Heirs of Ravenscar

‘I’m taking them both to dinner tomorrow. I hope to establish his identity at least.’

‘And then what?’

‘I thought I would ask him about Tabitha James.’

‘Will he tell you the truth? We both agreed she wasn’t murdered, because if she had been the police would have been involved at the time, whatever Grace Rose said when you found her. After all, she was only four.’

‘I’m hoping he can tell me what Tabitha’s fate really was, and also where she’s buried. I think that would be a good thing for Grace Rose to know, Mr Edward. Set her mind at rest.’

‘She’s talked about this to you, hasn’t she?’ Edward murmured, as perceptive as always, and understanding Grace Rose as well as he did.

‘Yes, she has. I’ve even taken her down to Whitechapel at different times, with Mrs Vicky’s permission of course. And naturally she’s been to Haddon House over the years. Nothing’s ever been hidden from her. Mrs Vicky has always believed in telling her the truth.’

‘And rightly so. It would’ve been silly to keep things a secret.’ A reflective look settled in Edward’s eyes for a moment, and he stood holding the brandy balloon, staring into its amber depths. At last he said, ‘Find out what you can, Amos. It will be quite interesting to hear what he has to say. But don’t expect too much, because perhaps he doesn’t know much of anything. After all, he could have left her. Or she could have left him … it’s all something of a mystery … and one we might never fathom.’

FOURTEEN (#)

In all his years as a policeman and then a private investigator, Amos Finnister had learned about people and knew how to read them. He had a psychological insight into most, and usually understood the motivations of others. This aside, he had acquired a certain charm. He was at ease with people from all walks of life, and they were at ease with him. Certainly he had a way with them, handled them with expertise and finesse.

And this was most apparent on Friday evening, when Charlie and Major Cedric Crawford dined with him at the Ritz Restaurant. As it turned out, he discovered that the major was the perfect English gentleman, well mannered and genial, and from a distinguished family. And Charlie was being himself tonight, playing the perfect English gentleman as he had done so often on the stage in London and New York.

Amos knew how to make people relax, and by the time they were halfway through dinner he had the major laughing, and sharing stories, some of which were hilarious. And as Amos joined in the general hilarity, told stories himself, and chatted mostly about inconsequential things, he listened and watched, trying to observe the major surreptitiously in order to properly weigh him up.

By the time they had eaten the main course, Amos felt comfortable enough to broach the subject of Tabitha James. At a given moment he glanced at Charlie, a quizzical expression on his face, and Charlie gave him a quick nod.

After taking another sip of the good French wine he had ordered, a Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Amos put down his glass and leaned back in the chair, not wanting to appear intrusive or in any way threatening.

Speaking in his ordinary, neutral tone, Amos said, ‘I wonder if you’d mind my asking you something, Major?’

‘No, not at all. What is it you’d like to know, Finnister?’

Having worked out a simple story before dinner, one based on truth, Amos had it ready and on the tip of his tongue. ‘Before I begin I’d just like to explain something … I’m wondering if you happen to know a friend of mine.’

The major’s eyes were glued on Amos. ‘Who would that be?’

‘Lady Fenella Fayne. Have you ever come across her?’

‘No, I haven’t, I’m afraid. But I do know who she is, I think everyone does. Great philanthropist, so I’ve read, and a woman who has devoted her time, energy and money to helping women … women at risk, shall we say? I believe she’s the widow of Lord Jeremy Fayne.’

‘That’s correct, and her father is the Earl of Tanfield. Some years ago Lady Fenella tried to find a friend of hers from Yorkshire, where she herself comes from originally – a lady friend who had disappeared in London. She did manage to find out, through another acquaintance, that her friend had ended up living in the East End, in Whitechapel or thereabouts, and that her friend had been acquainted with a gentleman by the name of Cedric Crawford. That wasn’t by any chance your good self, was it Major?’

Cedric Crawford nodded at once, showing no signs of embarrassment or reluctance to admit to knowing the woman Amos was referring to. ‘I did know a lady who lived in Whitechapel by the name of Tabitha James. I knew her quite well, actually. You see, she was an extremely close friend of a fellow guards officer, Sebastian Lawford. At one moment I did believe they were going to marry – they were very much in love. But unfortunately that did not come to pass.’

‘And why was that, Major, do you know?’

‘Oh yes, I’m afraid I do. Tabitha James became very ill. Actually, she had contracted consumption, and then she was felled by double pneumonia. Before I knew it, she was dead and gone.’

‘I see. So you went to their home in Whitechapel, did you?’

‘It was Tabitha’s home, in point of fact. She wouldn’t move to a better place for some reason – though, with all due respect, Seb had tried to install her in a cottage that was more than comfortable. I have no idea why she was so obdurate.’ He shook his head, and finished, ‘It was all very sad because she was obviously a genuine lady: what I mean is, a woman of breeding.’

