‘Well, that’s how I saw him, and that’s what he really was, although the servants seemed to think that circumstances had made him like that, because his father had given him a hell of a time when bringing him up. Anyway, hasn’t your grandmother ever indicated what kind of a man her daughter married?’
‘Not to that extent. Hot-tempered, taciturn, but not a potential murderer, or a receiver of stolen goods—’ He paused now and his head swung from one side to the other before he said, ‘and an opium addict. That’s what you make him out to be. And now you tell me his servants own the coffee house. How is it that servants such as they must have been, of the lowest order, come to own a place like that?’
‘I don’t know anything about that. They had a little saved up, I suppose, and they started in a small way in Scotland. Most businesses start in small ways.’
‘And his death? Was nothing ever discovered about his death?’
Both Maggie and Freddie resisted an exchange of glances; they looked ahead for some seconds, but when Maggie was about to speak Freddie put in, ‘He seemed to have been attacked, likely for what he had on him that night. That’s all that was known.’
‘My God! He in his turn must have been murdered then?’
‘I know nothing about that part of it. Anyway, you must have enquired before, or been told how your father came to die. You weren’t such a small child then; you were ten when you moved into The Towers, weren’t you?’
‘Yes. I understood he had an accident and was drowned. The matter was not discussed after. I knew that my grandmother had no love for him so she didn’t talk of him. The only thing she did tell me was that he loved my mother dearly and was a changed man after she died.’
‘Yes, he certainly was, and this was demonstrated in the way he treated his second wife, who, by what I was given to understand those years ago, was a beautiful young girl and rich, and he married her not for her beauty but for her money.’
‘I don’t see how she could have brought him much money when he only kept three servants in that big house.’
‘Again I understand he had kept more, but they didn’t stay. Those three were faithful to him, as they had been to his father before him. Servants, sir, are human beings: there’s some things they’ll stand and some things they won’t.’
‘I’m well aware of that, sir.’
‘Please. Please.’ Maggie closed her eyes and lay back in the chair. ‘Don’t let us get on to the merits of servants. The question now is, has all this altered your intentions towards Belle? Don’t say yea or nay.’ She thrust out her arm and held up her hand in a warning gesture. ‘Give yourself time. It would please us both if you would go now without seeing her and think about it, and take into account that if the relationship or the non-relationship was to leak out, and you never know because there’s three other people in this secret, and as you’ve just stated they were common servants, there could be a scandal even if that letter there’—she pointed to the letter lying on the table to her side—‘was produced. There’s no way of proving that it was written by Belle’s mother. There’s only Freddie’s word of what he witnessed that night and why the man, your father, would want to get rid of the child, and why those servants risked their necks to keep her alive in what must have been that madwoman’s hole up in the attic.’ Maggie’s head went back now because he had sprung to his feet again, and it was evident he was finding it difficult to speak. And when he did his voice was low: ‘I will do as you suggest,’ he said; ‘I…I shall think about this. But one way or another, you, I mean, Belle, will hear from me. You can understand this has been more than a shock, it’s been a…devastating…’
Realising the difficulty the man was in, Maggie rose too and she said quietly, ‘You’re right, and whatever you decide we shall understand.’ She cast a glance towards Freddie, but he said nothing; instead he hurried from the room and went into the kitchen and collected the man’s coat and hat. But in the hall, as he passed them to him, he said, ‘If you care, I’ll see you to the station, the roads are still very precarious.’
‘Thank you; but I managed to get here alone, I’ll manage to find my way back.’ He inclined his head towards Freddie, then turned to the door, and on Freddie’s opening it he stepped out without further words. He had given Maggie no formal goodbye, but they stayed and watched him splash down the path towards the gate. Then they closed the door and what Maggie said was, ‘Pray God he finds it too much to stomach, because I fear there is another side to him. I expected him to be shocked, but not to look and speak as he did.’
