“You were going to let them arrest me,” Margaret Bickleton said softly. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I was never your friend.” Geraldine sneered at her. “And if that simpering mouse of a daughter of yours had been half a woman, she’d have gotten this one to marry her and I wouldn’t have had to do anything.”
Margaret Bickleton stared at her for a moment and then leapt at Geraldine, raking her across the face with her nails. “You horrible old witch,” she cried. She pounded, pummeled, pulled hair, and screamed like a banshee as the two women tumbled to the floor.
It took Witherspoon, Barnes, Banfield, and all three constables to pull her off Geraldine Banfield.
“They arrested Geraldine Banfield,” Smythe announced as he and Wiggins came into the kitchen. The two of them had found a street boy from another neighborhood to deliver the forged letter and then paid him well to disappear. They’d kept watch on the Banfield house to see if their ploy had worked.
“And she weren’t goin’ quietly,” Wiggins added eagerly. He dropped into his seat. “She was screamin’ and shoutin’ and diggin’ her ’eels in as they dragged her away. She grabbed on to one of the spokes of the fence, and it took three constables to pry her hands off and get her into the police wagon.”
“So I was right.” Mrs. Jeffries slumped in relief. “I wasn’t absolutely certain it was her, you see. All the evidence pointed to her, but her motive just seemed so ridiculous.”
“Alright, the boys are back now, and you promised to tell us how you figured it out,” Betsy said. Smythe took his spot next to her and reached for her hand under the table.
“Let’s pour them a cup of tea.” Mrs. Goodge reached for the pot. “I’m sure they’re thirsty, too.”
As soon as everyone was served, Mrs. Jeffries began. “As you all know, I had a feeling our killer wasn’t Mrs. Bickleton.”
“But so much of the evidence pointed to her,” Hatchet said. “Especially her sneaking back into the Banfield house and reading those newspaper clippings.”
“That’s one of the reasons I was thrown off track, so to speak,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “But I was looking at those newspaper clippings the wrong way. What I should have been asking myself was why Geraldine Banfield asked for the trunk to be brought down in the first place.”
“She was the one that wanted to read them.” Mrs. Goodge nodded her head in agreement. “She was of an age to remember the case but she couldn’t recall all the details.”
“That’s right, and then I remembered what you learned from your friend, that it had been Geraldine Banfield and Emma Stafford who’d sneaked out of the Banfield country house to go watch a trial at the assizes in Aylesbury. It was John Talwell’s trial for the murder of Sarah Hart that they went to see. Even though he wasn’t a member of the Quakers, he dressed like one. Fanny had told Wiggins the clippings were about ‘an old murder trial at Aylesbury’; I suddenly realized that must have been the case that Lady Stafford spoke about.”
“So that’s where she got the idea of using prussic acid?” Ruth mused.
“Yes, I’m sure of it. But she didn’t want to make Talwell’s mistakes,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “Once I realized that the killer had to be her, it all came together in my mind. It was Geraldine Banfield who went to the country house and she didn’t go there to look at a hole in the roof. She went there because she knew there was poison.”
“That’s why she asked for the keys to the outbuildings while she sent Mr. Bigglesworth off to get the pony and trap,” Ruth added eagerly. “Oh, my gracious, thank goodness I overheard that particular conversation.”
“Agreed. If you hadn’t, we’d never have figured it out,” the housekeeper said.
“The poison was kept in an outbuilding,” Luty said. “You’d not keep dangerous stuff like that in the house.”
“Right, and that’s why she intercepted the telegram boy on the day of the ball,” Mrs. Jeffries continued.
“I don’t understand.” Betsy frowned. “What did he have to do with anything?”
“Her excuse for going to the country house was to look at the damaged roof and give instructions to Mr. Bigglesworth about the scope of the repairs. Mr. Bigglesworth was then to send an estimate to Mr. Banfield. Geraldine knew that she had a few days before the gardener would get impatient and start pestering Lewis Banfield for someone to come down and look at the damage. She probably thought she was well on her way to pulling it off when she spotted the telegram boy coming up the drive on the day of the ball. She was planning to kill Arlette that night, so she intercepted the telegram. She didn’t want to have to explain to her nephew why she hadn’t taken care of business.”
“We know where she got the idea and the poison, but I’m still not sure why she did it,” Luty admitted. “And neither are any of the rest of you,” she charged. “I can tell by lookin’ at yer faces that yer just as puzzled as I am.”
