She shook her head. ‘I really don’t know... but I remember a friend of my mother’s had an engagement ring with one pearl in the centre and diamonds either side; she told us that even though the diamonds were a good carat, the pearl was worth hundreds, and that was just one, so just think of the value of the three strands — and this photograph has to be proof of provenance.’ She put it to one side on the trestle table.
Jane had found nothing else of interest in her box and had begun opening another one when Tim exclaimed, ‘Holy shit, you’re not going to believe this, ma’am.’
Jane joined Tim at his box. ‘He photographed her,’ he said in a shocked tone.
Jane looked, and suddenly a chill went through her. Henry Lanark had taken photographs of his daughter hanging from the swing. You could clearly see the young girl’s distorted face. They were sickening. But it got worse. In the third battered cardboard box, they uncovered sexually explicit photographs of two of the Lanark daughters, and even cruder photographs of their mother.
Jane selected a number of the photographs, including the ones she considered pornographic, the suicide pictures of Marjorie, and the image of the Dowager Empress’s necklace.
‘What are you going to do with them?’ Tim asked.
‘Tim, these are vital evidence, what the hell do you think I am going to do with them? I might not legally be able to take them with us back to London, but that doesn’t mean I can’t use them to get to the truth by confronting that awful woman and her equally appalling son.’
‘Well, I’m just a bit concerned,’ Tim said. ‘I mean, what if they don’t come back before we have to leave?’
‘I’ll take full responsibility,’ Jane replied. ‘Now, pass me one of the big envelopes to put these in.’
When they were finished, they switched off the lights and shut the door, making their way gingerly out of the old boathouse. Tim heaved the door closed whilst Jane stood for a moment looking at the view, trying to get the shocking images they’d just seen out of her mind.
She turned as she heard a throaty laugh, and they could see, at the top of the tiered garden, Beatrice, arm in arm with Jason, entering the house.
‘Well, we know they’re home now. Let’s do this,’ she said, marching towards them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jane rang the doorbell, and as Tina opened the door, Jane was confronted by Jason Thorpe.
‘I’m afraid my mother is not available to speak to you,’ he said brusquely. ‘She has already given you quite enough of her time and answered all your questions.’
‘I do apologise for the inconvenience, Mr Thorpe,’ Jane said firmly, ‘but your mother hasn’t actually answered all of my questions. I would appreciate it if you could encourage her to have a further meeting with me. I would hate to have Mrs Thorpe taken to the police station but will do so if it is necessary.’
His lips tightened. ‘That is absolutely preposterous! I’m perfectly aware that you don’t have any jurisdiction here. To suggest that you would question my mother at the police station is an empty threat. One call to my lawyers will have you removed from my property immediately.’
Jane stood her ground. ‘If I return to London, Mr Thorpe, I will have to report to my senior officer that I believe your mother could be responsible for infanticide.’
‘That is fucking ridiculous,’ he said angrily.
Jane carried on undaunted. ‘I’d like your mother to tell me exactly what happened at the shelter, and whether she did in fact give birth and bury the child. I will treat her with the utmost respect, but I can’t guarantee the press won’t get hold of the fact that your mother is a suspect in an infanticide case.’
Jane caught a glimpse of Beatrice coming down the stairs behind her son.
‘I don’t know if you told your mother about the press coverage which we’ve already had. The papers called it the “House of Horrors”. I can guarantee that there will be even more unpleasant headlines.’
Jason stepped forward, as if to grab Jane’s arm. His face was distorted with anger as he shouted, ‘She has told you the truth! She is not involved whatsoever!’
‘Yes, I am, Jason.’
Jane could hardly believe it. Beatrice, wearing a Chanel suit, her famous pearls, and high-heeled black patent leather shoes, appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Please tell Tina to bring us a cool drink in the drawing room,’ she said.
He curled his hands into fists as if about to argue with her, but she spoke firmly.
‘Do it, please.’ She then gestured for Jane and Tim to follow her into the drawing room.
Beatrice sat on the sofa. She was wearing the same jangling charm bracelet as yesterday as she indicated for Jane to sit opposite her. This time Tim, without being told, went and sat on the hard-backed chair. The tension in the room was palpable. Jane placed the envelope of photographs on the table beside her. She then opened her bag and took out her notebook.
‘I apologise for my son’s rudeness,’ Beatrice said, tight-lipped. She then gave a small sigh. ‘I was not aware of the newspaper stories you just mentioned... my son told me that it was not worth reading such garbage. I also chose not to discuss with you the appalling events that he told me had occurred. I obviously feel great compassion for that poor girl they found...’
Jane could feel Beatrice was about to go off topic again.
‘I’m sure you do, Mrs Thorpe,’ she said quickly. ‘But that case is closed. What remains unknown is who murdered the newborn baby.’
‘There was no murder,’ Beatrice said quietly.
‘Yes, there was, Mrs Thorpe. The newborn child was suffocated. We have that forensically proven. What we do not have is the identity of the person who wrapped the baby in the blue shawl so tightly that threads of the wool were found in the infant’s lungs.’
Jason moved silently into the room.
‘Dear God, is this necessary? Are you deliberately trying to shock my mother into some kind of admission when I can guarantee that she was not involved?’
‘Shut up, Jason,’ Beatrice said.
There was an awkward pause as Tina brought in a tray of iced drinks. Nobody spoke as she handed glasses to Jane and Tim. Jason took a glass from the tray and sat perched on the end of the sofa beside his mother.
‘Firstly, I want you to know why I previously declined to be honest with you, Detective Tennison. It was simply to protect my family’s reputation.’
Jane could see a strange, frightened look in his eyes as Jason turned towards his mother. But Beatrice took no notice, continuing calmly.
‘My sister Marjorie became pregnant. For a considerable time she kept it secret from everyone, but eventually it was too obvious for her to hide, and the poor girl told Helena. She told our parents that Marjorie was ill with flu and had a touch of bronchitis so that she had to wear a quilted dressing gown...’
Sensing Beatrice moving off course again, Jane interrupted.
‘So Marjorie went to full term?’
‘Yes. I lied about the belt, Detective Tennison. I lied about it because I didn’t want Helena to get into trouble. But it was her belt, and it was Helena who arranged everything.’
Beatrice had straightened her back and clasped her hands together so that even her charm bracelet was silent.
‘She took Marjorie into the shelter through the door in the basement. We knew that Father was not at home. He had gone to the Garrick, his private members’ club. Helena took towels with her and there was a gas cooker where she could boil water. Marjorie was to have the baby and as soon as it was born, Helena said she would take care of it.’
‘What did you think she meant by that?’ Jane asked.
‘I don’t really know, but I’m sure she didn’t intend to harm the baby. I think both Marjorie and I believed she would have the baby taken to a convent.’