This too made its way to London down the telegraph wires and landed in Markham Square four hours after it had left St Petersburg. Mrs Clarissa Cooper’s eldest, Nicholas, was a vicar. He was one of the more fortunate vicars in that distinguished community. His parish was owned by one of Oxford’s richer colleges, and his parish came with a suitable endowment of between four and five hundred pounds a year. It was in the little town of Kidlington, between Oxford and Blenheim Palace, and its occupants were employed on the estates around Woodstock or in university business.
‘Mr Fitzgerald,’ he said, showing him to a seat in the parlour of his handsome vicarage. ‘My mother sent me a wire. She said I was to be very careful what I say to you!’
He laughed and poured some tea. His wife was out, he said, handing out clothes to some of the poorer parishioners. She always did this, his Hermione, the first Friday of the month.
‘Forgive me for plunging straight in,’ Johnny began. ‘I’ve talked to your mother and your aunt in London about this business of the inheritance from Uncle Richard. I thought it would be useful to talk to the surviving nephews as well.’
‘Only too happy to help,’ said Nicholas, ‘but just let me say one thing at the outset. Both of those good ladies will have impressed on you that this doesn’t matter at all, that it’s all a whim of Uncle Richard’s and nobody should pay any attention to it. They wouldn’t want me to say this, but I do have obligations in my profession. All that stuff about it not being important is not true. It has taken up a lot of their attention for years now. Who’s in; who’s out: it could be a parlour game if it wasn’t so serious. If Peter or I have fallen from favour — maybe my uncle doesn’t approve of me being a vicar — who’s going to inherit now? Mark? Is it his turn? Alexander can’t any more because he’s not here, God rest his soul.’
‘Would you say they were obsessed by it?’
‘I would, Mr Fitzgerald, I certainly would. Short of getting down on the floor and counting out the imaginary money, there isn’t a lot else they could do.’
‘Pardon me. Mr Cooper, do you know how much it is worth, this inheritance?’
‘No.’
‘Do they?’
‘No. I don’t think so, anyway. I’ve not been told, at any rate.’
‘And how long was your time in the sun, as it were, when you were the favourite one? Of all the nephews?’
‘I’ve followed the progress, Mr Fitzgerald. Alexander was the favourite at the moment. I suppose he’d been in place for about two months. My mother is always writing to keep me up to date. I’d say he had about one month to go. Three months is the average.’
‘And there haven’t been any times when one nephew stepped out of line, as it were, and was immediately sent packing from the top of the family tree?’
‘It didn’t work like that, Mr Fitzgerald. I don’t think it would have made any difference if one of the cousins had married a parlour maid or eloped with a chorus girl — that wouldn’t have changed a thing.’
‘So, as far as you knew, these arrivals and removals, as it were, came completely at random?’
‘For all I know, it could have happened when some financial deal came through or he lost heavily at cards.’
‘So what would you think was the motive for all this? It must have caused a great deal of unhappiness among the relations.’
‘Only if they let it. I know my brother is as bad as my mother and my aunt, pretending it doesn’t matter, while following the story as closely as they do. You ask about motive, Mr Fitzgerald. It might be my profession, but I think he’s a wicked old man. A lonely old man, with no family of his own, he likes teasing his relations with the one thing he has that they don’t — and that’s lots of money.’
‘One last thing. I have to ask everyone this, Mr Cooper. Have you attended any of the performances of the Ballets Russes either here or at Blenheim?’
‘I knew that question would come. On the day of the great concert at Blenheim I was here, pretending to tend my garden and thinking about my sermon for the Sunday.’
20
Literally ‘turn in the air’. A jump, typically for a male, with a full rotation. The landing can be to both feet; on one leg with the other extended in attitude or arabesque; or down to one knee, as at the end of a variation. A single tour is a 360° rotation, a double is 720°. Vaslav Nijinsky was known to perform triple tours en l’air.
Inspector Dutfield brought news from Oxford.
‘Let me bring you up to date with the news from Blenheim, my lord. Inspector Jackson has been most thorough. He asked the indoor staff, via the butler — as their head man — rather than through his own officers, how many strangers they thought they had seen about the place on the big day. They had met most of the technical people during meals in the servants’ hall, and most of the dancers and suchlike getting ready for the performance. They thought there were four they had never seen before. All sounded Russian. Two of them had coats with those astrakhan collars. One of them appeared to speak neither French nor English, so we can probably rule him out, assuming he wasn’t pretending. One might have been a stagehand. Descriptions — imperfect though they obviously are — have been circulated round Oxford. I expect they’ll ask on the trains as well. I don’t think that takes us very far forward. We’re still looking for two people on the relevant night in Covent Garden.’
Powerscourt felt glad, not for the first time, that he wasn’t a policeman. All that leg work, all those questions, always the same as the ones you had asked five minutes before, the endless writing of notes. He’d have grown so bored he would have made a mistake.
‘Well done, indeed, Inspector. At least that might produce something in the end. Please send our thanks to Inspector Jackson. We too have had some information. Two telegrams from Natasha Shaporova, reading Alexander’s mail in St Petersburg.
‘“What am I, Mama, Russian or English?” That’s the first one. The second could be connected to the first, or maybe not.
‘“Ivan” — that’s the elder brother — “has told me of the decision you may have to make. I think you should consult Papa as well as Ivan. That would be for the best.” Ivan is the elder brother. Lucy, what do you think?’
‘They could be linked, as you say, Francis. Surely the first one could be something terribly simple, like who he should support in a football match between Russia and England, that sort of thing. But the second could relate to something more serious, as if there’s something worrying him.’
‘He may just wonder where his loyalties ought to lie,’ said the Inspector. ‘He wants to take his bearings, which people he belongs with, that sort of thing.’
‘I suspect we need something more specific, don’t we?’ said Powerscourt. ‘And why, if we think it is serious for a moment, why would he want to know whether he’s English or Russian? I don’t see the context myself. It’s not as if there’s a war on and he has to decide which side to join.’
‘Tell me this,’ said Lady Lucy. ‘Where are the letters Alexander Taneyev received here? There must be answers of some kind in there. They must be in police storage somewhere, is that not so, Inspector? Then we could read the correspondence at both ends.’
Inspector Dutfield smacked his hand very firmly on his knee.
‘Of course, Lady Powerscourt. How right you are. Why didn’t we think of that sooner? I’m sorry about that.’
‘Never mind, Inspector,’ said Powerscourt. ‘I’m as guilty as you are. But you could lay your hands on them, couldn’t you?’
‘It’ll take a day or two,’ said Inspector Dutfield, ‘but we can certainly locate them. I’ve got one other piece of news to impart. You remember that duel in the forest glade outside St Petersburg? A member of the Taneyev family and a member of the Solkonsky family? Well, we’ve checked the names of all the Russians staying in hotels in the capital for the past week or so. At Brown’s Hotel in Mayfair there is at present a certain Mr Leonid Solkonsky, who gives an address in St Petersburg.’