Nine
Three days later a letter arrived by hand. The bearer said he would wait for an answer. Jinny took the letter into the kitchen where Belle was trying her hand at pastry making. When Belle opened it she saw four words written in a small scrawly hand: Will you marry me?
She put her hand to her throat, an action which caused Jinny to ask, ‘Bad news, lass?’ She shook her head; then hurried from the kitchen and into the sitting room, and took from the bureau drawer a sheet of paper on which she wrote one word: Yes. She folded it up, put it in an envelope which she sealed; then went to the door where the messenger was still waiting and handed him the envelope and a shilling, for which he thanked her gratefully.
When the hall door was closed she leant her head back against it and her mouth was wide open; and it was like this that Jinny saw her and said, ‘What is it, lass?’
Smiling now, she said simply, ‘I’m going to be married, Jinny.’ And what Jinny said was, ‘Well, all I can say is, that’s quick work,’ before turning about and returning to the kitchen.
Maggie and Freddie came in for their dinner at quarter-past twelve, and immediately they could see from her face that something had happened, for she met them in the hall and before they had time to take off their clothes she said, ‘I’ve…I’ve had a letter from him.’
They both stared at her, and it was Freddie who said, ‘Aye? Well, what had he to say?’
‘Come into the sitting room for a minute, will you?’ she said, and there was an appeal in the way she looked at them. And when they were in the room she said, ‘It couldn’t have been more brief,’ and handed the letter to Maggie; and she, after the glance that was all it needed, said as she passed it to Freddie, ‘Well, there’s truth in that.’
And he, after reading, retained it in his hand as he looked at Belle and said, ‘No word of affection, nothing to say he cares for you.’
‘Oh, Freddie! What’s the matter with you? I know he cares for me.’
‘And you care for him? Enough to marry him?’
‘Yes; yes, I do.’
‘And I suppose you’ve told him so?’
‘Yes, I have.’ Now her tone was sharp. ‘I…I should have imagined that you would be happy for me that someone like him should…should want to marry me.’
‘Don’t be daft, girl!’ It was a yell. ‘Half the country would want to marry you if they knew you were available. What’s the matter with you? Don’t you know yourself? Don’t you look in the mirror? Jumping at the first chance that’s offered, and to him of all people, the son of his father!’
He turned about and stamped from the room, leaving Maggie to go to Belle where she was standing with her head bowed, the tears running down her cheeks, and to say, ‘It’s because he’s concerned for you, like I am. And it’s true, you know, lass, we know nothing about this fellow, only that he’s the son of his father. And God in heaven, we both know a lot about his father.’
She turned away as if she had said too much; and she knew she had indeed said too much, for now she was thinking, I wasn’t supposed to have met the man. But anyway, the girl was in such a state that that slip wouldn’t be questioned; at least, please God it wouldn’t, for her mind wouldn’t be able to stand that business coming into the open at this stage: murder was murder, whichever way it took a life. Self-defence would be no excuse. And she had paid for her deed, she had paid in nightmares, if in no other way. By God she had.
She said now, ‘Come on and have your dinner, at least I want mine, I’m starving. And don’t worry, everything will pan out; Freddie will come round. You’ve only got to remember it’s you and your happiness he’s thinking of.’
The meal was eaten mostly in silence, and when later Freddie went into the kitchen his mother remarked caustically, ‘That was a merry meal,’ and when he didn’t answer she went on washing the dishes and talking to them, saying, ‘Well, it would be best if you put a good face on it. If she wants to marry him she’ll have him. I don’t know the ins and outs of it, I haven’t been told, but I think there’s somethin’ fishy going on. I’m not one to pry; I can wait until I’m put in the picture. I think you could have trusted me though ’cos over all these years I’ve never told your da the rights and wrongs of this affair.’
‘All right, Ma, later. We’ll have a talk later. But at the moment I’m worried. I’ll tell you that, I’m just worried.’
‘And a bit more.’
As he was leaving the kitchen he turned and looked at her, but stilled the retort on his lips.
