The Bloomsbury Murder (Augusta Peel Mysteries Book 3), page 9
“I liked the display better the way it was before,” one of the shop assistants said to the other.
“I wanted to arrange it by colour,” came the reply.
“I think customers choose a style before they think about colour.”
“Well, I’m inclined to think that they choose the colour first.”
“What does Mrs Mitchell think about it?”
“I suppose we’ll find out when she gets back from the lawyer’s office.”
“She’s had a lot of meetings with her lawyer recently. What do you suppose that’s all about?”
The shop girls noticed Augusta. “Can I help you?” asked the dark-haired one. “What are you looking for today?”
There was little doubt in Augusta's mind that she was Miss Frankland-Russell. With her bobbed hair and large, dark eyes, she closely resembled the young woman in the photograph Thomas Bewick had shown her.
“I need a new blouse,” she replied, “but it seems you only sell evening wear in here. These dresses are very beautiful.” She glanced around, then smiled. “I don’t have many occasions when I get to wear anything like this, unfortunately.”
“Perhaps you could persuade your husband to take you somewhere nice?”
“There’s a good idea. I could try, couldn’t I?”
A customer entered and distracted the other shop assistant. Augusta observed them for a moment, then moved closer to Lucy. “Do you mind me asking your name?”
“It’s Miss Briggs. Lucy Briggs.”
Augusta glanced around the shop again before replying, her voice lowered. “Is Lucy your real name?”
“Yes.” She fixed her gaze but her voice sounded feeble.
“I’m not convinced that you’re telling the truth. I have a strong suspicion that your real name is Catherine.”
Lucy’s mouth opened and closed a few times, as if she were trying to find some way to deny it. Augusta felt a little guilty about confronting her, having taken the young shop assistant completely by surprise.
“My name is Lucy Briggs,” she replied. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you interested in buying something?”
“Yes, I am.” Augusta turned to the hat display. “I should like a new hat.” She reasoned that if she bought something, the young woman might be more inclined to speak openly with her. “I like this green one here.” Augusta wasn’t sure where she would ever wear it but she hoped she would have a reason to go somewhere special one day. She picked it up, tried it on and admired herself in the mirror. “Yes, I’ll take this one. Thank you.”
“You made your mind up very quickly,” commented Lucy.
“I tend to make my mind up quickly when it comes to buying clothes. I don’t particularly enjoy shopping, you see.”
Augusta continued to look at herself in the mirror. When she saw the young woman looking over her shoulder at her, she said, “Your parents are very worried about you, you know.”
Lucy’s complexion paled.
“They would really like to hear from you,” Augusta continued.
“Please don’t tell anybody you’ve seen me here.”
“Why not?”
“I had to get away from them. If they find out where I am, they’ll force me to get married.”
Augusta was beginning to understand why Catherine had cut contact with them. “Don’t you want to get married?”
“Yes, I should like to be married one day. But there’s a particular man they want me to marry and I refuse to have anything to do with him.”
Augusta gave this some thought. Catherine Frankland-Russell clearly didn’t want to be found, yet her parents were worried about her. What am I to do?
She turned to the young woman and spoke as quietly as possible. “Perhaps we can meet later to discuss this. I’m a private detective, and I was asked by your family’s lawyer to track you down, so I’m obliged to tell him where you are. However, before I do so, I’d like to hear your explanation. Would you be willing to meet with me?”
“Only if you promise not to tell them where I am.”
“I won’t say anything for the time being; you have my word on that. Where would be a good place to meet when you finish work today?”
“Outside St Peter’s Church,” she replied. “It’s close by, on Vere Street. Do you know it?”
“I’ll find it.”
“I’ll see you there at six o’clock.”
“Thank you,” said Augusta. She hoped the young woman would turn up. “Now, how much do I owe you for this hat?”
Chapter 23
St Peter’s was a simple brown-brick building with a stone porch. Augusta waited on the steps of the church with her torch on so Miss Frankland-Russell would be able to spot her easily.
Once the bell struck six, she began to grow impatient. Will she turn up? Augusta had almost given up hope when the young woman hurried up to the steps.
“Sorry I’m late. Mrs Mitchell wanted us to do some tidying in the stockroom after we closed. I got here as quickly as I could.”
“I appreciate you coming to meet me.”
“How did you find out who I was?”
“I spoke to some of your friends. One of them was a girl named Elizabeth Thackeray. Do you remember her?”
Catherine gave a slight nod, then looked down at her feet. “I read about her death in the newspaper. I still can’t believe it.” She looked up at Augusta. “Why would someone want to attack her? Who would do such a thing?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“We?”
“I’m assisting Scotland Yard with their inquiry. I spoke to another of your friends, too. Dorothy Cooper.”
“I knew her as Dorothy Henderson, but I heard she was married.”
“It was Dorothy who said that I might find you in one of the clothes shops on Oxford Street. She wasn’t enthusiastic about giving me the information; it took a bit of persuasion. Both Elizabeth and Dorothy seemed reluctant to talk about you, in fact. Do you know why that might have been?”
