‘But it is. You know it is. You can recognize truth when you hear it. Perhaps it explains all sorts of odd little mysteries you’ve puzzled over. From the day they told you your mother was dead. To the day you watched Vita blanch at the sight of a pair of concentric circles drawn on a sheet of paper.’
‘Aunty?’ said Diana numbly, staring past me. But Vita did not answer. Even her fund of denials was exhausted.
‘Now you know how they feel,’ I persisted. ‘The millions of widows and orphans your father made along with his millions of pounds. Now you have some inkling of the grief and destruction he happily sowed in order to reap … to reap the privileges you’ve enjoyed. Adequate compensation for a motherless adolescence, were they? I don’t suppose so. But maybe they helped your father persuade you to love him – and to come to his aid in his hour of need. What did he tell you? What lie did he invent to cover his tracks?’
‘I didn’t need to be persuaded to love my father,’ she retorted, her eyes blazing with sudden anger. ‘Or to help him when—’ And so we arrived, in the jagged hush of imminent admission, at the end of all pretences. She would not say it aloud. Not yet. But it had been acknowledged between us and could not be renounced. Charnwood’s guilt, reverberating in Vita’s silence. And Diana’s, echoing in the hollowness of the love he had nurtured in her – and of the life he had built for her.
‘Where is he, Diana? Tell me. For Max’s sake. And your mother’s. Tell me where he’s hiding. I have a right to know. And you have a duty to tell me.’
‘Duty?’
‘You can’t shelter him any longer. You can’t believe you should.’
‘Can’t I?’
‘No. Not now. You know too much. Give it up. Give him up.’
‘Diana, you shouldn’t—’ But a single glare ended Vita’s intervention. Diana turned slowly to look up at her mother’s portrait, then slowly back to confront her aunt.
‘Papa always confided in you,’ she said with surprising mildness. ‘Always you and never me.’
‘You were too young to—’
‘To understand?’
Vita closed the door and leant back against it, her knuckles white where they clasped the handle. ‘Surely, my dear, you see that … none of this should be discussed … with a third party present. It … It would be … unwise.’
Diana stared at Vita for several long cold seconds. Then she looked at me and said in a voice devoid of all emotion: ‘Please wait for me in the library, Guy. I want to speak to my aunt in private. I won’t keep you longer than necessary.’
‘I’m not leaving until I have what I came for.’
‘You’ve made your position quite clear. Now, please, leave us. I’m not going to run away. And you won’t have to come looking for me.’
‘Be sure I don’t.’
‘You won’t. Believe me.’ She glanced down as she added: ‘In this if in nothing else.’
* * *
And so, reluctantly but obediently, I went to the library and waited, as I had on the night of the murder. Then, I had waited to be questioned, puzzling over the preponderance of Great War literature on Charnwood’s shelves as I did so. Now, I was expecting answers. And his choice of books made horribly good sense. His preoccupation with the subject was that of a designer with his greatest project. Here, meticulously recorded, were the battles and campaigns he had secretly initiated, the toll of dead men and dismantled nations he had to his credit. The well-stocked library of a civilized man of letters or the bulging ossuary of a vicarious wager of war: they were, in Charnwood’s case, the same thing.
What Diana and Vita were saying to each other I could only imagine. Recriminations and reproaches might be flying thick and fast. Indeed, I hoped they were. They were likely to suit my purpose better than anything else. For, contrary to what I had told Vita, I was not at all confident of being able to prove the allegations I had made. The police might not listen to me. An exhumation, even if they agreed to one, might fail to yield conclusive results. But Diana’s horror at my revelations concerning the Concentric Alliance had strengthened my hand. It was just the tool I needed to prise her and Vita apart. And from their distrust might flow my victory. Divide et impera. It was a fitting strategy to use against Fabian Charnwood, the arch-divider. But would it be a successful one?
I had waited nearly an hour to find out when the door opened and Diana entered the room. She was grave and calm and pale as marble. And the topaz pendant no longer hung around her neck. But what its absence signified I could not judge.
