Back at Mrs Maple’s boarding house, Jackman helped Ursula descend from the cab.
After demanding that the investigator clear Alice and Rachel’s names, Daniel had stalked off. Jackman had sighed and found a cab. It had taken them first to the Trenchard residence, where he handed over the safe key, then to St George’s Square, where Martha was dropped. She had said she’d be very happy to find her own way home, but neither Jackman nor Ursula would hear of such a thing. As Martha opened the front door, Ursula thought that she seemed older and frailer than when they had first met. With both the sisters she had known all their lives now in prison accused of murder, it was no wonder.
The headache that had been growing ever since that afternoon made Ursula long, above everything, for her bed. Now, however, she realised that Jackman was insisting that they discuss the day’s events.
‘Wouldn’t it be better to leave it until tomorrow? I’m quite worn out,’ she said, drawing a hand across her forehead.
‘I’m sure you’ve managed to cope under worse conditions,’ he said, giving the cabbie a salute of farewell. ‘If I didn’t think it was important, I wouldn’t insist.’
It was easier to accept the situation than continue to protest. Ursula led the way in.
The boarders’ lounge was occupied but Meg said it would be quite all right to use the dining room to talk. ‘So long as you don’t mess with the breakfast laying,’ she added. ‘Can I bring you some coffee?’
Ursula looked at Jackman, who said, ‘I’d kill for a pot of tea. And a sandwich if you had such a thing; we haven’t had anything to eat since midday.’
‘You poor things! You go in there and I’ll bring you something that’ll keep you going.’ Meg disappeared down to the kitchen.
Ursula removed her coat and hung it over the back of one of the chairs then sat and fingered the material. ‘It’s hard to believe it was only this morning that I retrieved this from Millie,’ she sighed.
‘It’s the first time I’ve seen you less than one hundred percent,’ Jackman said, sitting opposite her.
‘Have you forgotten what we went through in Liverpool?’ she smiled faintly.
‘You have a point. That Mountstanton business was taxing.’ He crossed his legs, unbuttoned his jacket, and put his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat and returned her smile. ‘Regretting taking on the position of investigative assistant once again?’
She tried to rally. ‘Of course not. I just wish we were making more progress. Were you as surprised as I was to see Daniel Rokeby turning up like that?’
‘You think there was more to his appearance than a letter from Mrs Peters?’
She shrugged. ‘Do you think Millie could have been in touch with him? They must know each other quite well.’
He sat up a little straighter and ran a hand over his chin; Ursula heard the faint rasp of new-grown stubble. ‘Hmm! You think our friend Albert Pond could have been blackmailing him and that he took action? Any suggestions as to what the blackmailing could have been about?’
Too tired to think, Ursula shook her head. ‘Nothing, other than, perhaps, the death of Joshua Peters?’
‘Don’t think I haven’t given consideration to that possibility. There is, though, absolutely no evidence whatsoever. I conducted a thorough investigation into him after Peters first hired me and could find nothing to blacken his name apart from his being a second rate poet and scratching a living with the odd article.’
‘Which isn’t a crime.’
‘Quite.’
Ursula saw Jackman slightly narrow his eyes and knew without any doubt that he was about to bring up the matter of the letter found in the Peters’ safe.
The dining room door opened and Meg manoeuvred a tray on to the table. There was a pot of tea, milk and sugar and a plate with several rough-cut sandwiches. ‘Supper today was salt beef, with enough left over for these,’ said Meg, unloading plates, cups and saucers and napkins. ‘I’ll collect them things after you’ve finished, no need to bring them down to the kitchen, washing up’s all been done for tonight.’ Then she was gone.
‘What a treat,’ said Jackman, lifting the brown teapot. ‘Shall I pour?’
‘Please.’
‘Now, get yourself outside that and you’ll feel miles better.’ He handed over the nicely large cup and saucer then offered sugar. Ursula refused but he helped himself to two large spoonfuls, carefully stirring it in.
The tea was refreshing but Ursula found that she didn’t really feel up to consuming the thick sandwiches; however Jackman soon demolished his portion.
‘Right,’ he said, dusting off his fingers with the napkin. ‘Now, are you going to tell me who wrote that letter? The one Rokeby called “fruity”? And don’t try to tell me you don’t know because it won’t wash.’
Ursula wished she had done a better job of concealing her reaction. But Jackman knew her too well. She forced herself to remember what she had gathered from the letter.
‘Thomas, did you think it contained anything that a blackmailer could use to extract money?’
He took out the envelope and re-read the love letter.
‘Ah! Well, it depends on whether it is adulterous or not.’
‘You mean, if the writer isn’t married and the letter was sent to another unmarried person, then it could be considered innocent?’
‘And that’s what you believe? That it is innocent?’
‘Under those circumstances, yes.’
