Philippa Carr - Pool of St. Branok

“I see. It was a profession with you.”

“I was the ne’er-do-well relation of the vicar of Crompton. I used to go round visiting houses like that once, but there comes an end to that sort of thing. So I came to London. Then I saw Wilhelmina in the park. I recognized her at once. Of course, she was living under a different name. Miss Grace Gilmore. I think her name had been mentioned once or twice in the papers when there were a few details about the house where Mervyn Duncarry was working. She obviously did not want to be connected with that. Well, I met her in the park. I told her I had the diary. She was very upset. I asked her about you and Morwenna. The truth is I blackmailed her. I knew her connection with the murderer. He’d got away … and she had helped him. She was very frightened and I was getting tired of the life I was living. One slip and you are finished forever … blackballed from all the London clubs. It hadn’t happened but it was always a possibility. I wanted a more secure living. Marriage with an heiress seemed a good plan. She told me about Morwenna’s parents and her unsuccessful season. I liked Morwenna from the start, I really did. It was easy to see she was innocent … gullible.

“Oh, how could you!” I cried.

“I’ll make no excuses. I was like that. But let me tell you this, Angelet, I’m changing. I want to be different … respectable … I want to be what Morwenna thinks I am. And then there is the boy.”

“So that little incident … the boy with the purse … that was arranged?”

He nodded.

“And then your courtship? The elopement?”

He nodded again.

“I suppose you thought an elopement was the best way. Once you were actually married they would have to accept you. You didn’t want long preliminaries which might result in inquiries.”

“I know I’m unworthy but I swear to you that I love Morwenna and the boy. I’m trying, Angelet. I haven’t touched the cards … well only once or twice … since that showdown with Gervaise. But I am changing. I’m different. I like my work. I like my parents-in-law. I want to be a good husband and father. Morwenna thinks I am that already … so perhaps I’m almost there.”

“I think you are, Justin. You must forget the card sharping. It won’t do any good for anyone to know about it.”

“That’s what I think. I want to forget my past. I’m trying and I want to be what Morwenna thinks I always have been.”

“And what of Grace … Wilhelmina …”

“She’s a strong woman.”

“Why did you show me the diary?” I asked. “Why didn’t you give it back to her? What has she done? I’ve read it. All she did was love this man.”

“Why did she change her name?”

“Because she wanted to get away from all that.”

“She settled in I gathered and beguiled you all. She went to the Crimea.”

“She was a nurse. I have the utmost admiration for those women.”

“She went out to marry rich Jonnie and she came back comfortably off.”

“It was a legal marriage. Uncle Peter checked on that. There is no reason why she should not forget her past … as you will.”

“They discovered the body of that man in the pool, remember?”

“I do remember,” I said vehemently.

“How did he get there? How did he die? It was so near the place where she was staying.”

I did not answer.

He went on: “Enough of him. He’s out of the picture. She’s a clever woman … a scheming woman. She has some money now … not as much as she would like. She is looking for a rich husband. She wants to be a social hostess. I can see it clearly … I was interested in her the moment I saw her. You know whom she has her eyes on now, don’t you?”

“Whom?” I asked faintly.

“Ben Lansdon.” He looked at me ironically. “I’ve observed a lot. One has to in the card business. You have to know how people react and you play accordingly. I’ll tell you what I know about Ben Lansdon.”

“What?”

“That he is interested in someone else.”

“Who?”

“I think you know. Hasn’t he told you? He’s obsessed by you … and his wife takes an overdose …”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That I don’t think she took it herself.”

“Oh … no!”

“Simply that it was given to her. She was inconvenient.”

“I don’t want to hear any more of this, Justin. It’s pure supposition. It’s unfair. You don’t know anything.”

“I think she was murdered.”

“No … no. It was accidental. The verdict …”

“Verdicts are not always the truth.”

“Justin, what are you leading to?”

“That two people might have killed her. One, her husband who is in love with another woman and who must have found her a great encumbrance. Two, the other woman who had plans to marry her husband.”

“I think this is nonsense.”

“It might not be. I don’t think Ben Lansdon would commit murder. He’s too clever for that. He wouldn’t hate her. He wouldn’t hate anyone to that extent. He is one of those men whose conduct is not always exemplary—like my own—but they can be a little more kindly than the wholly virtuous sometimes are. He didn’t want Lizzie as a wife, but he had an affection for her. That was clear to me. But what of Wilhelmina/Grace? Now that is another matter. She has been ingratiating herself with the family, hasn’t she? I can tell you how desperately she wants to be Mrs. Benedict Lansdon.”

“What you are saying is horrible. Grace … a murderess! I won’t believe it.”

“Of course, I might be wrong. But I just wanted to warn you. You see, you are next in line of fire. You can be sure Wilhelmina knows of Ben’s feelings for you. And if you were not there, in a little while … well, she was wonderful to Lizzie, wasn’t she? He would appreciate all the help she gave him at the election. She’s clever. If she hadn’t such a rival, she could have a good chance of success.”

“It’s nonsense, Justin.”

“Maybe, but it is a possibility. That was why I wanted you to see the diary … because you should realize you are dealing with a woman of some purpose. She is strong. She manipulates. And Lizzie died so conveniently.”

