Daughter of Deceit (51 page)

“Lisa is going to stay here.”

“Stay married to Roderick?”

“You are too young to understand these things.”

“You know nothing maddens me more than to be told that. Particularly when I understand perfectly.”

“But it is true, Marie-Christine. Lisa is Roderick’s wife and marriage is binding.”

“Not always. Some people part.”

“Well, in this case, Lisa is going to stay, and Roderick with her. That means that we must go away. There is no place for us here.”

“It can’t be! You are going to marry Roderick. We’re going to live here. That is what we want.”

“People don’t always get what they want, Marie-Christine.”

“I can’t bear to go away. I love it here. I love Jack and Fiona … and it’s so exciting. I love the Roman things. I want to learn about them. It has been wonderful. I don’t want to go away, Noelle.”

“I am sorry, Marie-Christine. It isn’t going to work out. It may well be that Lisa is going to be cured. She and Roderick are married.”

Marie-Christine’s face was distorted with misery.

“It mustn’t happen,” she said vehemently. “It can’t. There must be a way to make it come right.”

“We can’t always make things go the way we want them to in life. That’s what you learn as you get older.”

“I don’t believe it. We’ve got to
do
something.”

Poor Marie-Christine! She had a great deal to learn.

It was afternoon, just after luncheon—a gloomy meal. I was ready to leave the next day, and Marie-Christine and I were preparing to visit Fiona and Jack to tell them of our imminent departure.

I was in my room, putting on my riding jacket, when Lady Constance came in.

She looked bewildered and distraught.

“A terrible thing has happened,” she said. “Lisa is dead.”

The Verdict

The days that followed had
taken on a certain unreality. There were comings and goings, whispering voices everywhere. Dr. Doughty had no doubt what had killed her. It was an overdose of the pills which he had prescribed. He had frequently cautioned Lisa as to the strength of those pills. She had needed such an antidote because the pain she had suffered could be very fierce, but he had told her that she was never to take more than two at a time. She could in dire circumstances take as many as six a day—but he preferred her not to do that often—and if she did, they must be spaced out over a period of twenty-four hours.

The autopsy proved Dr. Doughty right. According to the amount of the drug found in her body, she must have taken at least six at one time—a fatal dose.

We were a silent household. The servants went about as though they were in some conspiracy. How much did they know? I wondered. They would be aware that I had once been engaged to Roderick and that I had gone away suddenly, the engagement broken off. Did they know that Roderick had asked for his freedom so that he might marry me? Did they know that Lisa had refused to give it?

Had anyone asked the question: had Lisa been murdered? When there was sudden death which might be murder, people looked for a motive.

Without doubt the motive was there. Roderick wanted to be rid of his wife. It was one of the commonest motives for murder. He had been in the house at the time of Lisa’s death. So had I. And I was as deeply involved as he was.

Those were nightmare days with endless possibilities. I could only try to shut out the terrible thoughts which kept chasing themselves round and round in my mind.

I could not leave the house now. I had been there at the time of Lisa’s death and should have to attend the inquest. I don’t know how I lived through that waiting period. I dreaded the inevitable inquest, while I longed for it to be over that I might know the worst. I remembered what had followed my mother’s death. There would be no peace until it was over … and what would the verdict be?

Marie-Christine had become very aloof. I could not read her thoughts. Lady Constance shut herself in her room and did not want to talk to anyone. Charlie seemed bewildered. I think Roderick felt as I did. We wanted to be alone together, to talk of what was uppermost in our minds. But we were restrained. I sensed that we were being closely watched.

One day the impulse came to me to ride out. I felt I could get everything into a better perspective away from the house.

Roderick must have seen me leave and followed me.

I was sure he was as eager to get away from the house as I was.

I was about a mile away from the house when he caught up with me.

“Noelle,” he said. “We have to talk. We’ve got to say what’s in our minds. How did it happen?”

“She must have taken it herself.”

“But she thought she was going to get better.”

“I know, but she was not happy.”

“You don’t think that I … ?”

“Roderick! Oh … no, no!”

“I had asked her to release me and she had refused.”

“I know we wanted it to happen, Roderick. But not that way.”

“If it were known … it would seem …”

“It is true that we wanted her to give you your freedom so that we could marry and be together, but not like that.”

“What is most important to me is that you do not for a moment think that I …”

“I would never believe that. Remember, I wanted this as much as you did. I could have been in her room. You wouldn’t think that I . ?”

“Never.”

“We know each other too well, and that we could never be happy with that between us.”

“That is what I think. But the doubt …”

“There is no doubt.”