“I was puzzled as well,” Mrs. Jeffries exclaimed. “And when I tell you, you’re going to find it difficult to believe. She killed Arlette to save what she thought was the family honor. That was her sole motive and that was the reason she almost got away with murder. She was outraged when she realized that Arlette was going to allow a seminude statue of herself to be mass-produced.” She looked at the skeptical expressions on their faces. “I’m quite serious, that was her motive. Think back to the sequence of events. She knew that Arlette was going to sell the production rights to the statue, but she was overheard to say that she hoped Elizabeth Montrose would convince her to drop the project. But that didn’t happen and, instead, mother and daughter had a terrible row and when it became clear that Arlette wouldn’t be dissuaded, Geraldine decided the woman had to die. She’d already read up on the Talwell case; we know that because she’d made Fanny bring her trunk down from the attic. But as I said, she wasn’t going to make Talwell’s mistakes. She wanted to make sure that someone else would be blamed for the murder.”
“Margaret Bickleton,” Hatchet said. “She was the sacrificial lamb.”
Mrs. Jeffries nodded. “Mrs. Bickleton had been hinting for an invitation to stay as a houseguest, and Geraldine needed someone to frame for the murder. As soon as she heard Arlette and her mother arguing, she put her plan into action.” She looked at Wiggins. “Fanny told you that Mrs. Bickleton was standing there when she ordered the maid to drag that trunk back up to the attic and, later, Fanny saw Mrs. Bickleton up in the attic having a snoop. I’ll wager that, knowing how curious the woman was, Geraldine Banfield deliberately piqued her interest.”
“But she couldn’t have known Mrs. Bickleton would sneak up there that very day,” Betsy protested. “No one is that clever.”
“Of course not. I think she assumed that Margaret would have her snoop once she came as a houseguest. Mrs. Banfield’s only goal was to ensure that Margaret had a look at those clippings and that she knew about the Talwell murder. Believe me, she realized exactly what her friend had been up to when Mrs. Peyton told her that Mrs. Bickleton had come back to the house to search for her earring that day. Providence seemed to have smiled upon her plans. She needed an avenue where it could be proved that Margaret Bickleton knew a few grains of prussic acid could kill. If it came to a trial, Mrs. Peyton could testify to her coming back to the house and Fanny could then confirm she went up to the attic and saw the clippings.”
“She played right into her hands, didn’t she?” Ruth murmured.
“Yes, and once Geraldine Banfield realized it, she set about doing everything she could to make sure that if anyone was arrested for murder, it was Margaret Bickleton. She put on the woman’s distinctive blue jacket and veil and went out into the mews with a jug of cream.”
“Why’d she do that?” Wiggins asked.
“She needed it to poison the Millhouse cat,” Mrs. Jeffries explained. “Remember, she couldn’t ask the gardener how long prussic acid stayed potent and she needed to know that it would work quickly. She knew the cat was old and liked to nap in the sun, so she lured the poor old thing with the poisoned cream and then quite calmly watched it die. She knew then the poison would work on Arlette.”
“But she was clever enough to wear her houseguest’s clothes so that if anyone saw her or figured out what had been done, she’d not be blamed for it,” Phyllis murmured.
“Correct.” Mrs. Jeffries gave her an encouraging smile and turned to Ruth. “And, remember, you told us that Arlette complained that Mrs. Banfield the elder had harassed the staff on the day of the ball and made them take all the glassware to be washed.”
“Arlette claimed the glassware was perfectly clean because she’d examined it herself.”
“And it was. Geraldine Banfield used the supposedly dirty glassware as an excuse to get the servants out of her way so she could get in and out of the butler’s pantry undetected. That’s when she slipped the grains of prussic acid into the bottom of Arlette’s champagne flute. Except for the staff, she would have been the only one who knew that Lewis Banfield’s glass had a chip in the base. She would have been the only one of the suspects who knew which glass to poison, and once we learned the poison wasn’t in the champagne itself, I knew it had to be her.”
“But she insisted the glasses be washed again,” Mrs. Goodge pointed out.
“The champagne set was kept separate from the rest of the collection and I’ll bet if we ask Michaels or Mrs. Peyton, they’ll confirm that she didn’t insist that set be cleaned again. Then, of course, there was her chasing the police out of her room with an umbrella.”
“I don’t get that bit,” Wiggins admitted.
