Murder at the Mikado (26 page)

“Good news, I see,” Drew observed.

There was a knock at the door, and Birdsong hurried to open it, admitting a constable and a petite blonde wearing tweeds and carrying a leather satchel. The chief inspector dismissed the officer and invited the woman in, shutting the door behind her.

Drew immediately got to his feet, and Birdsong made the introduction.

“This is Miss Madeline Parker and Mr. Drew Farthering. They’ve been looking into the Ravenswood case with us.”

The woman nodded as Birdsong’s smile grew even more smug. “Mr. Farthering, Miss Parker, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Josephine Tracy, journalist.”

Drew glanced at Madeline, one eyebrow lifted, and then he made a slight bow. “Miss Tracy, we’re
very
pleased to meet you.”

Birdsong offered Miss Tracy a chair, and they all took their seats, with the chief inspector once more ensconcing himself behind his desk.

“Now, Miss Tracy,” said Birdsong, “if you would, perhaps you could tell us where you’ve been for the past seventeen days.”

“Aberystwyth,” she said with a smile.

Madeline gave Drew a blank look. “Aber
what
?”

“Aberystwyth is in Wales,” Birdsong replied.

The journalist nodded. “When I heard Johnnie Ravenswood was murdered, I knew I had to make myself scarce. I knew he was going to stir up trouble, but I didn’t think it would get him killed.”

“What do you mean, ‘stir up trouble’? How?” Drew asked.

She slapped the satchel onto Birdsong’s desk and opened it. “This.”

She pulled out a sheaf of unbound typewritten pages. Written on the first page were the words
John Sullivan Ravenswood
, A Life, by John Sullivan Ravenswood with Josephine Tracy
.

“A tell-all?” Madeline said.

Miss Tracy chuckled. “And we certainly told
all
.”

“Including your own escapades?” Drew asked.

The journalist shrugged. “He and I didn’t last long as an item. I knew we wouldn’t. He never stayed interested in anyone very long. It wasn’t his way.” Her mouth turned up at one side. “At least not after he’d had his way. But that didn’t keep us from collaborating on the book. You know what my column is like. People eat it up, and the more lurid the better.”

“But Fleur . . .”

“Well, apparently, at least for a while, Fleur Hargreaves was an exception.
The
exception, if you exclude his actual wife. She and Johnnie couldn’t get enough of each other, even when there were others off and on. Even when they fought. They were no good together, of course. And when he threw her over—once she started to lose her figure when her baby was coming—everything she felt for him turned to hate. It was worse when he wouldn’t hate her in return. He only laughed her off, no matter what she did, but she finally hit him where it hurt.”

“By marrying Mr. Landis?” Madeline asked, and Drew nodded.

“He couldn’t imagine her claiming to be in love with anyone but himself, and that’s why he decided to pay her out with this book.”

“Benton claims she killed him for daring to send her off,” Birdsong said.

“That may be what she told him, but it was more than that.” Miss Tracy gave him a knowing glance. “Johnnie knew about that uncle of her husband’s and knew how much Fleur was counting on ending up with his money. The book would certainly have spoilt that for her. Obviously she didn’t want
that, and when I heard Johnnie was dead, I didn’t want to be next on her list.”

“This is what she threatened Ravenswood about in the pub a week before he was murdered,” Drew said.

The reporter nodded.

“Why didn’t you report this to the police, miss?” Birdsong asked.

The reporter shook her head. “You wouldn’t have believed me. You didn’t believe Benton when he told you straight out that it was Fleur. That’s what they were counting on, I suppose. I didn’t dare come back until I read this morning’s paper and saw that she was dead.”

Drew studied her for a moment. “Is there anything in your book about the child?”

“Well, of course there is. It’s one of the juiciest bits.”

“Did Ravenswood claim paternity? In the book, I mean.”

“Oh, yes, and he was fairly certain of it,” Miss Tracy said. “I never saw Peter, of course. I don’t know if Johnnie ever did, either. But he knew Landis’s rich uncle wouldn’t have given them a penny once Johnnie staked his claim on the boy.”

Drew glanced at Madeline and saw a touch of worry in her eyes. “I suppose you’re still set on publishing this book,” he said to the reporter.

“I’ve spent five months on it,” Miss Tracy said. “And now that Johnnie’s dead, the book will sell ten times better than it ever would have before. Especially once I add the part about Fleur and Benton and the murders.”

“And Peter?” Drew asked.

“Oh, he’ll definitely be in it.”