“That is what I had to know.”

“Then … whatever happens … that can never be between us.”

I sat in the courtroom with Roderick and Charlie; and Lady Constance and Marie-Christine were on either side of me.

The first witnesses were the experts and a great many questions were asked of them. The analyst explained that there was no doubt that Mrs. Lisa Claverham had died through a massive overdose of the pills prescribed by her doctor.

Dr. Doughty himself gave evidence in detail. He explained that Mrs. Claverham had injured her spine before she came under his care. He gave details of the injury in medical terms and added that it was of a nature to give the sufferer a great deal of pain. For this reason he had provided a powerful painkiller, and had frequently stressed the point that great caution should be taken.

On the afternoon of the first he had arrived at the house to find Mrs. Claverham dead. He had surmised her death had been caused by an overdose of the pills he had prescribed.

Had Mrs. Claverham suffered from depression? he was asked. He replied that there had been times when he had found her
depressed. It was when she had suffered a great deal of discomfort and pain. He had thought it natural in the circumstances.

“How was she when you last saw her?”

“She was in good spirits. I had been able to tell her that new facts had come to light about her condition, and there was hope of a partial cure.”

There was a deep silence throughout the court.

“And Mrs. Claverham was naturally pleased to hear this?”

“She was delighted.”

“And she gave you the impression that she was looking forward to this cure?”

“She did indeed.”

At the end of Dr. Doughty’s evidence, it seemed unlikely that Lisa could have died by her own hand. The question was, then: how did she die?

Several of the servants were then called to give evidence. Gertie was one of them, because it was she who had gone into Lisa’s room and found her dead.

She used to look in at that time, she said, to see if there was anything Mrs. Claverham wanted.

“Did your mistress ever talk to you about herself?” she was asked.

“Oh yes, sir. She was always talking about how she ought to have been a great actress, and would have been but for her accident.”

“Did you think she was unhappy?”

“Oh yes, sir.”

“Why do you say this?”

“She was always talking about not being a great actress, and if she hadn’t hurt her back she
would
have been as great as Desiree … only better … if she’d had a chance, sir.”

“Thank you. You may step down.”

Roderick was called.

Had his wife ever threatened suicide?

“Never.”

Had he noticed a change in her during the last week?

Roderick said he had been away from home for the last weeks and had returned only the day before his wife’s death.

How had she been on his return?

She was elated because she had heard of a possible cure.

“Can you suggest how six tablets came to be dissolved in a glass of water taken by your wife?”

“No.”

“Unless someone put them there.”

“Obviously someone must have put them there.”

“And if your wife put them there and drank the solution, the inference must be that she intended to take her own life?”

“She may have taken a dose and forgotten, and then taken another.”

“You mean she put two tablets into the water, took them, and a few moments later took two more, and another two after that?”

“When she took a dose she quickly became drowsy. It may be that she forgot she had taken them.”

That was the end of Roderick’s evidence.

The butler and housekeeper were called. They had very little to add and then, to my surprise, Mabel was being questioned.

I had seen her about the house and spoken to her briefly. She was a nervous girl who could not have been more than thirteen years old. She always seemed to me to be half scared. I wondered how she could do the work required of her, and remembered that Gertie said she was simple.

What could she have to tell?

I soon discovered.

“Don’t be afraid,” she was told. “All you have to do is answer the questions.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know that Mrs. Claverham has died?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have told your friend in the house that you know why she died. Would you tell us?”

“He murdered her!”

There was a hushed silence throughout the court.

“Would you please tell us who murdered her?”

“Mr. Roderick.”

“How do you know this?”

“I know,” she said.

“Did you see him murder her?”

She looked puzzled.

“You must answer the question, you know.”

She shook her head.

“Is the answer no, you did not see him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then how do you know?”

“He wanted to get rid of her.”

“How did you know that?”

“I heard … didn’t I?”

“You heard what?”

“She was shouting. She said: ‘I’m not going. This is my home and I’m going to stay here. You can’t get rid of me.’ “

“When did you hear this?”

“When he came back.”

“The day before she died?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

She nodded.

“Whom did you tell?”

“Gertie … and some of them.”

“That will be all.”

I felt sick with fear. It had seemed miraculous that so far nobody had mentioned that Roderick had been engaged to me and now I had returned to Leverson. I should never have come back, I told myself. But what was the use of saying that now? They would discover what had happened, and they would say Roderick had killed her.

Gertie was recalled.

“The last witness has told us she discussed the death of Mrs. Claverham with you. Is that so?”

“She said something about Mr. Claverham. I didn’t take much notice of what Mabel said.”