“Baron, Captain,” she said, walking briskly our way. “I’m glad to see you. I wonder if you’d think it terribly rude of me to ask how much longer you planned to stay with us? After everything that’s happened, I think the family needs some privacy to get used to the new situation here. I’m sure you understand?” I did. It was the polite, English version of get the hell out.
“Your hospitality has been most appreciated,” I said. “Actually, we’ve received new orders, and I hoped to find you all here to make our apologies for a sudden departure. So it works out for all concerned.”
“You can’t stay for dinner then? It would be so nice to have a farewell meal together.”
“Sadly, no,” Kaz said. “We have pressing business to attend to. Is David here? I would like to say goodbye.”
“Yes. He was reading in the library when I came out,” Meredith said, the relief evident in her eyes. The dinner invitation was as sincere as her line that the family needed privacy. “I must get these flowers inside, so I shall say farewell now. Please do come again, Baron Kazimierz. Your visit did David a world of good, I’m sure.” With that, she trotted off, the cut flowers bouncing in her basket.
“Is there anything you want me to ask David?” Kaz said.
“Yes,” I said. “Ask him if he’s heard if there were any other letters from America that Meredith or Helen kept. Then tell him we have a suspect in Peter Wiley’s death. Go down to the kitchen and tell Mrs. Dudley or Williams the same.”
“So that word spreads?” Kaz asked. I nodded. He was getting the hang of this. I went upstairs to speak with Great Aunt Sylvia, hoping to find her awake and alert. I knocked and found her seated at the window, reading an Agatha Christie mystery. I had to smile.
“Billy, come in,” she said, closing the book. Mrs. Mallowan looked up at me from the back cover. I told Great Aunt Sylvia we had to depart.
“I am sorry you must leave us. I would have liked a visit with less death and distress, but even so I’ve enjoyed your company,” she said.
“Same here,” I said, shutting the door behind me.
She gave me a look that said she understood this wasn’t only a social call. “The time has come to talk of many things, of shoes and ships and sealing wax,” she said, a smile forming on her face.
“And cabbages and kings,” I added.
“I loved Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland as a young girl,” she said. “I still have my childhood copy. I devoured Through the Looking Glass as well, and I remember both fondly. Odd, at my age, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “It’s a link to the past. I’d bet the past is almost as important to you as the future.”
“Be blunt, will you? I might not have that much future left in me.”
“I think-no, I know-that you are holding something back from me. About Meredith and Sir Rupert. About Peter Wiley.”
“Why would I do that?”
“To make sure I don’t see what’s on the other side of the looking glass,” I said.
“Well, if I am keeping family secrets, why should I reveal anything to you now, when you are about to take your leave of us?” She tilted her head back, every inch the injured aristocrat.
“Because we have a suspect in Peter Wiley’s death. If his killing has anything to do with a family member, it would be best if it came out now. If Inspector Grange finds out later, it could be quite a public scandal.”
“I thought Peter was killed by the Germans,” Lady Pemberton said.
“That’s because you haven’t looked behind my looking glass,” I said. “When Alice stepped through the mirror, didn’t she find a book that you could only read by holding it up to a mirror? That’s what a murder investigation is like. Once you’ve put all the pieces together, sometimes all you need to do is look at them a bit differently and they make perfect sense.” I was spinning a tall tale of certainty with damn few facts to support it, but that’s what interrogations are all about.
Confusion passed across her face as she calculated what to say. That told me there really was a secret. “I knew Meredith had the letter,” she said, her bony hands clutching the spine of the book.
“Of course you did,” I said. “You see everything that goes on here. Did Meredith come to you when she intercepted the letter? Had she been confiding in you before then?”
“Yes, ever since she spied her father and that woman kissing in the garden. You see, she idolized him. But that moment changed everything. She went from a delightful young girl to a devil of a daughter. At least to Rupert. She transferred her mighty allegiance to her mother, and from that day on, it was war. But I fail to see what this has to do with Peter Wiley.”
“Maybe nothing,” I said. “Do you have any idea why she kept the letter for all these years?”
“She liked to taunt Rupert about it. She told him he’d never hear from Julia Greenshaw again. Needless to say, that’s one reason why she left, and perhaps why she was not mentioned in the will.”
“If she took her mother’s side in all this, why didn’t Louise Pemberton leave Ashcroft House to Meredith and Helen instead of her husband? Wouldn’t Louise reward such loyalty?”
“She intended to,” Great Aunt Sylvia said. “In fact she promised Meredith she would. That was when they were in India. But the illness came on quickly, and when she died, she had not changed her will. I understand she had written to Farnsworth, our family solicitor, saying that she wanted a new document drafted. If he sent her one, it did not come in time. Her previous will stood, in which she left everything to her husband. Written in the flush of romance, I suspect.”
“Meredith must have been unhappy with that,” I said.
“Oh, she was. Meredith accused her father of destroying the new will so he would inherit Ashcroft. He denied it, of course, but that was the final break between them.”
“Then she stole some jewelry and went to London,” I said.
“The ring was missing, but that has been explained by recent events. She did take a few other old pieces, probably enough to sell and get herself set up properly. Nothing of sentimental value. I never begrudged her that much.”
“So she and Helen were both here because of their husbands,” I said. “Looking for help.”
“Essentially, yes. I had also written to both of them, saying that their father was quite ill. Rupert had confided in me a month ago that the doctors were very concerned about his heart. Actually, this was the second time Meredith had asked Rupert for help. She must have choked on her words. The previous time, after the birth of their first child, it was to secure a position for Edgar in the Indian Civil Service. Rupert obliged, and we know what a hash Edgar made of that.”
“Some might say he did the honorable thing,” I said.
“Perhaps, but it is hardly honorable to come back a second time to ask for help again. But they were desperate. No prospects, a dwindling bank account, persona non grata at the Foreign Office. It made for an awful scene when they first arrived.”
“But he didn’t throw them out,” I said.
“No, not with Helen and David coming as well. I think Rupert knew these were his last days, and even with all the enmity between them, he did find some solace in family.”
“And then Peter Wiley walks through the door,” I said.
“Yes.”
“It must have driven Meredith crazy,” I said.
“That is a bit of an exaggeration,” Lady Pemberton said. “But she obviously was not pleased. The only good thing for her was that it proved that she had not stolen the ring.”
“But Sir Rupert would have known that all along,” I said.
“I imagine so. But he couldn’t let on, could he? Louise claimed she had lost the ring, perhaps to protect herself from learning the truth. She defended Meredith against the accusations, telling Rupert her daughter would never steal from her. But still, what does all this have to do with the death of poor Peter?”