Yes, and a bit more, as she said, for the fact was he was burnt up inside with jealousy of the man. Yet that was not all: there was a fear in him concerning the fellow. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t get it out of his head that the man was the son of his father.
And he had another niggling little worry on his mind. He’d had a message passed on to him this morning from Mr Taylor the jeweller. Apparently Andy Stevens went up to Newcastle yesterday on an errand for Maggie and while there had called into the jeweller’s to see if his watch had been repaired, and Mr Taylor had said to him, ‘Would you ask Mr Musgrave to call in and see me as soon as he can?’ Now why should the jeweller want to see him? He himself had never done any business with Mr Taylor, but Maggie had. As yet he hadn’t said anything to Maggie. It had been a busy morning and he’d thought it might be better left till dinner time when they were up home.
He went back into the sitting room now and said to her, ‘I’m going up to town.’
‘Why? Andy did all the necessary up there.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with that deal at all. If you want to know, Mr Taylor gave Andy a message when he called to pick up his watch. He wants to see me. Now why should Mr Taylor want to see me?’
Maggie didn’t reply for some seconds, and then she repeated, ‘Yes, that’s a question, why should he want to see you? You’ve had no dealings with him, have you?’
‘No, but you have.’
‘Yes; yes, bits of odds and ends for the sailors. And there were the stones remember. But that’s the only thing we would have to worry about. I’ve had watches mended and I’ve bought silver from him now and then, such as the tea service. I suppose I’ve been a good customer over the years; why didn’t he ask for me?’
‘Well, I won’t know, will I, till I see him.’
‘No; and the quicker you see him the better I’ll feel. Oh it’s that kind of a day. But hurry back, for there’s a lot of discussion to be done. Yet I can’t see that any of it is going to alter how she feels, and what I feel in my bones is, she’ll go through with it. So you, lad, might as well make up your mind to it.’
As before, he gave her no answer, but went out.
Newcastle was abustle, yet everything looked grey, and dull. The river had gone down but debris lined the banks. Warehouses had been swamped and were thick with mucky slush.
When he entered Mr Taylor’s shop he sniffed; the atmosphere seemed thick. A gas jet was spluttering and an elderly man, standing below it, was bending over some article on the counter. He had a black spyglass pressed close to one eye and he was talking to a customer, saying, ‘Very nice workings, beautifully done. But of course age tells. I’ll do the best I can with it.’
The customer said, ‘When will it be ready?’
‘Oh, it could be two weeks, three; I have a number in and there’s only myself now. I’ve lost my assistant. He was a promising young man but he had trouble with his chest and it took him off.’
‘Oh,’ said the customer; then turned and walked out.
Mr Taylor now peered at Freddie, saying, ‘Ah, I know you better than you know me…Maggie’s boy.’
‘Yes, you could say that, Maggie’s boy.’
‘It’s nice to see you. Well—’ the old man jerked his head back on his shoulders, saying, ‘There’s no customer in sight, if you’d like to step into the back shop with me.’ He now lifted up the flap in the counter and allowed Freddie to pass him; then he replaced the flap gently as if any untoward noise it might make should disturb the clocks. Then he led the way behind the curved counter and through a door to a room into which the atmosphere of the shop seemed to have penetrated. The only furniture it held, besides countless clocks of all shapes and sizes, was an old battered table, very much like a butcher’s block, and a high stool and a chair.
He now offered Freddie the chair by pointing to it, then hoisted himself up onto the high stool and, leaning his bent body so that his elbow could rest on the block, he peered at Freddie through the dim light afforded by a window that hadn’t been cleaned for some long time and, coming straight to the point, he said, ‘Do you know a man called Freeman?’
After a slight hesitation Freddie said, ‘Yes; yes, indeed, I know a man called Freeman.’
‘Well, somehow I thought you would. Have you ever had any private dealings with him?’
