‘Bring him here,’ said Sharrock, and Theodore was dragged forward. ‘Now young lady, are you prepared to swear that this was the man who attacked you?’
‘I am,’ said Flora.
‘Well,’ said Sharrock, ‘I am very glad that I thought to bring four constables. I think we can safely say that the meeting is over.’
‘But what about —,’ demanded Miggs, waving the pamphlet.
‘Oh we can leave that particular piece of nastiness for another day.’ Sharrock dispatched one of his men to hire a four-wheeler. ‘I just hope Paddington has enough upper-crust cells. Mr Matthews, Mr Paskall senior, you’ll both have to come with me as well.’
‘I really can’t see why a harmless peccadillo is treated with such seriousness,’ Matthews protested.
‘Harmless, Mr Matthews?’ growled Sharrock fiercely. ‘The young lady doesn’t seem to think so. And no father of daughters would either.’
‘I have more to say,’ said Flora, but there was such a buzz around the room that she could hardly be heard, and all eyes were on the three prisoners being removed. Frances ran forward, snatched the gavel from an astonished Mr Flood, and banged it until everyone was silent.
‘This man is worse than you can imagine,’ said Flora, pointing at Matthews again. ‘I fled from his house in terror because I found that he was a murderer.’
Matthews rolled his eyes. ‘Idle gossip of foolish country folk and the ravings of an imbecile,’ he announced. A constable had his elbow but he was able to stab an angry finger at Flora. ‘Another word and you will be sued for slander. ‘
‘There is a witness,’ said Frances.
He turned to her, ‘Oh, really? Well I don’t see one!’
‘Daisy Trent.’
He laughed contemptuously. ‘That is your witness? She is insane!’
‘She is here,’ said a voice from the back of the hall.
Everyone turned to look. Sarah had just arrived, and beside her stood a young woman clad in the sombre habit of a nun. ‘I was once Daisy Trent,’ she said, ‘and betrothed to a good man whom this man murdered. I am now Sister Evangeline of the Church of St Augustine, Kilburn.’ She walked forward and placed one hand on Flora’s. ‘My poor dear friend,’ she said. ‘I know that you have suffered, but with justice comes an end to suffering. I have told my story many times, and never been believed.’ She turned to Sharrock. ‘Inspector, if I was to tell you all I know, would you listen to me?’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world!’ said Sharrock. He looked at Frances. ‘This is your doing, isn’t it? I can tell. Other stations get nice simple crimes, I get bamboozlement and you!’ He started to sneeze. ‘I think I need another cab!’
The prisoners were led away, although in Theodore’s case he was half dragged. As he passed by Selina Sandcourt his eyes turned to her, and Frances saw that the young woman was staring at him in a very direct manner, with a look that seemed to be either asking or demanding. She placed a finger to her lips and the other hand lay in a graceful gesture, her fingertips resting on her abdomen. He nodded and was taken away.
Frances did not know if anyone else saw that rapid exchange, but it told her more than she could absorb for the moment. Theodore and Selina – not merely known to each other but so close that they could speak without words.
As the crowds filed out, already honing their gossip, and reporters hastened back to their offices with the news, Frances could only stand by and watch as Mrs Venn was comforted by Miss Baverstock and Mrs Fiske. The headmistress had been spared the humiliation of having the pamphlet read out in public, but with the arrest of two of the school governors the Academy’s days were at an end. Poor Mrs Venn, thought Frances, had only wanted to be useful to society, both protecting and educating girls, and now she would never again be entrusted to do either, or see her labours bear fruit under another’s care.
Freddie Matthews was looking dejected as Cedric introduced him to Frances. ‘I know that father will be getting what he deserves,’ he said, ‘and it’s time he did. I am only relieved that it did not come about through my actions.’
‘May I ask you something?’ said Frances. ‘Did Mrs Sandcourt ever tell you her secret? I am speaking of Horace.’
‘I don’t know how you could have found that out,’ said Freddie, astonished.
‘Oh Miss Doughty is the nonpareil of finding things out,’ said Cedric. ‘Beware or she will tell you things about yourself that even you did not suspect!’
Freddie blinked at Frances in some alarm. ‘Well, yes, she did tell me.’