‘And you are not going to tell me who writer and recipient are?’
‘I have particular reasons for not doing so,’ Ursula said slowly.
‘I can see that. But, surely, you can understand that because it was found in a blackmailer’s safe, it almost certainly is not innocent.’
Ursula found it difficult to counter his logic or to meet his gaze. Instead she rose. ‘Please, wait here, I’ll be back in a moment,’ she said and hurried upstairs to her room. Here she took out her copy of the fragment of paper Meg had rescued from Alice’s fire.
Re-entering the dining room, she found Jackman had refilled both their cups. She handed over the scrap of paper and explained its history. ‘I should have given it to you sooner,’ she said.
‘And what stopped you, may I ask?’
‘I think you can probably see why not.’
‘Read it to me, I can’t make any sense of it myself.’
Ursula cleared her throat and took back the piece of paper.
‘you, my darling, I have worked it
‘Daniel, I can do it, I know I can. It
‘readful, but then we can be free for
‘He will be gone.’
She looked at Jackman. ‘As I explained, Meg found the original half burned in Alice’s grate and wanted to keep as a memento of someone she had grown fond of. Alice was very kind to her. After I’d copied the wording down, I tore off a piece from the left-hand side of the paper so what was left more or less matched the singed bit. I think the right hand side hadn’t been touched by the fire. If it’s an ordinary piece of letter writing paper, not much of it can be missing.’
‘You didn’t show it to me because you thought it was evidence that Alice was at the very least thinking of murdering her husband,’ he said flatly.
She nodded, feeling as disloyal to him as she had earlier over withholding the identity of the letter writer. But she had other loyalties.
He reached for the piece of paper again and sat scrutinising it. Ursula waited, surprised he hadn’t immediately taken it as proof of Alice’s guilt. But she should have known that that wasn’t the way Jackman operated.
After a few minutes he looked up. ‘Surely a woman of your intelligence could see that there is another way to interpret this?’ He waved the scrap, then caught himself. ‘But of course when you first read this the possibility of blackmail had not been raised.’
Ursula stared at him, then understood. ‘You mean, Alice might have discovered what her husband was up to and was trying to bring herself to tell the police about his activities with the idea that they would lock him away and she and Daniel could live happily together.’
‘See, you can do it!’
Ursula hardly heard this; her mind, becoming clearer by the minute, was racing on. ‘But then she discovered there was a child on the way and felt she could not deprive it of its rightful father, or the father his right to bring up his child.’ She shuddered. ‘Alice had more courage than I would have in the same situation.’
Jackman remained looking thoughtfully at the scrap of paper. ‘The question remains, why hasn’t she revealed to the police what she knew about the blackmail activities of her husband? Before that rat Pond could remove all the evidence? Drummond would then have had a range of possible suspects to Peters’ murder to be investigated.’
‘She couldn’t, can’t, endure the thought of her child knowing its father was a criminal.’
‘Instead it will have a mother hanged for the murder of its father! Hardly a worthwhile bargain.’
‘She has been convinced an innocent woman will not be convicted. I tried to warn her that it was all too possible but I couldn’t get through to her. Perhaps the possibility is beginning to hit home at last. Thomas, I’m sorry, but I really cannot think straight any more. Could we continue this discussion tomorrow? I have no other plans.’
‘Of course.’ He rose, doing up his jacket. ‘Have some rest. I have a few ideas I can follow up. Suppose we say four o’clock? For a cup of tea?’ He smiled and tapped the now empty teapot.
Ursula saw him out, then took the tray downstairs. Meg was sitting by the stove with the cat on her knee.
‘Don’t get up.’ Ursula put her burden on the kitchen table. ‘I just wanted to say thank you very much for the tea and the sandwiches. It was just what we needed.’ She was thankful Jackman had managed to eat her portion of salt beef as well as his own.
‘Oh, Miss Grandison, Mrs Maple wanted to see you when you came in. I didn’t like to tell you before, what with you being with Mr Jackman. Hope I didn’t do wrong.’
Ursula stifled an inward groan; wasn’t she ever going to be allowed to go to bed?
‘That’s fine, Meg. I’ll go and see her now.’
Mrs Maple was in her parlour working on her accounts. She greeted Ursula and said, ‘A letter was delivered for you this afternoon. It was marked URGENT so I thought I’d better give it to you myself.’ She reached over to the back of her desk, found an envelope and handed it over.
Upstairs in her room, Ursula opened and read the note. It was not good news. Mrs Bruton wanted to move back into her home but her maid had had an accident and broken her arm. Huckle was to stay at her sister’s until she could be useful again. So would Ursula come round to Brown’s Hotel immediately to pack up her things and arrange the move back to Wilton Crescent.
Ursula flopped down on her bed. Her loyalties were being stretched in all directions!