Death of a Dishonorable Gentleman (25 page)

“Really?” cried Oscar. “Good to hear I'm not alone.”

“Oh yes, practically accused him outright, said he had all the motive in the world.”

“No! What a nerve.”

“Yes, all nerve but no brain. What about you, did he nail you up as his favorite suspect?”

“Well, I think I am a suspect, by my situation alone, you see.” She watched him jump nervously to his feet and straighten his brushes on the dressing table; then he turned to her. “I have no alibi for the time of Teddy's death. I was not with Harry and Ellis, who were playing billiards until breakfast, or with anyone … really. I left the ball towards the end and went for a stroll to clear my head. Walked through the gardens, it was a beautiful night before the storm came. I ended up in the orchid house just before dawn. We used to play there when we were young.”

“Anyone see you? The gardeners as you were leaving, perhaps?” Clementine was on alert, hoping that Oscar would confide.

“No,” Oscar said. “It was all quiet, I didn't see a soul. It was warm and the tropical plants made me feel as if I were somewhere else entirely other than England. When we were boys, Harry, Ellis, and I played Rafting the Amazon, in the orchid house. We used to catch hell from the gardener in case we damaged something … All that seems so long ago now.”

Clementine caught the longing in his voice for a time when he had been sure of his friends, and comprehended that all Oscar needed was to talk to someone—someone who was not going to judge or criticize him. Hard though it was not to ask questions, she took a leaf out of Mrs. Jackson's book, contained herself and waited.

“One summer, when we were about eight or nine, we made an enormous anaconda from bird netting, which we stuffed with newspaper and painted a lurid yellow with black bands. It had a great floppy head, and must have been about fifteen feet long. We went up to the orchid house with Lord Montfort's old canoe: Teddy, Harry, Ellis, and I. Teddy liked to be the snake. The game was to get us out of the canoe and then he would try to sneak up behind us, wrap the anaconda around us, pulling tight. If we couldn't fight free by the count of twenty we were crushed to death and eaten. It was great fun.”

Clementine reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

“Those days will return, Oscar, the pleasant and simple ones. Not the way they were when you were boys, but the straightforward days of living everyday life. Studying at Oxford, being with your friends. You will earn your degree and find your place in the world, meet a lovely young woman to share your life with.”

“No,” said Oscar, “not for me.”

“No return to Oxford?” Clementine wondered if Oxford held many bad memories.

“I don't see the point really, now it's all gone so wrong.”

“Maybe not immediately, but perhaps you need to finish it off, just for the sake of it. To help put you back in the swim of things.”

“Yes I suppose…”

“What are you reading, law?”

“Greats…”

“Ah, the classics. Perfect for a career in the diplomatic. That would be such a wonderful life, full of travel. You could revisit your Amazon adventures.” She was being as careful as she could be.

Oscar smiled. “I don't want to be defeatist, Lady Montfort, but I am not sure the diplomatic would take someone like me.”

“Oh, because of the gambling thing you mean? You know Ralph is pretty close with the chancellor; he could have a word on your behalf, and maybe square things there for you, when most of this fuss and bother has died down. All undergraduates get up to silly nonsense. People do understand, you know.” She was not sure they did. More than likely, Oscar would end up somewhere like Kenya, along with all the other untouchables whose families didn't want them around.

“Oh, the gambling is one thing, but I basically don't think I fit very well, and the diplomatic is all about that … y'know … fitting in.”

“Why do you say you don't fit in, Oscar?” She thought she knew. She thought she had it buttoned down the other evening, but she wasn't too sure.

“Because I don't. I fit in to half a life but not a whole one. I am at ease in a certain type of world, but not one that everyone accepts. I am not bad at games and sport, but I don't make friends easily … I … Oh, God, listen to me, I sound so self-pitying. That's what Teddy used to say: ‘Don't be such a bloody girl, Oscar,' and stuff like that.”

“Well, Teddy was a frightful bully sometimes,” said Clementine, grateful that Oscar had brought up Teddy, “and probably not your kindest friend.”

