

  She walked around Midchester until it was starting to get dark, struggling to get her emotions in check. She believed Gerry – Harry – when he said he had not killed anyone. He was an opportunist thief but not a killer. Or perhaps she was just deluding herself.

  Over and over again, she replayed his words in her head. Something he had said had resonated, but then she lost it. She walked up to the railway bridge that Percy Fletcher was said to have jumped off. There was a path leading down from it to another path straight into the station.

  Peg stared at that path for a long time before the truth hit her. When the train had pulled in, and people milled around it was hard to see who got on and who got off. Someone could have easily walked down to the stationary train and jumped into an empty carriage, lost in the confusion of the accident.

  She ran down to the train station along that same pathway and spoke to the porter. “Did Tom Yeardley catch a train back out of Midchester today?” she asked.

  “Yes, Miss Bradbourne. I’ve just told Constable Archer that.”

  “And Tom definitely got on the train?”

  “Oh yes, Miss. Definitely. His dad saw him off. Right upset young Tom were, but Mr Yeardley insisted.”

  “Frank wasn’t frightened because Tom is dangerous,” she muttered to herself. “He was frightened because he thinks Tom is in danger!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Before going to the old surgery, Peg called in on Miss Cartwright. The old lady rambled, but hidden amongst her gossip was the truth of the matter. Arthur Harrington had wooed her, thinking she had money, but dropped her as soon as he realised she was impoverished. He had then turned his attentions to the simple but sweet Penelope Hardwick. They had married and had a little girl called Cassie, but Harrington had been unable to contain his wandering eye. Vampish Tilly Blake, who had her own daughter, Helen, had been Harrington’s last known affair in Midchester before he and his wife moved away to ‘start again’.

  On her way to the old surgery, Peg called back at the police station and asked them to send Constable Archer along as soon as possible. “Tell him to bring a man and a shovel,” she said, satisfied that his disbelieving expression turned to one of shock. She asked if she could borrow a lantern and a shovel of her own and was given both.

  It was getting dark, but Peg would not be swayed in her purpose. She ignored the front door of the house, knowing that there was no way through there to where she wanted to be. Around the back, the window to the room that was used as the surgery was broken. She climbed in, ripping her slacks on a nail.

  She held the lantern aloft. As she had suspected, both doors had been nailed tightly shut. That had not stopped those who broke in through the window looking for any drugs that Doctor Harrington might have left. Whatever there might have been had gone. Only a few dirty bandages and other dressings lay strewn on the floor.

  Whereas the rest of the house had wooden flooring, the floor in that room was made up of stone slabs, because it had once been an old outhouse that had been extended to create the surgery. The stones shone under her lantern, like sacred tombs. Peg shivered. If she was right, that was what they were.

  She prized one stone up with the shovel, her work on Bedlington Farm giving her more strength than most young ladies. It took a bit more effort to move it aside, but she managed to do so. By the time she had moved three of the stones, there was a tap on the inner door. “Miss Bradbourne? Peg?”

  “Constable Archer! You’ll have to come around and through the window. The door is sealed.”

  A few minutes later, he joined her in the surgery room, accompanied by a young constable. “What is going on?” he asked.

  “Help me to dig and then I’ll tell you,” she said, her mouth set in a grim line.

  Archer was about to protest but seemed to think better of it. “Okay, Peg. I know you and I know you’re not given to idle fancies.”

  It was late in the night when they found what they were looking for. Two bodies; one adult and one child.

  “God bless them,” Peg said, falling to her knees.

  In the early hours, Peg let Archer and the young constable into her house. They had called for Doctor Pearson on the way and filled him in on what had happened.

  When Peg opened the front door, Sheila came to the top of the stairs. “Peg, darling, we were getting worried about you. Whatever has happened?”

  “Bring … Mrs Harrington … and her daughter down here, Sheila, please. But don’t wake Mary. I don’t want her to hear this.”

  Sheila did not need telling twice. She brought the two women to the drawing room, where Constable Archer looked out at the early morning light, and Pearson stood in front of the fireplace, trying to gain some warmth from the dying embers. The young constable had been told to wait outside the front door, whilst the back door had been locked securely. The key was in
Peg’s pocket.

