The Case of the Patriarch

by Amelia Littlewood

  I could hardly contain my excitement. I had a case!

  Chapter Three:

  An Unhappy Family

  While he was in London and I was in Hertfordshire, I still wished to keep Mr. Holmes updated as much as I could on the events transpiring in the Lawton household. To this end, I wrote him a letter detailing the family members and the unfortunate situation.

  Dear Mr. Holmes,

  It seems an age since we have last worked together, although I know it to be only a few weeks. Hertfordshire is as quiet and charming as you may recall, although I’m sure when you visited it, you found it to be rather dull compared to London, save, of course, for when we solved the murder of Mr. Wickham.

  I am writing you because—although I’m sure it will be of no surprise to you—I have a case. Doubtless you’ve somehow deduced that already.

  A family friend has implored me to come to the house of her father-in-law this Easter when the whole family is assembled in order for me to ascertain who stole some valuable pearls that their father recently acquired. I’m sure you can easily picture my excitement. I must confess, however, that there is no lack of suspects here.

  Charles Lawton, for that is the name of the father-in-law, is a most unpleasant man. He despises all his children save one and he makes no mystery of it. I am not sure why he should spoil all his affection upon the one son who has been so wayward while his other three are quite dutiful, but I suppose it is one of the mysteries of the human heart we are destined to wonder about.

  His eldest son, named for him, is the husband of our family friend. He’s very mild of manner and if I were him, I should have stood up to my father ages ago. It’s not that Charles Jr. lacks a spine, I think it’s more that he considers any battle he should engage in with his father not worth whatever he might gain from it. Of course, someone like that could find other ways to rebel. He seems nervous all the time—I wonder if it is because of his father alone or because he has stolen the pearls?

  Louisa, his wife, I like to think is above suspicion. She’s very high-spirited and she told me on the carriage ride over that she wishes her husband would stand up to his father more often. I cannot blame her. If I ever marry a man who is so deferential to what other people want all the time, please, Mr. Holmes, do away with me.

  The second son is George Lawton. He’s clearly jealous of Charles Jr. He has this way of cutting his eyes over to his elder brother whenever he is speaking. It’s as if he’s waiting for a chance to trip his brother up. He dresses rather ostentatiously, as does his wife Fanny. The sort of man who likes to show off. His clothes are all quite expensive in material and cut. I suspect however that he is irresponsible with money. There is a forced joviality to his voice when he speaks of his business practices. I think things are going much worse for him than he claims.

  As for his wife, there is little to speak on. She is a vain woman, always looking for the closest mirror and then examining herself in it.

  The third son that I have previously alluded to, Peter, has only recently returned home from the Indies. He says he’s been with the Navy, but I laid to him some questions and he answered them incorrectly. He also does not stand like a Navy man, you know—for you taught me yourself—how they all have the same way of standing owing to the movement of the ship and the rigorous training. My guess is that he is a smuggler or privateer of some kind.

  The youngest son is Earnest. He’s a very sensitive young man. He is also the most despised by his father. I know that it is not polite to talk of such things, but I suspect that his father thought he was, as they say, the sort of man who visited a molly house. Of course, now he has a lovely fiancée, young Julia, and they’re quite devoted to one another, but the damage had already been done. Earnest shrinks his shoulders in, trying to make himself look smaller around his father. I dare say his father was hoping for the opposite—that his abuse would make Earnest stronger and more masculine, but instead it just made him more sensitive and scared.

  I feel quite bad for him, to tell you the truth—but like Charles, stealing the pearls might be Earnest’s way of getting back at his father from another angle.

  His fiancée, Julia Grant, is quite the kind of girl that I like. Strong-willed and spirited. I dare say Lady Catherine de Bourgh would hate her. She’s rather open in her contempt for her father-in-law. The others seem to think that she’s the thief because of this, which leads me to suspect that she did not. It’s rather underhanded, to steal something, and Miss Grant seems the kind of person to spit in your face rather than hurt you behind your back.

