Yield Not To Misfortune (The Underwood Mysteries Book 5) (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“Hoc Volo, Sic Jubeo, Sit Pro Ratione Voluntas” – The fact that I wish it is reason enough to do it

Underwood reached the hall and wondered which direction to take. His initial instinct told him to head for the front door and leave the house with all possible despatch; however, he knew that, sooner or later, he was going to have to face the lawyer Attridge, so it might as well be now.

Fortunately, at that moment, a maid came through the green baize door at the far end of the hall, tucked away under the stairs, and as she was bearing a heavily laden tray, he guessed she was bringing the promised tea, so he followed her into what he now presumed was the drawing room.

Attridge did not rise to his feet when the servant entered, but he rose when he noticed Underwood in her wake, and held out his hand, “Mr Underwood, I gather?”

He was a younger man than Underwood was expecting, probably less than thirty, which spoke volumes of his ambition and determination, for at his age it might be expected that he would still be working towards becoming a partner in an established firm, rather than running his own offices, as would seem to be the case. Underwood admitted that he was an extremely good-looking young man, with dark hair and the sort of saturnine looks which evidently cause a flutter in the female breasts, certainly if one could take the evidence presented in novels. His smile was disarming but Underwood was on his guard, as advised by Miss Greenhowe. She might very well be befuddled, but Underwood had found her to be curiously shrewd.

“Good afternoon, Mr Attridge, is it?”

“It is. I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”

Underwood took leave to doubt it, but he merely nodded in acknowledgement, then took a seat, obeying a gesture by the other man.

“You have been to see Miss Greenhowe, I understand?”

“I have. A very interesting lady.”

Attridge raised a quizzical brow, “Really? I’m surprised you found her so. For my own part I have always seen her as a decrepit body and a destroyed mind, but perhaps you have experienced one of her ‘good days’, of which I confess I have been told, but have always assumed to be mythical.”

“Not mythical at all, sir, I do assure you. Miss Greenhowe and I had a most illuminating chat.”

“How intriguing,” Attridge began to pour the tea, “milk and sugar?”

“Just milk,” said Underwood, “thank you.” He took the proffered cup and saucer and sat back in the chair, prepared to make himself comfortable. He had the feeling that this might be a long conversation. Attridge was going to try and extract information and Underwood fully intended to block him at every opportunity.

“Would it be presumptuous of me to ask the content of discussion?”

“It would be presumptuous in the extreme,” said Underwood pleasantly, “Miss Greenhowe may be elderly and confused, but she still has the right to privacy. Something which seems to be oddly absent in this house.”

The younger man smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly expression, “Of course she does, but you must understand, sir, that I have no idea who you are and I have a duty to protect my client.”

“I’m delighted to hear that you have her welfare at heart.”

“First, last and always,” Attridge assured him, “and with that in mind, I must ask you to desist from questioning Miss Greenhowe on subjects that can only distress her.”

“Since you have no way of knowing the content of my discussion with Miss Greenhowe, then I would suggest that yet again you are being presumptuous, sir, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“I mind very much, Mr Underwood. I am doing my best to remain pleasant, but I must own you are getting dangerously close to annoying me – and I may warn you that is not a particularly good idea.”

Underwood looked thoughtfully at him, “What exactly are you and Mr Luckhurst afraid of, Mr Attridge? I venture to suggest that either you or he have already tried to scare me away from my investigation, but if you both believe Rutherford Petch is guilty and has been transported justifiably, then why all these threats?”

Attridge displayed two spots of high colour in his cheeks, but he admirably kept his demeanour unruffled, “I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about, sir.”

“Do you not? Ah, well, perhaps I am wrong, but it tends to foster suspicion when one is looking down the barrel of a pistol.”

For the first time Attridge gave himself away, “Those blithering idiots!” he snapped, then closed his lips into a thin, grim line when he realized what he had said.

Underwood smiled, “As I suspected, you and your friend Luckhurst were behind that particular little adventure. I really do seem to be worrying you both. I wonder why? Could it be that poor Rutherford has been the subject of a gross miscarriage of justice?”