  “What is going on?” asked Mrs Harrington. Cassie’s eyes were bigger than ever.

  “Peg?” said Constable Archer, without turning. “This is your show. Why don’t you tell your story?”

  “It seemed to me there have been too many sisters mentioned lately,” said Peg. “Pretty sisters and plain sisters. Gentle, loving sisters and bad-tempered sisters. Veronica and Penelope Hardwick and Milly and Tilly Blake; sisters with money; sisters without money; wives and mistresses. There have been too many suicides too. Oh the first one was definitely a suicide. Doctor Harrington did blow his own brains out, and in the room where his daughter spent most of her short life.”

  “I don’t follow you,” said Cassie.

  Peg noticed that Andrew’s eyes lit up. “Of course you don’t. I’ve said that all the way here,” he said to her. “How could you know?”

  “She didn’t,” said Peg. “But I think she does now. Don’t you, Cassie? You saw it as a way to earn your freedom from your mother.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” said Cassie, her eyes downcast.

  “It seems none of us do,” said Mrs Harrington. “Sheila, is your sister often given to flights of fancy?”

  “No, not at all,” said Sheila. “Peg is the straightest person I know.” She smiled at her sister. “But I wish you’d explain yourself dearest.”

  “Years ago, it was rumoured that the man I shall call ‘Uncle Hardwick’, favoured Penelope Hardwick, and left her an annuity. He left nothing to Veronica. She – Veronica – always wondered why and so did others. Was there some nefarious reason behind his taking care of Penelope but not her sister? Actually there wasn’t. That was just a vile rumour put around along with the equally vile rumour that Penelope Harrington was cruel to her daughter. She was not. She adored her daughter, happily charting the child’s growth on the nursery wall.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say it,” said Mrs Harrington, raising an eyebrow.

  Peg scoffed. “Penelope was a plain girl, whereas Veronica was beautiful. But Penelope also lacked something. She was not as bright intellectually as her beautiful sister. So I think, though I don’t know for sure, that Uncle Hardwick decided that Veronica would always be alright. She was beautiful enough to find a well to do husband. She almost married a young man called Ronald, whom she loved desperately. But I think he must have died in the Boer War. So she settled for father and security. And she was a good wife to him, even though I’ve denied it all these years. Penelope also married well. To a doctor. It must have surprised Uncle Hardwick, but he probably thought she was safe as long as no one else could gain from her annuity. Unfortunately she married a man with a wandering eye. Arthur Harrington had an affair with Tilly Blake; Frank Yeardley’s sister-in-law. They had a very public break up in the town square, but things weren’t really over, were they?” Peg stared hard at Mrs Harrington.

  “I forgave Arthur for that. Of course I did.”

  Ignoring her, Peg said, “The annuity Uncle Hardwick left to Penelope was only for her lifetime. But Doctor Harrington was tired of his wife and not doing so well as a doctor. Miss Cartwright told me that. People didn’t much like his bedside manner. Anyway, where was I? Yes, he broke off his affair with Tilly Blake, who wrote to her sister, Milly, from Southampton or Portsmouth or somewhere in that area, saying she had found work and was taking her daughter, Helen, with her.”

  “My friend,” Cassie said, gruffly.

  Peg looked at her sharply. “Then Doctor Harrington, with his wife and his young daughter emigrated to America, where they have lived for the past twenty-odd years. Tilly Blake seemed to disappear off the map completely. Tonight – last night – we went to the old surgery and dug for hours. Constable Archer, do you want to tell them what we found?”

  “We found two skeletons, an adult female and a child.”

  “No!” Sheila put her hands to her face. “How awful.”

  “We can’t say for certain, but they’ve probably been there about twenty years or more,” Archer explained.

  “So are you suggesting my husband killed Tilly Blake and her child?” asked Mrs Harrington.

  “No, that’s not what I’m suggesting at all,” said Peg. She turned to Cassie. “You know it isn’t. You remembered, didn’t you? When you saw the brooch?”