She closed the door, took a few steps, then stopped and looked straight at me. In her eyes burned neither defiance nor guilt. It was as if she had resolved some struggle with her conscience to her complete satisfaction, rendering my accusations unimportant by comparison. It was as if the time for feminine pretences and subtle evasions was gone, enabling the real Diana Charnwood to show herself at last.
‘Well?’ I began. ‘Are you going to tell me where he is?’
‘The world believes my father to be buried in Dorking Cemetery. I don’t think you’ll find it easy to shake that belief.’
‘You leave me no choice, then.’
‘But to go to the police?’
‘Exactly.’
‘It would be a mistake, I assure you. They wouldn’t take your word against ours. The word of a known scoundrel against that of a respected man’s sister and daughter.’
‘My God, you have a—’
She held up a hand to silence me. ‘And, even if they did, even if they discovered what you claim they would discover, then it would end badly for you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I would say you were part of the plot. I would say you had helped us at every stage – until a lovers’ quarrel had made you turn against me. And that I think they would believe.’
She meant it. There was no doubt of her sincerity. And, in my own mind, little doubt either of Hornby’s eagerness to swallow such a story. It would, after all, make better sense of the circumstances of Max’s death than the only account I could give.
‘I didn’t murder Max, Guy. It truly was an accident. I had no idea he was even in Venice. What happened at the villa that afternoon was … from the heart. I don’t expect you to believe me. But understand this. If you turn what we did and what it led to into one kind of lie, I’ll turn it into another. And, since you seem to think I’m an accomplished liar, you should be in no doubt of how much more persuasive than you the police will find me.’
‘Persuasiveness won’t save you.’
‘No. But it might save my father. If I said you had murdered him and set out to saddle Max with the blame, then Lightfoot’s part in it might seem simply to be a device you had invented to incriminate me while exonerating yourself. Lightfoot may or may not be missing, but where is the proof he died in place of my father? The results of an exhumation are unpredictable. As you pointed out to Aunt Vita, there would be a great deal at stake.’
So there would. But I could hardly believe Diana was prepared to sacrifice herself to save Charnwood. Not after all I had told her. ‘Don’t the crimes he committed against humanity mean anything to you, Diana? Doesn’t your mother’s memory matter to you? Don’t you understand? He isn’t worth saving.’
‘Don’t you understand, Guy? I love my father. I trust—’ She broke off and glanced away. ‘I trusted him.’
‘But he didn’t trust you.’
‘So you say. And so Aunt Vita more or less admitted, when I forced her to.’ Her chin dropped, but my hopes soared. They were divided. ‘But I want to hear the truth from his own lips before … before I …’ She shook her head. ‘I won’t condemn him without a hearing. It’s as simple as that.’
‘For God’s sake!’
‘Besides, if everything you say is true, justice isn’t what would greet him on his emergence from hiding. The Concentric Alliance would pre-empt any police inquiry. They would find him – and impose their own punishment. I can’t let that happen.’
‘No. But that isn’t the point.’ She raised her head and stared at me. ‘If the Concentric Alliance was responsible for my mother’s death, then all its members should be made to answer for it, not just one of them.’
‘Of course. But we can’t—’
‘Yes we can. I’ve thought of a way, you see.’ Some of the calmness had left her now and been replaced by a strange and contagious excitement. ‘A way to bring them all down. Wouldn’t you like to do that, Guy?’
‘How?’
‘Papa kept some documents in a safe in his study. He took them with him when he left. I didn’t know what they were. But Aunt Vita knew. And she’s just told me in return for my promise to do everything I can to stop you going to the police. They’re the full records of the Concentric Alliance, past and present. Financial transactions. Letters to and from other members. Minutes of secret meetings at which their activities were discussed. Quarterly accounts showing who was paid how much and what for. The names of the guilty men, complete with the evidence against them. The truth, not just about the war, but about every single thing they’ve ever done.’
