EG02 - The Lost Gardens (33 page)

‘I was told that Girard’s partner’s name was Jeremy R. Villesgrande. I think it was the very English first name and the French last name that was the giveaway.’

‘Giveaway? I don’t follow,’said Chadwick.

‘It’s an anagram, you see. Jeremy R. Villesgrande is an anagram of James Grenville Ryder. It was Ryder’s clever way of keeping anonymity.’

Sergeant Eldridge spoke for the first time. ‘Mainwaring also said that he was sworn to secrecy by Girard. One mention of valuable paintings to anybody and the whole deal was off.’

‘That should have rung some bells with him, wouldn’t you think?’ asked Kingston. ‘He couldn’t be that naïve. He must have known they were stolen.’

‘It’s irrelevant, actually,’ Chadwick chimed in.

Kingston frowned. ‘I’m confused. Is Girard still alive?’

‘No, unfortunately not. Sorry, I thought I made that clear. He died only last month.’

Brow furrowed, Kingston glanced at Eldridge then back to Chadwick. ‘By the way, did those books and papers ever turn up? The ones stolen from the cottage?’

‘No. But it’s a sure bet that once Mainwaring found they were of little use, he disposed of them. It’s reasonable to believe that Jack stole them after Dot told him Ferguson had brought them over, seeing how interested you were in them, Lawrence.’

‘All along I was convinced it was Jack I saw that night of the storm,’ said Kingston. ‘There was the hooded sweater in his house and then the incident at the chapel. It was obvious that he was up to no good. The chap was not only a bad apple, he was a bad actor, too.’

Chadwick stood, straightening his trousers and stretching. ‘That about sums it up so far. In the next few days, we’ll have enough information to file formal charges against Elliot but don’t you worry, he’ll go up for a long time. From now on, I think life will be a little more peaceful at Wickersham and you two can go about business as usual.’

‘Wait,’ said Jamie. ‘What about my car? Mainwaring sabotaged it, right?’

‘Another thing he hasn’t admitted. That’ll probably be an attempted murder charge. But, yes, Jamie, there’s no question that he did it—in all probability, as Lawrence said, to get you both off the estate. I would imagine that by then he was sure something was going on with the chapel. Don’t you worry, though, we’ll find out.’

Jamie shook her head and let out a sigh. ‘What a nasty piece of work.’

Chadwick simply nodded.

‘Sure I can’t talk you into some tea and cookies?’ Jamie asked.

Chadwick flashed a look at Eldridge then back to Jamie. ‘No thanks, Jamie, we’d better be getting along. I’m sure you and Lawrence have plenty to do without having to put up with us for another hour.’

Chadwick shook hands with Jamie, then Kingston, and started for the door, followed by Sergeant Eldridge. At the threshold, he stopped, turned and reached into his inside jacket pocket. ‘I almost forgot,’ he said, with an enigmatic smile. ‘I think this will be of interest to you.’ He handed Jamie a plain envelope. ‘I checked with your lawyer, by the way. He said you should have it.’

Chapter Twenty-eight

Jamie and Kingston stood in the arch of the doorway and watched as the police car rounded the curve in the driveway.

Back in the living room, Kingston watched with more than a casual eye as Jamie slit open the envelope. She read a few lines then looked at him. ‘It’s not long, why don’t I read it to you?’

‘Fine.’ Kingston leaned back in his chair.

‘My dear Mainwaring,’
began Jamie.

‘First, let me state that I am deeply appreciative of the unflagging service and attentive care you have provided over these many years, particularly knowing that for the best part it has meant considerable sacrifice and forbearance on your part, depriving you of leading what might be termed a normal and social life. For this I am truly grateful.

‘This letter concerns the decision that I have made with regard to the distribution of my estate and assets. My solicitor, Ernest Woodhouse, will of course (and may have done so by now) present you with specific terms of my will, informing you of your inheritance. But I feel that I owe you an explanation as to why I have made this doubtlessly unexpected, and what might be construed as perverse, decision.

