Charles Todd - A Bitter Truth

Gran found part of a feather from a duster caught in a length of wood sitting by the hearth, and held it to the flames for an instant. The nauseating odor of burning feathers filled the room, and she blew out the small spurt of fire on the tip before hurrying to Mrs. Ellis’s side to wave it under her nose.

Mrs. Ellis moaned a little, brushing weakly at the feather to push it away, and then opened her eyes. Looking around, she said, “Did I dream that Juliana was here?”

No one quite knew how to answer her.

Inspector Rother drew me to one side. “What happened? How long has that child been here? Why didn’t the others know she was here?”

“Mrs. Roger Ellis wanted to-to make sure Sophie was comfortable here before introducing her to everyone else. Sophie speaks only French, you see. And she doesn’t know these people.”

“Is Mrs. Lydia adopting her? The Captain didn’t appear to be keen on the idea.”

“She would like to, very much. There are procedures to be followed-” I let my voice fade away.

“So it’s not all that certain that the child will stay?”

I sighed. “She’s an orphan, Inspector. I’m not entirely sure what must be done.”

“They could still have killed Hughes, Merrit, and Dr. Tilton. Those women. Not knowing.”

“They could have,” I agreed. “But Mrs. Roger Ellis knew from the start that a search was being made. First by Lieutenant Hughes, and then by her husband.” I was praying he wouldn’t ask me how Sophie came to be here in the first place.

He cleared his throat, trying to attract the attention of a family who had all but forgot that he was even here.

Mrs. Ellis was crying, Gran was gripping her shoulder so tightly I could see that her fingertips were white from the pressure, and Lydia was staring up at her husband, silently pleading with him.

Roger Ellis was very angry. The back of his neck was red above the collar of his tunic. He turned, saw me, and came toward me, catching my arm and leading me to the outer door.

Inspector Rother shouted, “Here!” But Captain Ellis ignored him, slamming the door behind him.

If there was a guard posted, I didn’t see him, although a constable sat in Inspector Rother’s motorcar, staring out across the emptiness of the heath.

I pulled free and said, “Blame me if you like. Then go back to your family. They need you.”

“This is why I didn’t want anyone to know about that child. By bringing her here you’ve ripped open scars that had finally healed. You’ve given my wife the means to blackmail me for the rest of my days. You’ve caused irreparable harm by interfering. Are you satisfied?”

I held my ground before his onslaught. “Captain Ellis. You never wanted to see that child because you knew that if she looked as much like Juliana as George Hughes insisted that she did, you were more likely to be her father, not Hebert. And you couldn’t face that.”

He put his hands over his face and brought them down again, as if to scour the very flesh from the bones.

“God help me” was all he said.

I reached up and touched him, then let my hand drop. “There is nothing you can do about the past,” I said. “And there will be nothing you can do about the future. Your mother won’t let that child go now, and Gran will support her in that. She will become a little Juliana, with all the promise that was taken away when the real Juliana died. You must try to prevent that from happening. Lydia will help.”

“Lydia will want to keep her from them. For herself.” There was agony in his eyes. “What if Lydia dies? Just as Alan did? What then?”

“You think-you believe that your mother or your grandmother could be a murderer?”

He shook his head, but I could tell he didn’t know how to answer me.

“Do you believe they could have killed the others-George, and Davis Merrit, and even Dr. Tilton?”

“I don’t know. Damn it, I don’t know. Why did you do this to me? To us?”

“I never intended to bring Sophie to England without your permission, without the arrangements only you could make. The fire in the Rue St. Catherine changed that. I can only say I’m sorry. But in the end you would have had to face up to Sophie. Thanks to George Hughes, too many people knew she existed, and that was the end of secrecy for you.”

“Then why the killings?

“Perhaps,” I said wearily, “they have nothing to do with Sophie. And we’re just too blind to see it.”

We went back into the hall. Nothing had changed. Lydia had asked Daisy to bring tea, and now she was coaxing her mother-in-law to drink a little. Gran stood behind Mrs. Ellis’s chair, a frown on her face, and something in her eyes that disturbed me. Margaret and Henry sat in a corner talking in low voices. I could see that she’d been crying.

But the cause of this, Inspector Rother, was standing by the window, where I was sure he’d been watching Roger Ellis talking to me. He turned as we came in.

“I have to close this inquiry,” he said doggedly.

Gran spoke, and I hardly recognized her voice. “I think you will agree with me that my daughter-in-law is not well enough to be interrogated. But I suggest that you consider the fact that if a body was found on our property, it doesn’t follow that one of us is the murderer. Be very careful about accusations that you will not be able to support when the Chief Constable of Sussex sends for you.”

“There are three men dead in Ashdown Forest, Mrs. Ellis. How do I explain them?”

“I’m not a policeman,” she answered him. “I’m not required to explain anything.”

Inspector Rother took a deep breath. “I must meet the doctor from Groombridge. As soon as I have taken care of that, I’ll be back at Vixen Hill, and I expect Mrs. Ellis to be well enough to answer questions.”

And he was gone.

I stood there, looking at this shattered family. They stared back at me.

Gran said, “Why does that child know you better than her own father?”

I answered, “She’s been told she was an orphan. The reason she clings to me is that she knows me. I must take her back to France, and then proceedings may begin to bring her here legally, if that’s your decision. She-” I looked for a way to say it gently. “The nuns who have cared for her will wish to say good-bye.”

“No,” Mrs. Ellis said before Lydia could speak. “I don’t care how she has come to us. She’s here. Roger, tell her that we don’t want Sophie to return to France.”

Caught on the horns of a dilemma, Roger Ellis said, “She’s not my child. Wherever her birth was recorded, her father is listed as Gerard Hebert. I shall have to declare her illegitimate in order to claim her.”

Mrs. Ellis began to cry. Gran said, a hand on her daughter-in-law’s shoulder, “There must be a way.”

Lydia said, “What does it really matter? She’s here. We’ll simply keep her.”

I wanted to tell them that they couldn’t, that the nuns were grieving for a child they believed to have been burned to death.

But before I could speak, we heard another motorcar pull up in the lane outside the door.

“See who it is. Tell them to go away,” Roger said to me, since I was nearest the door.

“It’s probably the doctor from Groombridge searching for the Inspector,” I replied as I went to the door and opened it.

I stood there transfixed.

Simon Brandon was just stepping out of the motorcar, and his face was bruised, a cut ran from close to his eye to the corner of his mouth, and one arm was in a sling.

“You’re still here,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Bess, but it has been a very long four-and-twenty hours.”

I found my voice. “What happened to you?”