It shimmered before me in her description: as complete a victory as I could possibly imagine. Was this what she was offering? If so, how did she propose to save Charnwood from the wreck? What was her price? ‘Your father has all this with him?’
‘Of course. He’d never part with it.’
‘Then what—’
‘Unless he was forced to. I can lead you to him, Guy. And I can persuade him to hand the records over to you. You could give them to the press. You could even sell them to the press if you wanted to. I think they’d pay handsomely for such a sensational story, don’t you? It would be on every front page around the world. And the people my father made rich would be ruined overnight. Don’t you see? You can have your revenge – and your reward too, if you like.’ She paused momentarily. ‘On one condition.’
‘What condition?’
‘Allow Papa to remain in hiding. That’s the only way I can make him agree to surrender the records. You tell the press we found them among his papers. You let the world believe he really is dead.’
‘You want him to get away with it?’
‘He’s only one man, Guy.’
‘He’s also their leader. The worst of them by far.’
‘Their leader, yes. At least initially. In recent years, probably not. Otherwise, his financial problems would never have become so acute. As to his being the worst, well, if Faraday’s a fair sample, how can you be sure?’
‘Still a murderer many times over. And you want to spare him.’
She gazed at me in silence for a moment, then said: ‘It’s my price. And it’s non-negotiable. Take it or leave it.’
‘If I leave it?’
‘Then I’ve already spelt out the consequences.’
‘And what about Max? What about his reputation? His memory?’
‘After this comes out, nobody will believe he murdered my father. Faraday and the people hiding behind him will take the blame. As in a sense they should.’
‘But it’s not the truth, is it?’
‘It’s more of the truth than you’ll ever succeed in dragging into the open.’
Diana was right. I had set out to exploit her exclusion from the secret her father and aunt had shared and I had succeeded. But it was success at a price. Instead of capitulation, she had presented me with a choice. The Concentric Alliance or Fabian Charnwood. I could not have both. And, without her help, it was questionable if I could have either. ‘Where is he?’ I said levelly.
‘Do you accept my terms?’
‘Just tell me where he is.’
‘Not until we reach an agreement.’
‘Yes, then, damn it. I accept your terms. But does Vita?’
‘She accepts this is the only way to stop you going to the police.’
‘Good.’ I raised my eyebrows expectantly. ‘Well?’
‘He’s in Dublin.’
‘Dublin?’
‘Yes. Not Zürich or Trieste or anywhere else likely to have crossed his creditors’ minds. But somewhere sufficiently anti-British to ensure a degree of official obstructiveness if the Surrey Constabulary – or anyone else in this country – starts making enquiries.’
‘Where in Dublin?’
‘I don’t know. Neither does Aunt Vita. We have a post office box number we can write to in emergencies. He checks it daily. My proposal is this. You and I travel to Dublin. We deliver a letter asking him to meet me as a matter of extreme urgency. At that meeting, I tell him what you want, making it clear that, unless he cooperates, you’ll go to Faraday and set the forces of the Concentric Alliance on his trail. As I see it, they pose a far greater threat to him than the police. He’ll have to agree. He’ll have no alternative.’
Nor any alternative, I realized, but to tell his daughter the whole truth at last. She meant to demand a long overdue explanation of why her mother had died. And he would have to give her one. He would have to give both of us what we wanted.
‘Why are you hesitating, Guy? Isn’t this better than what you came here for?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘A chance to set history right. An opportunity just for once to make the guilty suffer more than the innocent. A way to make them pay.’
‘They’ll stop us if they can.’
‘They won’t have the chance. They won’t realize the threat we pose to them until it’s too late.’
And afterwards? I wanted to ask. Would there not come a time when we too were made to pay? I knew what she would say. I heard the answer in my own head, in one of the phrases she had used. Just for once. How alluring such a prospect was. To bring the roof down around their heads. To name the false captains and the fraudulent kings. To bring them all to book. Just for once, to rise above fear and frailty. Just for once, to act without counting the cost or reckoning the gain.