‘In the course of my lifetime I have committed acts which I deeply regret. For these transgressions I make no excuses and ask no forgiveness. Certain of these acts, despite my well-intentioned convictions at the time, have resulted in the unnecessary deaths of a number of men and a lifetime of grief and deprivation for their families. Most of these actions occurred during the war but by no means does that excuse my decisions and what I now see clearly as reprehensible behaviour.

‘The two men who have suffered the most through my dereliction and criminality are no longer alive as a result, and because of their actions, I am. They are Kit Archer and Jeremy Kershaw, a private and a sergeant, both under my command during enemy action in France and Holland.’

Jamie stopped reading and looked again at Kingston. Her face registered confusion and shock. She closed her eyes and pressed a hand up against her lips.

‘Lawrence—that’s my mother’s maiden name! Archer.’

‘Really? Is there more?’

She continued to read.

‘For more than half my lifetime I have carried the burden of their deaths like an omnipresent albatross, their ghosts appearing before me in my nightmares and my every waking hour. Their faces do not betray hatred or revenge, however. And that has made the torment even more unbearable. Their expressions are always serene and benevolent; as if they have forgiven me for the tragedy I have brought to their lives.

‘Private investigations conducted on my behalf revealed that Sergeant Kershaw left no heirs. The sole surviving Archer family member is a young woman named Jamie Allison Gibson, granddaughter of Private Kit Archer. The contents of my last will and testament will reveal that I am leaving her my entire estate and the bulk of my other assets.

‘I trust that the sum I am bequeathing you will be more than sufficient to see you through your remaining years in comfort and with self-sufficiency. It is also my hope that you will understand and accept the reasons for my decision.

‘I cannot go to my grave knowing that I haven’t done everything in my power, albeit far too puny and too late, to make moral and tangible restitution for my miserable failures.

‘James Grenville Ryder.

‘PS I would prefer that you not divulge the contents, or any part of this letter, to any other persons.’

Visibly at a loss for words, Jamie handed Kingston the letter. As he read it, he slowly shook his head. ‘Extraordinary, ’ he muttered.

‘To say the least,’ said Jamie. ‘I’m surprised that Mainwaring gave it to Chadwick.’

‘Maybe he didn’t. It could have been discovered among his belongings. You know the police will have searched his home after he was arrested.’

Kingston got up and went to the butler’s table where he pulled out the stopper from the crystal whisky decanter. ‘How about a grown-up’s drink, Jamie,’ he asked, looking over his shoulder.

She glanced at her watch. ‘A little early but why not?’ ‘The usual?’

‘Yes, thanks.’

Kingston poured the drinks, brought them back to the coffee table and sat down facing her.

Jamie took a sip of the vodka tonic and looked at Kingston. ‘This is all very confusing. I may need you to explain to me again what happened in that Dutch village where my grandfather was killed.’ She paused and looked aside. ‘My
grandfather
, that’s going to take some getting used to. Kit Archer,’ she muttered.

‘You knew nothing at all about him?’

‘No.’ She had a faraway look in her eyes.

‘Hmm, I suppose it’s not
that
unusual.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Kit? Is that a real name?’ she asked.

‘It’s an abbreviation, like Bill or Harry. In England, it’s short for Christopher—Chris or Kit.’

‘Well, that’s it! The watch.’

‘Of course! CMA. Why on earth didn’t I think of that? Christopher M. Archer.’

‘I wonder what the M. stands for?’

‘I’m sure a little genealogical research on the Internet will tell you. But you obviously knew next to nothing about your grandparents?’

‘No, my mom hardly ever talked about her parents. Growing up, I would ask about them every once in a while but whenever I did, she managed to change the subject or shrug it off. As far as I know she never had any photos of either of them—at least I never saw any, which I found a bit odd. Finally I came round to realizing that it was simply something she didn’t want to talk about, that there was some dark secret there, so I gave up asking.’

Kingston smiled. ‘Well, if nothing else, at least you know now that there’s some British blood in you, after all.’

She didn’t acknowledge Kingston’s remark. She was looking off to her side, the light from the window edging her shadowed face. The letter had clearly flustered her and doubtlessly had resurrected long-forgotten moments of her childhood. Kingston waited for what he thought was a decent interval before interrupting her thoughts. He was about to say something when she turned and looked him.

