An Appetite for Murder (34 page)

‘Mr Anderson is said to have died from being crushed by Mr Whibley’s weight, but according to both Mr Draper and yourself, Mr Walsh was unhurt by the accident. In fact he must have died in that brief space of time between your rescuing Mr Whibley and returning to the carriage.’

‘Do you really imagine I don’t know that?’ said Richardson, and for the briefest of moments his torment and self-reproach were very apparent. He took a large gulp of water. ‘Have you interviewed Draper?’

‘Unfortunately that has not been possible,’ said Frances. ‘Mr Draper died suddenly a few days after the accident.’

‘That is regrettable, but not entirely surprising,’ said Richardson. ‘I saw that he had suffered a serious blow to the head and I said he should get it tended to as soon as possible, but he laughed it off and said it was nothing.’

‘Mr Draper thought it was a movement of the crushed carriage that brought more splinters down and killed Mr Walsh.’

‘That was, I am sorry to say, a consequence of our removing Mr Whibley, but what else could we have done? We hoped that by doing so we might save Mr Anderson, and until Whibley was out we could not reach Elliott at all.’

‘Mr Draper believed that had he pulled Mr Walsh out earlier he would have lived.’

‘I can only agree.’

‘Then why didn’t you? He was seated right by the window; you could easily have reached him.’

‘Yes, but Walsh wouldn’t permit it, he was adamant that the injured should be taken out first.’

‘What did he say?’

‘After the ladies were brought out, Draper offered to help Mr Walsh next but he said something like “no, you must take this poor fellow first, his weight is on another man and will surely crush him to death.” So I helped Draper pull Whibley out of the carriage while Mr Walsh somehow got behind him and pushed. As we carried Whibley away there was a terrible creaking noise and part of the roof fell down. That must have been when it happened. The next time I saw Walsh he was, sad to say, beyond help.’

Mr Draper, Frances mused, would, had he lived, have been the ideal independent observer, however, while the former Mrs Anderson could say nothing about what had happened inside the carriage after she left it, she had been within sight of it during the rescue of Mr Whibley and Mr Elliott, and might at least be able to confirm whether Mr Richardson’s account of his actions was true or false. She determined to interview Mrs Elliott before asking Richardson any further questions about the accident.

‘I assume that I may now return to my work?’ he said, interpreting her thoughtful silence to mean that the interview was over.

‘If I might ask you about another matter,’ said Frances. ‘Can you advise me whether Mr Whibley ever acted in a professional capacity for the late Mr Outram?’

Richardson gave her a look of extreme distaste. ‘Is this regarding the peculiar and may I say unsupported assertions made by Mr Lathwal?’

‘If you could just answer the question …’

‘Oh very well,’ he said, his manner brittle with ill-grace. ‘Yes, Mr Whibley did deal with Mr Outram’s property accounts. There is nothing very remarkable about that.’

‘And his will?’

‘I cannot assist you with any information on that point.’

‘Did Mr Whibley ever advise his clients about wills?’

‘It was a subject about which he was knowledgeable.’

‘So he might have advised Mr Outram?’

‘It is possible, of course, but I cannot say whether he did or not. I saw no such document, and I have already advised Mr Lathwal of this.’

‘You were executor of Mr Whibley’s will, though.’

‘Yes, why should that be of importance?’

‘I have been trying to discover what matters Mr Whibley had on his mind immediately before his death, shortly after his interview with Mr Sweetman. He was about to make some changes in his will, was he not?’

Richardson stared at her. ‘What do you know about that?’ he said suspiciously.

‘Mr Elliott told me about Mr Whibley’s intentions when I interviewed him.’

‘I see.’

‘Nothing was settled, and Mr Elliott went away to make some enquiries but when he returned he found that Mr Whibley had died. Do you know what Mr Whibley had in mind?’

‘Well, he only hinted about it to me, but that was some time before he saw Sweetman.’

‘Oh,’ said Frances, surprised. ‘He was thinking of changing his will
before
he had the meeting with Mr Sweetman?’

‘Yes, about a week or so before. But nothing could be done until the other parties were consulted.’

‘Other parties?’ Frances enquired.

Richardson paused. ‘It seems to me, Miss Doughty, that you do not know as much as I had supposed and I have already said too much. What did Mr Elliott tell you?’

‘That Mr Whibley was thinking of establishing a charitable foundation that would bear his name. He was feeling very ill, and it may be that he sensed he did not have long to live. He was hoping to find a suitable property, and naturally consulted Mr Elliott.’

‘Ah, that is a quite different circumstance,’ said Richardson. ‘Not, of course, incompatible with the matters which were previously on his mind, if he subsequently fell ill.’

‘What was previously on his mind?’ asked Frances.

‘I am not sure if it would be advisable to mention it.’

‘Why, was it something to the detriment of his reputation?’

‘Not at all,’ said Richardson hastily. ‘No, it was a private rather than a business matter.’

‘Another child about to be born out of wedlock, perhaps?’ queried Frances.

‘No, far from it, in fact – well I suppose it cannot harm him to say so – Mr Whibley was considering marriage.’

‘Marriage?’ exclaimed Frances. ‘This is the first I knew of it. Was it a general desire to marry or was there a lady in mind?’

‘I believe there was a very specific lady who was the object of his admiration, but he did not reveal her identity. I only know that they could not marry at once, as there was an obstacle of some kind, he did not say what. Given Mr Whibley’s tastes,’ he gave a regretful shake of the head, ‘I rather suspected he was waiting for her to reach the age of majority so her parents could not intervene.’

