The Shadow at Greystone Chase (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 10) Page 12

  ‘We were still talking when Selina turned up. I hadn’t seen her since her engagement and I knew nothing of what had happened, so I made rather an idiot of myself by asking about Godfrey. Henry seemed to think my mistake was terribly funny, but Selina told him off and invited me to Greystone Chase to meet the family. That’s how I came to be there when she died.’

  ‘What do you mean, you made an idiot of yourself by asking about Godfrey?’ said Freddy.

  ‘Why, I knew she’d been engaged to him, but nobody had told me that she’d ended up marrying his brother,’ said Harrington.

  ‘What?’ said Freddy. ‘Do you mean she was originally going to marry Godfrey de Lisle?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Harrington. ‘I assumed you knew. The wedding was all arranged when Edgar came home and stole her from under Godfrey’s nose.’

  FREDDY STARED IN astonishment. Now he understood what Valencourt had meant when he said he had done his brother a bad turn. And what a bad turn it was! To steal his brother’s intended, marry her and bring her to live with them under the same roof—why, it was little wonder there had been bad feeling between the brothers. This was a motive for murder indeed! Everything Freddy had heard about the de Lisles up to now convinced him that Godfrey was not the sort of man to let a slight of this kind pass unavenged, and here, for the first time, was confirmation that there was every reason for Godfrey to have done it. How better to revenge himself than by killing the girl who had thrown him over and then pinning the blame on the man who had been responsible for it all? It made perfect sense.

  ‘How did Godfrey take it?’ he said. ‘I mean to say, it’s hardly the done thing, is it, to run off with one’s brother’s fiancée just before the wedding.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Harrington. ‘But they were a queer lot and as far as I know it was never mentioned. Anyway, from something Henry said I got the impression that it was the old man who had arranged the thing with Godfrey in the first place.’

  ‘The old man? Do you mean Roger de Lisle?’

  ‘Yes. He was the one who first met the Laceys, at their uncle’s house, and for some reason best known to himself he became fearfully keen to have Selina marry Godfrey.’

  ‘Weren’t Godfrey and Selina to have any say in the matter?’

  ‘Who knows? At any rate, he didn’t say no, and neither did Selina.’

  ‘She can’t have been in love with him, though, if she threw him over so easily,’ observed Freddy.

  ‘I dare say she wasn’t,’ said Harrington. ‘But one couldn’t blame her for accepting him. They hadn’t a penny between them, she and Henry, and the de Lisles were rich. She’d have to have had a pretty good reason to turn him down.’

  ‘Do you know what happened, exactly? I mean, how one brother ended up being substituted for another?’

  ‘I couldn’t say for certain, but it’s easy enough to understand if you ever met the two of them. Edgar must have been like a breath of fresh air after Godfrey, who was a dull old stick. I don’t know how Edgar squared it with his family—or whether he squared it with Godfrey at all, but still, the fact is that Selina ended up marrying him instead of his brother.’

  ‘Goodness,’ said Freddy. He considered for a second, trying to imagine Godfrey’s reaction when he found out that he had been supplanted. Had he gone to the wedding? Or had he stayed away indignantly? He had certainly not forgiven the affront—Valencourt himself had admitted that—but how far had he taken his resentment? That was the question.

  ‘I gather Henry lived with them all at Greystone Chase afterwards,’ he said.

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Harrington. ‘That’s the impression he tried to give me, but from one or two things that were said while I was there I think he rather invited himself to stay—and more often than he was wanted. He’d never been the type to care about things like that, though. He was a thick-skinned sort of fellow and I’m sure he would have quite happily stayed there until they threw him out.’

  ‘Once Selina died he had to leave, I imagine,’ said Freddy.

  ‘As a matter of fact, I think he stayed even after that,’ said Harrington. ‘A week or two later I was sent back to the Front, but I did have a few letters from him with the Greystone address on. I suppose they didn’t feel up to getting rid of him, since he’d just lost his sister.’

  ‘Tell me about the night Selina died.’