‘And did she mention the name Daniel Souter?’
He nodded. ‘But I was not sure at first if I could believe her.’
‘Oh? Why not?’
He hesitated. ‘It was at the harvest festival the year before. There was a dance and people of all classes of society were free to attend. I saw Selina … she – flirted with Daniel. She knew, even so young, that her beauty gave her power to attract or torment men. But Daniel rejected her, he said he was affianced to another and would be true to his love. Later she told father that he was the cause of her misfortune, and I suppose it must be so, for I can’t imagine who else it might have been.’ He sighed. ‘Selina hides her nature behind an enchanting face, but when her beauty fades she will be doomed. Lydia is the lesser witch, but she makes no secret of it.’
‘What happened on the night of Daniel Souter’s death?’ asked Frances. ‘You were at Havenhill, were you not?’
He was reluctant to say more, but Cedric patted his shoulder and nodded encouragement.
‘Yes,’ said Freddie at last. ‘Father had the strange idea of turning me into a farmer, so I was there looking after things as best I could. Then he arrived from town and I could see at once that there was something terribly wrong. I thought that mother had taken a turn for the worse, and he told me he would be taking her to Italy for her health very soon. I thought about that and decided later that night to speak to him and ask if I might go to Italy, too, but when I came downstairs I saw him in the hallway speaking with Joshua Jenkins, and he was holding the little pistol he keeps as an ornament. They went out together and I waited for him, but when he returned he looked so upset I decided to go to bed and speak to him in the morning. The next day the police came and asked us questions and father told them he had never left the house that night. I decided not to ask him about it, and I don’t think he even knew I had seen him. I thought perhaps there had been an accident with the gun and it was that he was hiding and not murder. I didn’t know otherwise until Selina told me her story. Father actually told her – he admitted it, and he was proud of it – that he had dealt with Daniel. But how could I go to the police and say what I had seen? I would have had to tell them about Selina and I couldn’t do that.’
‘It will come out, now,’ said Frances, ‘and you must go to the police.’
‘Must I?’ pleaded Freddie.
‘You must,’ said Frances. ‘Daisy has told her story but it may not be enough.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘Father only did what had to be done. The fellow had to be punished.’
‘Daniel Souter was innocent of any wrong,’ said Frances. ‘He was true to his love and your sister lied. Another man was the father of her child.’
Freddie groaned with despair. It was some minutes before he was able to speak, but finally he promised Frances that he would tell the police what he knew.
‘Well I will get this unhappy young fellow home and apply whatever restoratives come to hand,’ said Cedric. ‘And I must say, Miss Doughty, you do put on a good show!’
There was only one person Frances now needed to speak to and that was Mrs Gribling, who was almost too busy embracing her daughter to be questioned, but Frances extracted what she had suspected to be the case, that after attending the inquest on Harry, Mrs Gribling had first called upon Flora to report on what had occurred before going to her own home.
At last the crowds were gone, and Sarah came to te
ll Frances that a cab was waiting for them.
Frances accompanied her outside. ‘Was it very hard to persuade Daisy to come?’ she asked.
‘I thought I’d have to bring her in a sack,’ said Sarah.
Over a late supper and a small glass of sherry Frances quietly pondered on all that she had learned, and at last committed her thoughts to paper. In time, she knew Inspector Sharrock would send for her and she would be ready for him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
On the morning after the meeting a placard was placed outside the Bayswater Academy for the Education of Young Ladies informing the public that the school had been permanently closed and any enquiries should be addressed to Mr Rawsthorne, solicitor.
Rumours were rife around Bayswater as to the fate of the teaching staff. Mrs Venn, when representatives of the newspapers went to interview her, was nowhere to be found and it was believed she had gone to live in the country. Miss Baverstock had withdrawn into quiet retirement with an elderly sister in Norwich. Miss Bell had gone to live with a cousin, and, so it was said, was hoping to find a deserving husband as soon as possible. Mlle Girard had departed for Switzerland, where she planned to open her own school. The murder charge against Mr Copley had been withdrawn, and since he had not published his offensive drawings he did not appear to have committed any criminal offence and was, with some reluctance, released. His entire stock of art was to be destroyed, although there were whispers that items had exchanged hands in some circles for astonishing prices. He was rumoured to be about to leave the country and make his home in those districts of Paris, where it was thought his talents would be better appreciated.
