Stolen Remains (30 page)

B
ack at Scotland Yard, Violet sat in Commissioner Henderson’s office, along with Inspectors Hurst and Pratt, and a newly released Nelly Bishop, who sat trembling and crying as she listened to Violet tell the story of Katherine’s actions, which had culminated in the death of herself and Nelly’s brother. Once Henderson had been briefed on the day’s events, Nelly revealed even more secrets surrounding the case.

“I couldn’t have imagined that the stone that came through my window was initiated by Katherine. It’s simply too fantastic to even consider. I truly thought someone was out to kill me.”

“Why would someone want to do that?” Pratt asked as he handed Nelly a handkerchief.

She daubed at her eyes. “Because I was trying to expose them. You see, I told you, Mrs. Harper, that I had hoped to return to journalism one day, but in reality, I was already writing for Mr. Catesby under an assumed name. It was gratifying work. I was almost like you, Mrs. Harper, except that I had to do my work in secret. Lately, I’d been working on an investigation of baby farming—”

“The Mrs. Flood case? The baby farmer? You were the reporter on that?” Hurst asked.

Nelly’s cheeks pinked. “Yes. Were you following my work?”

“Good Lord, woman, you nearly ruined me with your constant interference and nosing around.”

Hurst’s accusation sent Nelly into fresh tears. The poor thing wasn’t used to Hurst’s centurion ways.

“Inspector,” Violet said, “I’m sure she was only trying to help your investigation. Weren’t you, Mrs. Bishop?”

Nelly nodded as she rubbed her nose with the handkerchief. “I just wanted to do something meaningful.”

Commissioner Henderson stood. “I think we have everything we need. Mrs. Bishop, I apologize for your unwarranted detention.”

As the group left Henderson’s office, and Hurst and Pratt escorted Violet and Nelly out, Hurst leaned over and spoke quietly to Violet.

“It pains me to admit it, Mrs. Harper, but you were mostly right about things on this case.”

“Actually, it was you who was largely correct about motives; you simply missed who was the guilty party.”

“Hmm. I suppose I must extend my thanks, though.”

“Why, Inspector, is that a note of respect I hear in your voice?”

“Absolutely not. Why would you think such a thing? I reserve my respect for Fortuna, who apparently blessed you with several rounds of good luck.”

Violet smiled and tucked her arm into his elbow. “I think one day we might be friends.”

“Huh, not likely.” But he didn’t shrug her off as they walked out of Scotland Yard together.

V
iolet was snuggled against Sam at St. James’s Palace, where she’d moved back the moment she was able to leave Raybourn House. He’d returned from Sweden the previous evening, full of news about the potential impact of dynamite on mining operations. Violet had hushed him with her lips, and assured him that all of their news could wait until morning.

Now with the sun trying valiantly to send its rays through the heavy draperies, Violet was finally willing to talk about something not involving her husband’s embrace.

She rose to one elbow. “There’s so much to tell you.”

“In a moment. First, I have something for you.” Sam rose and went to a piece of his luggage that was already buried under Violet’s clothing from the previous day. He returned with a small, square wooden box, wrapped in a velvet bow.

“For what I hope becomes a collection,” he said.

Violet untied the bow and saw that the lid had a daisy inset in marquetry on it. “How very pretty.”

“That’s just the wrapping.”

She pulled off the lid to see what was inside. Cushioned on cobalt-blue velvet lay a spectacular antique watch, its beauty not in the typical form of an intricately filigreed back, but in the large face with heavily carved copper hands that had patinated to a milky green.

“It’s fantastic,” she breathed.

“I found it in a jeweler’s shop in Stockholm. It was made by Erik Wellenius in the mid-eighteenth century.”

“It’s completely different from my Margaret Fleming watch, but just as beautiful.” Sam had purchased her the antique Fleming watch as a mourning gift long before they were married. “I adore it.”

“Now, wife, tell me what has happened since I’ve been gone.”

Violet proceeded to outline for him the events of the past couple of weeks. Sam listened attentively, not breaking in until she told him of her near-death experience at Westminster Bridge.

“Why didn’t you tell me of this in your letters? I would have come straight back from Sweden.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. Besides, it was over and finished; what could you have done?”

“I could have done my job as your husband and protected you.”

Violet smiled. “I love when you get outraged on my behalf.”

“Honestly, woman, every time I let you out of my sight you get attacked by lions, thrown from bridges, and murderers come after you.”

“All coincidental things.”

“Right. Finish your story.”

She did, with Sam once again interrupting her as she described the blow to her head and the horrifying scene inside the train station. “Trains seem to hold rotten luck for you, sweetheart.”

“But they are an amazing conveyance. I suppose their ability to shrink distances makes them worth their risk.”

“Once the transcontinental railroad is finished, we’ll be able to ride from coast to coast in America at forty miles per hour. Except that . . . never mind, go on.”

