Anne Perry - Highgate Rise

With difficulty Pitt tore his attention from Shaw and looked around at the other faces. Was there any one of them reflecting fear of what Shaw was going to say next? There was anxiety in Angeline’s face, and distaste in Celeste’s, but he could not see the dread that would have been there had they known of Clemency’s discovery.

There was nothing in Prudence’s profile either, and nothing in the half outline of Josiah except rigid contempt.

“God knows how she was born a Worlingham,” Shaw went on, his fist clenched tight, his body hunched as if waiting to explode into motion. “Old Theophilus was a pretentious, greedy old hypocrite-and a coward to the last-”

“How dare you!” Celeste was too angry to consider any vestige of propriety left. “Theophilus was a fine, upright man who lived honestly and charitably all his life. It is you who are greedy and a coward! If you had treated him properly, as you should have, both as his son-in-law and as his doctor, then he would probably be alive today!”

“Indeed he would,” Angeline added, her face quivering. “He was a noble man, and always did his duty.”

“He died groveling on the floor with fistfuls of money spread all around him, tens of thousands of pounds!” Shaw exploded at last. “If anybody killed him, it was probably whoever was blackmailing him!”

There was a stunned and appalled silence. For deafening seconds no one even drew breath. Then there was a shriek from Angeline, a stifled sob from Prudence.

“Dear heaven!” Lally spoke at last.

“What on earth are you saying?” Lutterworth demanded. “This is outrageous! Theophilus Worlingham was an outstanding man in the community, and you can have no possible grounds for saying such a thing! You didn’t find him, did you? Who says there was all this money? Perhaps he had a major purchase in mind.”

Shaw’s face was blazing with derision. “With seven thousand, four hundred and eighty-three pounds-in cash?”

“Perhaps he kept his money in the house?” Oliphant suggested quietly. “Some people do. He may have been counting it when he was taken by a seizure. It was a seizure he died of, wasn’t it?”

“Yes it was,” Shaw agreed. “But it was flung all over the room, and there were five notes clutched in his hand, thrust out before him as if he were trying to give it to someone. Everything indicated he hadn’t been alone.”

“That is a monstrous lie!” Celeste found her voice at last. “Quite wicked, and you know it! He was utterly alone, poor man. It was Clemency who found him, and called you.”

“Clem found him, and called me, certainly,” Shaw agreed. “But he was lying in his study, with the French doors open onto the garden-and who is to say she was the first person there? He was already almost cold when she arrived.”

“For God’s sake, man!” Josiah Hatch burst out. “You are speaking about your father-in-law-and the Misses Worlingham’s brother! Have you no decency left at all?”

“Decency!” Shaw turned on him. “There’s nothing indecent in speaking about death. He was lying on the floor, purple-faced, his eyes bulging out of his head, his body chill, and five hundred pounds in Treasury notes held so fast in his hand we couldn’t remove them to lay him out. What is indecent is where the bloody money came from!”

Everyone began to shift uncomfortably, half afraid to look at each other, and yet unable to help it. Eyes met eyes and then slid away again. Someone coughed.

“Blackmail?” someone said aloud. “Not Theophilus!”

A woman giggled nervously and her gloved hand flew to her mouth to suppress the sound.

There was a sharp sibilance of whispering, cut off instantly.

“Hector?” Lally’s voice was clear.

Clitheridge looked red-faced and utterly wretched. Some force beyond himself seemed to propel him forward to where Shaw stood at the head of the table, Celeste a little behind him and to his right, white to the lips and shaking with rage.

“Ahem!” Clitheridge cleared his throat. “Ahem-I-er …” He looked around wildly for rescue, and found none. He looked at Lally once more, his face now scarlet, and gave up. “I-er-I am afraid I was the one with-with, er-Theophilus when he died-er, at least shortly before. He-er-” He cleared his throat violently again as if he had some obstruction in it. “He-er-he sent a message for me to come to him-with one of the-er-choirboys who had-er-” He looked imploringly at Lally, and met implacable resolve. He gasped for air, and continued in abysmal misery. “I read the message and went over to his house straightaway-it sounded most urgent. I-er-I found him in a state of great excitement, quite unlike anything I had ever seen.” He shut his eyes and his voice rose to a squeak as he relived the utter horror of it. “He was beside himself. He kept spluttering and choking and waving his hands in the air. There were piles of Treasury notes on his desk. I could not even hazard a guess how much money. He was frantic. He looked very unwell and I implored him to allow me to send for the doctor, but he would not hear of it. I am not sure he even grasped what I was saying. He kept on insisting he had a sin to confess.” Clitheridge’s eyes were rolling like a frightened horse and he looked everywhere but at the Worlinghams. The sweat broke out on his brow and lip and his hands were wringing each other so hard his knuckles were white.

“He kept on thrusting the money at me and begging me to take it-for the church-for the poor-for anything. And he wanted me to hear his confession …” His voice trailed away, too agonized at the memory to find words anymore, as if his throat had closed.

“Lies!” Celeste said loudly. “Absolute lies! Theophilus never had anything to be ashamed of. He must have been having a seizure, and you misunderstood everything. Why in heaven’s name didn’t you call the doctor yourself, you fool!”

Clitheridge found his tongue again. “He was not having a seizure,” he said indignantly. “He was lunging after me, trying to grasp hold of me and force me to take the money, all of it! There were thousands of pounds! And he wanted me to hear his confession. I was-I was mortified with embarrassment. I have never seen anything so-so-so horrifying in my life.”

“What in God’s name did you do?” Lutterworth demanded.

“I-er-” Clitheridge swallowed convulsively. “I–I ran! I simply fled out of that ghastly room, through the French windows-and across the garden-all the way back to the vicarage.”

“And told Lally, who promptly covered up for you-as usual,” Shaw finished. “Leaving Theophilus to fall into a seizure and die all by himself-clutching the money. Very Christian!” Still, honesty moderated contempt. “Not that you could have saved him-”

Clitheridge had collapsed within himself, guilty, hideously embarrassed and overcome with failure. Only Lally took any notice of him, and she patted him absently as she would a child.

“But all the money-?” Prudence demanded. She was confused and appalled. “What was all the money for? It doesn’t make sense. He didn’t keep money at home. And what happened to it?”

“I put it back in the bank, where it came from,” Shaw answered her.

Angeline was on the edge of tears.

“But what was it for? Why would poor Theophilus take all his money out of the bank? Did he really mean to give it all to the church? How noble of him! How like him!” She swallowed hard. “How like Papa too! Stephen-you should have done as he wished. It was very wrong of you to put it back in the bank. Of course I understand why-so Prudence and Clemency could inherit it all, not just the house and the investments-but it was still very wrong of you.”

“God Almighty!” Shaw shouted. “You idiot woman! Theophilus wanted to give it to the church to buy his salvation! It was blood money! It came from slum tenements-every penny of it wrung out of the poor, the keepers of brothels, the distilling in gin mills, the masters of sweatshops and the sellers of opium in narrow little dormitories where addicts lie in rows and smoke themselves into oblivion. That’s where the Worlingham money comes from. The old bishop bled every drop of it out of Lisbon Street, and God knows how many others like it-and built this damn great palace of complacency for himself and his family.”