“No, he wasn't always kind, but I certainly knew where I was with him. Teddy didn't care about a thing. I care too much about far too many things. I was useful to Teddy, but I don't think he cared for me really, not the way I did for him.”

A warning bell was clanging away in Clementine's head, so she said nothing but nodded.

“Teddy included me in all of his life, whether I wanted to be included or not. I went along with it because I didn't want him to exclude me. I had no choice: it was accept the bad with the good. He made me unhappy and he often scared me, but his friendship counted more than anything else. Now he is gone I feel rather lost.”

Clementine decided that now was the time to push him.

“Is it friendship when someone makes you feel scared and unhappy, I wonder?”

“What? No … well, no … probably not. He could be so very cruel, but so much fun.”

“And you loved him very much, Oscar, in your good, loyal way.” She said this with such genuine understanding that Oscar could only nod. She leaned forward and put her hand on his arm and gave it a firm and sympathetic squeeze.

“I cared for our friendship more than anything else in the world, and look what he did to me. He betrayed me. He knew I cared about him and he betrayed me. I wish I could find some way to forget that part, but I can't seem to.”

She was appalled. Like most women of her background and upbringing, it was hard for Clementine to cope with the sight of a man falling apart in front of her. It made her feel panic-stricken. But she had learned a thing or two about getting a grip in the last two days: “And,” she said quietly, “he blackmailed you.”

Oscar's head came up—and he looked at her in horror.

“Oh my god, how did you know? Who told you?”

“You did just now, my dear. You see, Teddy was a blackmailer by nature: he was ruthless, opportunistic, and unprincipled, all perfect attributes for a successful blackmailer. You were not his only victim, you know. I am so sorry you have been through such a terrible time of it.” She looked away, giving him time to compose himself.

“Yes. I am heartbroken he is gone, and quite devastated he died in such an awful way, but there is such incredible relief that he has no power over me anymore. Do you understand what I'm saying?” He got up from his chair to find a cigarette, but did not light it, even though Clementine indicated that he might smoke.

“Yes, I think I do understand. You gave this young man your friendship and trust and he treated you shamefully. Very charismatic young men like Teddy can be lethal unless they have honor and compassion to balance out all that easy charm—qualities which you have, Oscar, but Teddy lacked. Young men who are narcissistic and selfish usually create absolute havoc in other people's lives, especially those who are unfortunate enough to love them. You know all of this, Oscar. Allow yourself to see Teddy for what he was, and accept it, so you will be free to go on with your life. There is no blame.” But she added to herself,
Unless you killed him.

It was almost as if she'd spoken her last thought. Oscar's face sharpened and he straightened up.

“But go on as what … Teddy's murderer? Because that is what that policeman is trying to prove.”

“But how can he? Just because you don't have an alibi for the time of Teddy's death.”

“Because I have a perfect motive. You said it yourself, blackmail.”

“Not all victims kill their blackmailers, Oscar. If this were the case, perhaps there are half-a-dozen people in the house who could have killed Teddy. And anyway, Ewan doesn't know about
your
blackmail, does he? No, I didn't think he did. Well, my dear, you must simply keep your head and remain calm. It is a pity you were alone in the orchid house.”

“Well, I was until about half past four.”

She saw him wince; he had given himself away.

“Oh really?” She resolved to tread carefully.

“I may not say who, because I would get someone else into terrific trouble if I said anything.”

“Would that person be able to give you an alibi?”

“Yes, they would. But at the moment, my opinion of myself stands pretty low and I don't want to sink lower by splitting on someone who has every reason to trust me.” She saw an obstinate expression set in and worried that he was shutting down.

Clementine felt almost agitated at this point. She yearned for five minutes with Jackson, she would know how to winkle this out of him. Clementine knew she had to go carefully and not panic him.

“Well, think about it, Oscar. Rest now, eat a good dinner, and get a good night's sleep. Think about what we can do next to clear your name.” Clementine got up from her chair and walked to the door, where she turned.

“Whoever it is you are protecting, Oscar, might need you as an alibi too. After all, wandering around the grounds between four and six o'clock would put anyone on the top of that policeman's list, unless you were with someone who can vouch for you. Now I must run.”