On her return home, Frances found a note from Mr Yeldon. That gentleman denied having ever worked at the Bijou Theatre and said he would not call on her, as there was no purpose in his so doing. Frances realised she had no alternative but to confront Yeldon face to face, and she would have to do so soon, as he was very shortly to depart with Mr Finn for a month’s stay in Bath. She did not reply to the note, but composed another to Mrs Elliott, asking if she might call and speak to her. She thought she would have a better chance of obtaining an interview with the lady if she did not reveal her intention to revive the memory of the rail accident that had claimed her first husband’s life.

The next morning, at an hour when Frances knew that Mr Finn would be at his office, she appeared once again at the front door of the neat house in Hereford Road. The young maid opened the door, and when she saw and recognised Frances there was no doubt that the visit was unwelcome.

‘I am here to see Mr Yeldon again,’ said Frances, firmly. ‘It is a matter of some importance.’

The maid looked unhappy and uncomfortable. ‘Miss Doughty, I am very sorry, but Mr Yeldon has given strict orders that he is not at home to you. If I let you in I will lose my place.’

‘Of course I would never put you in such a position,’ said Frances. ‘You are only doing your duty.’ She bid the girl goodbye and turned away, having decided to walk around to the rear of the house and try the servants’ entrance. It would not be the first time she had undertaken such a subterfuge.

The maid must have guessed what was in her mind, for she added, ‘I am afraid all the servants have been told the same. You’re not to be let in.’

Frances looked back at her. ‘But he is in the house?’

‘Not to you, Miss. But yes, he is here.’

What, thought Frances, would the daring Miss Dauntless have done in such a situation? Would she have donned a pair of alpinist’s breeches, climbed up to the roof, knotted a length of rope around a chimney pot and swung herself in through a window? She glanced up and a curtain twitched. She was sure that the face behind it had a red beard.

‘Perhaps you might take him a message from me,’ she said.

‘I don’t know about that, Miss,’ said the maid, cautiously.

‘Have you been told to take him no messages?’

‘No, he never mentioned that.’

‘Well, then.’ Frances drew out her notebook and pencil, and was just thinking what to write when she heard the sound of laughter. Mrs Finn and the nursemaid came down the stairs with the children, the nurse with the older child by the hand and Mrs Finn carrying the younger. She paused when she saw the maid at the door and, recognising Frances, came forward with a welcoming smile, handing the child to the nurse.

‘Why Miss Doughty, how pleasant to see you again after our little meeting in Hyde Park. Do come in!’

The maid looked understandably alarmed.

‘My business is actually with Mr Yeldon,’ Frances explained, ‘but he has declined to see me on account of being so very busy.’

‘Oh, yes he is packing for the excursion to Bath. They are to go after luncheon tomorrow. But no matter, come in and see me. I shall be in need of company when my husband is away.’

Frances stepped into the hall and the maid started to scurry towards the stairs, no doubt with the intention of warning Mr Yeldon of what had occurred.

‘I don’t suppose,’ said Frances, very quickly, ‘I could trouble you for a glass of water?’

‘Oh, that is no trouble at all,’ said Mrs Finn. ‘Lizzie, would you fetch a glass for Miss Doughty? Bring it to the parlour.’

The maid stopped mid-scurry, turned and went down to the kitchen with a glance at Frances, a little smile of admiration.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ said Frances, ‘but I do need just a moment of conversation with Mr Yeldon, and since he is going away tomorrow this might be my last opportunity for some time.’

‘I hope it is not something very shocking,’ said Mrs Finn, with a worried expression.

‘There is nothing affecting his honesty or reputation, it is just a private matter,’ Frances reassured her.

Mrs Finn nodded. ‘Mary Ann, could you take the children upstairs and ask Mr Yeldon to come to the parlour?’

‘I had thought,’ said Mrs Finn when they were settled, and Frances was sipping her water, ‘that you had come to see me about the payment due.’

‘I do not demand settlement quite so soon,’ said Frances. ‘But tell me, how is your husband’s health? I have observed that he makes use of digestive mixtures and Apollinaris Water, which I know has a good reputation as a stomachic.’

‘Oh yes, there are times when he looks quite ill and then he declares that nothing else will do,’ said Mrs Finn. ‘He says the bubbles settle his digestion. But I am so relieved and happy that he is taking my advice at last.’

Mr Yeldon appeared at the door, outwardly polite but with a face that did not conceal his fury.

‘Miss Doughty says she has a business matter to discuss, so I will leave you,’ said Mrs Finn, rising from her seat.

‘It will take but a minute to conclude our business,’ said Yeldon, coldly.

Mrs Finn, who either did not appreciate the valet’s annoyance, or cared nothing about it, maintained an amiable countenance and left the room.

‘How dare you come here!’ said Yeldon, when the door had closed. ‘I have nothing to say to you and suggest you leave at once.’

‘Mr Yeldon, you really have nothing to fear,’ said Frances, soothingly. ‘I have no wish to expose your true identity. I know that you have your own reasons for secrecy and I am here for only one purpose, to ask you in the name of charity either to go and see your father, or at least to send him a message reassuring him that you and your sister are well and happy. It would mean so much to him.’

‘This is ridiculous! A delusion!’

Frances hesitated. When she came to think about it, she actually had very little proof. ‘So you were born with the surname Yeldon?’

‘Of course I was!’ he insisted.

‘Then all you need to do is show me your birth certificate and I will admit my error and depart,’ said Frances.