‘No; no private dealings. Perhaps, if you know Freeman, you will know from him that I was a runner when the smuggling was at its height on the coast. I was very small for my age then and had a little sculler and so, in the main, could cross the river without comment. I was’—he paused—‘always on the way to me granny’s.’ There was a touch of humour in these last words, and the jeweller took them up, saying, ‘Well, it’s good to have a destination to make for. Now may I ask if you knew what you were carrying across the river at times? As you will gather, there’s a purpose in my asking these questions.’
‘Yes, I can gather that, and except for once, I wasn’t aware of what I was carrying. But then, I carried very little, my job was to run messages.’
‘Yes, I can gather that, too, but at one time you must have carried a precious cargo. You know what I mean?’
Freddie remained quiet and the jeweller went on, ‘Maggie brought me three stones some time ago, and she got a good price for them. I’m always fair and I admit I got a good price for them too. Now no-one knew about that transaction, only you, Maggie and me, at least that is what I thought till recently when I had a visit from Mr Freeman. Between you and me, young man, I’ve never cared for Larry Freeman. I’m of the opinion that money is badly divided in this world and if you can sort it out a bit all to the good, but some people get greedy and he’s one of the greediest men I know. And he’s got fingers in many pies, not only in Newcastle but up in the big city too. And that is where the exchanges are made…well, with the special pieces of glass.’ It looked as if he was endeavouring to straighten his bent back and he looked towards the dull window as he went on, ‘It’s always been a mystery to me why women and men go mad about such pieces. Anyway, he wanted to know if you had been in here and passed on some stones to me. Now, I said, lots of people had been in here and passed on stones to me, besides other things, as he was well aware, and, as I didn’t keep any record, I couldn’t remember if you had or not; that in fact, I was sure you hadn’t. Then he said, if you hadn’t been in, had Maggie Hewitt? Now I had to lie very glibly at this, and I repeated again I had no memory of Miss Hewitt bringing any stones to me, but I did know that she was a very good customer for my silver both new and second-hand and that I had sold her two of the best grandfather clocks in the county. Well, from the conversation that ensued I gathered that the stones in question had reached a certain person in London—amazing how news travels—and that this person felt that these pieces were part of a consignment that should have reached him many years ago via Mr Larry Freeman and then a Mr Gallagher, the
man that you used to take messages to. Isn’t that so?’
Freddie’s throat was dry, and not just from the atmosphere of the shop. He said flatly, ‘Yes, he was the man I took messages to.’
‘Well, the two diamonds and the ruby that landed eventually in a certain house in London was but a small part of a larger package which has never been seen since. Now, recollecting all that happened, when this man Gallagher was found in the river there were no such stones on him. Apparently he had been attacked and someone had stripped his pockets before throwing him in the water. Now, although he didn’t say outright, Mr Larry Freeman has worked it out that you, as a nipper, but not such a nipper because you were twelve years old at the time, were the last person likely to see him alive other than his servants, of which there were three. Is that correct?’
‘You’re correct about the servants, but I needn’t have been the last person to see him alive because I delivered my message that night and that was that.’
‘Well, apparently by someone else’s statement it wasn’t. One of those servants is an old drunk, the father of a woman who has taken a coffee house here. She’s a very disfigured creature, one that can’t be missed. Anyway, having been given some cheap liquor this man tells Freeman a very strange tale, quite unbelievable, which Freeman says he discounts, about a child whom his master means to kill and doesn’t, and the servants hide it in a room, and you come along and you rescue the child; and Mr Gallagher chases you and this man who was the servant right down to Shields waterfront. And there the servant leaves you, knowing that his master is hot on your heels. Now, I think as Freeman, that that’s all fantastic rubbish, but what Freeman doesn’t consider rubbish is the possibility that Gallagher met up with you. And although you were only a nipper you were wiry and quick on your feet and, to use his words, you could have felled him with a stone or anything else, stripped him of what he had in his pockets, then pushed him in the river. The three stones that arrived in London were part of the haul and he reckons it’s more than likely you’ve hung on to the rest.’
The Harrogate Secret (aka The Secret) Page 23