  Oh, there is another man as well, but not a relation. His name is Thomas Hillford. He’s apparently the son of Mr. Lawton’s childhood best friend. The two men, as I understand it, had a falling out about twenty or so years ago, but Mr. Hillford is now here to learn about his father’s childhood. It seems his father, the late Mr. Hillford, died when his son was just a boy and he wishes to know more about his early life. He’s a rather affable young man. Almost too affable. But I could be leaping to conclusions about people again, as is my wont.

  The trouble is, Mr. Holmes, they all have a good motive. Peter has boasted to me about his gambling, and his siblings were more than happy to share stories of the times he lost big playing Lanterloo. Miss Grant could be defying my expectations and have stolen the pearls to spite Mr. Lawton. Earnest has no money of his own and wishes to leave. You can tell by the way his eyes dart about as though he’s looking for an exit. It’s almost like an animal. I do feel rather sorry for him.

  I have no proof, of course, although if you could look into George Lawton for me at his address of work in London, I should be obliged, but given his clothing and the way he speaks, I should think he is in need of funds. And his wife Fanny’s jewels are actually paste imitations. I don’t believe that she knows about that; I think her husband has sold the jewels and replaced them with paste without her knowledge. Otherwise I do not think she would brag about them so.

  Charles is desperate to get out from under his father’s thumb but does not dare stand up to him. And then there is Mr. Hillford. He was there when the pearls were stolen and he could be lying about who he is. I have written to Mary who is to look up the Hillfords and see if this Thomas is who he says he is.

  That is all for now. I’m sure you are glad you are not here. There is far too much tension in this house with everybody suspecting everybody. I know that you prefer cases where you don’t actually have to deal with the nuisances of humanity and can instead refer to the cold, hard facts and observations. I shall keep you abreast of the developments. We will be going in for Easter dinner shortly. I hope that yours is a merry one as well.

  Give my love to Mrs. Hudson.

  Sincerely,

  Miss Bennet

  I finished my letter to Mr. Holmes and prepared to go downstairs to dinner. I was not looking forward to it if I was frank with myself. I dared not say anything out loud, of course, but Mr. Lawton was a most unpleasant fellow and I could almost understand why one of his family members would steal the pearls.

  All of the family lived under Mr. Lawton’s thumb. He held all of the money and doled it out as he pleased. If anyone wanted anything, they had to ask him. George, the second son, worked and lived in London, but I doubted given his behavior and clothing that he was very good at holding onto his money. Earnest had no income aside from this father’s charity that I could ascertain, and nobody could or would tell me what Peter had been up to all of this time abroad.

  I had to also admit to myself that Peter’s attentions to me were a bit… bothersome. I suppose, being the only lady in the house who was not otherwise engaged to another man, it was natural, but I did not find myself drawn to his cavalier manner. There was also much tension that I could sense between Peter and his brothers—a resentment on the part of Charles and George. Earnest seemed to not notice or care, but Peter seemed to be taking special care to make jibes at his elder brothers, and both brothers responded
with prickly words and cold manners.

  Everyone was already at dinner when I entered the room. Earnest held my chair out for me and I sat, murmuring my thanks. He was a quiet, sweet-tempered person, truly. But could that kind of person hold in a resentment for so long that it would make them desperate enough to steal?

  Charles was standing at the mantelpiece, idly running a finger over one of the china pieces there. “Ah, Miss Bennet.”

  “Mr. Lawton.”

  “There’s only one Mr. Lawton around here,” Charles’s father and namesake snapped. “Charles, sit down and stop brooding. You rather remind me of a leech, feeding off the cheerfulness of everyone else.”

  There wasn’t much cheerfulness that I could see, at least not from anyone assembled about me. In fact, most of the people assembled seemed subdued—aside from Miss Grant and Mr. Hillford. They both appeared determined to remain cheerful, although Miss Grant appeared to me to be doing so to defy Mr. Lawton, her future father-in-law, while Mr. Hillford seemed cheerful in order to simply buoy the spirits of everyone else.