  ‘Why, I can’t tell you much at all. I was in the house, of course, but I wasn’t paying too much attention to anything, since to be perfectly honest I was feeling out of place and wishing that I hadn’t accepted the invitation to visit. They weren’t the friendliest lot, and I couldn’t help feeling that they’d rather Selina hadn’t invited me at all.’

  ‘Selina and Henry were welcoming enough, presumably?’

  ‘Henry was, yes, but Selina was on her high horse. She seemed pleased with herself for some reason, and was flouncing about a bit and giving herself airs. At first I thought it was because Edgar had come home, but it wasn’t that, as they were cross with one another most of the weekend.’

  ‘That’s interesting,’ said Freddy. ‘I wonder what she was so pleased about.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Harrington. ‘I expect someone had said something to her that made her feel important. She liked that, you see. She craved attention, and made sure she got it. I knew her of old, so I didn’t take it too seriously, but I could see it made the others uncomfortable—the women, especially.’

  That was hardly surprising, thought Freddy. Selina did not sound as though she had been the sort of girl to be popular with other women, given her apparent need to draw male attention to herself at all times. He asked Oliver Harrington a few more questions about his movements that weekend, but Harrington had nothing to say that he had not already told the police at the time.

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t be more help,’ he said. ‘But I thought it was all cut and dried. It never occurred to me that they might have got the wrong man. I say, I hope you don’t suspect me.’

  ‘Oh, the idea hadn’t even occurred to me,’ lied Freddy. ‘Why, you didn’t have a motive, did you? After all, it’s not as though you were in love with her or anything.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t,’ said Harrington a little sadly. ‘I might have been when we were younger—just a little, you know—but she wasn’t the sort of girl I’d have wanted to marry. Nothing would ever have been good enough for her, and as you can see, I’m hardly in a position to provide even for a wife of more modest tastes than Selina. She was poor and wanted money, and the de Lisles had plenty of that. Much good it did her. Or Henry,’ he added.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ said Freddy.

  ‘Why, because the money killed him in the end, too.’

  ‘What money?’

  ‘Their money, of course. After Selina died, Henry began working for the de Lisles. I don’t know what he did, exactly—something on the import side, he said, although he never seemed to do any work. That’s when we started sharing lodgings here in London. I think whatever he was doing they must have paid him well for it, because I’m almost certain he saw to the lion’s share of the rent. I have no idea how much the flat cost, because he found it and took care of all that, but the place was just off Sloane Street and it was nicely done up, so I’m sure my share was more than I could have afforded at full rate.’

  Freddy’s ears pricked up at this.

  ‘I wonder what the job was,’ he said. ‘Perhaps it was the one Edgar de Lisle was supposed to take. I gather he’d had a dispute with his father and had refused to work for the family business.’

  ‘I expect so,’ agreed Harrington. ‘I shouldn’t have said no to it myself, having seen how little work Henry seemed to do for the money.’

  ‘Shirking his duties?’

  ‘I don’t think so. He did seem to spend half his time at home, but every so often he’d go down to Kent—presumably to get his orders. Then he’d come back and drink himself silly and take the other stuff. I saw the way things were going
—the morphine had obviously got a hold on him by that point, but whenever I tried to give him a talking-to he’d wave me away.’

  ‘Did he ever say anything to you about what had happened to Selina?’

  Harrington frowned.

  ‘Not that I recall,’ he said. ‘He used to drop dark hints about the de Lisles sometimes, when he came back from Kent.’

  ‘Dark hints?’ said Freddy. ‘What about?’

  ‘Oh, nothing that made much sense,’ said Harrington. ‘He said that if he wanted to, he could reveal something that would bring down the whole family and cause all sorts of trouble. I didn’t take much notice since it was just like him to say things like that, and in any case he only said it when he was under the influence.’

  ‘Then you have no idea what he might have been referring to?’

  ‘Not really. I assumed if anything it was that the de Lisles were involved in some shady business or other. I wasn’t interested in that sort of thing so I didn’t inquire further.’

