A Bitter Truth

by Charles Todd

  Daisy hastily improvised. “I think she’s sleeping. She’s asked for a tray later.”

  “Well, then,” Gran said, “there’s no reason to let our own dinner spoil.”

  She led the way into the dining room, and as we were taking our places, I saw Roger Ellis watching me with wary eyes.

  We didn’t linger over dinner. And when everyone went to the hall to have our tea, Roger Ellis caught my arm and held me back.

  We stood there in the dining room, the remains of dinner on the table behind us, and waited until the others were out of earshot.

  “What took you to Dover?” he asked in a low voice. “It wasn’t duty. They wouldn’t summon a nursing sister from Sussex to deal with a patient in Kent.”

  “I actually did meet a former patient and got him transferred back to the Base Hospital in Rouen.” I pulled my arm from his grasp.

  “Rouen? What was he doing in Dover?”

  “He’d been badly burned in a fire, and was out of his head. They put him on the ship by mistake.”

  “The devil they did! Why did you go to Dover?”

  I took a deep breath. He would learn about Sophie soon enough.

  “It’s true. As far as it goes. But the fire was in Rouen, a street of houses burning. In one of them lived a handful of dispossessed nuns caring for a number of French orphans. Your daughter was among them. Thank God the children were rescued, and the man who brought her out of the fire knew I’d been searching for such a child. He brought her to me. Only I didn’t know that when I drove to Kent. I only knew that a man I’d treated in France was in Dover without proper papers and in a great deal of trouble. It wasn’t until I’d got there that he told me the rest of the story.”

  “You knew when I met you in Rouen where she was. I suspected it then. I know it now. Why did you lie to me?” He was very angry.

  “I didn’t lie. I didn’t feel it was the right time to tell you the whole truth. What could you have done? Nothing. Which is all I was able to do. And—to be perfectly honest—I didn’t know what you intended to do when you found Sophie.”

  “Did you believe I would harm her? I only wanted to pay for her upkeep, to give her a chance at a decent life.”

  “But not to bring her to England.”

  “Where is this child now?”

  I hesitated. “Here. At Vixen Hill. I didn’t know where else to take her, and I’d already been away from Sussex too long. But I must find a way to return her to France as soon as possible. The nuns will think she’s dead in the fire. Or worse. That’s not right. The Sergeant meant well, he thought he was doing what was best. But he shouldn’t have taken her away. The nuns are the only family she’s ever known. And the other children are her family—”

  He cut me short, his voice harsh. “Is she in your room?”

  “No. Lydia came into the kitchen when I was trying to feed her and comfort her. She took her to the room above the hall.”

  He swore then, and started for the stairs. I went quickly after him, and said, “Whatever you want to say to me or to your wife, you will not frighten that child. Do you hear me?”

  “I don’t frighten children.”

  But I thought in the mood he was in, he might not remember Sophie. And so I followed him.

  When we came to the room Lydia had taken over, he knocked, and then without waiting for an invitation to enter, he opened the door and walked in.

  Lydia, startled, looked at him and then her gaze slid to me. “You told him,” she accused.

  Beside her on the cushions spread about the floor, the cat and the child were curled up asleep. She moved away from them and stood up to face her husband.

  He didn’t look at Sophie. His eyes were on his wife. “Her father’s name is Hebert. She is not my child.”

  “You’ve only to look at her to know she is,” Lydia retorted. “Whatever name you used.”

  “He was a French officer. He died in the fighting six months before she was born. Her mother died of childbed fever.”

  Lydia shook her head. “You can’t deny her, Roger. It would be cruel to try.”

  “You can’t keep her,” he said doggedly. “Ask Bess, if you don’t believe me.”

  “She’s here. And she’ll stay with me. I don’t care about French law or the nuns or anything else.”

  “Lydia,” I began, but she shook her head a second time.

  “No, I don’t want to hear it. Roger made his choice. I’ve made mine. I’ll have a child now. It’s what I wanted from the beginning. And you needn’t worry about me anymore.”

