Murder in Midwinter (28 page)

“A diamond necklace belonging to Mrs Earnest Shepherd has been reported stolen from the house which the family, including Sir Frederick Anderson, Mrs Shepherd’s father, have taken for the season. We do not believe any of the good people of Nethergate are suspected of this heinous crime.”

‘Which means,’ said Libby, after reading this aloud, ‘they thought it was one of the servants.’

‘And your mate’s grandma worked for them, didn’t she?’ said Harry.

‘Do you think it was her?’ Libby was shocked. ‘But she was a governess.’

‘Didn’t she run off with a pierrot or something?’

‘Yes, but we know that she went to see Sir Frederick years later, and she wouldn’t have done that if she’d stolen the necklace, would she?’

‘What you need is another piece in a later edition of the paper telling you what the outcome was,’ said Peter.

‘Or something else in Aunt Maria’s documents,’ said Libby. ‘Fran’s going to ask if we can go through them again.’

Ben arrived to collect her and walk her home, and she left Peter with the admonition not to get up and to look after Harry.

‘Peter’s finally realised Harry’s been doing too much,’ she said, tucking her arm through Ben’s. ‘I hope he doesn’t forget as soon as things are back to normal.’

‘He won’t,’ said Ben. ‘Why are we stopping here?’

‘I want to speak to Fran,’ said Libby, ringing the doorbell. ‘I won’t be a minute.’

Fran opened the door cautiously and looked surprised to see her visitors.

‘Come up,’ she said opening the door wider.

‘We won’t stop,’ said Libby, ‘but I’ve just seen a piece in one of those newspapers Harry was looking at. It says a diamond necklace was stolen from Mrs Shepherd and they think it was the servants.’

‘It didn’t exactly say that,’ said Ben.

‘Near enough. Anyway, Harry hasn’t found a follow up and he won’t have time now, so we’ve brought the papers away.’ She indicated the large plastic bag Ben carried. ‘But I think we need to go through Aunt Maria’s stuff and see if there’s any reference to it.’

‘I was going to phone Bella tonight anyway, so I’ll tell her we need to go over again this week. Tomorrow?’

‘Fine. Ring me when you’ve spoken to her.’ Libby gave Fran a kiss on the cheek. ‘Bye.’

‘Bye,’ said Fran, looking surprised.

‘What was that for?’ asked Ben, as they walked away.

‘What?’

‘The kiss. You two don’t usually. Everyone else does, but you don’t.’

Libby thought. ‘Right from the start she’s seemed a bit remote – aloof, even. Shy, really, and as I’ve got to know her better, I’ve realised that’s all it is. But she’s never seemed the kissy sort, not like us luvvies.’

‘You speak for yourself,’ said Ben. ‘I’m no luvvy. And she was a professional, like you.’

‘Not a louche old tart like me, though,’ said Libby, grinning.

‘That’s true.’ Ben gave her arm a squeeze. ‘Lucky for me, though.’

Fran was also surprised as she went back up the stairs to the flat. Over the months in which she had known Libby, she’d loosened up considerably, she admitted that to herself, but Libby had seemed to know and respect the barriers between Fran and the outside world. Not, she thought, that she minded that Libby had kissed her. She was rather pleased.

She sat down by the table in the window and stared out at the dark High Street. The shop windows, alight with Christmas sparkle, were reflected in damp pavements as wavering columns of gold, and she could just see the twinkling fairy lights in the baskets of holly hanging outside the pub. She sighed with pleasure, remembering the shabby top floor flat in London she had abandoned to come here.

She picked up her phone and found Bella’s number in the address book.

‘Oh, Fran.’ Fran heard a door closing. ‘What can I do for you? Have you found anything out?’

‘Well, yes, we have. Quite surprising things, actually.’ Fran related the findings of the previous week, finishing with the theft of the necklace. ‘Aunt Maria didn’t mention anything about that, did she?’

‘Well, no, but she wasn’t born until 1914, she wouldn’t have known about it.’

‘But she’s catalogued everything from when Dorinda first met Peter Prince, hasn’t she? So there must be some mention of it somewhere, if it’s relevant.’

‘I don’t see how it can be. She was turned off in 1903 because of her relationship with Peter. Look, do what you want. If you want to go through the stuff again, please do. I’m not going to be able to come down for a while yet.’

‘Why not?’ Fran was sure she knew, but she wanted Bella to admit it.

‘Andrew doesn’t like me going down. He says I’m neglecting the family.’

‘Does he still want you to sell?’

Fran heard the sigh. ‘Oh, yes. He can’t see why I should want to live in such a god-forsaken place, or why I want to turn the theatre into a going concern. He says it would cost too much money. The site would be a worth a fortune, apparently.’

