Don Gutteridge: Unholy Alliance

Winthrop put his head in his hands. “Ifigured no-one would believe Chilton’s fantastic story. . andMrs. Jiggins would never give herself away, would she? She didn’teven know my name.” He glanced up at Cobb, who had cleared histhroat.

“So you figured,” Cobb said with somesatisfaction.

“And your brother?” Marc asked Winthrop.

“I–I intended to tell him about the spybusiness and swear him to secrecy. He is after all a Tory loyalist,and would applaud my effort to discredit and dismay the Reformers.But no-one, certainly not my brother, would suspect me of killingmy own agent, would they? And that fool Harkness should have beenmiles away in Burford by now!”

“You’ve got too many ‘should’ves’ in there,”Cobb opined.

Winthrop looked up. “Why do you think Ihaven’t slept for three nights?”

No-one spoke for a while. Winthrop finishedoff his whiskey and stared blankly at the dead fire. Then hebrightened in a grim sort of way, and said with real conviction,“So you’ve been scurrying about out at Elmdale from Thursday untilthis afternoon looking for a killer amongst the staff anddistinguished guests? If so, then I’ve accomplished something,haven’t I?”

“Whaddya mean?” Cobb said. “We got you a rend-a-view with a rope.”

Winthrop almost smiled. “I succeeded inwrecking the negotiations. There’s no way they could have survivedthree days of false accusations, wounded vanities and mountingfrustration, could they?”

Marc was quick to respond: “I’m afraid you’reright. How could trust and compromise between two groups naturallyantagonistic to one another thrive — or even survive — in such anatmosphere? You can tell your influential friends, from yourprison-cell, that the unholy alliance has not happened, thanks tothe death of a butler in their midst.”

“And that means, then, that there’s everylikelihood the capital will remain in Kingston,” Winthrop said,grimacing at the irony.

“So you’re gonna be filthy rich after all,”Cobb said, then added with a gleeful grin, “I’m sure Jack Ketch’llbe pleased.”

***

When Beth Edwards woke up on Monday morning, she wasstartled to find her husband asleep beside her. He must haveslipped into bed sometime after ten o’clock, when she herself hadkissed her sleeping child goodnight and retired. Eager to hear allthe details of the murder investigation that had occupied Marc tothe point of distraction since Friday morning, she kissed himslowly and tantalizingly awake.

“There’s more where that come from,” shesmiled, “but first things first, eh? I want the whole story.”

Marc knew her well and, weary as he was, heimmediately began to summarize the case for her. He also knewenough not to omit unsavoury detail or try in any way to mitigatethe vices and follies of those around them.

When Marc had finished his lengthy account,aided by periodic prompts from his audience, Beth leaned back onher pillows and said, “So what’ll happen to Mrs. Jiggins?”

“Chilton himself is not about to presscharges, and Winthrop swears she knew nothing of the purpose behindthe identity-switch. At most, she could be accused of publicmischief in abetting what a good barrister would claim to be littlemore than a prank. So no-one seems keen to arrest her, certainlynot the officials in her county, where she, her mute friend andtheir horses are legendary.”

“Sounds like she’s famous fer other things aswell. I wonder that poor Cobb was able to resist all thattemptation.”

“So do I,” Marc said with a wry smile.

“I’m glad she didn’t set her lecherous eyeson you — handsome as you are.”

“I suspect she drew some assistance in herconquests from her specially distilled tea.”

“What about the coalition an’ the alliance?”Beth said, serious again.

“Francis rode out to Elmdale at nine o’clocklast night to let everybody know that we had charged two men in themurder. LaFontaine assured us that when that news came, he wouldsign the document.”

“Aren’t you worried that Winthrop’ll knowwhat’s in it, an’ might tell his friends?”

“That’s unlikely because he’ll be in jailuntil the spring assizes. And the spy’s notes, remember, were allbut destroyed in Winthrop’s fireplace. If he’s inclined to tell theTories anything, it’ll be to boast that he sacrificed his ownwell-being for the sake of theirs and for the province’s future — by breaking up the conference and sending the delegates home indisarray.”

“An’ you, clever fellow, encouraged him tobelieve that?”

“I did. And Robert and Francis will inadvertently let the same sad news get abroad.” Marcpaused, then added, “But I’m convinced now that such a signedprotocol will not really be necessary. One thing about a murderinvestigation is that those involved — guilty and innocent, policeand suspects — get to know an awful lot about one another, and havea chance to observe up close exactly how their fellows react underduress. One’s essential character has a way of shiningthrough.”

“Like Bragg’s did, eh? An’ Prissy, who’sbetter off knowin’ what he’s like.”

“Yes. I believe Louis now has more confidencein Robert and his associates than he would otherwise have had. Andhis companions have seen us at our best and at our worst. I reallythink we have taken another giant stride towards establishing theprinciple of responsible government and self-rule when theprovinces are combined later this year or early next winter.”

“We’ve both fought long an’ hard fer it,haven’t we?”

Marc took her hand. “You were there longbefore me, luv — with a lot more at stake.”

“Maybe now we can start to believe in abetter future,” Beth said, leaning against his shoulder.

“For little Maggie, especially.”

Beth drew his hand across the swell of herbelly. “You’re not forgettin’ little Marcus junior, are ya?” shesaid.