by Anne Perry
She had better put on a more appropriate face than one of gloom, as if she had lost something. Daniel was wrong. There was no darker secret hanging over them at all, only a man who loved his family and was defending them with a lie that was natural in instinct, but unwise on deeper thought.
And, of course, the people at the British Embassy behaving like fools. Or perhaps not? Perhaps they were getting rid of Philip Sidney in a rather heavy-handed fashion.
She felt Patrick’s hand grip hers a moment longer, then release it.
Poor Daniel. He was going to lose the case, badly. But he had to!
CHAPTER
Nineteen
EARLY THE FOLLOWING morning, Jemima dressed in a plain, dark gray costume and white lace blouse. She loved the stark contrast of colors and the way the fabric moved with her. It almost felt like silk. She told everyone at the breakfast table that she had an important appointment and hastened out before anyone could ask her what it was.
Patrick followed her to the front door. “What are you going to do?” He made no attempt to be tactful.
“Nothing dangerous,” she began.
“Are you going to see Rebecca? You can’t. She may know the truth, but she won’t tell it to you, or anyone else, and certainly not in court if it hurts her family.”
“Do you think it will?” she asked directly.
“Don’t play games!” he said tartly. “Of course it might. The answer she is giving, is it believable? She’ll stay with it, whatever it costs, because anything different will betray her family. Wouldn’t you if it were your father? I’ve seen how close you are…” There was a break in his voice. He had several brothers and sisters, too many to pick favorites, and no deep companionship with either of his parents.
Jemima was instantly sorry. “I’m not going to see any of the Thorwoods. I’m going to see Daniel’s friend Miriam fford Croft, if she’s in.”
“Why? Who is she, and what does she know?” He was genuinely taken by surprise. It was an answer he had not even considered.
“She’s the one who knows there’s something missing.”
“How can she help?” He was not satisfied. The anxiety was keen in his face.
“To see if she thinks this is it. Daniel thinks very highly of her.”
“In what way? Who is she? And don’t give me an empty answer!”
“She studied as a doctor, then as a forensic pathologist, but she can’t practice and hold any official post…because she’s a woman.” She saw the startled expression on his face. She was not looking for a quarrel. “She helped him before, with a very difficult case, about three months ago. I’m only going to ask her.”
“Medicine and pathology?” He raised his eyebrows. “No one is dead over here, Jem. And the only injury is a scratch mark on Rebecca’s neck. What can she tell you?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps whatever it is we’re looking at and can’t see.”
“What do you mean, ‘we’? Jem, you’re not meddling in Daniel’s affairs, are you?” he asked suspiciously.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” The idea hurt, because it could so easily have been true. “Apart from the fact that I wouldn’t, any more than I’d let him meddle in mine, Miriam fford Croft is the daughter of the head of chambers. She’s just…clever.”
Patrick relaxed at last. “I suppose if I come, I’ll be in the way.”
“Yes, you will! It will look as if I’ve come with force! I want to—”
“I know. You want to help. You can’t stop yourself.” His smile was wry and gentle.
“I just—”
“Can’t help meddling,” he finished for her. “Apparently, just like your mother!” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
For a second, she kissed him back, then slipped away and walked briskly along the pavement. She had no idea what to expect. She would have asked Daniel more about Miriam, but she did not want him to know she intended to visit her. He would be quick to understand her motives, if she pursued it.
When Jemima knocked, a woman opened the door. She had bright auburn hair tied in a tight, untidy knot on her neck, and she wore a floor-length apron. Jemima was uncertain who she was. Her hands were wet, as if she had been scrubbing something, and her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. She could easily have been a maid. Her greenish-blue eyes were bold and curious at first, then amused.
Jemima made a rash guess. “Dr. fford Croft?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, then the woman laughed. “You must be Daniel’s sister. You have to be. You look quite a lot like him, and no one else would call me Doctor.”
Jemima was surprised. “Do you think I look like Daniel? I suppose I must a bit. But yes, that is who I am.”
Miriam smiled. “Please come in. You want to discuss the case of Philip Sidney, I expect.” She pulled the door wide open and stepped back.
“I’m interrupting you. I’m sorry,” Jemima began.
“Chores,” Miriam answered. “Only too happy to have a good excuse to leave them. Come in.”
Jemima was startled. Surely the daughter of the house did not do the heavy scrubbing?
Miriam saw her confusion. She laughed cheerfully. “Not the kitchen floor,” she explained. “The table in my laboratory. I won’t let the servants in there.”
“Thank you.” Jemima followed her into the hall, and then into a small study whose floor was partially covered with piles of books and papers.
Miriam insisted Jemima sit down at the plain Adam mahogany table; she sat opposite her. “Something is new?” Miriam asked. She clearly perceived that Jemima had come to tell her something Daniel did not know.
“We dined with the Thorwoods yesterday evening,” Jemima replied. “In the course of the conversation, Mr. Thorwood admitted that it was not he who had seen Sidney in the corridor outside of Rebecca’s bedroom. It was his wife, Bernadette Thorwood. She was disturbed, at first fearing that Rebecca had been attacked, even raped. Mr. Thorwood claimed it was he who had seen Sidney to protect her from having to be questioned.”