  “How will you explain her to the world, Lydia?” I asked. “You must think about this practically, not emotionally. Will you let everyone in Ashdown Forest point her out as Roger’s love child? She’ll be under that cloud for the rest of her life, if you aren’t careful. She’s not yours. She must go back to France. If Roger wants her, he can go through the proper procedures. I’ll take her back as soon as possible.”

  “You won’t. I won’t let you. Now go away, both of you. I’ve nothing more to say.” And she turned her back on us, walking to the window and looking out into the darkness.

  Roger tried to argue with her, to no avail. And then she said, suddenly turning toward us, “There’s a motorcar coming up the lane. I expect it must be the police.”

  She turned toward the bed, intent on taking up the sleeping child and going somewhere with her.

  I said, “Lydia, stop! The police don’t know anything about this. They’ve come because there was another murder, not for Sophie.”

  She hesitated. “You’re lying to me.”

  “No. There’s no way they could have discovered anything about her. Even if the French police are searching everywhere, there’s nothing to lead them to Sussex.”

  Roger looked at me. “You have more explaining to do,” he said, and then turned and went out of the room. I could hear his steps on the stairs.

  Lydia hovered protectively over Sophie, daring me to take her away.

  I said, “Are you sure you want a child who looks so much like Juliana?”

  “I don’t care what she looks like. It won’t matter.”

  “But it might to your husband. Did you see? He never looked in Sophie’s direction. He doesn’t want to know how much she looks like his sister. He doesn’t want to be reminded.”

  “He’ll change his mind in time. You don’t know him, Bess.”

  I was getting nowhere, and I could just hear the knock at the hall door.

  I said, “We’ll have to deal with this later,” and followed Roger Ellis down the stairs.

  When I walked into the hall, I saw that Lydia was right. Inspector Rother had just been admitted. He crossed to the hearth and put out his hands to the blaze, saw that I had joined the others, and nodded. “You’re all here then. Except for Mrs. Roger Ellis,” he said. “Will you please bring her down to hear what I have to say.”

  “She has a headache. I hope you will allow her to rest now,” I answered him.

  “Very well. We’ve come to search Vixen Hill.”

  Captain Ellis moved a little from where he stood. “I’ll know the reason why before I allow you to search my house and upset my family.”

  Inspector Rother said, “We’ve searched the Forest in every direction. The windmill, the church, the villages, everywhere. This is the only place we haven’t been.”

  Roger flicked a glance in my direction. I knew what he was thinking: Had the hue and cry gone up for Sophie Hebert after all? Or was this police business of another sort?

  But Sergeant Larimore would never have given us away, even if somehow he’d been connected to her disappearance. I moved my head just a fraction, and Captain Ellis saw it.

  He said, “That’s all well and good, Inspector. But you’ve yet to tell me why you must invade my privacy.”

  “Very well,” he said grudgingly. “Dr. Tilton went out on his rounds yesterday afternoon. His last patient was Mrs. Jenkins, who lives in Wych Cross and suffers from
sciatica. He saw her, and as he was leaving, she offered him tea, but he told her he was expected home for his own. But he never arrived. Someone suggested he might have gone into Bluebell Cottage, which is of course empty now. And so we went there to look for him. There was no sign that he’d been in the cottage. That’s when we began searching the Forest.”

  “He’s not here. I can give you my word on that.”

  “That may well be. But this is a large house, you don’t use all the rooms these days. And the grounds are extensive.”

  Roger Ellis considered the request. “I shall give my consent with one reservation. I was just in to see my wife, and asked Sister Crawford to give her something for her headache. She’s in the room above the hall, here. You will not disturb her.”

  “Agreed,” the Inspector said with poor grace.

  He went to the door and admitted his men. Among them was Constable Bates, whom none of us could abide. As they spread out to search, I said, “Who told you that the doctor had gone into Bluebell Cottage?”

  “It was his wife,” the Inspector answered. “Mary Tilton. His mother is coming up from Eastbourne to live closer to him, and if Bluebell Cottage was to her liking, he was prepared to make an offer for it.” He turned and followed his men from the room.

