Rage of the Assassin

by Edward Marston

  ‘Yeomans and Hale would be delighted if we were shot dead,’ said Peter. ‘They’d have a clear field for once. And there’s also Sir Roger’s son. He’d shed no tears over our demise.’

  ‘I think he’d applaud.’

  ‘And yet we’re trying to help him and his family.’

  ‘Edmund Mellanby sees us as obstacles. We’re in the way.’

  Peter was adamant. ‘And we mean to stay there.’

  ‘Well, we’re not moving for his benefit,’ said Paul, stoutly.

  ‘I keep thinking of the way that his father treated Seth Hooper. Sir Roger accepted him as a friend – though the social chasm between them remained, of course. The elder son, by contrast, dismisses Hooper and his fellow members of the Hampden Club as if they’re something he picked up on his boot by inadvertently treading in it.’

  ‘Why is he so different from his father?’

  ‘He won’t let us close enough to ask him,’ said Peter. ‘However, I must be on my way,’ he went on, rising. ‘Charlotte will wonder where I am.’

  ‘Thank you for coming.’

  ‘I’m glad that I did. If I hadn’t, I’d have missed what Captain Golightly had to say. I found it intriguing.’ He moved towards the door. ‘Give my love to Hannah.’

  ‘And pass on mine to Charlotte,’ said Paul, following him into the hall. ‘Let’s meet at the shooting gallery early tomorrow and decide what our next steps are.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ said Peter before turning round. ‘You know, I keep thinking about the letter “D” on those bullets.’

  ‘What do you think it stands for?’

  ‘The obvious thing is that it’s the initial letter of the killer’s name.’

  ‘I fancy that it’s a case of “D” for Destiny.’

  ‘There might be a far simpler explanation, Paul.’

  ‘What does it stand for, then?’

  ‘Death.’

  While the two brothers had been downstairs, Hannah had been in the guest bedroom with Dorothea. The latter was delighted to have her company but, curiously, she didn’t want to talk about her romance. In fact, there was no mention at all of Orsino Price. All that Dorothea was interested in was some advice about her career in the theatre. Hannah was more than ready to wax lyrical about her experience in the profession and to offer suggestions.

  ‘I think that you should invest in some singing lessons,’ she said.

  ‘But you said that I had a sweet voice.’

  ‘You do, Dorothea, but it lacks variation. A good teacher would help you to acquire that and to improve your projection into the bargain. It’s a problem I had at your age and I had the sense to seek instruction.’

  ‘Singing teachers tend to be expensive, Miss Granville.’

  ‘I’ll be happy to pay for the first half-dozen lessons.’

  Dorothea was elated. ‘You’d really do that for me?’

  ‘Well, I don’t see anyone else in this bedroom,’ said Hannah, laughing.

  ‘That’s so generous of you.’

  ‘There’s very little you need to be taught about acting but you must have another string to your bow. When work onstage becomes scarce, you can offer yourself as a singer. First, of course, you must build up a repertoire. It’s what I did. When managers realised how well I could sing,’ said Hannah, ‘I began to be given roles in plays that had songs and music in them.’

  She was about to go on when she realised that Dorothea was no longer listening. Eyes fixed on some imaginary object, the young actress was staring up at the ceiling as if in a trance. Hannah watched her for a couple of minutes before she touched her on the shoulder. Dorothea was jerked out of her reverie. Guilty and flustered, she began to apologise profusely. A gesture from Hannah silenced her.

  ‘I’d much rather have an explanation than an apology,’ she said. ‘What’s going on, Dorothea? Earlier on today, you couldn’t say a sentence without Orsino’s name in it, yet you haven’t said a word about him since I’ve been here.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Has it begun to hurt when you mention him?’

  ‘Yes, it has.’

  ‘That will pass in time.’

  ‘I’m not sure that it will,’ said Dorothea. ‘What hurts me is that I’ll never know the truth. Did he really love me or didn’t he?’

  ‘Of course, he did. You showed me his letters.’

