by Linda Sole
‘Oh, Philip,’ she said as she moved her tray to a bedside chest and snuggled down into her bed. ‘Why did you have to do so many terrible things?’
‘What has happened?’ Lady Thornton asked as she swept into the breakfast room the next morning. ‘Is Julia ill again? Where is she? And what was so important that I must come before I’ve had my breakfast?’ Lady Thornton sat down and nodded to the maid. ‘I’ll have tea unless it is stewed. I suppose it is too much to expect a fresh pot?’
‘Please fetch my mother fresh tea, Tilda. I have some bad news, Mama. I fear it will distress you – but I cannot change what has happened.’
‘Is it Philip? Has he been gambling?’
‘Yes, Philip has got himself into trouble with his gambling, Mama – but I fear it is much worse. I am so sorry but I cannot make it easy for you . . . Philip is dead.’
‘Dead?’ The colour washed from Lady Thornton’s face. ‘My son is dead? What are you talking about, Roz? It simply cannot be . . .’
Lavender water wafted towards Roz as her mother dabbed at her eyes with a kerchief.
‘Forgive me, Mama. Julia and I found him last night at the old estate manager’s cottage. He had been beaten to death.’
A moan of grief issued from behind the lace and lavender water. ‘Who would kill my son? I cannot believe it – there must be a mistake.’
‘I wish it were a mistake, Mama. I’m afraid there is worse.’
‘How could anything be worse?’ Lady Thornton stared at her belligerently. ‘I know you did not care for Philip – but I loved him.’
‘Julia loves him, Mama. She is grieving terribly but she knows the truth. Philip was not alone. There was a woman with him in the cottage and she had been murdered.’
‘Was it that flighty piece who stayed at your house?’
‘No, Mama. It was Tom Blake’s wife. We think – it is not certain – but it looks as if Philip strangled Mrs Blake and was then beaten by a third person in revenge for what he did.’
Roz’s mother stood up. ‘How dare you say such a thing to me? I shall not listen to such foul slander. Whoever killed Philip killed that woman. My son is innocent.’
‘Mama, please do not hate me. I cannot change things. I know you loved him but he was not as honourable as you wish to believe.’
‘I shall go up and speak to Julia. I refuse to listen to another moment of this foul slander.’
The door closed behind her with a little bang. Lady Thornton would never admit that her son was a seducer and a murderer. She would not listen until it became common knowledge and she was forced to accept it.
The door opened and a maid entered bearing a tray of tea. Roz gave no indication of her feelings as she said, ‘Lady Thornton has gone up to have tea with Lady Julia – if you could please take the tray up to them?’
Roz had no appetite for food and pushed her plate away. At this moment all she wanted was to run away as far and as fast as she could. Sighing, she stood up. She had stayed for Julia’s sake. However, if her mama intended to move in and comfort her daughter-in-law, Roz would be forced to seek the sanctuary of her own house.
‘I wish you would stay until after the funeral,’ Julia said. ‘I don’t feel that I can manage alone.’
‘I am near enough to visit if you want me, Julia. It is so difficult here. Mama hardly speaks to me. I think she blames me for what happened to Philip.’
‘I’ve told her she must not blame you. Philip brought his fate on himself.’
‘Yes, that is true, but Mama refuses to believe it,’ Roz said. ‘I do not know what will happen if the worst happens and she is forced to leave the dower house.’
‘You must not worry too much. I have spent the past two days turning things over in my mind. Philip sold the house in Bath that was given to us as a wedding gift, otherwise we might have lived there. I think I shall write to my aunt and explain my circumstances. I believe she may offer me a home. She has several properties and I could become her tenant. I should ask Mama if she wishes to live with me.’
‘Could you bear that, Julia?’
‘Your mama has always been kind to me. I know she can be irritating but her bad temper is mostly directed at you, Roz. I’m quite fond of her, you know.’
‘Yes, I do know and I think she would be happier living with you. I have the house in London, which I could sell. If your aunt does not offer you a home I might buy two smaller houses in the country. Mama could spend some time with each of us.’
‘You have not yet been forced to leave Rushden Towers, Roz.’
‘I shall not until my baby is born, but I am thinking of what might be necessary in the future.’
‘Well, I hope you may continue to live in your home in comfort. We shall visit whenever we can, of course, but it will not be quite the same.’
‘No, it cannot be,’ Roz agreed. ‘You have not heard from Sir George yet, I suppose?’
‘He wrote a short note telling me that he had the business in hand and would let me know his findings when he was certain of his facts. I believe they will allow us to bury Philip in a few days.’
‘It is all so very horrid for you, dearest. I wish I could make it all go away for you.’
‘We are both suffering. I do not forget that you have lost Harry,’ Julia said. ‘Do you suppose that the same person . . .’
‘I do not know; it is impossible to guess,’ Roz prevaricated. ‘Perhaps when Sir George has finished his investigation we may know more.’
‘It is frightening.’ Julia shuddered. ‘Three murders, Roz; four if you count Carrie Blake. No one has ever been certain how she died. You don’t suppose they could all be tied together, do you?’
