The Shadow at Greystone Chase (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 10) (14 page)

Godfrey’s brow lowered and the atmosphere turned distinctly frosty.

‘Not exactly,’ he said stiffly. ‘My brother had already declared his intention not to work for our father. There was some little dispute about it which as far as I know was unresolved at the time of the events in question. However, it is not a period I like to remember.’

Even Freddy was not bare-faced enough to press further when confronted with such evident unwillingness to talk about the matter, and so he was forced to give it up. He begged Godfrey’s pardon and turned the subject, but his host’s mood had changed and he had returned to his usual distantly polite self. There was no use in forcing the point, and in any case it was getting late, so Freddy suggested they join the ladies in the drawing-room. The visit ended soon afterwards with polite nothings on both sides, and Freddy and Angela returned to the Regent Hotel. Each had soon apprised the other of what they had discovered—which, in Freddy’s case was very little.

‘What a pity he clammed up as soon as I tried to introduce the subject,’ he said regretfully, as the Bentley turned on to the main road into Denborough. ‘I was hoping the drink would have loosened his tongue, but no such luck. He turned to ice as soon as I mentioned his brother, and I can’t say I blame him. After all, it’s hardly polite to drag up the dead bodies when one’s drinking a man’s best port under his own roof, is it?’

‘No,’ agreed Angela. ‘I almost ducked out of it myself, but luckily Victorine had plenty to say, as it turned out. I wonder what they’re saying to each other at this moment. Do you think they’re comparing notes? I suppose the best we can hope for is that they think we have the most dreadful manners. At any rate, I hope they don’t suspect what we’re really up to.’

‘Does it matter if they do, now?’ said Freddy. ‘Either way they’re unlikely to invite us back. This was always going to be pretty much our only opportunity to question them, and
you
got something at least, even if I didn’t. Two possible suspects without alibis, in fact. Which of them do you fancy? I should have thought Godfrey was the more likely.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ said Angela, and fell silent. She was thinking again of Victorine’s strong hands and the way she had looked—almost glared, in fact—at the photograph of Selina.
Would
she tell her husband about what she had told Angela? Or would she keep it to herself? There was something about the woman which made Angela uncomfortable, and although it was more logical to suspect Godfrey, she could not help thinking that it would be better not to get on the wrong side of his wife.

She was still thinking about their visit to Greystone Chase the next morning as they walked along the cliff top with Mrs. Hudd and Miss Atkinson. Freddy was exerting himself to be entertaining, and Angela was required to say very little, which allowed her to reflect at leisure. It seemed to her that it was all very well to believe in Valencourt’s innocence (and she was by no means certain she did), but proving it would be quite another matter. What sort of proof could they possibly find after all this time? If somebody else was indeed guilty then he or she was highly unlikely to confess to it, and there were no witnesses to speak up. That being the case, was there any point in continuing?

A loud voice hailed them at that moment and they spied Colonel Dempster approaching them from a little distance away. He had been talking to the two women Angela had met when she first came to Denborough. Jemmy’s sister looked as cheerful as ever as she saluted the little group and turned to push the wheel-chair in the direction of the High Street.

‘Good morning, colonel,’ said Mrs. Hudd. ‘I see you have been talking to the Misses Winkworth, as I suppose we must call them.’ She turned to Freddy. ‘I think we can safely say that society is going downhill when the servant classes are allowed to start booking themselves into expensive nursing-homes.’

‘Oh, come, now,’ said the colonel pleasantly. ‘Miss Winkworth is a pleasant enough woman, and very kind to her sister.’

‘Still, you must admit she is not quite the thing,’ said Mrs. Hudd.

Freddy wanted to know more, and the two ladies told him of the Misses Winkworth and their impudence in daring to have enough money to afford to care for one of them comfortably.