“Well, the queen summoned us all to Windsor, where I finally met Lord Raybourn once again. The queen had maintained admirable secrecy about him as the truth at Raybourn House revealed itself in its own time. On the eve of Bertie’s departure, the viscount had been directed to stay in Egypt, in order to negotiate favorable shipping rates for England on the Suez Canal. Monsieur de Lesseps and other European countries would have been furious to learn that Great Britain’s shipping terms would be better than those of France and the rest of the continent, so not even the Prince of Wales knew that he was staying behind. The queen and Mr. Gladstone didn’t want an international incident over it.

“That’s why the Crown knew Lord Raybourn could not possibly have been dead in London, unless he returned without permission and without his task completed. The queen found that to be highly unlikely, given her high trust in his abilities and loyalty, so she sent someone off to Egypt to set eyes on him and bring him home. The entire reason she asked me to assist her was to confirm whether it was indeed Lord Raybourn’s body in the coffin. It was her intent to set me on to discovering who it really was if it wasn’t Lord Raybourn.

“Not only that, the Crown had Scotland Yard chasing down de Lesseps’s blackmailer, another sticky situation. If other European countries had the impression that Britain had a hand in slavery, long abolished here, well, one can hardly think of the consequences. Much to Lord Raybourn’s dismay, Cedric Fairmont was the blackmailer.”

Sam grimaced. “An unfortunate turn of events for the esteemed Lord Raybourn. Yet, a neat trick the queen pulled off to get to the bottom of things without compromising British interests. What I don’t understand, though, is why he didn’t send word to Mrs. Peet to let her know of his plans to stay behind.”

Violet thought back to Lord Raybourn’s red-rimmed eyes and cracked voice as he spoke of his housekeeper. “He was under strict instructions to tell no one, and didn’t even permit Madame Brusse and Mr. Larkin to write to their own families about the delay. Of course, he was devastated by the tragedy unfolding in his absence.”

“Wasn’t there some kind of scandal involving the maid next door, what was her name?”

“Rebecca. Mr. Larkin confessed that he was rather, er, aggressive in his attentions toward her. Mrs. Peet intervened with a ferocious verbal bite that cured Mr. Larkin of showering any other neighboring servants with unwanted attentions.”

Sam laughed. “I wish I could have met the old girl. She must have been quite a character.”

“She had the most remarkable eyes, a shade of green that simply, I don’t know,
sparkled
. They were incongruous to her plain personality. It was so heartbreaking to see them faded and to have to close them a final time.” Violet shook her head to clear the memory.

“How is the rest of the family adjusting?” Sam asked.

“Well, Dorothy Fairmont was agape over her father’s own admission that he had cared for his housekeeper. In fact, she made a strangling noise that caused us all some concern. Eleanor Bishop acted resigned, as though her father was confirming a truth she knew but didn’t want to hear. Her husband and son seemed quite overjoyed to see Lord Raybourn again.

“Both Dorothy and Eleanor were revived, though, by Lord Raybourn’s announcement of his intention to change his will in their favor.”

“How so?”

“He stated that he was sickened and dismayed over what had happened in his absence. He condemned both Stephen and Katherine for what they did, not only to Cedric and Harriet Peet, but to an innocent stranger like Mr. Godfrey. Lord Raybourn said, though, that he himself had also committed great crimes against his family, and wanted to rectify them.

“First, he apologized to Nelly for preventing her from pursuing her own interests. He referred to journalism as a wharf-rat’s business, but admitted that he should have let her have a go at it instead of marrying her off right away, thinking marriage would calm her down.”

“Gordon Bishop couldn’t have been too pleased with that.”

“He didn’t seem to mind. He said, ‘It’s quite all right, old chap. I certainly got a good bargain, having dear Nells at my side all these years. And I don’t think I’ve been such a bad lot for her.’ And Eleanor didn’t shrug off her husband’s touch for once.”

“Very accommodating of her.”

“Sam, you’re teasing again. Anyway, Lord Raybourn announced that he was rewriting his will, leaving Nelly all of his business interests in a railroad and a bank. He wants to leave Willow Tree House to Toby Bishop.”

Sam frowned. “Can Toby inherit the title under English law?”

“I don’t think so. It has to pass through Lord Raybourn’s male line of descent. A shame, really. I think Toby would make a fine viscount one day.

“For Dorothy, whom he had always blocked from marrying, Lord Raybourn made Raybourn House hers to manage for the rest of her life. Lord Raybourn himself plans to live there quietly, in the last place he shared with Mrs. Peet.”

“Seems fitting. But I’m a bit confused. If Lord Raybourn’s will was already read out and the estate disposed of, how can he declare himself to be the possessor of his properties once again?”

“An excellent question. Especially since the inheritor of everything, Stephen Fairmont, died without issue. You’re the lawyer. How would it be done?”

Sam shook his head. “The family will be wrangling in court for years.”