“That was Luckhurst’s doing and I have no reason to believe that he was not being truthful. It had nothing to do with me. I’ve merely done my duty by Miss Greenhowe. Toft was defrauding the estate. I have proof.”

“No, you do not!” said Underwood harshly, “You may have fabricated evidence, but I have met Toft and I believe him to be another victim of your greed. I don’t know what sort of a deal you have with Luckhurst, I suspect you both plan a profitable future, running this estate, probably with no compassion at all towards the poor souls who rely on you for fairness in your dealings.”

“There is no law against making a profit, Mr Underwood,” said the lawyer, with an unpleasant smirk, “And good luck to you in proving that both Toft and Rutherford are innocent. I think they are them both firmly in the frame!”

“Not that firmly, or you would not be concerned by my activities. Take fair warning, Attridge, I fully intend to find the diamonds and bring Rutherford back from Australia – and when I do, you and your partner will be taking his place on a prison ship!”

With that Underwood put his empty cup on the tray and took his leave.

He debated going straight back to his lodgings in Midmickle, but after some thought he decided to ride first into West Wimpleford to the apothecary shop, which turned out to be a convenient move, for he was overtaken by sickness again, though not with such virulence as before, and he wondered if it were simply a rather extreme reaction to the tension engendered by the unpleasantness of the clash with Attridge. Verity had warned him that he was not fully recovered and it would seem she was right.

When he walked into the shop, green about the gills, Jebson looked at him with some concern, “Are you sure this is just the remnants of your previous illness, Mr Underwood? You look very pale indeed.”

“Queer as Dick’s hatband,” asserted the young apprentice from behind the counter. Jebson quelled his presumption with a severe glance, “You, boy, hold your tongue and take care of the shop while I take the gentleman into the back room.”

Once seated Underwood began to feel a little less queasy and gratefully accepted the offer of tea, “The stuff Attridge served up was quite unpalatable. It had obviously been left to stew for far too long.”

Jebson frowned, “Tell me, did Attridge drink any of the brew?”

Underwood took a moment to think about it, “Now you come to mention it, I don’t believe he did.”

“Umm. That doesn’t sound good to me.”

Underwood forced a laugh, “Come now, my dear fellow, you can’t seriously believe that he dosed me? Really, you are as bad as my wife. She was convinced Brodie had slipped something noxious into my wine. What are the chances of two men trying to poison me within the space of a week?”

“Considering what they have at stake, I think the chances are fairly high, Mr Underwood. In both cases you stand between them and a very great deal of money. You must know that men have killed for much less. I would be very careful what I eat and drink from now on if I were you.”

“I shall do so, I assure you. If that was poisoning, I have no wish to experience it again. Quite apart from feeling dreadful, the loss of dignity is mortifying!”

Jebson smiled at his melodramatic visitor and the emphasis he placed on these last words, “I’m sure it is. Now will you take some advice from me and accept an emetic? The result won’t be pleasant, but it will clear any residue.”

“I think not, thank you all the same. I’m feeling much better – and the ditch just outside Pershore House can attest to the fact that there can be very little residue!”

Miss Fettiplace arrived before Underwood had finished his tea, fluttering as usual with agitation and excitement, “My dear Mr Underwood, I am so sorry that I was not at the house to meet you. At the very last moment my poor nerves could not take the strain of all the subterfuge. I’m such a goose that I ran away, pretending I had shopping to do for Miss Greenhowe, but of course, there was no such errand.”

She was breathless and red in the face and Jebson was seriously concerned for her heart, so he gently persuaded her into the only other chair in the room and put a cup of tea into her hands, “Take some deep breaths, Miss Fettiplace, and try to calm down.”

She did as he requested and presently she had recovered enough to sip her tea and ask Underwood what had occurred in her absence. He gave her a shortened version of his conversation with Miss Greenhowe and his later confrontation with Attridge, at which she gasped in horror, “Oh dear, oh dear, he is such a bad man! I knew he was behind all this. Ormond is far too stupid to have planned all this alone.”

Underwood doubted Luckhurst’s stupidity, but believed sincerely in his cupidity.