  We sat there in silence, the tea that Daisy had brought in while I was upstairs with Lydia and Roger growing cold.

  After a moment Mrs. Ellis said, “I do hope they’ll be careful and not break anything.”

  “Or pocket anything,” Gran added sourly. “I don’t trust the police.”

  “Why should Dr. Tilton have gone missing?” Margaret asked. “I can see that he might have been summoned to see another patient in an emergency. But if that were true, surely he’d have sent word to his wife?”

  “One would think so,” Mrs. Ellis replied distractedly, listening to any sound from the search.

  “I wish Henry was here,” Margaret said. “I’m afraid.”

  “There’s no need to be frightened,” her brother told her. But I thought she’d been away from the Forest long enough to feel differently about it.

  After what seemed to be hours, the police returned.

  Roger, standing by the fire, came forward to meet the Inspector.

  “Are you finished?”

  “All but searching the grounds.”

  They left, and we could see their torches flashing as they spread out across the grounds.

  Gran said, “If they were as clever as they think they are, they’d have come here before dark. Those torches will do them no good, and we shall have them back tomorrow. Wait and see.”

  And as she had prophesized, they returned at first light in the morning.

  I was first down to breakfast, judging by the dishes that Daisy had set out.

  When Roger Ellis came in just minutes after me, I said, “What will you do about Sophie? Have you told the rest of your family that she’s here?”

  “If I do,” he said tiredly, “there will be no hope of taking her back to France. You have put me—and that child—in an untenable situation.”

  “I realized that, the instant I saw her in Dover. But I couldn’t leave England. And there was no safe way to return her.”

  “The fool who brought her to you deserves to be taken out and shot.”

  Before I could answer that, Mrs. Ellis came in. She had passed a sleepless night, her eyes dark-ringed, her face drawn.

  “They’re out there, just as Gran predicted,” she said. “The police. Surely they don’t believe we could have harmed Dr. Tilton. It’s ridiculous.”

  “They have their duty to perform,” her son told her. “I expect they rather enjoyed this one.”

  “Yes, it’s so different since the war, isn’t it?” She filled her plate, then set it aside. “I don’t feel like eating after all. How is Lydia feeling this morning?”

  “I haven’t disturbed her,” he answered.

  She glanced at me. After a moment she asked him, “You and Lydia will make up this quarrel, won’t you? Whatever was said or not said, done or not done when she fled to London, surely it isn’t as important as your marriage. God knows your father and I didn’t always see eye to eye. About many things. But we loved each other.”

  “Not enough to prevent him from killing himself over Juliana,” he retorted, then said at once, “No, I’m sorry, that was cruel and uncalled for.”

  She bit her lip. “But so true, I’m afraid. We were all devastated, my dear. You as well as the rest of us. I don’t quite know how any of us survived. Well. I hope you and Lydia can find common ground to mend matters.”

  “I’m willing to try,” he told her, but I didn’t think he meant it.

  Just then Daisy came into the dining room. “That Inspector Rother is in the hall, and he wants to see the family.”

  Mrs. Ellis rose. “I don’t think Gran is awake yet. Will you look, Daisy? And see if Miss Margaret has come down, as well.”

  Roger was already heading for the door, passing Daisy and striding down the passage toward the hall. I waited for Mrs. Ellis and walked with her.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” she said, speaking to herself as much as to me.

  “I expect he’s come to say that the second search was no more successful than the first.”

  “Pray God you’re right, Bess, dear. I don’t think any of us can endure much more.”

  But as soon as I saw Inspector Rother’s face, I knew she was right.

  Roger Ellis was already speaking to him as we came into the room. “You will not disturb my grandmother or my wife. What you have to say you can say to me.” He looked around as his mother came in. “I’ll deal with this, my dear. Don’t let it distress you.”

  “But I’m afraid my news will distress all of you,” the Inspector said, looking from one to the other of us. “We have found Dr. Tilton’s body. It was lying in that culvert that runs past the barn. It’s overgrown, that’s why we didn’t find it last night.”