  “What brooch?” asked Mrs Harrington. Her hand flew instinctively to her chest. For the first time she looked worried.

  “The one you dropped at the hotel in Shrewsbury when you killed Veronica. But it’s not the exact same brooch as Veronica’s. Mary knew that too, which was why she was confused when she saw it. There were two brooches, one for each sister. At least that was the intention. That’s why Cassie dropped her tea cup. She knew it was one you wore constantly.”

  “You have no proof of that,” said Mrs Harrington.

  Peg would not be thwarted. “You met Veronica at the hotel, perhaps with some promise that you’d help her out of her current financial crisis, and then you killed her, because you thought she was the only person in Midchester who could definitely say that you were not her sister, Penelope.”

  “Ridiculous! Cassie tell her who I am.”

  “The reason Cassie has written to her and not you,” Peg continued, “is because she would know her sister’s writing. I’m sure the manager of the hotel will remember you too. Constable Archer, is he on his way?” Peg prayed that Archer would play along.

  “Oh yes, he should be able to identify the lady easily enough.”

  Mrs Harrington went to make a move toward the door, but Sheila blocked it. “Peg,” she said. “Sweetheart, I’m confused. If it’s not Tilly and Helen Blake up at the old surgery, who is it?”

  “The people we found buried were Penelope and Cassie Harrington. This woman is Tilly Blake, and the girl we know as Cassie is Helen Blake.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Preposterous!” Mrs Harrington turned fiery eyes at Peg. “You have no proof. As you point out, Veronica is dead.”

  “We will know when Frank Yeardley wakes up. And if that fails, there’s a photograph at the pub that proves it. You and Milly were more alike than Veronica and Penelope ever were. Others might have forgotten Penelope Harrington and how she looked, especially after a twenty year gap, but Frank had his wife’s face before him for a good fifteen years, even growing older, reminding him exactly how you looked.”

  “You’re mistaken,” Mrs Harrington protested. “Completely mistaken.”

  “Stop it,” said Cassie. “It’s over.”

  “You knew?” Andrew Pearson started. “You knew she had killed Veronica and tried to kill Frank.”

  “That’s not all,” said Cassie. “She killed the boy too. Percy Fletcher.”

  “Shut up!” Mrs Harrington went as if to hit, Cassie, but was stopped by Archer. Cassie continued. “He had Father’s suicide note that told everything as you’ve detailed it, Peg, and he was blackmailing mother with it. For years I thought Helen was another person, but when I went up the old house, I began to realise the truth. It was Penelope Harrington who was kind to me, when my own mother was not. I remember now how gentle she could be. She might have been slow, but her heart was that of an angel.”

  “Why didn’t you come forward when you found out?” asked Pearson.

  “I thought that I’d be free of her,” said Cassie. “If she knew that I knew, I could use it to escape her.”

  “You mean like Veronica escaped, and like Percy escaped,” said Peg.

  “I had to believe that if she did not kill me all those years ago, she would not kill me now. I had to believe that there was some tenderness in her for me.”

  Mrs Harrington – Tilly Blake – scoffed. “You stupid girl. We took you because you were the more pliable – the stupid one – There was no way the real Cassie would have accepted me as her mother, but you, you latched on to any man I brought home as your father.”

  Cassie fell to her knees, sobbing. “Do you see how it is?” she asked Andrew P
earson. “Do you see why I hid the truth?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Because of her young Mary upstairs is motherless and the Fletchers have lost two sons. If you’d told the truth, you’d be free, because she’ll be locked up. Don’t you see that?”

  “But, Andrew, the annuity would have stopped and I’d have had no money. I have no skills. I could not have survived.”

  “Peg manages it,” he said. Any other time, that would have thrilled Peg, but whereas Andrew was without sympathy for Cassie, she felt some. The girl had spent all her life being told she was useless. It was very hard to move on from that.

  “Are you going to tell them about Frank Yeardley?” her mother asked, a malicious smile playing on her lips.

  “You said it was all I had to do to be free!” Cassie cried.