‘So, was my grandfather a deserter? Is that why my mother never spoke of him?’ Her voice was subdued. She spoke as if she were asking herself the questions, not him. Betraying a hint of sadness, her dark brown eyes never left his. ‘I was afraid it might turn out this way, learning something that was best left buried in the past—we talked about it, remember, Lawrence? It looks like it’s turned out the way I predicted after all.’

Kingston wanted to go over to her, put an arm around her and comfort her. As it was, he simply sat there looking up at the ceiling. He took his time before he spoke.

‘No, Jamie. Your grandfather was not a deserter. You
must
put that idea out of your mind.’ He paused, his mind racing, trying to recall just how much he had told Jamie about Kit Archer after his meeting with Loftus. ‘It took courage to do what he did.’ He lowered his glass to the table. ‘What exactly happened in that Dutch village, Jamie? We’ll never know the whole story. The only person alive to tell the tale is Loftus and even he didn’t actually witness what took place between Ryder, Kershaw and your grandfather. His story is based on hearsay. Let me tell you what I think, based on all the information we have.

‘In those last desperate days and hours, the situation had become hopeless for the soldiers in that village. They all knew it. What’s more, they knew that unless their commanding officer was prepared to raise the white flag, surrender, they would all most certainly die. I’m certain that in the history of war, this is by no means an unusual set of circumstances and that in the end it nearly always comes down to a question of two choices. The men must either obey their superior officer—which, from the very first day of square-bashing, is what a soldier is drilled into doing, without thinking—or they can mutiny. Given the little time they had left and the brutal punishment that they had suffered, I doubt that mutiny was ever an option. They were too few, too exhausted and far beyond any organized uprising.’

So far Jamie hadn’t said a word and it looked as if she wasn’t going to, at least for the moment, so Kingston continued.

‘I’ve thought about this a lot, Jamie. And I’ve come to realize that what Kit Archer did was selfless and courageous. Whether his cousin, Jeremy Kershaw, was in on it, is impossible to say. But by Kit’s taking it upon himself to surrender, we know he ended up saving the lives of all his comrades, including Ryder. We can debate whether Kit planned this or whether it was an impulsive act. I prefer to think that he thought it through. He knew damned well the risk but saw it as the only possible chance to save their lives. This is the greatest sacrifice a man can make in my eyes, and should be in yours too, Jamie—he should be considered a hero. Ryder certainly came to realize this. He intimated so in his letter.’

A brief pause followed while she thought about his reassuring words.

‘Lawrence, I don’t know how you do it,’ she said, smiling. ‘In less than two minutes you’ve elevated my grandfather from deserter to war hero.’ She paused and grinned. ‘And do you know what? You’ve convinced me that he
really
was. And for that, I will always be very, very grateful.’

She got up and went over to his chair, kneeled by his side and kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’m so happy you came into my life,’ she said. ‘You’re a good man.’

For one of the rare times in his life, Kingston was at a loss for words.

Jamie stood and faced him, gripping his hand, pulling him out of the chair. ‘Why don’t we forget about all this for now and go out and celebrate. We can talk about roses or those great wines that you and I are going to make one day.’

ST. MARTIN’S/MINOTAUR PAPERBACKS TITLES BY ANTHONY EGLIN

The Blue Rose
The Lost Gardens

Praise for
Anthony Eglin’s English Garden Mystery Series

THE LOST GARDENS

“Delightful … . Guaranteed to please the most demanding mystery buff. You’ll be looking for other books by this fine author.”

—New Mystery Reader Magazine

“Anyone who loves British country houses, mysterious gardens, secret passages, and good storytelling will want to read
The Lost Gardens
.”

—
ReviewingtheEvidence.com

“The ‘Britishness’ of the man and the book are just right. It all rings true and should intrigue thoughtful readers on both sides of the Atlantic.”

—John Joss

“The primary appeal of the Kingston series is its detailed treatment of a subject dear to the hearts of many cozy fans: English gardens.”