  ‘When I first read them, I was transported. But now I have doubts.’

  ‘I don’t see why.’

  ‘It was when I said my prayers earlier, Miss Granville. I prayed for Orsino’s soul and hoped that he’d find solace in heaven. I remembered all the wonderful things he said to me then I recalled something that was very different.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘We were talking about why we wished to have a career in the theatre,’ said Dorothea. ‘I told him that I’d been inspired by the example of people like you. I had this uncontrollable urge to be up onstage in front of an audience.’

  ‘All actresses have felt that urge.’

  ‘Orsino told me that he didn’t idolise other actors because he knew that he was better than them. He couldn’t understand why others were employed when he was always turned away. Then, all of a sudden, his mood changed. He shook with anger. The theatre was his birthright, he shouted, and he’d beg, borrow or steal to become a leading figure in the profession. Nothing would stop him,’ she recalled. ‘He was adamant, Miss Granville. It frightened me.’

  ‘I can see why. Dedication is one thing but what you’ve just described is an obsession, and that can be destructive.’

  ‘It was the only time I saw Orsino behave like that.’

  ‘Did he apologise for his outburst?’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  ‘Then he meant what he said.’

  ‘Thinking about it earlier made me wonder,’ said Dorothea, wistfully. ‘I loved him dearly but … was Orsino really the man I took him to be?’

  Sir Marcus Brough had always been popular. Arriving at his club, he was met with a polite fusillade of greetings from staff and members. He shared an individual word with each one of them before going into the dining room. He was pleased to see that his guest was already seated at the table he’d reserved for them. After a ritual handshake, they sat opposite each other. As they perused the menu, they resorted to idle chatter. Once the meal had been ordered and they had a glass of wine in their hands, real conversation could begin. Sir Marcus sat back complacently.

  ‘Everything seems to be falling into place,’ he said.

  ‘We do still have one fly in the ointment.’

  ‘Strictly speaking, there are two of them – the Skillen brothers.’

  ‘They’ve no right to trespass on private property,’ said Edmund Mellanby. ‘One of them had the audacity to come to Nottingham on the expectation that we’d welcome him with open arms. I soon relieved Peter Skillen of that delusion.’

  ‘His brother, as you saw, had the gall to pop up in front of me in the House of Commons. One has to give him credit for tenacity. It was the second time he’d accosted me and I made it quite clear that there would not be a third.’

  Mellanby tasted his drink and indicated his approval with a nod.

  ‘What about my situation?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, it is a little tricky, to be honest.’

  ‘Politicians have crossed the floor before.’

  ‘Indeed, they have. On many issues there’s very little to divide the Tories from the Whigs. But your father was above party. He frequently upset his colleagues as much as he upset us. The universal love felt for him in Nottingham was not replicated on any of the benches. Sir Roger rampaged around like a mad elephant.’

  ‘You don’t need to tell me that. I grew up in his shadow. I saw him practising his speeches and rehearsing his gestures. I watched the effect he could have on a spellbound audience. I could never do that,’ confessed Mellanby, ‘and I’ve no wish to learn how to do it. What I covet is an opportunity to ser
ve my country at what is a very dangerous time.’

  ‘That’s putting it mildly. The Home Secretary is getting daily reports of unsettling behaviour. There’s a disgusting whiff of revolution in the air.’

  ‘Then let me stand beside you to suppress it.’

  ‘With respect, you’re not even a Member of Parliament yet.’

  ‘It’s only a matter of time, Sir Marcus.’

  ‘Are you that confident?’

  ‘Nobody would dare to oppose me for selection and there’s a more than adequate majority. Getting into the House of Commons is not the problem. It’s being in a party of government.’

  ‘So you’d stand as a Whig and defect to the Tories, is that it?’

  ‘There would naturally be an interval while I learnt the ropes. When that’s done, I could begin talks with your party – if you think it feasible.’

  ‘It’s not up to me, Edmund.’

  ‘Your voice is listened to.’