‘What do you say, Guy?’
‘I say: when do we leave?’
The ghost of a smile flickered at the edges of her lips. ‘As soon as possible. Here …’ She pulled a copy of Bradshaw from a nearby shelf, placed it on the table behind us, thumbed through the index, then turned up the appropriate page. ‘Let’s see. There’s a train from Euston to Holyhead at eight thirty in the morning, connecting with a ferry to Kingstown. We can be in Dublin by six o’clock. And we can have a letter in the post office, awaiting my father’s collection, first thing the following morning.’
‘Tomorrow, then?’
‘Yes. And I think we should leave this house immediately. I don’t want to be here when Quincy returns. Let Aunt Vita tell him we’ve gone to visit your family. Let her tell him whatever she likes. You can be sure it won’t be the truth.’
I was sure, given how fondly Quincy had spoken of his sister. But mention of his name reminded me that he was, even as we talked, negotiating with Gregory on Diana and Vita’s behalf. Should I alert him to what I meant to do? No. The fewer who knew the better. Besides, I would have what I wanted long before he parted with any money. And then he would not need to part with a single cent.
‘Very well,’ I said. ‘It’s agreed.’
‘Good.’ Diana moved towards the door. ‘In that case, I’ll go and—’
‘Before you do!’ I grasped her forearm and turned her slowly back to face me. ‘One thing, Diana. One point I want clearly understood. This is an alliance of necessity. And a temporary one at that. If you try to double-cross me, I will go to the police. The fact that we were once lovers won’t stop me.’
‘I never thought it would.’
‘And in case you were thinking of trying to—’ I stopped, regretting the gibe before I had even uttered it. She widened her eyes, daring me to continue. But she must have known I would not. Any claim to moral superiority on my part deserved to be scorned.
‘We don’t have to admire or respect each other to do
this, Guy,’ she said coolly. ‘We just have to observe a truce. Once it’s served its purpose …’
‘Yes?’ I wondered how far her foresight stretched. As far as the possibility that I might wait until the whole world knew about the Concentric Alliance – then reveal Charnwood’s hiding-place? Or further – into some fresh treachery of her own? ‘What happens then, Diana?’
But she did not answer. Slowly, she detached my hand from her arm and pushed back a strand of hair from her brow. ‘I must pack a bag,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘There’s no time to be lost.’
13
DIANA SAID NOTHING during the drive to London and I did not press her to. For the moment, it seemed, we had both said enough. In the darkness and the silence, Max rode with us like a tangible memory, my mind sowing his face among the reflections thrown back from the wind-screen and his words among the notes of the engine. ‘You reckoned I was mad to do it, Guy, didn’t you? And maybe I was. But no madder than you are to do this. Watch her, old man. Watch her like a hawk. She did for me with her smiles and her blushes and her soft words. Don’t let her do for you as well.’ I glanced round at her and pondered the warning. She was staring straight ahead, thinking perhaps of her mother as I thought of my friend. We had a truce. We had a shared purpose. There was nothing to worry about. And yet … ‘I thought the same, old man. Nothing to worry about. But there was, wasn’t there? There always is.’
We spent the night at the Euston Hotel, breakfasted early and left aboard the Irish Mail at half past eight. We were calmer now, less angry with ourselves and each other. A truce was after all a truce. While it lasted, I would have to trust her and she would have to trust me. But for that to be possible, she would first have to tell me the whole truth about the conspiracy her father had conceived – the conspiracy in which she and Vita had played their willing parts. As the train slid out of Euston station and it became apparent there would be nobody else in our compartment, I lowered the corridor blinds and sat down opposite her.
However drab the setting, however damning the evidence, however much I loathed her, Diana Charnwood was still the most beautiful woman I had ever known. The fur collar gathered at her throat made her look like some Russian princess. The cool directness of her gaze suggested she might, if she chose, explain everything – yet apologize for nothing. She should have begged for my forgiveness. But, if anything was certain, it was that she never would.
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