Fran was quiet for a moment. ‘Would it cost more than you could afford?’

‘I don’t know quite what the full value of the estate is, yet,’ said Bella. ‘I don’t suppose there’s a lot there.’

‘Well, Libby and I will carry on for a bit, just in case anything we find throws any light on Laurence’s murder. As we now know there’s a link between the two families, we might be lucky.’

‘That will only make Andrew even angrier,’ said Bella. ‘He’s furious about a murder having happened on our doorstep, as he puts it. He’s desperate for me to sell the Alexandria.’

‘You can’t until probate’s granted, can you?’ said Fran. ‘Or while there’s a police investigation going on.’

‘No, and you should have heard him shouting at the policeman who came up here to interview us.’ Fran heard the suppressed shudder. Bella was having a hard time.

‘Why did he want to interview you both?’

‘He wanted to know if Andrew had any contact with Laurence before I went to see the solicitor. How on earth he could have I don’t know, but I suppose they had to check.’

‘Exactly,’ said Fran. ‘If you’d never heard of Dorinda and Maria until you met Robert Grimshaw, how could Andrew have done?’

‘Well, anyway, all he’ll say now is he wishes we’d never heard of the theatre or the cottage, so I expect I will have to sell up. If you go over this week, would you check that Balzac is all right? I feel so guilty about that cat.’

‘Of course,’ said Fran. ‘If you like, when I move into my cottage in Nethergate, I’ll take him over for you. Unless you want to take him up to London?’

‘Oh, no,’ said Bella quickly. ‘Andrew wouldn’t like it.’

Andrew wouldn’t like the Crown Jewels done up in gold paper, thought Fran as she rang off. What Bella was doing staying with him she couldn’t fathom. Although the children were presumably enough to keep her there, and she wouldn’t want to upset the apple-cart so near to Christmas.

Fran had a dream that night. She was standing in the doorway of Laurence Cooper’s flat watching a fight. Two men struggled at the top of the stairs, one obviously drunk, the other sober but frightened. As Fran watched, the drunk fell against the door opposite, which sprung open, and he fell inside. The other man, with a quick look over his shoulder, ran down the stairs. Neither of the men was Laurence Cooper, but who they were, she had no idea.

Chapter
Twenty-four

Nethergate, Summer 1903

‘
L
ADIES AND GENTLEMEN, DON
’
T
forget the name – Will’s Wanderers, next performance three o’clock on the sands, if wet, under the pier.’

Will Beddowes swept off his pointed hat and bowed to the circle of his audience. Peter Prince took the box from Algy who was ‘bottling’ through the crowd and made his way over to where a pretty girl in grey stood with three older women who were obviously in service. The young woman dropped a coin into the box and smiled.

‘Thank you, pretty lady,’ said Peter, with a bow. ‘Are there any more at home like you?’

‘Oh, any number sir,’ said Dorinda. ‘Every home should have one.’

The other three women nudged each other and giggled.

‘Be still my beating heart,’ said Peter. ‘She speaks.’

‘I have to, sir, to earn my living,’ said Dorinda.

‘And so beautifully,’ said Peter, trying to lead her away from her companions, who, however, stuck close behind them. ‘Do you mean to tell me what you do?’

‘I am a governess, sir.’

‘Peter.’ Will’s voice came from the promenade above them. ‘Bring that bottle.’

Peter glanced up, then back at Dorinda. ‘Will you come and watch our next performance –’ he noticed the other three women. ‘– ladies?’

‘I ’ave me work to do, young feller,’ said the oldest. ‘Can’t stand around ’ere wastin’ time.’

‘Ellen?’ said Dorinda, turning to one of the others.

‘I reckon we’ve got an hour or so before the missus and Sir Freddie gets back,’ said Ellen. ‘You goin’ to stay, Ivy?’

‘Not ’alf.’ The youngest of the three winked flirtatiously at two more of Will’s Wanderers who had appeared behind Peter. ‘Makes a change to see some real men, don’t it, miss?’

Dorinda laughed. ‘Ivy, behave.’ She turned to Peter and smiled. ‘Yes, sir, we’ll come and watch your performance for a while.’

‘If you can’t stay to watch all of it, we perform again at seven o’clock,’ said Peter, ‘You could come back to watch the rest.’

One of the older Pierrots took Peter’s arm. ‘Come along, lad. You won’t be performing at all if you don’t get off quick.’

‘And Will don’t like it if we’re not all there by the quarter, and you don’t want to be out of a job this early in the season,’ said the other.

‘I’m coming,’ said Peter. ‘I shall look for you then.’ He kissed his hand to Dorinda and followed the other two men up to the promenade.