  ‘My wife doesn’t think so,’ said the other with a throaty laugh. ‘As for your request, you are aware of the likely consequences, aren’t you? The voters will feel betrayed.’

  ‘I’m man enough to withstand their anger, I can assure you.’

  ‘Won’t there be complaints from within your own family?’

  ‘My brother, David, will bleat at me, but I can handle him. This is not a sudden decision on my part,’ he went on. ‘I’ve thought about it for years.’

  Sir Marcus sat back and appraised him. He sipped some more wine.

  ‘This meeting never took place,’ he insisted. ‘You never approached me and I never invited you here.’ Mellanby nodded in agreement. ‘I must admit that luring a Mellanby into our party is in the nature of a coup, but these are early days yet. I don’t foresee our needing to speak again for … twelve months.’

  ‘I accept that, Sir Marcus.’

  ‘Then let’s put the matter aside and enjoy our meal. Unless, that is, you wish to ask a question.’

  ‘I do but it’s a very simple one.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘How do I stop the Skillen brothers from getting in the way?’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Peter and Charlotte arrived at the shooting gallery next morning soon after Gully Ackford had opened it. It was not long before the first customer turned up, a sinewy young man seeking instruction in pugilism. Ackford took him off to another room. Then Jem Huckvale came in, looking tired and worried. He seemed to have lost all of his usual vitality. They gave him a cheery welcome but his response was subdued.

  ‘What’s the problem, Jem?’ asked Peter. ‘As a rule, you come bounding in every morning like a dog that’s just been let off the leash.’

  ‘I feel like a dog who wants to go to sleep in front of a warm fire,’ said Huckvale. ‘I’ve never been so exhausted.’

  ‘It’s only to be expected,’ explained Charlotte. ‘Jem has had to take on a lot of the work that would normally be done by you and Paul. Yesterday, he spent six hours teaching pupils how to fire a pistol, then a further three supervising archery practice. Then there were two evening sessions.’

  ‘I’m not complaining,’ said Huckvale, bravely.

  ‘The investigation is really testing us,’ admitted Peter.

  ‘Have you any idea when it will be over?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. It may drag on for weeks.’ Huckvale groaned. ‘Don’t worry. When this case is over and done with, we’ll make amends to you.’

  ‘Thank you. I could do with a rest.’

  ‘Well, you won’t get it now, Jem,’ said Paul, walking into the room. ‘Mr Aveley has just arrived for some fencing lessons. I sent him upstairs.’

  Huckvale yawned. ‘Then I’d better go.’

  Peter and Paul were sorry for the extra pressures put on him. But they felt that solving a murder was more important than improving someone’s skill with a weapon. It also brought in a lot more money and kudos.

  ‘How is Hannah?’ asked Charlotte.

  ‘She’s fine,’ replied Paul. ‘It’s Dorothea who is the problem. The poor girl is very fragile. Hannah is handling her with great care. She’s like a surrogate mother.’

  ‘What about Dorothea’s real mother?’

  ‘Oh, she and her husband live in the wilds of Lincolnshire. While they did relent in the end, they didn’t approve of their daughter’s wish to enter such a volatile profession. They felt that she’d be exposing herself to danger. If they knew about her friendship with this fellow, Orsino Price, they’d be horrified.’

  ‘But that friendship has been abruptly terminated.’

  ‘I hope that her parents never find out how,’ said Paul. ‘However, let’s put Dorothea aside. We have work calling us. Where should we start, Peter?’

  ‘I’d like to confront Sir Roger’s son again.’

  ‘Do you know where he’s staying in London?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Then let me suggest you try the Clarendon Hotel first. His father always stayed there. It’s more than probable that Edmund Mellanby will also choose it as his base in the capital.’

  ‘Thank you, Paul. Where will you start?’

  ‘I’d like to meet this friend of Captain Golightly’s.’

  ‘Dr Quine?’

  ‘Yes, what he discovered has proved just how mercenary the assassin is. The doctor has given us evidence that we’d never obtain elsewhere.’