  “Pray tell me, Mr. Hillford,” Louisa said, attempting conversation, “what is it that you do? Your profession, I mean?”

  “I am studying law,” Mr. Hillford said with an easy, albeit lopsided smile. The left side of his mouth turned up more than the right—an endearing quality, I thought, one that quite probably made him more charming to women. All of the Lawton men were quite handsome, as well. Their father had been able to bless them in looks even if not much else.

  “Such an ungentlemanly profession,” Mr. Lawton said. “None of my sons should ever be allowed to go into law. Having to mingle with the rabble in such a fashion, to defend criminals or waste one’s time arguing to hang them when the choice should be obvious to anyone—my sons have not and shall never have to work in such a way for a living.”

  “Not all of us are fortunate to have such fathers,” Mr. Hillford replied, his smile waning.

  “On the contrary, Mr. Hillford, I should say you are quite fortunate,” Miss Grant replied.

  Earnest reached over and squeezed her hand gently, a silent warning for her to curb her tongue. I could easily see why Mr. Lawton might have looked at his pale son, who was mostly silent and obviously quite meek, and thought that he was the wrong sort of dandy, to use a slang term, but it was also rather obvious to me that Earnest was genuinely in love with Miss Grant and that his father’s assumptions about him were wrong.

  “George works for a living,” Peter said, obviously trying to stir up the pot. He was the favorite son, as had been made clear to me by the way that his father did not fling any barbs at him but rather let him have his say. There was no open affection there—but coming from Mr. Lawton, a lack of insults was probably the equivalent of a compliment or a fond touch on the cheek from a kinder parent.

  “Yes, well, George has proven himself to be the greediest of the lot of you,” Mr. Lawton replied.

  I almost choked on my wine. Such bold words would never have been permitted in polite company at any other table, and yet the others all appeared to be used to it. Well, the others, save for Mr. Hillford, who looked quite as alarmed as I felt.

  What an odious man, I could not help but think. And to think that I had once thought Mr. Holmes and Mr. Darcy to be the epitome of the horridness of man! They were practically overflowing with compliments compared to Mr. Lawton.

  Fanny, George’s wife, looked rather pale. Mr. Lawton caught this and raised an eyebrow. “Yes? Do you have something to say? You’ve been doing such an admirable job of playing the painted lady for your husband, don’t muck it all up now by trying to say something intelligent.”

  Louisa dropped her fork onto her plate with a clatter. I wished that I could reach across the table and take her hand in a show of sisterly solidarity. While I was not an admirer of Fanny’s vain nature myself, my instinct was to protect another woman when she was unfairly treated.

  Fanny looked down at her plate, obviously near tears. Mr. Lawton sighed, as though he were disappointed that his daughter-in-law had no backbone. I should have liked to tell him exactly what kind of backbone he himself had—for, in my experience, it is a coward who takes potshots at others in order to puff himself up and help himself feel better about himself and hide his own inadequacies—but I supposed that starting a proper fight at the dinner table would not help me with my investigation.

  “Tell me,” I said, looking to discover what everyone had been doing at the time the pearls had gone missing, “what do you all like to do in the afternoon, after dinner I mean, for enjoyment? Play cards?”

  Mr. Lawton snorted. “As though I would let any of my children do such a thing. Peter has already had heavy losses gambling and George is a nitwit at cards.”

  “I should quite enjoy a round of bridge,” Miss Grant said with defiance in her tone.

  “I enjoy playing the pianoforte,” Earnest said quietly.

  “That sounds lovely,” I told him.

  “The pianoforte is for the lady, not for the gentleman,” Mr. Lawton decreed as if it were Biblical law. “And you wonder, Earnest, why I had such doubts about you.”

  “You had doubts about all of your sons, it seems,” Miss Grant quipped.

  “Julia, please,” Earnest said quietly.

  “Oh, no, let’s have it all out, I do love a good row,” Peter said, leaning back a bit in his chair. “It’s been ages since we’ve had a proper dust-up, wouldn’t you say, Charles?”