The young woman shrugged. “We fell out. That’s all there is to it.”
“May I ask what you fell out about?”
“I can’t remember the exact details now. We were young and we all went off to do different things. I suppose we just didn’t have much in common anymore.” She paused. “Can you tell me why my parents are looking for me? I came back to London to get away from them. I can’t believe they’ve gone and sent someone out to search for me. They must have had a change of heart, anyway, because the last time I spoke to them they wanted nothing more to do with me.”
“When was that?”
“I suppose it was nearly a year ago now. We had a terrible falling out about the man they wanted me to marry. My parents are wealthy but they haven’t given me a penny since we fell out, so I’ve had to fend for myself. Had I done what they wanted, I suppose I could have been living a better life by now. But I find myself working in a shop instead.”
“Why did you change your name?”
“My real name was so distinctive. I knew that people would ask questions about my family and wonder why I was living independently from them. It just felt easier to create a new identity for myself.”
“Why didn’t you want to marry the man they had in mind for you?”
“He’s absolutely vile! He’s a good deal older than me, for a start, and my parents were only interested in the match because he’s so wealthy. I couldn’t see why they wanted me to marry into money when they already had enough, as far as I could tell. But that’s exactly what they wanted, and they didn’t care in the slightest what I thought about it.”
Augusta could sympathise with this. “It seems rather old-fashioned to persuade your daughter to marry a man you’ve chosen for her.”
“Oh, it is. My parents are very old-fashioned.”
“Do you mind me asking who it was they wanted you to marry?”
“Someone called Mr Farrell.”
“Hugh Farrell?” Augusta thought of the revolting man she had met when she first began looking for Miss Frankland-Russell.
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“I’ve only met him once but I can see why you wouldn’t want to marry him.”
“I’m pleased you agree. Where did you meet him?”
“His name was given to me when I began my search for you, so I went to his home to see if he happened to know where you might be. Could your parents really insist on you marrying him if they were to find out where you are?”
“They can’t force me but I’m assuming the reason they sent you to find me is so they could try again. I don’t want to have to endure that a second time! Please don’t tell them you’ve found me, Mrs Peel. I just want to be left alone!”
Is it really fair to tell her parents where she is so they can pressure her into marrying a detestable man? Augusta wasn’t sure she could bring herself to do it. If I can persuade her to contact them herself, surely that's the best possible solution.
“Perhaps you could write a letter to your parents to inform them that you’re safe and well but they need not contact you. I’m sure that would reassure them, and you needn’t tell them where you are or what you’re doing.”
Catherine sighed. “I’ll think about it. But if they’ve gone to such great lengths to ask a lawyer and a private detective to find me, I suspect they’ll find a way to track me down before long.”
All Augusta could do was hope the young lady standing before her would decide that writing a letter to her parents was the best course of action. She appeared to have spoken quite honestly so far, but Augusta still sensed an evasiveness about her reasons for falling out with Dorothy Cooper and Elizabeth Thackeray.
“I don’t suppose you have any idea why someone would have wanted to murder Miss Thackeray, do you?” she asked.
“No. As I’ve already told you, I hadn’t seen her for a long time. I really don’t know why he did it. Anyway, I must be getting on now.”
“Of course. Thank you for meeting with me, Miss Frankland-Russell.”
“Can I trust you not to tell my parents where I am?”
Augusta paused to give this some thought. She wanted the girl to trust her but could she give Miss Frankland-Russell her word? “Please do think about writing them a letter. I’ll give you a few days to consider it and, in the meantime, I promise not to tell them or the lawyer where you are.”
“How did it go?” asked Philip when Augusta joined him in the Woodstock public house close by. They were seated in a wood-panelled booth and the air was thick with tobacco smoke.
“We can’t tell her parents where she is. They want her to marry that awful Hugh Farrell.”
“The chap you poured that cup of tea over?”
“Yes, him. I felt rather sorry for her, quite honestly. I can fully appreciate why she wanted to get away from them.”
“But surely they can’t actually force her to marry him?”
“Who knows what hold they had over her in the past? I suppose we should be happy that we’ve found her safe and well. Although she has to work hard in a shop now and doesn’t earn a great deal of money, she has her independence, at least, and she’s not in any danger.”
“Hopefully you’ll be able to tell her parents that and they’ll be content just to hear that she’s safe.”
“But what if Mr Bewick insists on telling them her exact whereabouts?”
“He already knows she works in a clothes shop on Oxford Street, so I should think her parents know it, too. He did say that he would inform them.”
Augusta felt a pang of regret. “I wish I hadn’t told him that now. I did so before I realised she was trying to escape her parents.”
“You weren’t to know the reason behind her disappearance, Augusta. You undertook the assignment based on the understanding that you were being paid to help find their daughter. That gives you an obligation to tell the lawyer where she is, does it not?”
“But I feel so sorry for her! She just wants to be left alone. She’s entitled to that at twenty-one years of age, isn’t she? I told her it would probably be best if she wrote them a letter to reassure them. I said I’d keep quiet about her whereabouts for a few days while she considers the idea.”
