The Penny Green series Box Set

by Emily Organ

  “Did you ever visit her at her home?”

  “No, I never went there. She told me she lived in north London and that was all I knew. We met each month and we walked together, rain or shine. When it was very cold the walk was a little shorter than usual, but she always kept our meetings, and so did I. I wish we could have had a normal relationship like other mothers and daughters.”

  “And was she happy, do you think?”

  “It is difficult to tell. She was proud of me, I know that. She told me she had disguised herself one evening and come to see me perform, and I feel very happy that she did that. She knew what I had become.”

  “Do you think she regretted hiding?”

  “No, I think it was what she wanted. She never showed any desire to act again; I think she felt her time was over. I don’t know what she did with her days, but I know that she was fond of reading the newspapers because she liked to keep up with what was going on in the world. And books. She read a lot of books. I think she was leading a very quiet life, and perhaps she was content with that.”

  “Annie, do you mind if I ask you a question about your father?”

  “My father?” Her expression grew wary.

  “Do you mind talking about him?”

  “I suppose not. I don’t really know him.”

  “But you know who he is? Did your mother tell you?”

  “Yes.”

  Annie didn’t seem to want to tell me, so I made a guess at someone I had been thinking about for a few days. “Is your father Sebastian Colehill?”

  “I don’t know him as well as I know Joseph.” She pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders.

  “It seems he knew that your mother was still alive.”

  “Did he?”

  “He hasn’t admitted it yet. In fact, he’s reportedly in Glasgow at the moment and the police are keen to talk to him. Did you ever see him and your mother together while she was hiding?”

  “No, never. Mother didn’t really talk about him to me.”

  “Did she care for him?”

  “It is difficult to tell. She kept that side of her life private. I don’t know whether she loved my father or not.”

  “When did she first tell you about him?”

  “I don’t know. I have always known that my father worked in the theatre and I remember meeting him when Mother was in various performances. He never spoke to me about being my father, but she had explained that he was, so that was all I needed to know, I suppose. He has always been friendly towards me, but not too close because he is married with a family, and I’m quite sure they don’t know about me.”

  “I am sure they don’t.”

  I found myself harbouring a new animosity towards Lizzie and Sebastian. Why had they had a love affair when he was married with a family?

  I thought of the delightful Colehill children practising their French with me and singing songs. I imagined the sadness they would harbour if they ever discovered their father’s affair or learned that they had a half-sister.

  I considered the evenings backstage with Lizzie and Sebastian in a different way now. The fleeting glances and touches had been between two lovers trying to conceal their affair. Naively, I had assumed they had enjoyed a close working relationship and nothing more.

  Annie stifled a yawn and I realised our conversation had probably tired her. I reached out and gently held her hand, which was resting on top of the bedclothes. “Thank you, Annie. It means a great deal to me that you have spoken so honestly about your mother. I want to find out who did this terrible thing to her and to you, and I won’t rest until I do so.”

  “Thank you. I think the police are doing their best.”

  “They may be, but I intend to keep a close eye on them, even if it is not my place to do so. Your mother deserves to rest in peace. She was kind to me and I want to return that kindness, and that also means looking out for you. Your stepfather is not the most affectionate of people, is he?”

  Annie smiled. “He isn’t, but he’s not a bad man. I tell him that if he wasn’t so rude people might like him a little better. But when he takes centre stage in his shows, that’s when he becomes someone else. I think it is those moments he saves himself for. I have grown quite fond of him over the years, and he’s as close to a father as I’ll ever have. All this business has upset him dreadfully and, unfortunately, he conducts himself rather rudely at times like this. If you ever got to know him better you would find out that he is not such a bad man, after all. He has always been fair to me considering that I am not even his daughter. And he has had to raise me as though I am. I feel indebted to him.”

  Perhaps I had thought rather harshly of Taylor, I conjectured.

  I made a note to myself to think better thoughts of him the next time we met.

  “When you are feeling better we must talk again and I will tell you my memories of your mother and what I remember of you when you were younger. I remember you had a nanny called Mrs Rathbone.”

  “I remember her!” Annie laughed. “She was a strict lady, but she taught me a lot.”

  A nurse strode over to us. “You do know that visiting time has finished?”

  “Let me know when you are discharged from here, won’t you?” I said to Annie.

  She nodded in reply as I leant over and gave her a quick embrace. She felt so small and vulnerable in my arms.

  As I walked away from Annie’s bed, I prayed that she would stay safe. My biggest fear was that the person who had shot her would try to harm her again. I couldn’t imagine Taylor or Colehill harming her. Like Cullen, my thoughts were turning to Westminster.

  Chapter 34

  I returned home the following evening to find The History of Pendennis by Thackeray waiting for me on the hallway table.

  “The detective left it here for you,” said Mrs Garnett, regarding me with her arms folded.

  I felt disappointed to have missed James.

  “Thank you. I am looking forward to reading it, although I have heard that it is not as good as Vanity Fair.”