‘You stayin’ ’ere, then, Ellen?’ said the older woman.

‘Better keep an eye on these two young things, May,’ said Ellen with a laugh and a nudge. ‘Missus won’t be back before ’alf past four for little Julia’s tea.’

‘And I’d better be back by then for Sir Freddie I s’pose,’ said Ivy.

‘I reckon you’re more of a nursemaid than Ellen ’ere, young Ivy,’ said May.

‘Oh, Sir Freddie’s not so bad,’ said Ivy. ‘E’s a lively old gent for all ’e’s in that bath chair.

‘I reckon ’e fancies you, Ivy,’ said Ellen.

‘Ellen!’ said Dorinda. ‘You shouldn’t say such things.’

Ivy laughed. ‘’S all right, Miss. ’E does. Leastways, ’e’s always tryin’ to ’ave a feel.’

‘Ivy!’ said Dorinda, aghast.

‘You watch your mouth, young Ivy,’ said Ellen. ‘’Tain’t proper to talk like that.’

‘Sir Freddie ain’t very proper, ’imself,’ said Ivy, giggling.

‘No more’n the guvnor,’ said May, folding her arms and drawing in her substantial chins.

‘Mr Shepherd?’ said Dorinda. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You want to watch ’im, Miss,’ May said with a hortatory nod. ‘We’ve lost more’n a couple of maids because of ’im.’

‘I don’t know what you mean. Was their work not up to standard? Weren’t they suitable?’

The other three laughed.

‘Oh, they was suitable, all right,’ said Ellen. ‘Too suitable. Missus ’ad to turn ’em off ’afore it was too late.’

‘I still don’t know what you mean,’ said Dorinda, continuing to look bewildered.

‘Gawd, girls, what an innercent,’ said May. ‘Ain’t ’e ever bothered you, Miss?’

‘I’ve hardly see him,’ said Dorinda. ‘Don’t forget I was only at the London house for a week before we removed here.’

‘Well, you just keep out of his way when ’e comes down at the weekend, Miss,’ said Ellen. ‘’E likes ’em young and pretty, and you’ve got a touch of class, so ’e’s bound to try it on with you.’

Dorinda’s mouth gaped. ‘You can’t mean …?’

‘Oh come on, Miss,’ said Ivy. ‘You must ’ave ’ad the odd run in with men in your other ’ouseholds?’

‘I haven’t been anywhere else,’ said Dorinda. ‘I was an assistant mistress at a School for Young Ladies – the same one Mrs Shepherd attended as a girl.’

‘Ah.’ Ivy looked at her thoughtfully. ‘So you don’t know much about men, then?’

‘Ivy,’ said May, with a warning nudge.

‘Oh, come on, May. Poor girl needs to ’ave ’er eyes opened, don’t she? ’Specially now that young bottler’s taken such an interest.’

‘Bottler?’ said Dorinda.

‘That young chap ’oo was so interested in you just now, Miss,’ said Ellen. ‘’E carried round the bottle to collect the money.’

‘But he was carrying a box,’ said Dorinda looking puzzled.

Ellen shrugged. ‘It’s always called a bottle,’ she said. ‘And you want to watch them Pierrots, too. They’re none of ’em no better than they should be. Only after one thing, like all men.’

May nodded. ‘She’s right, Miss. Now, Ivy, ’ere, she can look after ’erself.’

‘Not ’alf,’ said Ivy. ‘But you don’t know nothing, do you, Miss? I reckon you need puttin’ right.’

‘Perhaps I’d better not watch the performance, then,’ said Dorinda, nervously.

‘Oh, you’ll be all right,’ said Ivy. ‘Tell you what, though, we’ll go back ’ome now, and sneak out fer the seven o’clock performance, shall we? Then you won’t ’ave to rush off at the end.’

‘I can’t come out at night,’ said Dorinda, looking appalled. ‘Whatever would Mrs Shepherd say?’

‘She won’t know,’ said Ivy. ‘Come on. Let’s get off ’ome.’

Chapter
Twenty-five

B
ALZAC WAS PLEASED TO
see them when they arrived at March Cottage the following morning. Fran went round to see the neighbour who was feeding him and explained that Bella wouldn’t be coming down until after Christmas.

‘And so,’ she said with a sigh, reporting the conversation to Libby, ‘I’m going to have to take him back to the flat with me. I can’t blame the poor woman for going away for Christmas, after all, but she could have told Bella before now.’

‘I wouldn’t like to have a cat on our main road,’ said Libby. ‘You’d better let him come home with me.’

‘Sidney won’t like it,’ said Fran.

‘I know he won’t, but he’ll have to lump it. Now let’s get on with looking through this stuff, then I’ll see if there’s a cat basket somewhere.’