‘No, I’m sure they cannot.’ In her own mind Roz was convinced of Philip’s guilt but she would continue to hide the truth from Julia if she could. ‘We must just wait and see what the magistrate makes of it all.’
Roz glanced at her mother as they took their places in the front pew of the church. Lady Thornton was very pale. She had been avoiding her daughter’s eyes ever since Julia showed her the letter from Sir George Ickleton setting out his theory. He believed that Philip had strangled Mary Jane Blake and then been beaten to death by person or persons unknown.
It was common knowledge that Jack Dawson had disappeared and people were whispering that it was he who had killed Philip in revenge. An inquest had been arranged for the following month and in the meantime Julia had been given permission to bury her husband.
Roz let her gaze travel round the church. There was no sign of Tom Blake but she had not expected him to attend. Why would he come to the funeral of the man who had killed his wife?
People were talking about Tom Blake too. Rogers had told her that Mary Jane’s mother had been heard to accuse Tom of having killed her daughter, but her husband had slapped her and told her to be quiet. John Forrest had made it known that he did not suspect or blame his daughter’s husband, but Mrs Forrest’s outburst would be enough to set some tongues wagging.
Roz could feel the eyes boring into her back and knew that her husband’s murder was also under discussion. So far no one seemed to have put the deaths together, but they had not been privy to her last conversation with Harry. He had intended to search for Philip and she was certain he’d found him; her brother had said as much that night, though it might never be proven, because she had no intention of adding it to her brother’s crimes. Julia had enough to bear without making things worse.
She felt like a hypocrite as the vicar asked them to pray. How could she pray for Philip’s soul when she knew what he’d done?
Surely this was all a bad dream? She would wake up in her own bed and hear her father’s voice calling to the dogs as he set out for his morning ride. If only it were all a nightmare and she could wake up.
Julia reached for her hand and held it. How much longer must she endure this torture? She couldn’t sing a word of the hymns and the prayers fell on deaf ears. She just wanted it to be over so that she
could escape – and yet she knew that there was no escape for any of them.
Roz could hear her mother weeping. Julia was crying silently. Both women had hardly stopped for the past ten days. Gazing through a black veil that obscured her vision, Roz hid the fact that she had shed not one tear for her brother.
‘You’re not worth it,’ the words were in her head but not on her lips. ‘You’re not worth one of Julia’s tears.’
‘If she was carrying on with Jack Dawson she isn’t worth mourning,’ Ellen said. ‘It’s time you pulled yourself together, Tom. I can’t do your work for you and you know it.’
‘Have I asked you to? The men are coping with the work. I’ve talked to Joe Fitch and he says his elder daughter will come in to help with the baby and the chores.’
‘Susie’s a good girl, I like her,’ Ellen said. ‘But she won’t help with your pa. Mary Jane was good with him. I think he liked her.’
‘Next time he shouts just leave him, Ma.’
‘He’ll lie there and wet the bed if I leave him. I swear he enjoys making more work for me.’
‘Well, I’ll go up to him before I leave and make sure he’s comfortable.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ve things to do.’
‘You said the men were coping.’
‘Does everything in this life have to be about work?’
‘I hope you’re not going to see that woman. I won’t have her here, Tom. The day you bring her into this house is the day I’ll walk out.’
‘You’ll please yourself,’ Tom said. ‘I might be the one to do the walking, Ma.’
He walked from the room, leaving her to stare after him in frustration. He was just upset, Ellen thought. He wouldn’t really walk out and leave her with his pa and Carrie’s baby to care for alone – or would he?
Tom was brooding on something and Ellen wasn’t sure what it might be. If he’d seemed guilty she’d have suspected him of having hurt Mary Jane and killing the squire but he wasn’t frightened or worried, just deeply unhappy.
He was hankering over the Thornton girl, just as he had all along. Didn’t he know that too much had happened? All the scandal and the murders had made it impossible for there to be anything between the pair of them.
Tom stood in the lane that separated his land from that of Squire Thornton and watched the carriages approaching. He wasn’t sure why he’d come here, except that he’d known Roz would pass this way as she returned to the house. She was staying with her sister-in-law for the moment, though rumour had it that the estate would be sold in the next few months. Philip Thornton had gambled everything away, including his wife’s money.
Tom moved back to the grass verge as the first carriage passed, catching sight of Roz’s pale face at the window as she was driven by. She looked in such torment that his heart went out to her. He’d been angry when he’d found her at the cottage but it was for Mary Jane’s sake. She hadn’t deserved to die like that whatever she’d done – and his anger was with Philip not Roz.
How must she be feeling? Her husband hardly cold in his grave and now her brother murdered too. Tom wondered if the murders were connected but couldn’t see why or how that should be.
He wasn’t sorry Philip Thornton had got his comeuppance. Tom was certain Thornton had killed Carrie. He was pretty sure that he’d also strangled Mary Jane. There was no veil over his eyes as far as his wife was concerned. Mary Jane was a schemer and if she knew something about Thornton she wouldn’t scruple to use it to gain a profit for herself.