The Conservative office was busy arranging for the printing of new posters and leaflets announcing that Mr Paskall was no longer to be a candidate in the General Election and that another man of unimpeachable respectability would be selected immediately. Rumblings of discontent in the neighbourhood were suggesting to interested parties that any undecided voters had, as a result of the Conservative candidate’s downfall, established a new allegiance for the Liberals.
As Frances had anticipated, on the day following the meeting in the Great Western Hotel, a young constable called upon her asking if she might accompany him to Paddington Green station, where Inspector Sharrock wished to speak to her.
‘I think my cold has come back,’ said Inspector Sharrock hoarsely as she entered his office. Frances had prepared for this eventuality and handed him a box of lozenges. He had gulped down two of them before she could mention that he was supposed to keep them in his mouth.
In deference to her, he had had a chair emptied of debris and it had been buffed like an old shoe. She sat down while he pushed papers around his desk and stared at her disapprovingly.
‘Now it has come to my attention that despite all my warnings you have been poking your nose into places you ought not,’ he said, ‘and I have asked you to come here so that I can make it very clear that you must stop before anything unfortunate should happen. There is work that is proper for females, and you seem to be making it your business to avoid it.’
‘I was considering taking a post at the Academy,’ Frances admitted. ‘The instruction of girls is a very respectable occupation, but I am not sure that any school would accept a reference from Mrs Venn.’
Sharrock tapped his foot irritably. ‘I suppose now you’re going to try and make out that you’re cleverer than the police, and tell me everything that’s happened and why,’ he grumbled.
‘But that is not woman’s work,’ said Frances. ‘Really, I wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘Not that I don’t know all about it already, of course,’ he assured her.
‘I am sure you do.’
He fidgeted with a pencil. ‘Well, there may be things that ladies talk about between themselves that I might not have heard, and if there were, it would be your duty to tell me.’
Frances smiled and took out her notebook.
‘So you’re saying,’ said Sharrock, some time later, ‘that Mrs Sandcourt is the mother and not the sister of the youngest Matthews lad?’
‘Yes,’ said Frances. ‘There was an unfortunate liaison with Professor Venn. She chose, however, to blame a servant, Daniel Souter, not because of any loyalty to Mrs Venn but because the young man had resisted her blandishments for love of his sweetheart, Daisy. That was her revenge for being spurned.’
‘A cruel revenge,’ said Sharrock.
‘I do not think she anticipated how far her father would go to exact his retribution. The maidservant Matilda was a mother herself by then, and recognised the signs, but soon afterwards the Matthews family went to Italy, and Matilda did not encounter Mrs Sandcourt again until she reappeared as a respectable married woman and patroness of the school. I think that Matilda demanded and got £20 as the price of her silence. Mrs Sandcourt of course cared nothing about the school, but she knew that her patronage would be endorsed by her husband and it gave her some freedom to meet with Theodore Paskall, who was her real interest. Mrs Sandcourt, being married to a much older man, no doubt looked forward to a time when she would be a very wealthy widow and then she may have hoped to marry young Mr Paskall. But I do not believe he cared for her quite as much as she cared for him. I think if you ask Mr Matthews and Mr Paskall you will find that they had thought to unite Mr Theodore to Wilhelmina Danforth to secure her fortune, which will be hers, and therefore her husband’s as soon as she marries. It would also appear, from Mrs Sandcourt’s great anxiety to prevent the match, that he had no great objections to this. Wilhelmina for her part would do as she was told. Only one person might have been able to sway her and that was her cousin Caroline Clare, but she had disappeared.’
‘And she, you said, is Mrs Quayle?’
‘Yes. Matthews engineered a sham wedding, with Mr Paskall playing the part of clergyman. Mary Ann Dunn, out of loyalty to her master, was a witness and kept the secret. Joshua Jenkins was at the point of death and I think they dressed him and carried him to the church. It was dark enough that Mrs Quayle could not see his true condition. He died only hours later. When she discovered what part her supposed husband played in the death of Daniel Souter, she ran away as soon as she was able.’