  “It’s not,” said Mrs Garnett, “and I prefer Charles Dickens. I wouldn’t bother with Pendennis.”

  “I shall try it all the same, thank you, Mrs Garnett.”

  “I wouldn’t waste your time. Read David Copperfield instead.”

  “I have read it, thank you.”

  I picked up James’ book and tucked it inside my handbag.

  Later the same evening, after a meal of leek and potato soup, I sat by the stove in my lodgings and began to read The History of Pendennis. Tiger dozed on my lap and I had only reached the letter from Arthur Pendennis to his uncle about his engagement when my eyelids began to feel heavy. I slept briefly, but was suddenly startled by loud voices downstairs.

  I removed Tiger from my lap, walked over to my door, opened it and listened. I heard Mrs Garnett’s voice and a gruff male voice, followed by a stomping sound on the stairs.

  “Excuse me, sir!” said Mrs Garnett.

  I listened to the footsteps striding quickly up the first two flights of stairs. I assumed they would stop there and that the man would visit one of the rooms below mine. But, to my horror, I heard the footsteps continue on the wooden stairs which led up to my room.

  “You have no right to march into my house in this manner!” called out Mrs Garnett.

  I quickly scampered back into my room, quietly closing and locking the door. Then I sat in my chair and listened nervously.

  All was briefly quiet before a loud hammering noise sounded on my door.

  My skin prickled and I could feel myself trembling.

  “Who is it?” I called out in the most carefree voice I could muster.

  Was it the person who had sent me the threatening letter?

  “Sebastian Colehill,” came the reply.

  My hands gripped the arms of my chair and I remained rooted to the seat.

  He had returned.

  “Hello, Mr Colehill.”

  “Open the door!”
>
  “Mr Colehill!” came Mrs Garnett’s voice. She had clearly caught up with him on the stairs.

  I had not encountered Sebastian in a temper before and I felt afraid.

  Surely he couldn’t cause me any harm with Mrs Garnett present. He would probably shout, but I could cope with that. Keeping my door closed was likely to enrage him further.

  I walked over to my door and opened it.

  “Sebastian! What a surprise! How was Glasgow?”

  I grinned widely in an attempt to diffuse his mood. He glared at me. The carnation in his buttonhole was wilting and his whiskers looked unusually unkempt.

  “Sebastian, what is the matter?”

  “Stop standing in the doorway as if butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth and ask me to come in.”

  I didn’t like the way his tall, dark frame loomed over me or how his cold, blue eyes pierced mine. I felt my knees weaken.

  “Are you all right, Miss Green?” asked Mrs Garnett. “Do you know this man? Would you like me to call for help?”

  “I know him. Thank you, Mrs Garnett, for your concern. I shall leave my door open.”

  Mrs Garnett nodded and remained where she was, her dark eyes wide with concern. As I moved to allow Sebastian into my room, Tiger dashed under my bed.

  I offered Sebastian my chair, but he stood in the centre of the room with the top of his hat almost touching the rafters. I thought of his home and how modest my lodgings must seem in comparison.

  “Would you like a drink?” I asked.

  “No thank you.”

  “How can I help?”

  “Help? What a strange offer. I had a visit today from the police.”

  “Really?” I tried to force my face into an expression of surprise.

  Sebastian glanced over at my writing desk and his eyes narrowed. He glared at my pen and paper as if they somehow posed a threat to him.

  “Chief Inspector Cullen came to see me because someone has been spreading dreadful rumours that I was seen at the house in which Lizzie apparently hid!”

  I felt reassured that Cullen was continuing the investigation from where James had left off, but I wasn’t sure why Sebastian was accosting me about it.

  “I am not aware of any rumours, Sebastian.”

  “No? Then what are you aware of?”

  I took a breath and tried not to show him how frightened I was.

  “All I heard was that Lizzie’s home had been discovered in Highgate and that neighbours had said she had been visited by a man matching your description.”

  His eyes narrowed further.

  “Many men look like you, of course, so it does not mean that you were the visitor. Inspector Cullen is simply following up on the information he received.”

  “That’s what you call it, is it? Following up? You do realise this means I will be treated as a suspect?”

  “You won’t at all. I am certain the inspector will be speaking to several other men as well.”

  “Have you any idea how upset my wife is?”

  “I can imagine it must be very distressing for her.”

  “I told Cullen that he should have read the diaries and then he would have a full understanding of my relationship with Lizzie without coming to my home and speaking to me as though I were a criminal. Did you not pass the diaries to the police?”

  My heart thudded heavily in my chest and I slowly shook my head.

  “No, they were lost.”

  “Lost? How?” He took a step closer to me.

  “They were destroyed in the bomb explosion on the underground railway,” I stuttered. “I had been to the cemetery to visit Lizzie and I was reading her diaries on the train, and then the explosion happened and I lost my handbag and everything in it. I’m so sorry, Sebastian, I can’t tell you how much I wish I had kept those diaries safe. Every day I am filled with regret that I lost them.” I felt my voice begin to crack.

  Sebastian rubbed his brow and sighed. I watched him cautiously and held my breath.