“Drew,” Madeline murmured, her eyes pleading.

Drew gave her a nod and turned again to the reporter.
“Could you perhaps leave that bit out? As a personal favor to all of us.”

“About the boy being Johnnie’s? Why ever should I?”

“Is it really necessary to burden the little chap with that his whole life? I’d think the story is lurid enough as it is.”

Miss Tracy frowned. “It will no doubt come out whether or not I say anything.”

“But that may not be for some time yet. Poor Landis has lost enough just now, don’t you think? Perhaps we can leave him just this little bit of consolation?”

“Absolutely not,” Miss Tracy said.

“But suppose,” Drew said, “we come to some agreement where you promise to leave any mention of Brent Landis and Peter Landis out of all your future publications, and I promise to make it worth your while.”

Miss Tracy folded her hands in front of herself. “I’m listening.”

“You’re very sweet,” Madeline said when they were more than halfway home.

He glanced over at her and dredged up a smile. “Am I?”

“You are. Taking care of Peter like that. And Mr. Landis.”

“Well, it was small enough payment to spare them both.”

“It might still come out one day, you know,” she said. “People do talk, and they do make assumptions.”

“Yes, I suppose they do.” His smile was warmer now, and she realized how much she had missed it. “But that’s a worry for another time. I’ve heard that today’s evils are enough for today. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes.” She sat huddled on her side of the front seat, feeling
more awkward beside him than she ever had. Finally she shook her head. “And I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. I think maybe I understand a bit more than I did before. About her. About how you were taken in by her.”

“How can I explain it?” he said. “You make my blood race just by coming into the room, and yet I’m never so comfortable as when I’m with you. It was never that way with Fleur. Yes, she fascinated me. Certainly I was infatuated with her. But I could never relax around her. I could never just be myself and know that would be good enough for her. I dared be nothing less than sparkling and witty every moment I was in her presence. And you remember how she was that night at dinner. She was always like that. Always onstage, always in character. Who was she really? I don’t know. I don’t expect many people do. Poor Landis certainly never seemed to.”

She sighed a little. “It’s all kind of sad, isn’t it, Drew? He always seemed as if he was trying desperately to love her enough to fill that space between them.”

“And that’s exactly what I felt when I thought I loved her, that if I tried hard enough, if I was stylish and witty and clever enough, if I could devote myself to her enough and be everything she wanted, that glorious, exotic creature would love me in return. Ah, well, one is eighteen only once, thank the Lord.”

He gave her a rueful smile, and she quickly looked away. Eighteen. She had been eighteen when Jimmy had deceived her and when dazzling Dinah had taken him away forever. But she had recovered. She’d learned to be strong and confident and practical, to value her own intrinsic worth apart from what anyone else said or did. At least she had until . . .

“I guess I’m not as secure as I thought I was,” she said.

“What’s that?”

She turned back to him, gaze steady, chin lifted. “I was pretty sure of myself until Fleur showed up.”

“Madeline, I don’t—”

“You still don’t understand. I don’t know if I did till now. It wasn’t how you felt about her that bothered me. It was how I felt. She made me feel dull and plain and stupid and totally unworthy of being loved.” She blinked hard, trying not to cry. “Just like that woman who took Jimmy away from me.”

“I never thought you were any of those things,” he said softly. “Seeing you next to Fleur only showed me how right you were for me and how very, very wrong she had been.”

“It’s more than that.” She fished a handkerchief out of her skirt pocket. “You once asked my forgiveness for not being the paragon I was looking for. Well, what if I’m not what you think I am? What would you have done when you found out I’m petty and willful and jealous and everything else? I knew I was most of that already, but I didn’t think I would be jealous. I can’t stand jealous women. And I never really felt jealous about any of the girls who flirted with you. No one but Fleur. Oh, Drew, I hated her for hurting you the way she did, and because . . .” Her gaze faltered, and she looked down again. “Because you were hers first.”

“Madeline,” he breathed.

Her eyes stung with tears. “Pretty, huh? The charming Miss Parker in all her glory.”

She didn’t really start to cry until he pulled the car over and took her into his arms, whispering her name, kissing her hair.

“Madeline, darling, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that I expect you to be perfect. Heaven knows, you’ve
put up with me, even with all my faults and foolishness. How could I do any less?”

“But you don’t know . . .”

He held her away from him, making his face comically fierce. “You haven’t swindled money from widows and orphans, have you?”

She laughed and then sniffed. “No.”

“No radical political views I ought to know about?”