Sharrock examined some notes. ‘Young Freddie Matthews has just told us that he saw his father go out with a pistol that night. He claims that until now he believed his father not to be guilty of any crime. He is lying about that of course, but I can’t prove it.’ He rubbed his eyes and glanced at his desk drawer, where France suspected was a flask of some medicinal beverage. ‘And you say it was Mrs Quayle who wrote the pamphlets that were put in the school?’
‘She was concerned that Wilhelmina, who was of marriageable age, and due to leave school, might be forced into an unwanted match for her fortune, so she asked her mother, Mrs Gribling, to go to the school bazaar to see if she could find out if her cousin was well and happy. Unexpectedly Mrs Gribling was recognised by Mrs Venn, who addressed her as Mrs Clare, not knowing that she had remarried. Mrs Sandcourt was nearby and overheard the conversation. She later spoke to Mrs Gribling and established a correspondence between herself and Mrs Quayle. She offered to pass on news about Wilhelmina, which of course was very much what Mrs Quayle wanted. It was Mrs Sandcourt who, hoping to prevent Theodore Paskall’s wedding, told Mrs Quayle about the plans to marry off Wilhelmina to a fortune-hunter and asked Mrs Quayle to use her influence to prevent it.’
Sharrock scratched his head. ‘And what was the maidservant’s part in all this?’
‘The pamphlets? Oh, none at all. But Matilda happened to meet Mrs Sandcourt and her sister Lydia and Horace while they were out walking and saw at once what she may already have suspected, that the boy was the son of Professor Venn. To anyone who knew Professor Venn or had seen his portrait the resemblance was very striking. She suggested that Mrs Sandcourt might like to pay her more – she was hoping for a £100.’
‘Now you’re not going to tell me that Mrs Sandcourt strangled the maid?�
� said Sharrock dubiously.
‘No, but I think she sent her a letter making an appointment to meet her in secret.’
‘Only someone else kept that appointment?’
‘Yes.’
Sharrock nodded thoughtfully and looked at his notes. ‘There was only one person who had no witness to his movements that night, and who had a reason to protect Mrs Sandcourt’s reputation, and that was her husband,’ he said. ‘I had better pay him a visit.’
Frances fingered a paper in her pocket, a recent message from Tom, which she was not about to show Sharrock. ‘Mr Sandcourt has interests which take him from home and which he does not divulge to his wife,’ she said. ‘No, I think the person Matilda met in Hyde Park was Theodore Paskall. I know that father and son often worked late in the office together and I am sure they would have stood alibi for each other if necessary. And I think that Matilda may have recognised him. Whoever killed her was someone she knew, someone she allowed to approach close to her, even when she was alone and in the dark.’
There was a pause while Sharrock suffered a coughing fit and he opened the box of lozenges again.
‘Try letting the lozenge dissolve in your mouth,’ urged Frances. ‘It will do more good.’
He grimaced. ‘That can’t be right. They taste like coal tar soap.’
‘If you are in the habit of eating coal tar soap then I suggest you desist,’ said Frances.
He put a lozenge in his mouth with obvious distaste. ‘But when had young Paskall and the maid ever met? He had nothing to do with the school.’
‘Young Mr Paskall once described himself as his father’s messenger boy – he had worked for him since he was sixteen and learned the business from the humblest duties upwards. The Paskalls do insurance business with the school. I think he first met Matilda when he came to the door with messages from his father. He might even have been the father of her child, although until she saw him again and realised that he was a man with some prospects in Bayswater it suited Matilda to blame that on Professor Venn and use Mrs Venn’s guilt to extract money from her. I think that when Matilda recognised Mr Paskall junior, she demanded money from him too. The last thing he wanted was a scandal when his father was due to enter parliament, and he knew that Matilda was the kind of blackmailer who would be a leech upon him forever. He decided to kill her. I doubt that he would ever admit it, but you might be able to persuade Mrs Sandcourt to tell the whole story if you can promise that she will not be prosecuted. Somehow, I don’t think she will be too squeamish about sacrificing him. She may not have known that he would stoop to murder – she was certainly very shocked when she learned that Matilda had been killed.’
The Daughters of Gentlemen: A Frances Doughty Mystery (The Frances Doughty Mysteries) Page 30