As soon as Clementine got back to her sitting room she rang for Mrs. Jackson and waited for her impatiently. When Mrs. Jackson came, she related her conversation with Oscar. She was not going to let Ewan arrest a young man she had known since he was a child, just because there was no one else. The man must accept that Teddy's unsavory life had been the ultimate cause of his death and leave her friends and her servants alone. Oscar had a perfectly sound explanation for where he had been at the time of Teddy's death, silly boy, but he was determined to be a martyr. She was amazed at how men behaved quite stupidly and then called it being honorable.

She became aware that Mrs. Jackson was only half listening to her.

“I'm sorry, m'lady. Yes, I was listening to you, but I was also following my own train of thought. What time would that have been do you think, m'lady, when Mr. Oscar was in the orchid house?”

“He got there at just after four and was there until just after a quarter to six. I think it was perhaps Violet he might have been with. Do you think it could have been Violet?”

“No, m'lady, I somehow don't think it could have been Violet. Before I say anything, I would just like to pop downstairs and follow up on a few things.”

“Yes, well, Jackson, go ahead, but try and get this thing sorted out before tea. Chief Inspector Ewan is probably about to make an arrest, so we must hurry. The very last thing we need is for Oscar to be taken out of the house in a Black Mariah. It would be quite awful.”

*   *   *

Mrs. Jackson practically ran to her parlor. Her mind was flitting about in an irritating way, so she sat down to order her thoughts. And when she was quite sure what she was to do, she rang for Elsie, who arrived looking both worried and defensive. Mrs. Jackson didn't waste a moment.

“Elsie,” she said, “I think it would be better for everyone if you told me the truth about where you were on the night of the ball when you finished work in the anteroom, and,” here Mrs. Jackson took an enormous risk, hoping not to scare Elsie into shutting down, “who you were with in the orchid house.”

Mrs. Jackson knew the lower servants joked that she could see through brick walls, and now Elsie would no doubt believe it to be fact. She saw Elsie's surprise and panic and knew the girl was not a natural liar.
This is too easy,
she thought as she watched Elsie's pretty face crumple.

“Please, Mrs. Jackson, don't dismiss me. I can't lose my place here.”

“Well, my girl, you should have thought of that before. Now I think you had better tell me what you were up to.” Mrs. Jackson hardened herself; most of her really didn't want to hear what Elsie had to say next.

“Nothing. I was up to nothing, Mrs. Jackson. I was just spending a few minutes alone in the orchid house to take a breather. I know it's against the rules. But please don't tell on me. I can't lose my place here, please, Mrs. Jackson.”

Elsie looked so desperate that Mrs. Jackson felt disgusted with herself. Why did it matter after all? It wasn't as if she cared for Ernie Stafford; his manner could be intrusive and she didn't ever feel at ease around him. But now she had to know, if not for herself then for poor Mr. Oscar, sitting upstairs in his room, willing to be arrested so he could feel he'd done the right thing.

“Come on now, Elsie. Just tell me the truth. What were you doing in the orchid house at half past four, and who did you meet there?” Mrs. Jackson kept her tone cool and her face expressionless.

Elsie snuffled and wept into her handkerchief but Mrs. Jackson sat in impassive silence and waited her out.

“It was Horace, Horace Wobbley, first footman at the hall. Henry, his working name is. We're stepping out together … sort of. We want to be married … one day.”

“Horace Wobbley? You were seeing Horace Wobbley?” Mrs. Jackson was so taken aback that she almost got to her feet.

“Yes, in the orchid house. That's who. Oh, I am so sorry…” Elsie burst into tears.

“Elsie, stop crying and don't make such a fuss.” Mrs. Jackson was so surprised and relieved to hear the name Horace that she forgot for a moment what the real purpose of this exchange was. “Who else was there, who else came into the orchid house?”

It was as if Elsie had given up, it hadn't taken much. She knew she was for the high jump. It was forbidden for the lower staff to have followers. It was even worse that she was seeing a male servant from the dower house.