  ‘How long did he work for the de Lisles?’ said Freddy. ‘You said he died shortly after his sister.’

  ‘Yes—I think it was about a year later. It was a shock, but I can’t say I was exactly surprised. The drinking had been getting worse and a few times I had to wake him up when he’d taken too much morphine. I told him to get a grip on himself, but the habit had got him, and he was getting plenty of money from the de Lisles, so he had no reason to stop. In his last few weeks he started talking wildly about how they wanted him dead, but I took that to be the sort of thing someone in his state would come out with. I remember I tried to persuade him to give up the job, purely because I didn’t think the money was doing him any good, but he wouldn’t. I was right, though.’

  He fell silent, remembering.

  ‘What happened?’ said Freddy.

  ‘The day he died I’d been out all night—I used to mix with a fast crowd in those days—and didn’t wake up until about one. Henry seemed to have a visitor so I stayed in my room and left them to it for a while—I think I drifted off again, as a matter of fact. When I eventually got up I found that whoever it was had left and the place was deserted—or at least, that’s what I thought. I went out for a little while and when I came back Henry still wasn’t at home, which struck me as odd, so I went into his room and found him there, lying on the bed. The doctor said he’d been dead a good few hours, and there was nothing I could have done, because a dose of morphine even half the size of the one he’d taken would have been enough to kill him, especially since his system had been weakened by drink. Still, though, I’ve often wished I’d got up earlier that day. Perhaps I might have stopped him. I wasn’t especially fond of the fellow, but I shouldn’t have wished that on him.’

  ‘Who was his visitor?’ said Freddy. ‘Did you ever find out?’

  ‘No,’ said Harrington. ‘I expect it was the chap who got him the stuff. He never showed his face again—luckily for him, as I’d have had some things to say if he had.’

  ‘Ye-es,’ said Freddy thoughtfully. He was looking at the matter in an entirely different light. The death of Henry Lacey so soon after that of his sister struck him as particularly suspicious, especially given the circumstances. What if Henry had known something about Selina’s death and had taken the opportunity to blackmail the de Lisles in return for his silence? It would certainly explain why they had given him a job which seemed to require nothing of him, and why he had seemed to be so much in funds for the last year of his life. Of course, in the normal way of things one would have expected him to go straight to the police if he knew or suspected who had really killed Selina, but if at the time he had been an habitual user of morphine then perhaps the lure of money had been too much to resist. Was that what had happened?

  He thanked Oliver Harrington and promised to speak to Marguerite Harrison about the young artist’s work, then took his leave and headed back to Fleet Street. The conversation had been suggestive, to say the least, although it had produced little in the way of solid evidence. It now looked as though Godfrey de Lisle had had a much stronger motive than his brother for killing Selina, and might even have had the opportunity to do it if the killing had taken place after dinner rather than before, as the police had assumed. But how could Godfrey’s guilt be proved? If no evidence could be found, then the stain would remain on Edgar Valencourt’s character, such as it was, and his brother would have got away with murder—a fitting revenge indeed on those who had slighted him.

  FREDDY LOST NO time in visiting Angela to apprise her of the details of his conversation with Oliver Harrington. Angela was surprised but pleased that her suspicions of Godfrey de Lisle had been proved correct.

  ‘I suppose we oughtn’t to be too surprised at Valencourt’s stealing Selina from under his brother’s nose,’ she said. ‘He always was very fond of taking what didn’t belong to him.’

  Freddy glanced at her but her face revealed nothing.

  ‘Do you really suppose Henry Lacey was murdered?’ she went on. ‘How can we find out?’

  ‘I shall see what I can discover from the police,’ said Freddy. ‘His death was ruled accidental, but that’s not to say there were no suspicions at the time.’