‘She was indeed. She was Lady Tabitha Brockhaven, and her late father was the Earl of Brockhaven,’ Amos informed him.

It was obvious that the major was surprised; Amos thought he looked thunderstruck, even a little disbelieving. He waited, wanting this information to sink in.

Cedric Crawford frowned, and he sounded dubious when he eventually asked, ‘Are you sure of that, Finnister? I mean … a title? Goodness me.’

‘Yes, I am sure. Absolutely. Anyway, a moment ago I mentioned Tabitha’s home. You did go there then?’

‘Oh yes, quite a few times. It was in 1904, the spring I think. Yes, that’s correct. You see, I was about to travel to Europe with my father and my two sisters. We were going to the family villa in the South of France, and then I was moving to Paris. Permanently. I wanted to be a painter and my father had agreed I could attend the Beaux Arts. In fact, he was footing the bill.’

‘But you were a guards officer, weren’t you?’ Amos probed.

‘Oh yes, but the old man, well, he was a good sort, my pater, he let me do what I wanted, more or less. So he put up no resistance when I resigned my commission. His father had been rather a bully, so I was led to understand, and Father sort of –’ Cedric paused, shrugged, ‘tended to go the other way. Indulged me. Spoiled me rotten, I expect. Anyway, he agreed with me that I wasn’t cut out to be a soldier.’

‘But you rejoined the army when war broke out, and you were both wrong as it turned out, weren’t you, Major? Since you must have been a very dedicated soldier from what Charlie tells me. You performed great acts of courage, so much so you are about to be awarded the greatest honour in the land, the most prestigious medal a soldier can receive for valour in the face of the enemy … the Victoria Cross.’

The major looked suddenly bashful, and he merely nodded, turning pink. He took a sip of his red wine.

Amos now leaned across the table, and asked the question he’d been holding back. ‘In the spring of 1904 did you come across a little girl living with Tabitha?’

‘Good Lord, yes, I’d forgotten about her for a moment. Tabitha did have a daughter. A toddler. Yes, yes, of course. Now what was her name … I’ve got it! She was called Grace.’

‘You don’t happen to know what happened to Grace, do you?’

‘Not really.’ The major rubbed his hand over his forehead, frowning slightly. ‘You know, now that I think about it, the last time I saw the child was the last time I saw Tabitha.’

‘Can you remember what happened that day?’ Amos sat back, sipping his water, and waiting, a sense of excitement growing inside him. His eyes rested on the major reflectively. He was very intent on arriving at the truth.

‘I remember it was quite a nice day,’ Major Crawford began. ‘Sunny, if a little cool. I went to Whitechapel with Seb Lawford because he wanted to persuade Tabitha to move to a better place, a decent cottage which he had found in Hampstead, near the Heath. He asked me to help him move her things, and we arrived in a hansom cab. Tabitha was there, but she wouldn’t agree to move or leave that … hovel. She was stubborn. We both noticed how dreadfully ill she looked, and she was coughing … coughing her heart out. Seb sent me to talk to the woman who lived several doors away, down the street. She had a teenage daughter who apparently sometimes looked after Grace. He wanted her to come to the house and watch Grace whilst we took Tabitha to the hospital. I can’t remember the girl’s name, but she agreed, and she came back with me. As I recall, I gave her a guinea to wait until we returned. Then Seb and the girl helped to get Tabitha into some of her clothes, and he and I carried her out to the hansom, and we took her to the hospital.’

‘Which hospital was that, Major Crawford?’

‘The one on Whitechapel Road, it’s called Royal London Hospital. Very old place. Naturally, they kept her in the hospital, she was so very ill.’

‘And what happened after that?’ Amos asked quietly.

‘Seb returned to Tabitha’s place in Whitechapel, and I took a hansom cab back to my father’s house in Queen Street in Mayfair. We left for France about five days later.’

‘But you said Tabitha died. You must have seen your friend Sebastian Lawford before you left, didn’t you?’

‘He came to see me only two days after we had taken Tabitha to the hospital. And yes, she had died, she had a virulent case of pneumonia, not to mention consumption. It was her lungs, I think, they were horribly congested, she had trouble breathing.’

‘At that time, did he mention the little girl Grace?’

‘No, he didn’t say anything, and I didn’t think to ask. We, that is the family, were going abroad for three months, and I was packing for a much longer stay in Paris. It was somewhat chaotic, I’m afraid –’ Cedric Crawford broke off as if suddenly something had occurred to him. ‘What happened to the little girl, Mr Finnister? I hope nothing bad.’

‘No, not really, thank God.’ Amos cleared his throat, went on, ‘When Lady Fenella was looking for Tabitha, I know she checked all of the hospitals in the area, because I helped her. But she didn’t find Tabitha registered. Don’t you think that’s a bit odd?’