“According to the inspector, Geraldine and Lewis Banfield had already had words about her lack of cooperation with the police. But that didn’t stop her from raising a fuss and keeping the constables out of her room.”
“You think she had the champagne and the poison hidden there?” Betsy helped herself to more tea.
“I do, and that was the moment she was most vulnerable.”
“Then, she wasn’t doin’ it to get the search called off so she could plant the evidence in Mrs. Bickleton’s room at a later time?” Luty asked.
“Oh no, but when the search was called off, she took advantage of the situation and shoved the evidence under Margaret Bickleton’s bed in the guest room.”
“But she couldn’t have known the police were going to come back and search again,” Smythe protested.
“But she could easily have insisted the maids give the room a thorough cleaning and one of them would have found the box,” Betsy pointed out. “And I’ll wager she’d have made sure that Lewis Banfield was home when it happened. She wanted that box found.”
“Oh, it all pointed to her, but the trouble was, I couldn’t understand the why of it until almost too late. Then I remembered that the first thing anyone who knew the Banfields said about them was that they were obsessed with looking honorable, so obsessed that for the last two hundred years they’ve refused rewards and titles from the crown.”
“Not Lewis Banfield—he’s not very honorable,” Wiggins protested. “Look ’ow he treated Helen Bickleton after promisin’ her father he’d ask for her ’and in marriage.”
“I didn’t say they were honorable, I said they were obsessed with the appearance of honor—and that’s when the motive made sense,” Mrs. Jeffries explained. “Geraldine Banfield felt the family honor was going to be completely shattered if Lewis’ wife allowed a seminude statue of herself to be produced. It was that act that sealed the poor woman’s fate. She had to die and she had to die publicly. That’s why Geraldine waited till the night of the ball to kill her.”
“Well, I’m glad that Margaret Bickleton escaped the hangman’s noose,” Ruth said.
“I don’t think she’d have been convicted in any case,” Mrs. Jeffries mused. “And thanks to Phyllis’ excellent talents, the inspector has now caught the real culprit.”
Phyllis blushed. “I’m glad I can help. I’m not very good with people and I can’t do what the rest of you can, but at least I could do this little bit. I must say, it’s ever so exciting working for justice.”
“It is very rewarding,” Hatchet agreed. “Madam, now that we know the guilty party has been apprehended and how our Mrs. Jeffries figured it out, I suggest we take our leave. If you’ve forgotten, you’ve dinner guests tonight. The Darringtons and Mr. Widdowes, remember.” He went to the coat tree to get their outer garments.
Luty made a face as she stood up. “Oh, blast and tarnation, I only invited the Darringtons because I thought they might know something about our case. They are two of the most boring creatures on God’s green earth. But John Widdowes is a right interestin’ fellow.” She looked at Hatchet as he draped her shawl around her shoulders. “Make sure the cellar is unlocked,” she told him. “If I can get rid of the Darringtons, I want to give John a taste of my best stuff.”
“Oh, good gracious, madam, you’re not going to give him that awful moonshine, are you?” Hatchet sighed in exasperation. “One of these days it’s going to kill someone.”
Witherspoon arrived home only a bit later than his normal time and he readily accepted Mrs. Jeffries’ suggestion that they have a glass of sherry. He was glad of the chance to unburden himself and by the time he’d finished telling her everything that had transpired, he felt far more relaxed. “It was quite awful, Mrs. Jeffries. Even after she admitted what she’d done, Geraldine Banfield couldn’t see that it was morally reprehensible. She kept blathering on and on about family honor and silly nonsense like that. It didn’t seem to bother her in the least when Mr. Banfield told her his wife had been expecting. The poor man was in tears, but all she kept saying was that she’d saved the family honor.”
“It must have been difficult for him,” she replied. “He’s alone now. I’m sure he must have felt terrible about the way he treated Margaret Bickleton.”
“When we finally managed to pull her off Mrs. Banfield, he apologized profusely. However, I don’t think the two families will remain friends. But I did feel terrible for Lewis Banfield. He genuinely loved his wife and he lost her for the most foolish of reasons: someone else’s vanity.” He drained his glass and put it on the table. He looked at Mrs. Jeffries. “Murder is always terrible, and I know that the death of any human being shouldn’t be taken lightly. But I’m especially glad I was able to solve this one. I have a feeling I’d have liked Arlette Banfield. If she’d lived, she might have made the world a better place. But then again, I suppose you could say that about almost anyone.”