Dangerous Decisions (28 page)

It was just after 5 a.m. when she let herself out of the apartment building. Her face was devoid of makeup, her hair concealed beneath a hat with a short veil and she wore a plain brown skirt and jacket, an image she often adopted when visiting the public library. Quietly she began to walk along the pavement.

Cora had thought long and hard about what she was going to do. She doubted that this Oliver Faraday's plan included someone in London playing happy families with his kid. During the last couple of days, Cora hadn't been able to get the image of that baby's sweet smile out of her head, nor how it had felt to carry her small warm body. She may have a stash of golden guineas at the bottom of the wardrobe, but she still wanted to sleep easy in her bed for the rest of her life. But twenty minutes later without a single hansom cab in sight, her stomach began to churn with anxiety. She already knew that she might be too late, but this morning could be her last chance …

And then at last she heard the clop of hooves.

She told the driver to stop when they were a short distance away from Carlton House Terrace, and she walked demurely along the streets until she reached the one adjacent to it. Cora, curious to see Faraday House, forced herself to resist the temptation to look around the corner. Just because there had been nothing in the papers about the kidnapping, that didn't mean it hadn't been reported to the police. No, what she needed to do was to try not to be noticed and to watch out for her prey. Fortunately, as she felt conspicuous in the deserted street, she did not have to wait too long. The boy was about twelve, thin faced, his wrists protruding from his jacket, his cap at a jaunty angle, his lips pursed in a soundless whistle. As he ran up and down the steps of each house to deliver his newspapers, she waited until just before he turned into Carlton House Terrace, then grasped at his shoulder.

He swung round. ‘'Ere, what's your game?'

‘Ssh. Want to earn a tanner?'

‘What for?'

‘Just to push this envelope through one of the doors.'

‘Which door?'

‘Faraday House, round this corner.'

He stared at her. ‘Where that geezer lived? The one what was murdered?'

‘That's right.'

He frowned. ‘I'd need a shillin'.'

Cora took out the coin and held it up. ‘It's a deal then?' She handed him the envelope. ‘And if anyone asks you …'

Grabbing the coin, he grinned. ‘I never admit ter nuthin'!'

Cora turned away, not daring to risk staying in the area a minute longer. She forced herself to walk at the same demure pace; there were a few other young women about now, mainly shop girls on their way to work, and she mingled amongst them before taking a tram and returning to her apartment building. Once safely home, she cut herself a slice of thick bread, spread it with butter and marmalade, and washed it down with a cup of strong sweet tea. Replenished, she sat back in her armchair satisfied that at least she had tried to make amends; the rest was in the lap of the gods.

Cora settled further into the chair and yawned. Just forty winks, and then she would set off for the public library and have a look at an atlas.

Nicholas breakfasted early the following morning, and the terrible suspicion concerning Oliver was still at the forefront of his mind. While it would be unthinkable to raise the subject with Helena, Jacob Standish had the reputation of being a man of both intelligence and perception and Nicholas intended to go directly to Faraday House. Even if his questions – and he would need to use the utmost diplomacy – were rebuffed, there was the chance that that they might lead to a fresh light being shone on the investigations.

When he arrived, he gave only a brief glance at the car outside with its waiting driver, but almost immediately the front door opened and he stood aside as Jacob Standish, followed closely by two other men, came hurrying out down the steps. Helena, behind them, gave an exclamation on seeing him and called out. ‘Nicholas! There is news about Rosalind!'

Her father swung round to stare up at her in astonishment.

Helena flushed. ‘I'm sorry, Papa. I told Dr Carstairs yesterday.'

The taller of the men frowned. ‘
Dr
Carstairs? Are you a physician?'

Nicholas nodded. ‘I am, and known to the family.'

‘In that case, would you be willing to come with us? I will explain on the way.'

‘Yes of course. I take it you have no objection, Mr Standish?'

‘If you so wish. Can we please not waste any more time?' Jacob was already on his way to his own car, now drawn up behind the other.

Nicholas was ushered on to the back seat of the police car and sitting beside him, the Detective Chief Inspector introduced both himself and his sergeant who was in the passenger seat. ‘Mr Standish telephoned Scotland Yard early this morning before I came on duty, and again later. Once informed, I acted immediately. An envelope was delivered by hand to Faraday House containing one sheet of paper with the words ‘
The baby was taken here'
followed by an address. That is where we are going, Dr Carstairs. I have already arranged for another car to meet us there. I just hope that your services will not be required.'

It seemed an age until Nicholas glimpsed the name of the street, a seemingly respectable tree-lined one, the houses three-storey, and as their car drew up at the number given, he could see the police car with its blue lamp drawn up further along. Seeing his glance, the Chief Inspector said, ‘We shall first of all go in quietly. I shall endeavour yet again to deter Mr Standish from accompanying us, but as a member of His Majesty's Government, he does hold a certain authority.'

Out on the pavement, Jacob was adamant. ‘If my granddaughter is in that house, Chief Inspector, neither you nor the King himself could prevent me from going in.'