  Mrs. Ellis grasped the back of a chair to steady herself. “Our barn? But how did he come to be here?” she said. “I don’t understand.”

  “What happened to him?” her son was asking at the same time, his words cutting across hers.

  “He was struck over the head. Murdered.” As Gran came into the room, followed by Margaret, he added with intense anger, “One of you in this household is a murderer. Three dead men at your doorstep, for all intents and purposes. Now what do you have to say for yourselves?”

  There was a long silence as we digested his words. Then Roger Ellis said coldly, “Until you can prove that, I shall ask you to leave my house. Do what you must do to remove the doctor’s body, and then I’ll thank you to leave my land as well.”

  Inspector Rother smiled. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I shall require statements from each of you regarding your whereabouts night before last. We’re waiting for Dr. Ledbetter from Groombridge. He will tell us the hours of interest. Until then we ask that you not leave the premises. I’ll be posting a constable at the door, meanwhile. At the moment I must go and break the news to Mrs. Tilton. You might spare a thought for her in her loss—”

  He’d been standing with his back to the door. It opened, and I heard Margaret cry out. I turned in time to see her husband, Henry, walk through the door.

  “What the hell is going on?” Henry demanded, looking from one to the other of us.

  Inspector Rother said, “You were summoned days ago.”

  “I know. There’s a war on, you see. I was rather busy.” He went directly to his wife, who held him as if he were the anchor she’d been waiting for.

  “Where were you these last two nights?” Inspector Rother demanded.

  “In London,” Henry replied shortly. “I couldn’t leave France, and when I did, I was seconded to carry dispatches to the War Office. My commanding officer doesn’t hold with provincial policemen disrupting his war.”

  It was said to irritate, and it hit its mark. Inspect
or Rother flushed.

  “Nevertheless, you will give your statement to one of my constables,” he said, and then turned to the rest of us.

  “In your earlier statements, none of you reported the conversation in the drawing room that led to Lieutenant Hughes retiring early. No one, that is, save Dr. Tilton and his wife. Even the rector and his sister professed not to recall what led to the Lieutenant going up to his room. And by the next morning, Hughes was dead and Davis Merrit was accused of his murder. But Davis Merrit must have known something about that conversation. After all, Mrs. Lydia Ellis had rushed into Hartfield to speak to him on that fatal Saturday morning, and the only conclusion to be drawn is that she was upset by events and confided in him rather than her husband. Merrit disappeared, and again the only conclusion was that Merrit, in a fit of misplaced gallantry, rid Mrs. Lydia Ellis of this man who had upset her. But Merrit turned up dead, and not by his own hand, as we’d begun to suspect might be the case. And now Dr. Tilton, who might have appeared to be the tattler to the police, is dead.” He swung around toward me. “Indeed, Dr. Tilton had mentioned that you refused to allow him to question the Lieutenant more fully, and that you’d been ordered to accompany him to help put Hughes to bed by Roger Ellis himself.”

  “I was sent because he was too unsteady to walk alone to his room. Captain Ellis gave me no instructions. The rector and his sister can verify that. I was acting in my capacity as a nurse, not a spy,” I replied shortly. “And if you question Mrs. Tilton on this subject, she will tell you that that’s the truth.”

  “Nevertheless, Dr. Tilton is dead. On your property, Captain. Because he failed to keep your family’s secrets. Now I ask you to consider who among you had the greatest need to do murder.”

  Mrs. Ellis stood up. Her face was pale, but her voice was steady. “It wasn’t my son,” she said. “I killed these men.”

  Gran crossed the room and stood beside her. “Don’t believe her. I did it. I can even tell you how.”

  We were all shocked into silence. Then Roger Ellis said sharply, “There’s no need to defend me. I can speak for myself.” He turned to Inspector Rother. “You’re telling us that these murders were done to keep the world from discovering that I possibly had a love child in France. This ‘love child’ of mine, however, is the daughter of Claudette and Gerard Hebert, both of whom are dead—the mother in childbirth, for which there are witnesses, and the father fighting in the French Army.”