“A few days? The lawyer will want to know as soon as possible that you’ve found her. That’s what you agreed.”
Augusta couldn’t deny that Philip was right, but why couldn’t he see that the poor girl deserved some sympathy? “Yes, I realise that’s what I agreed to do but I’d assumed I was searching for a girl who was in danger, and who would want to be found or rescued. In hindsight, I realise that was a foolish assumption.”
“It does seem a little foolish. Perhaps you should have asked more questions before taking the case on.”
His patronising response made her teeth clench. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have got involved in the first place! I didn’t really want to. I’m trying to run a bookshop! I’d much rather be there than chasing around London after lost causes.”
“You are helping, Augusta.”
“Helping who?”
“You’re helping me with the investigation into Elizabeth Thackeray’s murder.”
“I can’t really see what I’ve done to help with that.”
“You’re good at this, Augusta.”
She felt a snap of anger. “Actually, I don’t think I am. Do you know what annoys me more than anything? People being evasive and not telling the whole truth. All three young women clammed up when I asked them about one another. There’s something not right there but I have no idea how I’m ever going to get to the bottom of it. I’m reaching the point where I don’t even think I care.”
“You don’t mean that, Augusta.”
“I do! I really can’t be bothered with it anymore. You’re the police inspector, Philip. You sort it out with all the men you’ve got to help you. You don’t need me, and I don’t really want to be here.”
She drained her drink, picked up her handbag and left the pub.
Augusta had only walked a short distance down Oxford Street when she heard Philip’s voice behind her. “Wait!”
She turned to see him hobbling toward her.
“I can’t run after you,” he said as he approached. “Thank you for stopping. I’ve just had a thought.”
“What is it?”
He stopped next to her. “What if Miss Frankland-Russell murdered Miss Thackeray?”
“Miss Frankland-Russell?” The idea seemed preposterous to Augusta. “I can’t imagine her doing anything like that.”
“As you said yourself, there seems be something very secretive about the relationship between these three young women. Maybe Miss Frankland-Russell is hiding from someone other than her parents. Perhaps Miss Thackeray said too much. And maybe Mrs Cooper knows something, too.” He rubbed his brow. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps it was just a silly notion of mine. Let me help you hail a cab, Augusta. Then you can head home and rest.”
Chapter 24
Walter Mitchell decided to avoid the pub when he finished teaching for the day and instead made his way straight home. He wanted to find out how Ellen had fared in her interview at Scotland Yard. He wasn’t sure why they had wanted to interview her but his biggest concern was that they might have mentioned the affair.
He found his wife in a sombre mood in their drawing room. Dressed in a rose-coloured jacket and skirt, she was seated in her easy chair with a glass of sherry in her hand.
“How did it go?” he asked.
“It was a waste of their time. I didn’t even know the girl. I learned a few interesting things while I was there, however.” Her green eyes fixed on him, unblinking.
Walter sensed he was in trouble. He cleared his throat and sat down on the settee, trying to appear as good-natured as possible in the hope that it might improve her mood.
“What did you learn?” he ventured.
“That you didn’t quite tell me the truth about Elizabeth Thackeray.”
He knew that he had two choices. He could either admit to the affair or continue with his denial. What exactly did the inspector tell her? He clasped his hands together. His palms were clammy.
“So, are you ready to tell me the truth?” she asked.
“The truth is… The truth is that Elizabeth Thackeray and I got along well. I taught her, as I mentioned to you. We found ourselves bumping into each other occasionally, and we had conversations that were quite engaging. I don’t usually have engaging conversations with my students, you see… We sometimes bumped into each other outside of lectures, and we got along well then, too. At the time you and I, well... We weren’t getting on so well, were we? Things have been a little frosty between us for some time, and Elizabeth was someone I could easily chat to about things. I wasn’t in love with her, let me make that perfectly clear! I wasn’t in love with her at all.”
“I see.” His wife’s face remained stiff.
What’s she thinking? What's she about to say?
The silence in the room was almost unbearable. Walter felt compelled to continue talking, just to fill the void. “Obviously, it’s all come as rather a shock, this news of her death. I don’t know why anyone would do that to her… It’s truly dreadful. But she was just someone I got along well with, nothing more. She would no doubt have met a charming male student before long and forgotten all about me. I suppose I was like a father figure to her.” Walter laughed a little at this, then wondered why. He didn’t know what to do with himself.
Ellen stared at him a while longer, then shifted her gaze to her drink. “I’ve spoken to a lawyer about obtaining a divorce,” she announced.
This felt like a blow to Walter’s chest. He held his breath and stared at her. His wife of twelve years. The mother of his children. Surely she’s not serious?
“Why?”
She lifted her eyes to him. “You were quite content to spend time with someone else. Doesn’t that say it all?”
“No, I wasn’t content. It was a foolish mistake. You can’t petition for divorce! What about the children? What will your family think?”