The detective gave a sigh of resignation. ‘Sergeant?'

The stockily built officer held his finger on the doorbell.

The front door with its gleaming black paint was opened by a sallow-faced maid, her hair concealed beneath a white cap.

The Chief Inspector said, ‘Is your master or mistress at home?'

‘Yes, Sir. I mean …'

‘Who is it, Emmie?' The woman who came forward was dressed entirely in black, her pale hands devoid of rings, a bunch of keys dangling from her waist. Her eyes narrowed. ‘It's all right, I'll deal with this.'

The Chief Inspector introduced himself and his sergeant.

She smiled pleasantly. ‘Has there been an accident?'

‘No, it is nothing like that. Are you the housekeeper?'

‘Yes, I am.'

‘May I see the owner, please? I suggest that it would be rather less public if you were to invite us inside.'

She hesitated then stood aside for the small group of men to enter the hall. ‘I hope, Chief Inspector, that you have good reason for this. Mrs Masterson does not like to be disturbed in the mornings.'

As they waited in the hall and watched the housekeeper ascend the staircase, Nicholas glanced around at the hall, and at a corridor leading off with several doors. Then at the faint sound overhead of a baby crying, Jacob's head jerked up, his face suffused with eagerness. But already coming down the stairs with the housekeeper was a small woman fussily dressed in purple, her ample bosom adorned with pearls.

‘Good morning, Chief Inspector. How can I help you?'

‘I must apologise for the inconvenience, Mrs Masterson. I am afraid we have received information that a child abducted from her rightful parents was recently brought to this address.'

‘That is an outrageous accusation. I cannot imagine how my late husband, Colonel Masterson, would have reacted to it. Can you vouch for the accuracy of your source?'

‘In a case such as this we have to investigate every report.'

‘That is as may be. But I can assure you …'

The Chief Inspector said, ‘We did a few moments ago hear a baby crying?'

‘You did indeed. This house is used as a nursery for children placed here by quite high-born families who, you understand, rely on my discretion.'

‘I see, that would certainly explain it. But you would have no objection to my officers searching the premises?'

‘Of course not, I can only imagine how the child's poor parents must be feeling.'

While the Sergeant went out to the other car, the Chief Inspector turned to Jacob and Nicholas. ‘I would be greatly obliged if you would remain here in the hall, and allow my officers to search the entire house unimpeded. Believe me if we find anything at all …'

As the other three uniformed constables came in to secure the downstairs quarters and followed Mrs Masterson to search the ground floor, the senior officers accompanied the housekeeper to the upstairs rooms. Jacob tapped his cane on the tiled floor. ‘Dr Carstairs, I hope this is not a fool's errand. I mean – a Colonel's widow …?'

Nicholas was thoughtful. ‘Mr Standish, we have only her word as to her status.'

They waited for what seemed an eternity, catching glimpses of the constables leaving first one room then another and another, before disappearing along a corridor. Eventually they came back to wait at the foot of the staircase for their superior officer. Mrs Masterson stood with them, a satisfied expression on her face. Once the Chief Inspector returned, he questioned his subordinates who shook their heads. Nicholas heard the words ‘kitchen quarters', then the constables left.

With an exclamation of frustration, Jacob, with Nicholas following, hurried over to them. ‘Well?'

‘I'm sorry, Sir. We have found nothing.'

Nicholas frowned. ‘There are babies of a similar age here?'

The Chief Inspector nodded. ‘Four.'

Nicholas persisted. ‘You checked all of their hands?'

‘Yes!' His tone was sharp. ‘All three of them!'

Jacob said, ‘I thought you said there were four babies?'

‘The fourth is of no interest to you,' Mrs Masterson said. ‘She is the misfortune of a Negro servant, who is returning in disgrace to her family. She is even now waiting for a carriage to take her to the docks.'

Nicholas turned to the Chief Inspector. ‘You saw this baby?'

‘One of my constables did.'

Nicholas could almost feel Jacob's despondency. He thought of Helena, of her bitter disappointment, her anguish when they returned empty-handed.

‘Please, Chief Inspector, would you allow me to accompany you and see the child for myself.'

He sighed. ‘I don't know what you hope to achieve, but if you insist.'

Jacob stepped forward. ‘In that case, I shall not remain in the background.'

The three men went down the back stairs to the small Servants' Hall, and to a neat kitchen where a harassed-looking cook disappeared into the scullery. Seated at a table was a young Negro girl dressed in travel clothes, a large and a small carpet bag by her feet. In her arms and wrapped in a shawl was a baby, who Nicholas would judge to be around three months old. She was wearing a sunbonnet, but her black skin gleamed and it only took one look for Jacob's shoulders to slump in despair. The Chief Inspector gave an expressive shrug in the direction of Nicholas.

Nicholas studied the young woman, seeing her nervousness, although that could be because of their presence, but he was sure that he could detect fear in her eyes and she held the child awkwardly, not as a mother would. He sensed the others behind him begin to move away but he hesitated, some instinct making him pause. The baby slowly began to stir and as the tiny mouth opened in a yawn, there was a flutter of eyelashes and blue eyes gazed up at him. His own narrowed and he turned swiftly to call, ‘Wait!'