She shook her head. “Nothing like that. Just ordinary, everyday pride and lust and envy and anger and greed and laziness.”

He grinned just the slightest bit. “Thank heavens you’re not a glutton.”

“Well, I do like chocolate much more than I should.”

She sniffled again, smiling weakly. His expression grew stern, yet there was a barely discernible glint of humor in his eyes.

“So, what you mean to tell me, Miss Parker, is that you won’t marry me because I might eventually find out you’re human?”

She blinked hard, fighting tears once more. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

He pulled her close again. “And I would be quite unhappy if I never had the opportunity to find out.”

His voice was low and caressing. His eyes were tender, vulnerable, honest.

Honest.

“You can’t know. You can only believe
and go forward and trust God one day at a
time.”
Aunt Ruth’s words came back to her.

Madeline took a little hiccupping breath.
Oh, God, show me what to
do.

“Drew, are you sure? Are you really and truly sure?”

“Darling, the longer I know you, the more certain I am that we were meant for each other. I will wait for you if you like. If you insist, I will let you go. But I will always love you. No one I have ever met has charmed me and challenged me, soothed me and nettled me, or fit so perfectly into my heart and life as you. If you leave me, I will not die.” He swallowed hard. “But I don’t think I will ever be quite whole again.” He nuzzled her ear. “Please, Madeline darling, marry me. Unless truly you don’t love me, marry me.”

“Oh, Drew.” She pressed her face into the curve of his neck, wetting it with her tears. “I’ve always loved you. I just don’t want you to be sorry.”

“I could never be sorry about that, darling. Please say yes.”

She nodded against him, and then she felt the low rumble of his laugh.

“With everything canceled, we may have to get married at the registrar’s office. Would you mind terribly?”

She looked up at him. “See? No telling how many times I will put you through something like this once we’re married.”

“But will you love me?”

Again there was that sweet tenderness in his eyes, that searching vulnerability. She put her hand to his cheek. Life was fleeting and unsure, how well she knew that just now, but she couldn’t be afraid to live it. She couldn’t be afraid to take those blessings God had sent her.

“Always, Drew. Always.”

She couldn’t seal the pledge any better than with a kiss. Then Drew pulled back onto the road and drove them home to Farthering Place.

T
he moment they arrived at Farthering Place, Madeline gave Drew another kiss and then scurried up the stairs and tapped on her aunt’s door, knowing her face was flushed with happiness. If Aunt Ruth wanted to berate her for being fickle and foolish, well, that would be all right. She
was
fickle and she
was
foolish, but she was loved, so none of the rest mattered.

“All right. All right. Give a body a moment to get decent.”

Aunt Ruth opened the door, wearing her bathrobe and slippers, her silvery hair damp and hanging nearly to her waist.

“What’s the matter?” Aunt Ruth hurried Madeline over to the bed and sat down beside her. “Good thing you’re going home and not staying here to always be rubbing elbows with killers and lunatics.”

Madeline felt the tears well up again in her eyes, but she somehow managed to laugh, too.

“What’s ailing you?” Aunt Ruth demanded.

“Well, Drew and I were talking. I think we worked things
out and, well . . .” Madeline gave her aunt an apologetic look and showed her the ring was again on her finger.

Aunt Ruth pursed her lips. “I suppose you want the whole thing on again, eh?”

Madeline bit her lip and nodded, feeling like a mischievous child but far too happy to care. “Do you think it’s too late to make all the arrangements and invite everyone again?”

Aunt Ruth frowned. “And I suppose I’m the one who’s supposed to run around like I haven’t got sense and try to put everything back together for you. Well, I won’t do it. I won’t do it, and you won’t, either. Do you think you can just snap your fingers and it’s all done?”

“Fine. Drew and I will go to the registrar’s office and be married there. Not a church wedding, of course, but we’ll be married all the same. He says he doesn’t mind what we do.”

Aunt Ruth gaped at her. “The registrar’s? In that cathedral-length veil? No, ma’am. You just put that idea right out of your mind.”

“Don’t you want us to get married at all?”

“I do want you to be married. I want you properly married under the roof of a church, and I want you to get married there on the tenth of December just as you planned.”

“But the guests, the caterers, the flowers—”

“They’re all arranged. Have been for weeks now.”

Madeline narrowed her eyes, and then a slow smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You never canceled anything, did you?”

“I did not.” Aunt Ruth’s expression was both serene and smug. “Don’t you think I’ve seen the pair of you all this time? I knew the wedding would be on again before long.”