  ‘When shall I see you again, Peter?’ asked Charlotte.

  ‘We’ll meet here around midday,’ replied her husband.

  ‘I agree,’ said Paul. ‘We need to share what we’ve found out.’

  ‘Let’s just hope that we have something worth sharing.’

  Over a late breakfast at the house, Dorothea was unusually silent. When she’d first confessed to Hannah that she’d formed an attachment with a man, the words had gushed out of her like a waterfall. She then entered a more reflective phase, only mentioning Orsino Price’s name when she recalled a memory she hadn’t mentioned. The previous evening, she’d told Hannah something about her supposedly devoted admirer that made the latter adjust her opinion of him. Price had clearly been in the grip of a mania. He’d use any means and exploit anyone in order to achieve his goal. Dorothea might believe that she was the goddess he portrayed her as in his letters, but Hannah was convinced that she was simply his latest victim.

  ‘What would you like to do today?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know, Miss Granville.’

  ‘Do you feel well enough to go for a walk, or would you rather stay here and rest? It’s entirely up to you, Dorothea. I won’t feel at all upset if you’d rather be on your own. On the other hand, you might prefer to have company.’

  ‘I do,’ said the other, decisively.

  ‘Then I have a suggestion to make.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You may have noticed the pianoforte in the salon. It’s always kept tuned. I’ve used it myself to practise when I’m performing in a play that requires me to sing. Don’t forget that I did encourage you to take singing lessons.’

  ‘You did and it was good advice.’

  ‘Then you can begin right here. If you’ll trust me, I’ll act as your teacher.’

  ‘I trust you implicitly. You sing so beautifully.’

  ‘When you’ve finished your breakfast,’ said Hannah, ‘we’ll make a start. Are you happy with that idea?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ said Dorothea, producing her first smile of the day.

  In leaving her husband, Kitty Denley had come to see that there were losses as well as gains. She had flounced out of the family house after a fierce row and moved into a much smaller dwelling as a temporary measure. Money was no object. A wealthy woman in her own right, she could well afford to buy a new property when she found one that suited her. For the moment, she was happy enough in her new abode with the servants she’d taken with her. The sense of freedom was breathtaking.

  Set against the benefits, however, there wer
e disadvantages. Kitty had walked out on the multiple luxuries provided by a husband who was a highly successful businessman. In doing so, she’d fractured the small social circle in which she moved. Her few women friends secretly admired what she’d done, but their husbands ordered them to have nothing whatsoever to do with her. When she’d lived under his roof, Hugh Denley had giving her the countenance of respectability. It had vanished instantly. She’d become an outcast.

  As she reflected on the losses, she decided that, on balance, they were outweighed by the gains. She could start a new life elsewhere, one in which she wouldn’t be required to be on her husband’s arm in church every Sunday. Kitty was her own woman at last. Nothing could dull the pleasure she drew from that thought. Unimpeded by someone else’s demands, she could plan her day exactly the way she wanted. And then, to her chagrin, her husband called at the house.

  Kitty wrestled against her initial instinct to send him on his way. Whatever the hostility between them, however, civility had to be preserved. She therefore agreed to see him. Denley was in a testy mood.

  ‘What do you mean by setting those terriers on to me?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘First, it was Paul Skillen, treating me as if I was a suspect in a murder enquiry. No sooner had he gone than his brother, Peter, came snapping at my heels. You had no right to give them our address, Kitty.’

  ‘I didn’t send either of them.’

  ‘Don’t lie. They were dispatched by you.’

  ‘That’s not true. I admit that I answered a few questions from Paul Skillen, then I sent him on his way. As for his brother, I didn’t even know that he existed. I certainly didn’t meet this Peter Skillen myself.’

  ‘They’re two of a kind – twin brothers and twin nuisances.’

  ‘Well,’ said Kitty, ‘I won’t pretend that I’m pleased to see you but, while you’re here, you might as well sit down.’

  Denley gave her a long stare before lowering himself into a chair.