“Tell me, Miss Fettiplace, did the search for the diamonds include the stables?” he asked, when she had calmed enough to think clearly.

“I believe so, but I doubt Miss Greenhowe could have ventured outdoors without being seen. She hid the necklace somewhere within easy reach of her room, I am sure. She can walk a little, but not far enough to descend the stairs and make her way out side and across the stable yard.”

Underwood pondered this. Miss Greenhowe had very definitely mentioned horses, in fact she had done so twice. If not in the stables, where else might one find a horse in a grand house?

“Miss Fettiplace, can you give me a comprehensive description of every room in the house? Start with the first floor and travel upwards. I need to know what is in every chamber, paintings, ornaments, furniture.”

She looked suitably daunted, “It is a very large house, Mr Underwood,” she ventured diffidently.

“I know that, but it is very important. Tell me everything you can remember.”

Jebson looked from one face to the other and sighed, “I’ll make more tea, shall I?” he said.

*

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“Extinctus Amabitur Idem” – How quickly we forget

Miss Fettiplace had reached the third floor before Underwood stopped her, clapping his hands together and smiling triumphantly, “I’ve got it! I believe I know where the diamonds are.”

The elderly lady stared at him; unable to fathom what on earth she had said which could possibly have led him to this astounding conclusion, “Are you sure? Where then? Do tell!”

“I’m as sure as I can be. But I need to tread carefully. It is vital that Luckhurst and Attridge are given no chance to remove the stones before I have exposed their perfidy.”

“We must go to the house now, right this very minute and get them,” declared Miss Fettiplace firmly, “Poor Rutherford must not be allowed to wait another moment for his freedom.”

Underwood was amused by her enthusiasm and held up a calming hand, “My dear lady, with the best will in the world, it will be some months before Rutherford is freed and sets foot back on English soil.”

“But still, we can start the process right this very moment,” she argued, trying to rise to her feet, but staggering slightly. She felt quite faint with the shock of his pronouncement on top of the dashing about she had done that day.

“I’m sorry, but that is the last thing we should do. If you and I were to go into that house now and produce the diamonds, Luckhurst and Attridge would find some way of turning it upon us and blaming us – more especially you, as you are in the house all the time – for their theft. Don’t you see that for us to know where they are hidden can only point to us putting them there in the first place? No, I’m afraid we must play the game much more subtly than that.”

“Then what do we do now?”

“You shall go home; I shall go back to Midmickle. Leave this to me, Miss Fettiplace – and for God’s sake, do not mention to anyone that I know where the diamonds are! My life would certainly be forfeit if that was known before I had brought them forth in front of witnesses.”

She looked horrified, “Oh dear, oh dear,” this seemed to be the most extreme expression she knew and Underwood was secretly amused that she was such an innocent that this mild exclamation was the limit of her vocabulary.

Jebson also looked worried, “Mr Underwood, I really fear for you. Please let me come and see you safe back to Midmickle. I don’t trust Attridge not to try something. I fear he already has.”

His reward was a smile and a pat on the back, “I’ll gladly accept your company, Will. I believe I’m safe enough for the moment, but one can never be too careful and it would be a sad mistake for anyone to attack two of us.”

It did not take long for Jebson to go across the road to the inn and hire a hack for the day. Within the hour he and Underwood were travelling at a sedate pace towards Midmickle, enjoying the mild September weather and conversing as they went.

“Tell me, Mr Underwood, do you really think you know where the necklace is?”

Underwood, who had now had time to consider his position, was rather regretting his hasty words. The truth was, he was convinced he had solved Miss Greenhowe’s riddle and knew where she had hidden the necklace – or at least the vicinity in which she had stowed it, but as to whether the jewels were still there was an entirely different matter. Miss Greenhowe, in her confused state, could very well have moved it again – possibly even several times. Luckhurst may have found it and disposed of it in the twelve months or more since its disappearance. Any one of the servants might have come across it when cleaning or tidying things away; and who could blame them if they had kept hold of an item which in the eyes of everyone, was already lost.