“There’s more. The queen decided to lift Lord Raybourn to an earldom, in celebration not only of Lord Raybourn’s critical and successful negotiations in Egypt, but of a new royal arrival in several months’ time. Princess Alix is with child.”

“An elevation that will probably die out with him, unless Lord Raybourn should happen to remarry and father another son. Regardless, it seems like a satisfactory ending after so much heartbreak.”

It was. After the queen’s pronouncement, the family was huddled in a circle, chatting amiably as if the decades of wounds had never been opened. Such was the way of families. Bitter enemies one day, staunch allies the next. Blood ties were both bitter and sweet.

“So, wife, what did you think of Lord Raybourn?”

“For a man who had wreaked such havoc on his children, he was quite unassuming. Gentle, in fact, as though he’d be loath to turn a mongrel out on a chilly night and would instead offer the beast his own bed to sleep in. His gray hair was thick, as were his matching mustache and beard. He looked to me to be concealing a great deal of sadness.”

“He’s lost everything dear to him. A son, a daughter-in-law, a son he thought was previously dead, and his betrothed. All because of Cedric’s bitter store of bile.” He kissed her shoulder. “And Katherine’s. Perhaps now the queen’s own grief will be minimized by what she has witnessed with Lord Raybourn.”

“Actually,” Violet said, “I have some tremendously good news to report about that. The queen has finally decided to end the requirement for black armbands in her presence.”

“And to think that only eight years have passed since the prince consort’s death. She has bounced back admirably.”

“Sam, don’t tease. I worry for her. Sometimes people need a longer mourning period than a year or two, but for the queen it seems to be her permanent way of life. I do have to credit Mr. Brown, though, for lifting her spirits. Maybe it is his influence that has caused her to at least stop forcing everyone around her to continue in mourning.”

“Who is Mr. Brown?”

“A close personal servant that the prince consort hired before his death. The queen’s ‘dear Mr. Brown’ seems to be the only human being alive who can make her laugh. There are rumors circulating that she is actually having an affair with him.”

Sam frowned. “Do you think she is?”

“No, it’s preposterous. She may have lifted the mourning requirement for everyone else, but she is still in black garb every day and talks of Albert incessantly. In fact, I think the reason Mr. Brown enjoys so much success with her is because he indulges her ruminations about her dead husband. He is also curiously blunt in a way that never seems to raise the queen’s ire.”

“Maybe all good husbands can learn lessons from him.”

“Perhaps I can invite him here to train you.”

Sam responded by tickling her mercilessly for several seconds.

Gasping for air, Violet said, “Oh, stop. Speaking of invitations, I forgot something important. The queen invited us to attend the Suez Canal opening ceremony in November.”

“In Egypt?”

“Yes, we can travel as part of the Prince of Wales’s retinue, although I told the queen we might be unable to make another trip back from Colorado so soon.”

“Besides, I’m not sure a humble old war veteran is fit for such dignified company.”

“You’re fit company for me, and I’ll personally horsewhip anyone who suggests you aren’t fit for royalty.”

“I do love when you get outraged on my behalf.”

“My outrage is reserved for only two things: those who would speak ill of you or Susanna, and those who don’t show proper respect for the dead. Now, husband, do tell me about Mr. Nobel.”

“Our encounter was a great success. He is obtaining multiple patents for his dynamite, which is a cheap and effective way to blast open silver mines. There are dynamite factories opening here in Great Britain, mostly to the north in Scotland, and I’d like to meet with some of them. Perhaps I can make an arrangement to exclusively purchase their dynamite and ship it to the United States.”

“Samuel Harper, are you saying you’re not ready to go back to Colorado yet?”

“Well . . . if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay just a while longer. You can travel with me, now that the Raybourn situation is resolved, or wait for me in Brighton, or—what is so funny?”

Violet dropped back upon the pillows, tears of mirth running from the corners of her eyes. “Oh, Sam, the queen has summoned me again. She wishes for me to attend to her on another matter. It’s something to do with her ‘dear Mr. Brown.’ I believe she wants me to quietly investigate without arousing the alarm of Scotland Yard.”

Sam was now turned on his side, his cheek propped against his fist, his elbow on his pillow. “So neither one of us wants to go back home yet?”

“It would appear not. In fact, Will wants to sell me back his share of Morgan Undertaking, and I’m wondering if I should take him up on it. I suspect we may be in London for the foreseeable future. I also think that Mary Cooke needs me. George has been less than . . . devoted. He’s run off to Switzerland, ostensibly to purchase watch parts, but Mary doesn’t think he will return.”

Sam sighed. “I’m not surprised about him. Susanna will be furious when I tell her we’re staying longer.”

“Balanced by what I’m sure will be my parents’ boundless joy. I purchased a pair of dolls for Susanna from a shop she loved as a child. Perhaps she can visit us here and I can present them to her.”

“An excellent thought. I’ll write to her with the idea.”

“Later. You have other duties to attend to right now.”

After weeks of horror and death, it was a pleasant afternoon indeed at St. James’s Palace.