Tall Poppies (28 page)

Livia put her to the breast, experiencing deep contentment at the sensation. Afterwards, she changed her nappy before brushing her inch of dark hair into curls. Then she took her down.

‘Goodness, she is tiny.'

‘Meggie has gained a pound since she was born,' and Livia grinned as she caught herself using a proud mother voice. ‘She has a loud voice to make up for her lack of weight. Would you like to hold her?'

Bernice raised an eyebrow. ‘As long as it's not catching.'

‘Don't you want children when you get married?' And to her shame she sneaked a look at her guest's finger to see if she wore an engagement ring. She didn't.

‘It's not always up to the woman, is it? Men seem to need to reproduce themselves at regular intervals, as though they're personally responsible for replenishing the human race. Then they go and start a war and kill their damned fool selves all over again. However, there are measures to prevent conception now, so at least women can have one or two children, then say enough, without forgoing the pleasure of copulation.'

Livia captured a stray thought from the air that wondered what it would be like to make love with a man like Denton, who was whole and complete, and who was healthy and full of vigour, no doubt. Her face warmed.

Bernice gingerly took the offered baby and gazed down at her. Meggie gazed back at her, then offered Bernice her best smile and managed a dovelike coo.

‘She looks a lot like you.'

‘Yes, she does. I was hoping she'd inherit Richard's blue eyes and fair hair.'

‘She's pretty as she is, and her looks will keep people guessing.'

‘About what?'

‘About whom, you mean, don't you? You know perfectly well what I'm talking about.'

But Bernice didn't. She was fishing. With sudden surprise Livia realized that Bernice suspected Denton had fathered Meggie. How perfectly delicious it was. Well, two could play at that game.

‘I'd heard you'd become engaged.'

Bernice became evasive. ‘See what I mean about people making things up?'

She handed the baby back and Livia laid her in her pram, where she blew bubbles and kicked her legs until she fell asleep.

Livia engaged Bernice's eyes. ‘Let's put our cards on the table, shall we. It will save choking on our food when we're trying to eat lunch.'

With a throaty laugh, Bernice said, ‘If we must. Denton hasn't asked me to marry him, no matter how much I push. I think you know damned well that he hankers after you. I need to know your intentions towards him.'

‘I have none besides friendship. And no, Denton didn't father Meggie. Our relationship has always been platonic, except for a brotherly kiss or two.'

‘So the child really is a Sangster.'

‘She really is.' Put like that it wasn't even a lie.

‘Then you won't mind if I go after Denton?'

Livia would mind like hell. Bernice was wrong for Denton. She liked to be the centre of attention, and Denton needed someone he could come home to; somebody he could relax with, and who would adore him  . . . herself in fact.

But that was out of the question, she reminded herself.

‘Why should I mind? I have no claim on Denton, and he has a mind of his own – a damned fine one, I might add. It's not up to me to arrange people's lives for them. Can we now drop the subject and go and enjoy our lunch. Your escort will be back before long.'

‘Jerome is my employer,' Bernice said, a little too quickly.

Livia didn't think Denton would bow to pressure from Bernice. He was a man who'd been through a war – a man who'd made a wonderful career for himself, despite that. There must have been other women before Bernice, and he was too sensible to be coerced into a marriage he didn't want.

Livia's next visitor was Simon Stone.

After admiring Meggie, the solicitor gazed at her and smiled. ‘I don't think we need to question your fitness as a mother, do you? I have statements from Doctor Elliot, and the orphanage staff have given testimony of the way you supported your siblings over the years. The whole charge is ridiculous, including the reason for the marriage. All the staff, except one, vouch for your character.'

‘May I know which one says differently?'

‘It's Florence Beamish, and her testimony is scurrilous. In fact it's supposition, with nothing to back it up. But it's unsavoury to say the least. Given that it cannot be proved, it will cause a scandal nevertheless, I'm afraid.'

Her heart sank. ‘Florence? I can't believe it. What did she say?'

‘That you were in love with Doctor Denton Elliot, but you married Richard Sangster for his fortune, knowing he was dying. The whole statement is libellous, and a direct attack on your character.'