“I’m less confidant now than I was,” he admitted, “I know where it ought to be – but what if someone else has also listened to the old lady’s ramblings and taken heed of them as I have, instead of dismissing them as the product of a deranged mind? We may be too late, Will, that is my real fear.”

“We can only go and look. We have no other choice, but I agree with your comments to Miss Fettiplace – how can we go into the house and bring out the jewels without Luckhurst and Attridge beating us to the goal?”

“I have the beginnings of a plan, but I need some information first. Tell me, does the Constable of Midmickle have the same close relationship with Mr Luckhurst or Mr Attridge as that of the authorities in West Wimpleford? I need a lawman I can trust but at this rate I’ll be going home to Hanbury and dragging Sir George Gratten back here with me.”

Jebson shook his head, “I don’t think so. Luckhurst seems to confine his interests to Wimpleford and the three small villages on the other side of the estate. Midmickle belongs to another family entirely and I don’t believe there is any love lost between the two families. There are always disputes over land going back hundreds of years in these little county towns. It is quite often the only excitement on offer.”

“The man prefers to be a big fish in a little pond then, rather than the reverse,” said Underwood, thinking that perhaps the man’s ego might, for once, work in his favour. “I wonder, then, if the Constable of Midmickle can be persuaded to witness the finding of the Greenhowe necklace. Well, there’s only one way to find out and that’s to ask him. I can only hope he doesn’t still hold me under suspicion of being accessory to a highwayman.”

His companion looked suitably startled, “I beg your pardon? Did you say highwayman? Don’t tell me you were involved in that hold up a week or so ago? I must say that now you mention it, it was on the day you left but I foolishly never connected the two events.”

“I suspect they were deliberately sent to warn me off,” said Underwood, and gave Jebson a graphic and somewhat exaggerated description of his brush with death. With hindsight he was more aware of his mortality than he had been at the time, and more than ever convinced that the highwayman had intended to shoot him down in cold blood, rather than the more probable explanation that he would simply be threatened if he didn’t immediately drop the Petch investigation. Surely though, if the man had really intended to assassinate him, he would simply have shot him as he sat in the coach, unprotected and unable to defend himself or even run, rather than invite him to step out onto the road? Underwood, of course, had no notion of the man’s real intention and veered between the two scenarios with alarming regularity. It still chilled him to the bone knowing that it was by the merest chance that the ‘widow’ had also been taking the coach and had defended herself and Underwood in the most brutal but effective way imaginable.

“Good gad!” exclaimed Jebson at the end of the story, “You certainly do invite trouble wherever you go, don’t you, Mr Underwood? I don’t think we’ve heard of a highwayman in these parts for ten years or more.”

“It is the nature of my work which invites trouble, Will, certainly not me personally! I am a man of peaceable habits and refined demeanour. I’m horrified by the extremes to which other men will go to protect themselves or more often, their money.”

From what he had seen of the ‘peaceable’ Mr Underwood, and his single-mindedness, Will thought that he provoked rather more people than he helped, but he kindly kept the thought to himself.

The ride through the lovely countryside was uneventful and Underwood could almost have admitted that he had enjoyed it. Will certainly had – it was extremely rare that he had time away from his shop to trot about the lanes on a horse. He spared a thought for his apprentice, Joe, and vaguely hoped that no really awkward customers called while he was absent, but other than that he gave himself over to the daydream that he was a gentleman of leisure.

Constable Hugh Waylett was not particularly happy to see Underwood again, but he spoke to him pleasantly enough. He was still deeply suspicious of a man who had been named by a highwayman, who had subsequently ended up dead – and whose corpse had then mysteriously vanished when he had sent his men to collect it. He privately agreed with Underwood that of course the man’s partners in crime would move his body and dispose of it, since it could probably lead to their own identities being discovered, but even so, he hated loose ends – and they did not come much looser than a missing body and a female killer who had behaved with such level-headed coldness, and who had also proceeded to disappear without trace.

He listened to Underwood’s story with growing disquiet before eventually holding up his hand to stop the flow, “Are you asking me to accompany you to Pershore House in my official capacity, sir, because if so, I’m here to tell you that it cannot be done.”