  “I don’t think there’s any need for that,” Charles said quietly, almost as if he were ashamed that his family was behaving in such a manner in front of guests. I would have been ashamed, as well, if it had been my family. I often had been back when Lydia and Kitty were less concerned with proper behavior and would fling themselves at any man in uniform and Mother still found cause to give me embarrassment, but never had my family behaved in a manner as horrid as this.

  “Grow a backbone, for the love of all that is holy, Charles,” Mr. Lawton snapped. “And to think that I named you after myself, I should have known better—to think that a man who carries on my name and is my heir should be so spineless and simpering.”

  Charles grew quite red in the face while his wife grew rather pale. I myself felt embarrassment creeping in, on behalf of all of the assembled Lawton family members.

  Was it any wonder that those pearls had been stolen? Perhaps one might claim that Mr. Lawton was being worse than usual because of the theft, but I saw it as no excuse for such behavior, and the way that the others around the table merely ducked their heads and took the abuse told me that this was normal for them—that they were, unfortunately, quite used to outbursts and barbs such as these.

  “Father,” Charles said quietly, his left hand clenching and unclenching around his fork, “I have stayed at home and done all that you have required of me. I do not think that is a cause for ridicule and shame.”

  “Trust me, I am aware of the faults and failings of my other children, as well,” Mr. Lawton said loftily. “I have done nothing but throw good money after bad where George is concerned. Whether it was his misfortune to marry such a peacock of a wife or his own weakness for fine cloth, I shall never know and I do not care. How dire are your financial straits this time, my dear son? I can only presume that is why you chose to spend Easter with us instead of making some excuse as you did at Christmas.”

  “My finances are as well as they ever were,” George replied, snapping right back at his father. The way his face colored, however, told me that was a lie. Yet, George did not strike me as a man who would rob pearls unless he was certain he would not be discovered. There was no mettle to him, and one needs either a sufficient amount of desperation or mettle to pull off a crime. Was his desperation enough, then, to lead him to steal them?

  I had to find out where the pearls were hidden. My plan was that tomorrow on Easter Sunday, when all of the assembled family members were left to their own devices after chur
ch, I would record their movements—for it only made sense to me that after a few tense days, the thief should check on the pearls. I had little doubt that the pearls would be taken to be sold on Monday after the holiday, now that a few days had passed, and the stores would be open again.

  Tomorrow, then, would be my only chance to find the pearls. I was determined not to fail, if only for the sake of Louisa, but personally, I rather felt that the old man deserved to have something valuable taken from him. Let him know what it felt like to be a victim instead of attacking and victimizing others. But it was not my job to judge my clients, I reminded myself, it was only my job to detect and learn who had committed the crime.

  I felt uncharacteristically nervous without Mr. Holmes there, but I was determined to succeed. I would prove to myself that I could handle this case.

  Chapter Four:

  On The Third Day

  Easter Sunday was on the third day of my visit to the Lawtons. I confessed privately to Louisa that I was not at all certain who had taken the pearls, and so a plan was concocted that we arrange for me to search everyone’s rooms after dinner while the others had drinks and played bridge.

  The thief had to have the jewels nearby, I reasoned, both to make sure they were safe and to have them on hand when the time came to leave—or flee. My suspicions currently rested on either Charles or Earnest. Peter had always asked for money from his father and had always received it. Why would he stoop to theft when he could be reasonably certain that he’d be given whatever money he asked for?

  Julia Grant, meanwhile, I did not see as the kind of woman who would go behind someone’s back in such a manner. She had been bordering on rude in her behavior towards Mr. Lawton, spurred by her righteous anger over the treatment of her fiancé. I could hardly blame her.

  The others, though, I could all too easily see employing theft in order to buy themselves freedom or a way out of a dire financial situation. I tried not to make too many assumptions, for I knew that such assumptions upon a person’s character so early in my acquaintance with them had spelled disaster for me before. Yet, as a detective, what could I do except deduce based upon behavior?