  ‘Still, we’re unlikely ever to prove it,’ said Angela. ‘This is what I feared would happen. There’s just enough doubt about Valencourt’s guilt to justify an investigation, but seemingly not enough evidence to exonerate him. I suppose this is almost as far as we can go with our inquiries. I had better go and see Mr. Gilverson and tell him what we’ve found out—although it’s of precious little use. Still, I’ve done what I promised, and I don’t think I can be blamed for retiring gracefully from the case if we don’t find out anything more about Henry’s death in the next few days.’

  Freddy was relieved. He had failed to persuade Angela to give it up, but even she knew that there was no longer any reason for her to continue if they had reached a dead end. Of course, it was unfortunate for Valencourt if indeed he had not killed his wife, but even if they had managed to prove him innocent it was not as though he could have emerged from the shadows and resumed his normal life, since he was sought for other crimes than murder. He would forever be a wanted man, destined to remain in hiding.

  Freddy went off, promising to call if he found out anything more from the police about Henry Lacey’s death, and Angela was left alone to think. It had not escaped her notice that Freddy had been seizing any excuse he could to try and talk her out of the investigation, although she had firmly resisted every attack. Moreover, she had begun to see a worried look in Marthe’s eye lately—or perhaps it had been there all the time; she was not quite sure. The thought irritated her. Did everybody really believe her to be such a weakling? Why, she was perfectly well. True, the trial had been upsetting, but she had come through it and, she flattered herself, had been successful in her attempts to resume her normal life. Of course, the investigation into Selina de Lisle’s murder was a little inconvenience, in that it tended to remind her of things she preferred to forget, but it would soon be over and then she would be happy again, she was sure of it.

  She sighed and turned to a looking-glass which hung on the wall. A tired face looked out at her and she grimaced at it, then spent some time examining herself dispassionately. Marthe was right: all this travelling about did little for the complexion, and Angela felt she was looking distinctly peaky. Perhaps she ought to have taken her maid’s advice and gone somewhere warm on the Continent. Or there was always the States. She had received a letter from her American lawyer that morning about the sale of Bernstein & Associates. The terms were acceptable to the buyer, he said, but there were one or two points that merited further discussion, and it would be better if she were there to attend to them in person. But how could she concentrate on business abroad when there were matters still to resolve here?

  Somewhat irrationally, given her rejection of Freddy’s attempts to get her off the case, she would have been only too glad to find a good excuse to
give it up, and she felt a little relieved at the thought that she would shortly be able to withdraw with a clear conscience. She had done all she could, and nobody could say she had not tried her hardest. Very soon she could resume her efforts to forget the past few months, as she had been doing before Mr. Gilverson sent his letter. The investigation had been an uncomfortable experience, but she had no intention of allowing it to disturb her peace of mind any more than necessary. Of course she had been foolish—she had admitted as much to Freddy after the trial—but she was certainly not foolish enough to mourn a man who had been so eminently unsuitable in every way, whether he had murdered his wife or not. It had been an attraction on her part which had been most unlike her, and for which she never ceased to chide herself. As for him, if he wanted to go around confessing to murders he had not committed—well, that was entirely his own affair. She had not asked him to do it, and could not possibly be held responsible for the consequences. That was the right way to look at it, she told herself, and for a moment she almost managed to believe it. That would have to do for the present, but she was sure it would become easier as time passed. Now all she had to do was to convince her friends that there was no need to worry about her, as they evidently did. It was kind of them, but entirely pointless, since of course there was nothing at all wrong with her.

  ‘I am perfectly all right,’ she said firmly to her reflection, and pasted on a bright smile.

  Nonetheless, she was still feeling out of sorts as she went to see Mr. Gilverson. The solicitor greeted her with his usual impeccable courtesy and was only too keen to hear what she had to report. He raised his eyebrows when Angela mentioned her suspicions about Godfrey’s motive.

  ‘Ah, of course,’ he said. ‘I must confess I had forgotten about that particular incident, since Godfrey married Victorine not long after his engagement with Selina came to an end and the thing was, of course, never mentioned within the family. Edgar had the decency not to boast about it, at least. I’m not quite sure how it all happened, but yes, I believe there was a certain amount of resentment on Godfrey’s part.’