Barbara Taylor Bradford - Heirs of Ravenscar

‘It’s an excellent idea, in my opinion.’ Edward addressed Fenella and continued. ‘If you decided to do it, Fenella, I’ll certainly write a cheque, give you a donation to such a cause.’

‘Why thank you so much, Ned, but I hadn’t really thought of doing it, not until this moment anyway. But we’ll see.’

‘I’ll match Ned,’ Will promised.

‘Count me in,’ Stephen announced. ‘We must show appreciation to our wounded, they risked their lives for us, and you know damned well the government won’t do much to help the returning wounded.’

‘Well, how lovely of you all,’ Fenella murmured, thinking of the way she and her aunt had started Haddon House years ago. They created a safe haven for abused women and much to their satisfaction it had done wonders in the East End, saved many helpless women from terrible fates.

Vicky glanced at the door. ‘Ah, here is Fuller with the main course.’

Fuller and two parlour maids came into the dining room, carrying large tureens of lamb stew. Once everyone was served they departed, although Fuller returned within seconds to pour the red claret into the fine crystal goblets.

‘Your dinners are always the best,’ Edward said at one moment, turning to Vicky. ‘I’ve loved this stew of yours for years.’

Vicky inclined her head, pleased. ‘Thank you,’ she said with a smile. After a moment she added, ‘If we did open such a place for wounded soldiers, shouldn’t we have a canteen? To serve a good lunch to them every day.’

‘I can see this project, which was only just suggested a minute ago, is growing in magnitude,’ Will murmured, staring at his sister. ‘The first thing you must do, Fenella, and you too Vicky, is sit down and figure out what such a place is going to cost. Certainly before you do anything else.’

‘Of course you’re right, Will,’ Fenella agreed. ‘In fact, I must do quite a lot of thinking first, before we get to that stage. We’re very busy at Haddon House. We’d need quite a few helpers for such a project …’ Her voice trailed off.

‘I know we’d soon have lots of volunteers,’ Vicky said in a confident voice.

Edward laughed. ‘Always the optimist, my dear Vicky.’

After dinner, when everyone was drinking coffee and liqueurs in the drawing room, Amos edged towards Edward.

Edward, attuned to Amos after all these years, gave him a quick glance and inclined his head. Excusing himself to Stephen, he took several steps in Amos’s direction.

‘What is it, Amos? You look as if you need to speak to me, and quite urgently.’

‘I do need to have a word, sir, but it’s not urgent. I can speak with you tomorrow morning, if you’d prefer.’

‘I can’t tomorrow morning, I’m afraid,’ Edward answered, remembering the appointment Jane had made for them to view the Renoir painting. ‘How about now? Shall we step outside into the hall?’

‘Yes, Mr Edward, if that’s all right.’

‘It’s fine.’ He went over to Stephen, who now stood near the window, and muttered, ‘Finnister needs a word with me. Excuse me for a moment, will you?’

‘Of course.’

Following Amos out, Edward said, ‘Too much staff clearing up out here. Let’s step into the library.’

‘Good idea, sir.’

Once they were ensconced in the library overlooking the garden, Edward asked, ‘What’s on your mind? You look worried.’

‘No, I’m not worried. It’s like this, sir. Last night I had dinner with Charlie at the Ritz, and he went to say hello to another officer, who’d just come into the restaurant. A major he’d been in two different hospitals with. When he returned to the table I asked him who the man was, and he said he was a friend by the name of Cedric Crawford.’

Edward was so startled to hear this name from the past he simply gaped at Amos for a moment, genuinely dumbfounded. Finally, he said, ‘The Cedric Crawford who lived with Tabitha James? Is that who you mean? Well, I suppose you do: after all it’s quite an unusual name.’

‘That’s right, sir, and I don’t think there are two of them.’

‘So you’re obviously planning to do something about this, knowing you as well as I do, Amos.’

‘I’m taking them both to dinner tomorrow. I hope to establish his identity at least.’

‘And then what?’

‘I thought I would ask him about Tabitha James.’

‘Will he tell you the truth? We both agreed she wasn’t murdered, because if she had been the police would have been involved at the time, whatever Grace Rose said when you found her. After all, she was only four.’

‘I’m hoping he can tell me what Tabitha’s fate really was, and also where she’s buried. I think that would be a good thing for Grace Rose to know, Mr Edward. Set her mind at rest.’

‘She’s talked about this to you, hasn’t she?’ Edward murmured, as perceptive as always, and understanding Grace Rose as well as he did.

‘Yes, she has. I’ve even taken her down to Whitechapel at different times, with Mrs Vicky’s permission of course. And naturally she’s been to Haddon House over the years. Nothing’s ever been hidden from her. Mrs Vicky has always believed in telling her the truth.’

‘And rightly so. It would’ve been silly to keep things a secret.’ A reflective look settled in Edward’s eyes for a moment, and he stood holding the brandy balloon, staring into its amber depths. At last he said, ‘Find out what you can, Amos. It will be quite interesting to hear what he has to say. But don’t expect too much, because perhaps he doesn’t know much of anything. After all, he could have left her. Or she could have left him … it’s all something of a mystery … and one we might never fathom.’

FOURTEEN

In all his years as a policeman and then a private investigator, Amos Finnister had learned about people and knew how to read them. He had a psychological insight into most, and usually understood the motivations of others. This aside, he had acquired a certain charm. He was at ease with people from all walks of life, and they were at ease with him. Certainly he had a way with them, handled them with expertise and finesse.

And this was most apparent on Friday evening, when Charlie and Major Cedric Crawford dined with him at the Ritz Restaurant. As it turned out, he discovered that the major was the perfect English gentleman, well mannered and genial, and from a distinguished family. And Charlie was being himself tonight, playing the perfect English gentleman as he had done so often on the stage in London and New York.

Amos knew how to make people relax, and by the time they were halfway through dinner he had the major laughing, and sharing stories, some of which were hilarious. And as Amos joined in the general hilarity, told stories himself, and chatted mostly about inconsequential things, he listened and watched, trying to observe the major surreptitiously in order to properly weigh him up.

By the time they had eaten the main course, Amos felt comfortable enough to broach the subject of Tabitha James. At a given moment he glanced at Charlie, a quizzical expression on his face, and Charlie gave him a quick nod.

After taking another sip of the good French wine he had ordered, a Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Amos put down his glass and leaned back in the chair, not wanting to appear intrusive or in any way threatening.

Speaking in his ordinary, neutral tone, Amos said, ‘I wonder if you’d mind my asking you something, Major?’

‘No, not at all. What is it you’d like to know, Finnister?’

Having worked out a simple story before dinner, one based on truth, Amos had it ready and on the tip of his tongue. ‘Before I begin I’d just like to explain something … I’m wondering if you happen to know a friend of mine.’