As the other two men returned, Nicholas took a handkerchief from his pocket. ‘I need someone to prise the baby's head away from her.'

Jacob stared at him. ‘What?'

The Chief Inspector looked at Nicholas. ‘Doctor, are you sure about this?'

‘Please, trust me.'

The Chief Inspector turned as Mrs Masterson, who had followed them, came rushing over. ‘What are you doing, how dare you touch that girl!'

It was then as the Chief Inspector bent to loosen her grip that the young girl suddenly gave in, and Nicholas moistened one corner of the handkerchief with his tongue and gently rubbed it across the baby's forehead. Then he held out the white fabric with its black smudge. ‘I knew as soon as she woke up. Have you ever seen a Negro with blue eyes?'

Stunned, Jacob stared first at the handkerchief then at the white patch on the baby's skin, and as the Chief Inspector compassionately stood aside, Jacob dropped his cane, removed the shawl from the baby's hands and with trembling fingers, untied the ribbons on the mittens to reveal her tiny white and unmistakeable hands. When Rosalind reached up to grasp at his beard, it took every ounce of Jacob's self-control not to give way to tears of profound joy.

Instead, as he took her away from the servant and held her protectively against him, he glared at Mrs Masterson who was now staring at him with frightened eyes. ‘You, Madam, will feel the full weight of the law. You have my word on it.' He began to walk towards the door. ‘And now, Chief Inspector,' he cleared his throat, ‘I shall take my granddaughter home where she belongs.'

On their way back to Faraday House, with Jacob holding his tearful baby granddaughter like precious china, he and Nicholas discussed the dramatic happenings of the morning. ‘It was a shame we had to distress her by rubbing the black shoe polish off her face,' Nicholas said.

Jacob nodded. ‘Yes, but necessary, I'm afraid. Otherwise there was a risk of attracting unwanted attention.' Gently he rocked Rosalind in his arms and gradually she began to calm down.

‘Perhaps now that Mrs Masterson and her servants have been arrested and taken to Scotland Yard they will make a full confession,' Nicholas said. ‘After all, they were caught red-handed, so there would be little point in trying to deny their crime.' He was hoping that their evidence would prove his suspicions regarding Oliver to be unfounded; his beloved Helena had suffered enough anguish.

Helena and Beatrice had spent the last two hours in an agony of suspense. For once Beatrice had been unable to remonstrate with her niece for pacing the drawing room, for she too had been equally distraught. And they had both been mystified as to not only who had written and delivered the note, but as to her motive. Beatrice was convinced that the cheap lined stationery and the handwriting proved the culprit was a woman.

‘I've told Dorothy about it,' Helena said. Her friend had telephoned that morning. ‘She thinks it may be because of Oliver's death being in the newspapers.'

‘Why should that make such a difference?'

‘Perhaps someone thought that for me to lose both a husband and a child almost on the same day, was too much for anyone to bear.'

‘That,' Beatrice said, ‘is to credit whoever took Rosalind with decent Christian feelings! What I fail to understand is why she was stolen at all, if not to extract money from us. This whole business puzzles me. No, this is a falling out among thieves, I am sure of it.'

Helena was again at the window, her hair dishevelled from her constant fingering of it, the skin on her lower lip becoming sore as she had gnawed on it so often. ‘How much longer … Oh they're here, the car is coming now …' With her aunt close behind her, Helena rushed from the room, and before anyone else could reach the front door, she had opened it herself to hurry down the steps.

When through the car window she glimpsed the white shawl in her father's arms, she ran along the pavement, uncaring of Beatrice's call to wait for the car to stop. The chauffeur drew to a halt and hurriedly opened the rear door for Jacob to hand over his precious bundle. On seeing her mother, Rosalind eagerly held up her arms and with tears of joy, Helena lifted her tiny daughter to hold her close. She breathed in the scent of her, kissing her forehead, her cheek, whispering, ‘Mummy's here, my darling, you're home, you're safe.' She held her away and on seeing dark smudges on her face turned in panic to her father.

Jacob was swift to reassure her. ‘It's nothing to worry about, I'll explain later.'

Helena turned and murmuring to Rosalind said, ‘Look, Aunt Beatrice is here too, let's take you in. All your teddies are waiting for you …'

When they all went into the hall, even the butler and footmen were smiling. Helena said over her shoulder, ‘Thank you, Papa, thank you! I'm going to take her straight up to the nursery for a bath and some clean clothes.'

‘I do think an examination might be advisable first,' Nicholas said.

Jacob gave a nod of approval. ‘Thank you, Dr Carstairs. I would appreciate that.'

Nicholas followed Helena up the curving staircase to be met on the first landing by two beaming maids, one of whom lifted her apron to dab at her eyes, and then on to the third floor and the nursery. As the young fresh-faced girl who was bending over a cot turned and cried out ‘Rosalind!', a door opened in the corner of the room and a haggard woman in the uniform of a nanny came hurrying out.