“And what if it hadn’t been? What were you going to do?”

Aunt Ruth shrugged. “I’d have seen to it, if need be. But I wasn’t worried. I’ve seen wedding jitters before.” She put her hands on either side of Madeline’s face, smiling into her eyes. “Whatever else I may have said, and no matter how he seems to attract trouble, I can’t imagine anyone so perfect for you as this Englishman of yours.”

Madeline beamed at her, feeling a blush touch her cheeks.

“No one else has ever put that look on your face. Jimmy Adams certainly never did, poor boy.” Aunt Ruth stroked back Madeline’s hair and kissed her forehead. “Now I want you to stop worrying about wedding plans and relax. It’s all taken care of.”

Madeline nodded, still smiling.

“Now go on and find your detective and let me get into something warm before I catch my death. No doubt he’s owed a bit of pampering after what you’ve put him through.”

Madeline threw her arms around her aunt. “Thank you for not canceling everything when I told you to.”

There was a twinkle in Aunt Ruth’s eyes. “That’s what sensible maiden aunts are for.”

With a giggle and a wave, Madeline went to look for Drew.

Drew and Madeline were lingering over their after-lunch coffee when Dennison came into the dining room and announced Mr. Landis.

“I’ll come straight to the point, Mr. Farthering, if you’ll both excuse me,” Landis said. “I don’t suppose you’ll want me at the office any longer, what with the scandal and all.” There was a deep weariness in his pale face. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“Nonsense.” Drew gestured to the chair next to his. “Do sit down. Coffee?”

Landis sat. “Just some tea, if you don’t mind.”

Madeline poured his tea, and then she cut a slice of cake and set it on a plate in front of him.

“Now,” Drew said, “I don’t want you to think for a moment that you can wriggle out of your contract with Farlinford. Our solicitors are quite good, and they saw to it that you’d be with us for some while to come.”

Landis held his teacup in both hands, not drinking. “That’s just it. I don’t . . . I don’t think I can go back to the office quite yet.”

“Naturally, and we can survive a while without you,” said Drew, and he took a bite of cake himself. “Come back when you’re ready.”

A relieved touch of color came into Landis’s face. “That’s very kind of you, sir. I . . . I just need to get away from everything for a while.”

“And the boy? I suppose Miss Winston can look after him while you’re gone. They could stay here. I know Peter likes it at the old place, and we’re quite pleased to have him.”

“Oh, no, sir.” Landis waved his hand in protest, and on his face was the first genuine smile Drew had seen from him since that day at the Tivoli. “I couldn’t do without him. At the moment I’m finding it rather difficult to believe there are many things right with the world, but I know he’s one of them. No, I couldn’t possibly do without him.”

“Are you certain?” Drew asked, watching the man’s eyes.

Landis looked rather determined. “You mean do I realize he’s not actually mine?”

Drew couldn’t help feeling bad for him. “Well, there’s been talk. I wasn’t certain whether you would want to—”

“Peter is my son. In every way that matters, he is. Legally as well. He was born during my marriage to Fleur, so he is absolutely mine. And I thank God for him.”

“Where will you go?” Madeline asked, pushing the platter containing macaroons within his reach.

With a nod, Landis took one. “I’ve decided on Venice. There’s a cousin on my father’s side who lives there with his Italian wife and their seven children. They haven’t got two beans, but they’re happy as larks and always asking me to come and stay for a bit. Peter will have a lovely time meeting them all, I’m sure.”

“Sounds a fine idea,” Drew said. “Take as long as you like. Your position will be waiting for you at Farlinford when you’re ready.”

“I think a fortnight, perhaps three weeks, should make all the difference,” Landis said, taking a tentative bite of the macaroon and then, almost as if his enjoyment of it surprised him, two more. “I’ve made plans to leave this afternoon, if you don’t object.”

“We’ll be sorry to see you go.”

Madeline nodded. “I’m sorry we won’t get to say goodbye to Peter.”

“You may, if you’d like,” Landis said. “He’s out in the car with Miss Winston. We’re headed down to Southampton straightaway.”

Madeline grabbed Drew’s hand and practically pulled him outside and down the front steps. At the sight of them, Peter bounced up and down in the Daimler’s backseat, until Miss
Winston opened the door and let him out. Then he hugged them both around the legs.

“We’re going to Italy!” the boy announced. “How many ’talian cousins do we have, Daddy?”

Landis chuckled. “Lots and lots. Now tell Mr. Drew and Miss Madeline thank you.”