Miriam looked interested, but not yet drawn in. Jemima knew that she was waiting for the fact that made a difference; the detail as to who had seen Sidney would probably not matter.
Jemima swallowed hard. “And Mr. Thorwood said that the pendant has been recovered by a pawnbroker in Washington. The person who pawned it worked in the British Embassy there, and the pawnbroker was told he got it from another man at the embassy in payment of a gambling debt…the day before Sidney left America. That sort of…seals it.” She had no idea why she was telling Miriam this. What did she expect Miriam to say or do? Why was Jemima refusing to accept Sidney’s guilt? Had she identified with Daniel because he still believed in Sidney? Would he continue to, when he knew about the pendant?
Miriam was still waiting. “What else?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. I hope you can put all these things in their proper order and relationship to each other, and see some sense in it. Rebecca told me the pendant was crystal. It only mattered to her because it belonged to her godmother, May Trelawny, who died very recently.”
“Is all her godmother’s estate left to Rebecca?” Miriam suddenly looked far more interested.
“I don’t know. I think so.”
“But the pendant was crystal, or so it was said?”
Jemima was sitting forward now. “You think it could have been a real diamond? Does that make a difference? I suppose the point is, who knew it was real?”
“Yes. If it was. Or if they thought it was. It is one fact that seems to tie into a lot of things. I think we should look into May Trelawny’s estate. The will must have been probated, if they are here to settle it. I have friends I can ask. It would certainly be interesting to learn.” She shook her head. “I wish I could think it matters.” She stood up from the table. “I will change my
clothes and we shall go and visit one or two people. I will make some telephone calls.” She did not wait for Jemima’s acceptance; she had already taken it for granted.
Jemima remained at the table, almost oblivious of her surroundings. Why had she come here? What did she expect this woman could do, however skilled she was?
If there were any single fact to uncover that would make a difference, maybe Patrick could find it through the connections he kept wiring in Washington. It was police work, not something a doctor would find over here!
She watched the seconds tick by on the clock and felt more and more foolish. Why was it taking Miriam so long to get ready?
It was nearly half an hour later when Miriam reappeared, smartly dressed in a navy-blue costume, with her hair tidy, temporarily at least.
“I am sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said. “I made a telephone call to my father, so he could begin inquiries.”
Jemima felt a wave of guilt run through her. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” she started.
Miriam smiled. “Of course you did! Nothing short of trouble is going to get the truth out of this! And even if it turns out the wrong way and Sidney is guilty, at least you will know it, and it will not have gone by default. Is that not what you want?” Her stare was very direct.
“Yes, it is,” Jemima acknowledged. “Thank you.” She stood up, and they went out of the house together and found a taxi almost immediately.
* * *
—
THIRTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER they were in Marcus fford Croft’s chambers in Lincoln’s Inn, accepting tea from Impney and waiting for Marcus himself.
He came in a few moments later. He was not very tall, overweight, but full of energy, white hair flying, hands gesticulating with energy and delicacy. “Mrs. Flannery, good morning. How do you do? Young Daniel’s sister, heh? Married an American. Live there, do you? Bring us this apparently hopeless case of young Sidney? Pity.” He smiled, a singularly charming gesture. Immediately he turned to Miriam. They did not resemble each other at all, and yet there was something alike in the intensity of their manner, their attention, even their hand gestures. Hers were so much more restrained, even delicate, but they were the same as his in meaning.
“Abigail May Trelawny,” he went on. “Sit down.” He indicated the chairs and then continued. He had several pieces of paper in his hand. “Born in Cornwall. As she ought to be, with a name like Trelawny. Good family. Old. Grandfather had a lot of land. The father was his second son. Not got a lot of it, but made his own fortune. Did well. She bought a place in Alderney. Do you know that?” He looked at Jemima with his eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” Jemima said immediately. “One of the smaller Channel Islands and—”
“Yes,” Marcus cut her off. “Right. Jersey and Guernsey are the big ones. Fewer live on Alderney. Very few on Sark. Lovely place. She had a large house on Alderney. Lived there. Loved it. Left the house and land to Rebecca Thorwood. Not a lot of money.”
“What is a lot, Father?” Miriam asked. “That’s very relative.”
“Relative to the Thorwood fortune, almost nothing at all,” he replied.
“Why to Rebecca?” Jemima asked. “Was there a family connection? I thought all Rebecca’s family were American? Her father’s family has been respected in Washington for generations.”
“Possibly,” Marcus agreed. “But her mother’s family isn’t American. She was a debutante in London. Quite lovely, according to all accounts. I can recall reading about a love affair that went badly. Can’t remember the name of the fellow but it was all a bit of a drama, and then she married well. Nice fellow, but a bit of a bore. Change from the one she fell for, who was apparently a bad lot but had charm.” Marcus said it sadly, as if it were a pattern he had seen too often. “I wonder what appeals to women in such men.”
“We don’t want something that’s too easily available,” Miriam answered immediately. “And some of us are daft enough to think we can change them…redeem them, if you like.”