Tom had wondered if the child she’d lost had been his. At the time he’d believed her when she declared that she was having his baby, because he had taken her down on the night of the church hall dance. Yet if she’d been seeing Jack Dawson before he started taking her out . . .
He would never know the truth and it hardly mattered. Tom had been fond of her in his way, though he’d never loved her as she wanted him to love her. If rumour had it right, Dawson had killed Thornton for what he’d done to her. That meant he must have been in on the blackmail. He must surely have known what a violent brute Thornton could be? If he cared for her he ought to have protected her. Dawson had lashed out in revenge afterwards but it was too late.
Tom felt the anger and frustration build inside him. If Dawson were here now he would thrash him the way he had Thornton.
If Mary Jane had simply run off with her lover there might have been a chance for Tom with Roz. She must hate what had happened – her brother branded a murderer. She probably thought Mary Jane had been having an affair with her brother – the way Carrie had.
It might be that simple, but he was pretty certain Mary Jane had been after money. She must have pushed too hard and something snapped in Thornton’s head. Everyone said he was ruined and a man could only take so much.
A feeling of hopelessness settled over him as he walked towards the bottom meadow. Once he’d been filled with ambition, eager to make something of himself – but that seemed an empty prospect now. In time people would stop pointing the finger and the gossips would turn elsewhere for their amusement, but he was sick of it all. For two pins he’d go off and make a new life somewhere else.
Roz went through the motions, thanking people for their kindness in coming but wishing they would all depart. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take because everyone was being so polite when all the time she could see their true thoughts in their eyes. What hypocrites they were.
Roz needed to be alone. She’d seen Tom watching from the grass verge as the carriage passed through the lane separating his land from her brother’s, and the look on his face made her heart ache. Everything was so awful, so impossible. Not her brother’s land for much longer. The lawyer’s letter informing Julia that she had one month to leave the house had arrived that morning before they left for the church.
‘You know you can come to me,’ Roz had told her. ‘You have a home for as long as I do.’
‘My aunt hasn’t replied to my letter as yet,’ Julia replied. ‘We may have to come to you for a while, Roz. Apparently I can only keep my personal items. All the furniture belongs to the estate.’
‘Yes, I imagine it does. I’m so angry with Philip. You gave him a chance, Julia, and he threw it away.’
‘I don’t care about the money or the estate,’ Julia said. ‘He thought it was the reason I wed him, but it wasn’t.’
‘I know you loved him.’
‘I still do; whatever he was, whatever he did I can’t stop loving him.’
‘Mrs Rushden, I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to learn of your misfortunes. Your husband – and your brother.’
Roz turned as the man’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘Mr Harcourt. It was so kind of you to come. I did not expect it.’
‘Your brother was a friend. I am aware of the scandal, but I do not forget friendship that easily.’
‘I think you are one of the few.’
‘You bear no shame, Mrs Rushden.’
‘You are very kind, sir.’
‘I understand Lady Thornton is in some financial trouble. If I can be of assistance . . .’
‘I thank you, but Julia has a home with me for the moment. I dare say she will decide to live with her aunt in time.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ His dark eyes were thoughtful. ‘If I can be of service to you . . . You must know that I always had a high regard for you, Roz.’
‘You are very kind, sir.’
‘Not kind. I thought it would be inappropriate of me to reveal my feelings at your brother’s wedding, but I took too long to speak last time and I lost you. I wanted to make you aware of my regard. It may be too soon but in the near future I should like to call on you. It is my intention to make you an offer.’
Roz sought for words to answer but was rescued by the arrival of Julia and merely inclined her head, feeling stunned.
‘Mama needs you upstairs,’ Julia said. ‘Her head is very bad and she wishes to speak to you, Roz.’
Aware that his eyes were following her, she left the room. Roz could not mistake his meaning. Mr Harcourt had it in mind to make her an offer of some kind, though whether it was to be his wife or his mistress she could not tell.
Eighteen
Roz was in her favourite parlour working on her embroidery a few days later when the housekeeper announced a visitor. She rose to her feet as Julia entered, greeting her with a kiss.
‘Julia, how are you, dearest? I was thinking that I might drive over this afternoon if the rain cleared.’
‘It is a little wet but I had to come. I wanted to tell you my news at once.’
‘Has something happened?’
‘I have sad news and also news that will make you pleased for me.’
‘You intrigue me. Sit down next to me on the sofa and explain.’
Julia settled herself next to Roz. ‘My Aunt Mary died suddenly a few days ago, which is why she did not answer my letter. Apparently she appeared to be in good health and passed away peacefully in her sleep.’
‘I am so very sorry. She was a generous lady and I think you were fond of her?’
‘Yes, I was. I can only be happy that she did not suffer a long and debilitating illness. If one must die to go in one’s sleep is surely the happiest outcome for all concerned.’ She hesitated, then: ‘Apart from a small bequest to my brother and some servants, Aunt Mary left everything to me. I shall have a substantial income and three houses to choose from, Roz.’
‘That is welcome news for you, dearest. I know you must be grieving but at least your financial worries are at an end. Does Mama know?’
‘I came immediately to you, Roz, because I knew you were concerned and this will set your mind at rest.’