Peter hugged his arms around Madeline’s skirt once more. “Can’t you and Mr. Drew come to Italy, too?”

She patted his cheek. “I’m afraid not, Peter. We have to have our wedding.”

“Then can you come to Italy?”

She hugged him and handed him to Drew.

“Now what is Mr. Chambers going to do without you?” Drew asked the boy.

“Can
he
come to Italy with us?”

Drew laughed. “I’m afraid not, but I’m certain he will miss you.”

Peter looked at him, forehead puckered. “Will you miss me, Mr. Drew?”

“Very much,” Drew admitted. “But you’ll have a fine time with your cousins, and before you know it, you’ll be right back in England and back in your own house with Miss Winston and your father. How will you like that?”

“But not Mummy. Mummy isn’t coming back.”

Drew hugged him close. “No, I’m afraid she isn’t.”

Landis cleared his throat. “Peter . . .”

“Come along now, Peter,” Miss Winston said, her voice cheerful, and she took the boy from Drew. “Tell Mr. Drew goodbye.”

“Let me have him,” Landis said, perfectly composed. “We Landises have to stick together, don’t we, son?”

Peter beamed at him. “You betcha.”

Landis gave Drew a grateful nod and carried the boy back to the car.

Miss Winston paused at the car. “Goodbye, miss. Sir.”

“Goodbye,” Madeline said. “Do take good care of him.”

The nursemaid smiled. “I will. Don’t you worry.”

Her face reddened just the slightest bit when Landis took her hand to help her inside next to Peter. With Peter waving out the back window, the Daimler roared away and was soon out of sight.

Drew stood for a moment, looking down the drive toward the now-empty road. He smiled when he felt Madeline slip her arm through his and twine their fingers together.

“Do you suppose she meant Peter or Mr. Landis?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“When she said she would take good care of him. Miss Winston, I mean.”

Drew pulled her a little closer to his side. “Both, I hope. Perhaps he’ll be able to appreciate her before long. In a year or two, maybe even love her.”

She looked out at the road. “She does love him, doesn’t she?”

“I think so. And terribly. In a ‘for better or for worse’ sort of way.”

A wistful sort of sadness came into Madeline’s eyes. “I don’t suppose he would have ever gotten that kind of love from Fleur.”

“I don’t think Fleur had it in her.” Drew squeezed her hand. “He’ll get along just fine, though. He’s loved.”

“You are too.”

He looked down into her beautiful, earnest eyes and saw a glimmer of tears. “Bless you, darling.”

“I’m sorry, Drew . . . for being so jealous. I do know I can trust you.”

He kissed her forehead. “That’s all behind us now.” A moment later he shook his head. “But poor Landis. He’s a good chap, and I can’t say he deserved all that Fleur put him through.”

Madeline nestled closer to him. “Maybe it wasn’t really about him. Maybe it was for the sake of someone else.”

“Someone . . .” Drew nodded. “The little fellow is in good hands after all, isn’t he?”

“The very best,” Madeline said, looking again toward the road. “The very best.”

“There she is!”

Madeline rushed over to the edge of the dock, waving her white handkerchief and smiling, even though the cold wind off the sea stung her eyes. There on the upper deck of the ship, leaning over the rail, was a petite strawberry blonde searching the crowd onshore.

“Madeline!” she called, waving back.

Nick gave Drew a nudge as he moved closer to the ship, his eyes on the diminutive girl. Her eyes met his and somehow managed to grow even brighter. Before long she was working her way through the crowd coming down the gangplank.

Madeline ran to her and embraced her tightly. “I didn’t think you’d ever get here.” She pulled Drew up next to them. “Drew, you remember Carrie.”

Drew removed his hat. “Indeed I do. Welcome back. And of course you remember Nick Dennison.”

Madeline gave Nick a little push toward Carrie, and he
gave her an unsteady smile, belatedly remembering to remove his own hat.

Madeline frowned, still searching the crowd. “Where’s Muriel?”

“Oh.” Carrie put one white-gloved hand over her mouth and giggled. “Well, it was like this—”

“Carrie? You’re going to lose me in this crowd if you’re not careful.”

Madeline blinked at the rather stout older man who approached them just then, a valise and a suitcase in his hands. “Mr. Holland, how nice to see you!” She hugged him, then looked at Carrie. “I thought . . .”

Again Carrie giggled. “So did I. Daddy, this is Drew Farthering, Madeline’s fiancé, and his friend Nick Dennison. Boys, this is my daddy.”