“I don’t think, from what I hear, that Tobias Thorwood needed redeeming,” Marcus observed. “Anyway, May Trelawny was a delightful woman who never married, wisely or in any other way, and she was happy to be Rebecca’s godmother and leave her whatever she possessed. Can’t see what this has to do with Philip Sidney. Except that he was born in Cornwall and his mother was a friend and relation of Miss Trelawny. Not such a big place, when you come to think of it in terms of society, so it may be entirely a coincidence.”
“They could have met,” Miriam answered. “Or they might never have heard of each other. Didn’t you say Bernadette met Thorwood in London?”
“Yes,” Marcus agreed.
“Something else we need to know,” Jemima said. “Is the pendant diamond or crystal?”
“Did you see it?” Miriam asked with sudden intensity.
“Yes.”
“Describe it. How big is it? How is it faceted? Color…I mean shading, shadows, lights, flaws? Does the light move in it? Glitter? How is it set? Gold? Silver? Platinum?”
Jemima tried to picture it in her mind. Exactly how big had it been? A half inch across? Almost. Color? Plain white, but it glittered, it shone. The setting? White, not gold. Was it silver? She tried to describe it.
“The cut?” Miriam asked.
“I don’t know much about cuts, but it had a large, flat front.”
“Rock crystal,” Miriam said. “Very pretty. Not of great value, but something you could wear every day without being ostentatious.”
“Rebecca said she loved it because it had been her godmother’s, and it was pretty.”
“They were close?” Miriam pressed. “How? Where did they meet? It’s a long way from Cornwall, or Alderney, to Washington.”
“Rebecca told me her godmother used to write the most wonderful letters. Sometimes they were descriptions of Alderney during the seasons. She loved to say how the light changed over the sea. No two sunsets or dawns were the same. ‘The coming of the Light,’ she called it.” Jemima remembered the pleasure in Rebecca’s face as she recounted May’s words. “Other times, the letters would be about her animals, especially the horses. And about the wild birds, too. And, of course, the people. She was never unkind, but was often funny. Rebecca said it was almost as good as living there herself.”
“And did Rebecca write long letters back?” Miriam said quickly.
Jemima smiled. “Oh, yes. Accounts of things in Washington, but often hopes and dreams as well.” After a moment, she added, “You mean, might she have told her secrets? I doubt it. Rebecca lives a very sheltered life. Her father particularly is very protective. It would drive me demented!”
“But they knew each other through letters?”
“Yes, Rebecca…liked that. And May never told her what to do, and what not to. Actually, I think May Trelawny was quite a character in her own way, and always had been. Rebecca really loved her.”
Miriam gave a soft laugh. “Every young woman should have such a friend. One who shares your adventures with you, perhaps slightly shaded? Full of good humor and stories of other times and places. No criticism.”
Jemima felt a wave of sorrow that Aunt Vespasia was gone, too. She missed her wisdom, her laughter, above all her spirit. “Poor Rebecca,” she said softly. “She’s going to miss her godmother terribly. There won’t be anyone to fill her place. No wonder she wants the pendant back. I’m so glad they found it and she’ll have it again.”
“The house.” Miriam looked at her father. “Is it up for sale? Or is it part of Rebecca’s inheritance?”
“It’s part of her inheritance,” Marcus said. “She may choose to sell it—or to keep it and visit. Why not? It’s beautiful, different, an escape from what she is accustomed to. But I imagine she will sell it, when the legal side is settled.”
“Yes,” Miriam said though
tfully. “Thank you, Papa.”
Jemima looked at Miriam and knew that she had an idea, even a plan.
CHAPTER
Twenty
THE TRIAL WAS continuing at a lumbering pace, one character witness after another. Daniel seemed to be dragging it out even more, cross-questioning people to no possible purpose. Kitteridge thought he sounded desperate to put off the inevitable. He had no defense, and the jury must know that.
It was Friday afternoon, surely everyone was ready for a weekend? Did Hillyer imagine the answers regarding Morley Cross’s murder were going to come forward over the next two days?
Daniel felt a nudge at his elbow and ignored it. The second time he turned, irritated at being distracted, and found the court usher standing deferentially beside him. He was holding an envelope.
“For you, sir. The young lady said it was important.” The usher inclined his head, an acknowledgment more than a bow, then turned and took himself back down the aisle, toward the door. He seemed to assume no answer was expected.
Daniel tore it open. There was a single page inside. He unfolded it and read.
Dear Daniel,
I have given much thought to the matter, and I believe May Trelawny’s house in Alderney may be at the root of some of this.
I was looking for how this could have started off, if Sidney were not guilty, and we must presume that. Perhaps it is May’s death that is central to events? I think we need to go to Alderney this weekend, before it is too late. I have arranged for a car to the coast, and then we will catch the ferry across the Channel. I realize this is a liberty, and if you are not able or willing to accompany me, I shall go alone and return by Monday, to show you what I have found.
I plan to leave London this afternoon by four so we may reach Alderney before dark, or shortly after. If you choose to come, I shall meet you at my house at four.
Sincerely,
Miriam
It was about three o’clock. If he raced, he could just call by his room and pack a case, leaving the taxi waiting, and make it to Miriam’s house by four.