There was a fair amount of truth in it, but she couldn't tell him that. And the fact that Florence had named Denton would put a question mark over him. ‘All Doctor Denton Elliot is guilty of is being Richard's childhood friend.' Her heart gave a painful thud. ‘Does Beamish know about this?'

‘It seems not, but he'll have to be informed. If the statement isn't withdrawn, I shall have to attack her on the witness stand.'

‘May I read the statement, please?'

He slid over a sheet of paper. ‘My secretary has copied this exactly as it was written, only on a typewriter.' He passed over a piece of paper, and Livia's heart sank as she read it. ‘This is just awful.'

The door was open and Connie appeared with a tray of tea. Her colour was high. ‘I couldn't help overhearing. I thought there was something odd about Florence before I left. She seemed awkward and couldn't look me in the eyes.'

Livia wondered if Connie would ever grow out of the habit of eavesdropping.

‘Can I read the statement please?' Connie asked.

She might as well, since she knew most of it already. Livia pushed it across to her, and a few minutes later was glad that she had.

Connie looked up. ‘Florence didn't write this. To start with she can't spell. And neither can she read or write to this standard.'

‘Her signature has been witnessed by Rosemary Sangster.'

‘That may be so. But she didn't write those long words, and she wouldn't have known what they meant, even if she
could
write them. I expect she was having a good gossip, like she does from time to time. It doesn't take much to get her going, and she wouldn't have meant anything by it. This has been written for her and they got her to sign it. I bet Beamish doesn't know. I reckon it would have been that wife of the major's. She'd be behind all of this. She can't wait to get her greedy hands on that money.'

‘Which money are you referring to?'

‘The Sinclair legacy, of course. I've got it all worked out. If she can find a way to blacken Mrs Sangster's name and get custody of the child, then they also get control of the Sinclair legacy.'

Simon Stone and Livia exchanged a glance.

‘Likely they'll be after the captain's estate as well, since one thing follows another when a name is being blackened. Everyone will believe the worst, of course. It's no wonder Florence didn't come down to see Mrs Sangster when she had the chance. She was too ashamed of herself to look her in the eye. I bet she can't even look at herself in the mirror.'

‘You could be right, Mrs Starling.'

‘The major was all right until he met Rosemary Mortimer,' Connie fumed. ‘He always was easily led by a pretty face. Old Bugg said the major kept what was left of his brain between his legs. He was a man with an itch he could scratch but never satisfy, and was after women all the time.'

The lawyer spluttered over his tea, ‘Dear oh dear,' and he didn't know where to look. ‘This case is getting messier than I thought it would. They have a lawyer representing them who is known for his dirty tricks. His name is Philip Conrad, and he's suggested that perhaps we could reach a mutual settlement, to save your name being dragged through the courts.'

‘A settlement?' Livia drew in a deep breath, one that only added fuel to her anger. ‘The time for that is past . It would be tantamount to admitting there is some truth in these accusations. I'm not going to sit here and be attacked from left, right and centre. I'm going to call the major's bluff. Tell this Philip Conrad his client has seriously misjudged me if he thinks I'm going to allow the major to take what rightfully belongs to my child. If I'm to be dragged through the courts I'll drag his client's name behind me. Tell him I intend to sue him, and all his supporters, for libel. See if he likes that.'

Simon Stone nodded. ‘You're taking the stance that the best defence is to go on the attack? You have a point, but it's risky.'

‘What's risky about it? Unless they can prove the accusations, which they can't because they're not true, then I have nothing to lose. We should start with Florence. If we can get her to tell Beamish what she's done, he'll persuade her to withdraw the statement. It's better than us telling Beamish first.'

Connie nodded. ‘She'll be afraid she'll get into trouble if you or Mr Stone tackle her about it, and she'll dig her heels in. I'll be happy to ring her if you like. She usually listens to me.'