“But why would she have killed her then? It spoilt his chances at the election.”

“People like Wilhelmina take the long view. If the moment was ripe … she would seize it. This is conjecture, true. But I tell you because I think you ought to know.”

“I suppose I must say Thank you, Justin. But I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it.”

He bowed his head and lifted his shoulders.

“I’ve done my best,” he said.

I WAS TORMENTED BY fears and doubts. What I had discovered through Justin unnerved me. I could not get Lizzie out of my mind; and I felt I should never know peace again.

Someone had killed her. My greatest fear was that it might have been Ben. I told myself again and again that if he had intended to kill her he would not have done so at such a time. If he were really so cynical as to marry her for a gold mine and then discard her when she was in the way, he would not have chosen to do it at such a time when he would know it would put an end to his ambitions for a parliamentary career. That was a thought I clung to. Then another idea came to me. Ben was clever. Perhaps he had deliberately chosen such a time because he knew that thought would occur to others.

I could not believe it. He was ambitious, ruthless perhaps … but he had always been kind and courteous to Lizzie. He could never have planned cold-bloodedly to murder her.

Then there was Grace. I could not think of her as Wilhelmina. What did I know of Grace? I thought of her as she had been when she had arrived at Cador … “looking for work,” she said … arousing compassion in my mother and me, and all the time she was involved with a murderer, in love with a murderer. What was she doing in the neighborhood of Cador … and why did he come there? There was so much mystery surrounding her and although I had heard a great deal from Justin, there was much that was not clear to me.

And if neither Ben nor Grace was guilty … then was it Lizzie herself? Did Lizzie find her life so intolerable that she took it?

Whichever way I looked there was no peace.

Timothy came to see me. He took my hands and kissed me gently on the forehead.

“My dear Angelet,” he said. “I have thought of you constantly. This is a terrible tragedy.”

“Thank you, Tim,” I said.

“There is nothing I can say except that you have my heartfelt sympathy. We miss you very much.”

“You mean at the Mission?”

“There and elsewhere. Fanny talks of you constantly, and she is always asking when you are coming down.”

“How is she getting on?”

“Splendidly. She is learning to read and write. She could not bear that Fiona should be able to do it and she but a child. So Fiona started to teach her. They are very good friends already, those two. Now Fanny is there with the governess in the mornings. She is making rapid progress. She is a very bright girl.”

“Does she know that her stepfather is dead?”

“No. We didn’t tell her. It isn’t necessary … just yet. If she asks we shall tell her. I don’t think she will shed any tears for him.”

“Does she still talk of her mother?”

“No. But she is sad at times and I am sure she is thinking of her. We must expect that. She can’t get over it all at once. But things are working out well. She is really very fond of the children. I think she is fond of us all. But you know Fanny. She is not one to betray her emotions. They are there all the same.”

“You have done a wonderful job with her, Tim.”

“You helped. When I think of the Mission and what so many people owe to it I feel I want to dedicate my life to it.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“By the way, your friend Grace Hume has been down.”

“Down to the Mission?”

“Yes. She told Frances she would like to come. She seems very interested. Frances immediately pressed her into service. She found that she was good with accounts and that sort of thing. And that’s the one field where things are in a bit of a mess down there. Grace said she quite enjoyed doing it. I stayed one evening for one of those impromptu sort of meals and we talked. I told her about Fanny. I must say she did seem very interested.”

“I can’t quite see Grace there. She is so much the social hostess.”

“People have many sides to them, Angelet.”

“Yes, I have learned that.”

“The important thing is when are you coming back?”

I hesitated.

“Angelet,” he said. “Let me help. This will pass. It was a great tragedy, and I know how you felt for her.”

“I think,” I said on impulse, “I shall go down to Cornwall. It is a long time since I have been and my parents are urging me to go. I want to go down there and think … away from all this.”

“I understand.”

It occurred to me then that Timothy would always understand.

The thought of going to Cornwall had come to me on the spur of the moment, but as soon as I had said it, it seemed a good idea. I should get away from everything, be able to think more clearly. I had to come to terms with my emotions. I knew now without a doubt that I loved Ben; but Lizzie was between us, as much now as she had been when she was alive. I wanted to protect him; I wanted to help him. At the same time I could not get out of my mind the terrible thought that he might have been tempted to do anything to be rid of her. I knew without doubt that he loved me; and in love, as with everything else, his emotions would be intense. If he had acted on the impulse of a moment could he ever forget? Could I? I knew that in time he would want us to be married.

What would happen? I could not understand my own feelings. In the peace of the country, in the comfortable ambiance of my old home, should I be able to assess … to think clearly … to plan reasonably? Could I look at my feelings for Timothy, whom I did love in a quiet way? I knew he was a good man, a stable man. I could have a peaceful life with him. Rebecca would be happy. I could settle into a cozy cocoon of contentment. But would it be complete? Would I ever forget the man who could arouse passionate emotions in me such as I could feel for no one else?

I longed to be at Cador with the familiar things of my childhood around me, with my ever loving parents. Perhaps I could confide in them. Perhaps I could discover which way I must go.

It was inevitable that Ben should come to the house.

He looked pale and haggard.