  Was he a violent man? Would he harm me?

  “That is a shame. A great shame,” he said quietly. “But it’s not your fault, it was an accident. At least you were unharmed.”

  I began to breathe again. “Thank you for being so understanding. I realise those diaries must have meant a lot to you.”

  “Yes, they did. But not so much that I was unwilling to lend them to you and the police. I felt they would do the explaining for me. I knew the police would come calling as soon as I was informed of her death and the last thing I wanted was for them to visit the house.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “I don’t want any of this finding its way into the Morning Express, is that clear?” He raised his finger to emphasise the warning.

  “It won’t, I can assure you of that. I tried to read the diaries before I lost them, but there was a lot in them which didn’t make sense to me. Lizzie referred to someone with the initial D, do you know who that is?”

  “Not without being able to read them again and sadly I can no longer do so. I remain confused about your role in all of this. I hear you have been visiting Annie.”

  “Yes, I am worried about her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because someone tried to kill her! And I am frightened that they will try again.”

  “They would be foolish to attempt it.”

  “They would, but I still worry for Annie’s safety.”

  “Leave the worrying to me. In fact, it is probably best if you stay out of this altogether. You claim you were Lizzie’s friend, and you even persuaded her to pay for an expedition to find your father in South America.”

  “I didn’t persuade her, she offered!”

  “You hung around in her dressing room after her performances.”

  “She invited me!”

  “It was no friendship. You are a hack.” He gestured towards the writing desk. “You are interested only in your next story.”

  “That is simply not true!”

  Sebastian took a step towards me and I instinctively cowered.

  I had to fight back.

  “Tell me why you lied to me!” I exclaimed.

  “I lied to you?”

  “Yes, you knew that Lizzie had not drowned on the Princess Alice.”

  “And why should I admit that to a news reporter?”

  “When I visited you at your theatre, I visited as a friend of Lizzie’s. I felt shocked and concerned by the news of her death and I wanted to speak to the people she knew and cared about. It was a way of coping with my grief. I didn’t visit you in pursuit of a story.”

  “No?” I shook my head. “You call yourself a friend of Lizzie’s, but you barely knew her at all,” he snarled. “Do you think she ever considered you a friend?”

  “She paid for the expedition to find my father.”

  “With Taylor’s money. She did that to help bring an eminent plant hunter home. There was no need for you to read any kindness into it. I can’t trust you and the only reason you have been following that detective around like a faithful dog is to find something to write about. I invited you to my home for dinner as a friend, but I realise now how foolish I have been.”

  “This is a misunderstanding, Sebastian. I do not wish to write malicious stories about you or anyone else. My job is to report on what is happening, and I am desperate to find out who did this to Lizzie. And to Annie. I remember Annie as a little girl and it is terribly upsetting to think that someone could be so cruel to her. She has lost her mother and now someone has attacked her. She could have been killed! We need to stop these people and I want to help. Lizzie helped me and now I want to do something for her. I want to find out who killed her and why.”

  He sighed.

  “You knew she was still alive,” I said quietly.

  Sebastian nodded.

  “And Annie also knew,” I continued.

  His eyes searched my face, as if he was trying to decipher how much I knew about Annie.

  “Did she
? Well, I wouldn’t know about that.”

  “Who do you think shot Annie?”

  “I have no idea. You think I did it?”

  “No, of course not. Why would you? Annie is your daughter, is she not?”

  A long pause ensued.

  “Yes, she is,” Sebastian said finally. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “Like you, I cannot understand why anyone would wish to harm her.”

  “You could help by telling the police everything you know. Cullen is keen to understand what Lizzie has been doing these past five years.”

  “I will cooperate with them, I would be foolish not to. But my wife now knows that I have not been truthful with her, and if my children find out, or any of my colleagues or the public...”

  “The police will be discreet. And so shall I.”

  “As long as I have your assurance on that, I will rest a little easier.” He refolded his handkerchief and returned it to his jacket pocket.

  “We want the same thing, Sebastian. We both want to find the person who shot Lizzie and Annie. Can we trust each other?”

  “We can try.”

  Chapter 35

  As I descended the stairs the following morning and walked across Mrs Garnett’s hallway, an envelope on the table caught my eye. I walked over to it and realised, with my heart thudding heavily, that it was addressed to me.

  My name and address were written in black ink, but the letters were scrawled awkwardly, as if someone had used their weaker hand to write.

  It had to be another letter from the anonymous sender. And this time he had remembered to disguise his writing on the envelope.

  I picked up the letter and examined the postmark to see that this one had also been posted at the General Post Office in St Martin’s le Grand.

  I used Mrs Garnett’s engraved silver letter opener to slice along the top of the envelope, then I pulled out the letter and opened it to see that it was similar to the previous one.

  You ignored the last warning. Keep looking behind you.

  I instinctively turned and looked at the carpeted staircase behind me. Obviously, there was no one there, and I felt foolish for doing so. But the hairs on the back of my neck prickled unpleasantly.