She did so then and there. ‘Florence, I've just read a statement you were supposed to have made. What on earth came over you to talk to that horrible woman? You know what might happen now  . . . they'll try and take Mrs Sangster's baby away, and the dear little soul will never see her mother again. Then Esmé will have nowhere to go except back to the orphanage, and it will all be your fault.'

Livia heard a loud wail of distress, followed by garbled talking. Connie certainly knew how to apply pressure.

‘I realize that, but Mrs Sangster was always good to you, and she doesn't deserve this. Isn't it enough that she's still grieving for her husband?'

There was a scramble of words from the receiver, then Connie looked at them and nodded, saying, ‘Beamish doesn't know? Well, I didn't think he did, since he wouldn't have allowed that woman to creep around bothering innocent folks, would he? Your man is as honest as they come. Perhaps it would be best if you started setting things right again. He thought the world of the captain and his lady, and if he finds out what you've done from someone else, he'll be cross.'

Again came the scramble of words.

‘Yes  . . . I'll tell her. The baby  . . . she's a sweet little thing. Her name is Margaret Eloise and she's named after her two grandmothers. We call her Meggie for short. She's the very image of Mrs Sangster.' There was a pause, then, ‘You are?' A smile lit up Connie's face. ‘No, I won't tell Beamish. Congratulations, my dear. That news should sweeten Beamish up when you tell him what you've been up to. What day did you say that woman visited you? A Monday, was it?' A few moments of small talk later and Connie hung up and turned to them. ‘Rosemary Sangster wrote the statement, and she promised to read it back to Florence and pay her five pounds. She did neither. She made Florence sign the statement, then said she'd left her bag in the car and would fetch the money and bring it back. She didn't. She just got in and drove off.'

‘So Mrs Beamish was offered a bribe, and she didn't know what she'd signed.' Simon Stone smiled. ‘Now we're getting somewhere.'

‘Florence is expecting a baby in June. That should keep her out of mischief. And there's something else that's struck me as odd. Florence said Rosemary Sangster was wearing a diamond brooch in the shape of a swan, and the last time she'd seen it was on the dressing table at Foxglove House when the captain's mother died.'

‘She couldn't have. It's in the safe at Foxglove House. I itemized all the jewellery and gave Mr Stone a list.'

‘Have you checked on it lately?'

‘I haven't been back there at all. Mrs Anstruther calls in, and so does Matthew Bugg. They tell me if they've had visitors, or needed to ask me if there's something they're not sure of.'

Mr Stone stood. ‘Perhaps we should check on it while I'm here.'

Livia gazed at the pink carriage clock Richard had given her. ‘I have an hour before Meggie needs feeding. If she wakes, would you mind keeping her occupied until I get back please, Connie?'

Mrs Anstruther opened the door to them with a smile.

‘Mr Stone and I are going upstairs to check on something. We shouldn't be more than ten minutes, Mrs Anstruther.'

Foxglove House was an empty tomb shrouded in dustsheets. Livia could feel the sadness of abandonment in it. Their footsteps echoed across the hall.

Here was the room in which Margaret Sangster had died, and in which Richard had spent his last painful few months struggling for breath. She'd thought she'd be able to feel his presence, but she couldn't. It was just an unoccupied room, and she realized that she didn't think of Richard as much as she used to, or in the way she used to – with such an aching intensity of emotion.

She pulled the key from its compartment, fitted it into the lock and swung the door open. She couldn't believe what she saw. ‘It's not here,' she spluttered. ‘The jewellery box has gone.'

They questioned Mrs Anstruther. ‘Has anyone been here  . . . any workmen or the like?'

‘No, Sir.'

‘Not even family.'

‘Not that I know of, Sir, except  . . . there was something that struck me as odd.'

‘What was that?'

‘Matthew took me into the markets a little while ago. A Monday it was. You came with us, if you remember, Mrs Sangster. We bought some baby clothes and you fell asleep in the car on the way home.'

‘I remember.'

‘That was about two months ago. We used your car, though nearly came a cropper when we rounded the bend and almost collided with a woman driving towards us. It was her fault, but she honked the horn as though she owned the road, and you woke with a start. Anyway, when we arrived at the house the postman had been.'