“Why on earth not?” interrupted Jebson, by now thoroughly excited by the idea of finding the necklace and bringing Petch back from his exile. He was now utterly convinced that the only way to salvation for the inhabitants of West Wimpleford was to have a decent and honest man back in charge. Luckhurst fully intended to bleed them all dry with his excessive rent demands on his shop premises and poor repairs to overpriced cottages.

“Simply this,” said the constable calmly, “I do not have a warrant to search the house. I would have to apply to a magistrate and give a very good reason for intruding on the privacy of the gentry – especially gentry as rich and influential as the Greenhowes.”

“But if Miss Greenhowe were to give you permission to enter the house,” argued Will, desperate now not to see his rosy future slip between his fingers like the quicksilver he occasionally used in his remedies.

“From what I’ve heard, Miss Greenhowe is not in her right mind. I would be taking a terrible risk of upsetting her and her powerful relations – and I’m not prepared to do that. The position of Constable is merely an honorary one and I have no intention of being the first man in the history of Midmickle to have my title taken away from me in disgrace.”

Underwood was disappointed, but he understood the man’s situation. It was easy for him to trample over the feelings of others, in the pursuit of justice, he had nothing to lose by it, but he was asking simple countrymen to stand up against a class system under which they and their ancestors had laboured for hundreds of years.

“I’m truly sorry, Mr Underwood,” he said, and his face showed genuine regret, “But I dare not do anything without official sanction. I could try and get permission from the magistrate, but I think you know what the answer would be. These gentlemen all stick by each other and they hate to admit they might have made a mistake. You are on your own with this. All I can suggest is that you take an independent witness with you when you uncover the diamonds, but Mr Luckhurst is likely to refuse entry to anyone who can damage his situation.”

“I know it, which is why I was hoping you could help. But no matter, I will think of something. Even if I have to bring Sir George Gratten here, I will get into that house and find those diamonds!”

There seemed to be nothing more to say, so Underwood invited Will to have a drink with him before returning to West Wimpleford. The younger man was glad to accept but he was very quiet once they reached the taproom of the inn. He sipped his ale, but he had a faraway look in his eyes. Underwood could see that he was mentally grappling with some issue and he wondered vaguely what was troubling his companion, though he was far too mannerly to enquire. The apothecary would no doubt confide in him when he was good and ready.

“Dammit all, Underwood,” Will exclaimed after some minutes of silent cogitation, “I’ll do it!”

“My dear fellow, do what?” asked Underwood, halted in the action of lifting his coffee cup to his lips. He observed his companion over the rim, “What mad plan have you come up with, pray tell?”

“I’ll come to Pershore House with you and be your witness.”

There was a decided shake of the head from Underwood, “Absolutely not. I’ll not ask it of you, my friend, though you can never know how grateful I am for the offer.”

“Why not? I’m a respectable business man and Luckhurst cannot call us all liars, no matter how much he desires it to be the truth.”

“I cannot allow it, Will, simply because I may be wrong. If I do not find the diamonds, then Luckhurst and Attridge win – and you will have earned their eternal enmity. Until Rutherford is back, they hold the whip hand – and I’ll not see you and your family cast out on the street – for that is precisely what would happen. They will not soon forgive anyone who defies them.”

Will looked stubborn and regretful at the same time, “We can’t let them get away with this Underwood. This is not just about me and mine, now, it is about half the townsfolk and poor Rutherford. He was a hot-head and a fool, but he does not deserve the fate those devils have condemned him to.”

“Of course he does not, but I cannot let you sacrifice yourself on the altar of my self esteem. I know I’m right about the diamonds, but what if I’m not? What if I’m an arrogant idiot who thinks he could deduce from an old lady’s ramblings a clue which no one else could understand – even those who have known her for years?”

“I believe in you, Underwood, wholly and without reservation – and if it all goes horribly wrong, I assume there is the need for an apothecary in Hanbury?”

Underwood laughed, “There’s always a need for an apothecary in Hanbury, my dear friend. There are more sick and maimed residents than you can shake a stick at. Very well, you have convinced me. We will do this together, but not until Miss Cressida Petch has returned. The more people who witness my idiocy, the happier I shall be!”