Angela, meanwhile, was still thinking about the question of proof as it related to the murder of Selina de Lisle. It seemed almost hopeless, and not for the first time she toyed with the idea of calling Mr. Gilverson and telling him she wished to withdraw from the case. It did not last long, however, for she knew she would not be justified in doing so until they had spoken to all those who had been there at the time, and they had not yet seen Henry Lacey’s friend Oliver Harrington. It was unlikely that he would have anything useful to tell them, of course, since it appeared he was not a close acquaintance of the de Lisle family and had merely been a casual visitor at the time of the murder. Still, Angela knew she would never be able to rest until she had gone as far as she could, for if it could be said that there remained even the slightest clue, the slimmest lead, the remotest idea that she had failed to pursue, then she would never be able to unburden herself of the debt which had weighed her down all these months, and which she longed more than anything to repay.

A
FTER THEIR EVENING at Greystone Chase, Angela sent Charles Gilverson a short message to say that she was still pursuing the investigation and that she would let him know of developments, if any. In the meantime she returned to Mount Street and set Freddy on to discovering the present whereabouts of Oliver Harrington, who had last been heard of in Canterbury.

But Freddy was worried. Since that day on Chancery Lane he had not been able to shake off the idea that Angela was being deceived for some purpose that was unclear to him, and so he was less concerned about looking for Oliver Harrington in Canterbury than he was about finding out exactly what was going on in London. Accordingly, when he returned to his duties on Fleet Street he took every opportunity to escape from the
Clarion
’s offices and loiter on Chancery Lane, waiting to see whether the man he had followed would return. For four days he had no luck, but on the fifth his efforts were rewarded, for just as he was on the point of leaving his watching-place in the doorway of the tobacconist’s for a society wedding which promised to be particularly dull, he spied the man again, just turning into the street on which the solicitor’s office was situated. He wore a thick scarf which hid the lower part of his face, and his hat was pulled down low over his eyes. Freddy followed at a safe distance and watched as the man entered the office of Gilverson and Gilverson, then abandoned all thoughts of the wedding and set himself to wait. After little more than half an hour the man emerged and set off briskly back the way he had come, still limping slightly. Freddy caught him up and walked alongside him.

‘Look here, what’s all this?’ he said.

Edgar Valencourt started and glanced at Freddy, then made a sound that might have indicated weary impatience or resignation.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said, without slowing his pace. ‘What do you want?’

‘Much as I hate to state the obvious, I’d like to know what you’re doing strolling through the middle of London in broad daylight when you’re supposed to be dead,’ said Freddy.

‘Must I explain it to you?’ said Valencourt. ‘I should have thought it was easy enough to understand.’

‘Well, evidently the reports were false,’ said Freddy. ‘But how did you manage it?’

‘It’s rather a long story, and reflects very little credit on any of the people concerned, so if you don’t mind we’ll save it for another time,’ said Valencourt.

‘Then the whole thing was faked?’

Valencourt winced.

‘Hardly. They caught up with me all right, but luckily for me they weren’t quite as handy as they thought they were. I had a near miss, and seized the opportunity to—er—start afresh, let us say.’

‘You call this starting afresh, do you?’ said Freddy. ‘Coming back here, bringing up the past and tricking people into doing your dirty work for you?’

‘I haven’t tricked anyone into anything,’ said Valencourt. ‘I asked nicely.’

‘Under wholly false pretences.’

Valencourt made no reply.

‘But why drag Angela into it at all?’ said Freddy.

‘Who else could I ask? Do you suppose I have an army of private detectives at my command? I’d do it myself if I could, but there are several obstacles in the way of that, as you must be aware. Besides, I didn’t have much success in convincing people of my innocence eleven years ago, so I’m not likely to do any better now, am I?’

‘And you think Angela can succeed where the police failed?’

‘I don’t know, but at this point anything is worth a try.’

‘But why didn’t you just disappear?’ said Freddy. ‘Everybody thinks you’re dead. You’re in the clear as far as that’s concerned. You could vanish abroad and nobody would ever be any the wiser. By staying here you’re putting yourself in danger. Why are you doing this?’

‘Because, oddly enough, I’d like to have one last shot at proving I didn’t kill my wife,’ said Valencourt. ‘I’ve done many bad things in my time, but that wasn’t one of them.’

‘So you thought you’d use Angela to get you out of the mess?’

‘Don’t you think I deserve justice?’ said Valencourt. ‘Do you believe just because I’m a thief I ought to be hanged as a murderer?’

‘No,’ admitted Freddy. ‘But we still haven’t established to our satisfaction that you’re
not
a murderer. I wish you hadn’t asked her, of all people. I don’t like it, and I’d much rather she hadn’t agreed to it. I’m pretty sure she’s only investigating out of a sense of obligation.’

‘Angela found out, just as I did, that the law doesn’t always get things right,’ said Valencourt. ‘I asked her because I knew if anyone would give me a fair hearing, she would. If she fails this time, then I have nothing more to ask of her.’ He paused. ‘How is she, by the way?’

‘Not that it’s any of your business, but she’s very well,’ said Freddy. ‘In fine form, I’d say.’

‘Splendid,’ said Valencourt. ‘Then we’re all happy.’

‘I don’t like it, though,’ said Freddy.

‘You’ve already made that quite obvious. Look here, I can’t help the deception. Nobody must know I’m alive, or I’ll be arrested. But there’s nothing underhanded going on. I’d like—not unreasonably—to clear my name, receive a pardon, then retire somewhere far away and preferably warm, where I intend to cause offence to nobody. Is that good enough?’

‘It ought to be. It’s just that when shady solicitors start sending mysterious letters to people out of the blue, I begin to smell a rat.’

‘There’s nothing shady about Charles,’ said Valencourt. ‘He’s completely above the board.’

‘Then why is he shielding you?’

‘I expect because he’s fond of me. Is that so hard to believe? He’s the only real family I have left, now. None of the others would be prepared to help me even if I asked them. These days I have to take kindness where I can get it,’ he said pointedly.

‘Then you’re not doing all this to draw Angela in again?’ said Freddy.

‘Certainly not. She’s much better off without me. Besides, I very much doubt she’d want anything to do with me now. She doesn’t know, I take it?’

‘No, and I have no intention of telling her. Just make sure you keep away from her. She doesn’t want you and I don’t trust you.’

‘I’m not especially interested in your opinion of me,’ said Valencourt.

Freddy regarded him curiously.

‘As a matter of fact, I don’t know
what
opinion to have of you,’ he said. ‘I ought to dislike you but instead I’m finding you something of a mystery. I can’t quite decide whether you’re good or bad.’

‘Perhaps I’m a little of both, like most people.’

‘Well, you certainly have the devil’s own luck.’

‘You wouldn’t say that if you were in my shoes,’ said Valencourt with feeling. ‘The past few months haven’t exactly been fun, and I still have rather more bullets lodged in me than I like. I’d have gone away and left Charles to it long before now if I’d been well enough. Still, at least I shall be on the spot if any new evidence does turn up.’

‘I shouldn’t get your hopes up if I were you,’ said Freddy. ‘If you really are innocent, then it’s going to be almost impossible to prove it. You know, of course, that the one big stumbling-block in this whole thing is the lack of proof, except as it relates to your likely guilt.’

‘I’m well aware of it. But I can’t help thinking that someone must know something they’re not telling.’

‘Well, the killer does, certainly,’ said Freddy. ‘By the way, if you don’t mind my saying so, your family are a strange lot. Why did they wash their hands of you? We met your brother the other day and he refused to talk about you. Your sister-in-law was slightly more forthcoming, but she didn’t seem to care what had happened to you either.’

‘Godfrey hates me,’ said Valencourt. ‘I did him a bad turn once, and he never forgave me. Victorine cares for no-one except Godfrey, whom she worships for some reason I’ve never managed to fathom. She hated Selina, who knew it perfectly well and, I’m afraid, set out deliberately to provoke her. I don’t suppose Victorine had the slightest interest in what happened to me. The important thing to her was that Selina was gone.’