Authors: Jean Stubbs
Dear Laura (19 page)
If only he would allow me a room of my own I could endure him a little better. But to him appearance is everything and, though he cares no more for my presence than I for his, we must seem to be man and wife. I thank God that is all over. What misery men can inflict upon us! And yet, not misery when it is the man one needs.
I don’t like ‘needs’, Lintott thought, walking faster. ‘Loves’ would be more delicate. Women don’t need. Do they? Not her sort of woman, at any rate. Of course, there are society women who – one hears tales. She don’t appear forward, not in any way forward. My Bessie, now, I would call – cosy. A warm woman, a womanly woman, a happy one I should say. But not ‘needs’. Never ‘needs’ surely? That’s not right, somehow.
Do I really love Titus? I do not know. Is that not a strange thing to wonder when he disturbs me so deeply? At eighteen I should have said with confidence that I did love him, and say so from blind
ignorance
. He could have made me happy in this way, but not in others. Could I ever have tired of him? I love him when he is loving. At times I have hated him. If we had been married for fifteen years, and I had been constantly hurt by his weakness with women and with money, with his gambling, should I still have loved him? Should I still have needed him as a lover, or would that have been over by now as it is with Theodore? Yet, with Theodore, that never began.
Well, your late husband was no more pleased with you than you were with him, madam, Lintott chided the phantom in the dusk. He had to discover love outside his own home, and make a scandal of himself. Yes, ma’am, love. There must have been
‘need’ as you so immodestly call it, but there was love too – of a sort. I’d
like to meet that woman he made a fool of himself over, and see what he cared so much about. I should find a clue to all the rest in her.
I was told by Mama to expect something that I should not, as a woman of delicacy, find agreeable. But she assured me that this was a necessary part of marriage. She informed me that a lady accepted a man’s ardour with forebearance. I believe that my mother even used the words ‘with fortitude’. She said this must be so if I was to fulfil myself and my duty in bearing children. I had assumed my parents enjoyed a loving marriage. I think of them both, and I wonder what years of wretchedness they shared between them. For my father was an ardent and tender man – I know what ardour and tenderness are! – and she was not a passionate woman.
And very proper, Lintott reflected. Why should they not have had a loving marriage? Very likely they did.
Theodore wasted no time on words of passion, of loving
protestation
, as Mama had said he would. He spoke of duty and
submissiveness
. I did not understand him. I looked for some token of
consideration
or solicitude. There was nothing. Cold, cold, cold, and then chaos.
Lintott strode his London more firmly, resolving on his next course of action.
My Mama told me that my father had recited to her from the ‘Song of Solomon’ and that she had found this even more shameful than what followed. She said she could not wait for him to be done, but that this was the lot of women. After Titus and I had been
together
in his rooms I locked myself up at the house for an hour, and wept. I was not weeping for myself or for shame – that came later when I feared he had made love to me lightly. I wept then for my father, and felt close to him. I wished that he were still alive so that I might see him, sit with him, and say nothing. We could always share silences, he and I. We should have shared that loss which must never be mentioned, in that particular silence. I wonder if he ever thought of me!
Ah, you’re a strange one, Lintott admonished her. Let well alone, ma’am. Men are as different from women as chalk from
cheese. Don’t you go setting your bonnet on your father’s head. It won’t fit. What am I to do about you, I wonder? For you’ve enough evidence around you – though I shouldn’t like to use it – to make that coroner change his mind in five
minutes’ flat. Crime of passion, he’d call it. But what could you have gained by it? Deceased man’s widow can’t marry his brother. Or did you think it would leave room for another game or so on the side? Surely not. Surely not. I can’t fathom you, madam. Perhaps you just thought, as women are inclined to do, that the best way to deal with a knot is to cut it!
I strive daily to separate from my husband, in my mind. Given time I shall do so. Then I may be at peace, and he will have what he most wants – an obedient stranger. Our lives will not be any worse than others I know. I have watched and listened to friends and acquaintances, and many of them are as dead as ourselves. If I were all mother, as most women are, I could be content. But I am not. There is something else within me which must and shall be answered. I wish I could go far away. I wish I had never been born at all. I wish I could die.
He halted, and his face cleared. I’d forgotten the significance of that bit, he thought. I wonder – she’d never dare say so – whether she tried to make away with herself? She’s quite a
possible
suicide, not probable but possible. Perhaps she crushed up those capsules in a glass of water or wine for herself, and he took it by mistake? And then she told that tale of the one pill she gave him as a sort of half-truth. Perhaps not. Perhaps it’s that fellow Titus. I can’t see how he did it, but he’s hard enough to clear folks out of his path if they stand in his way. Not murder as a matter of course. He’s no common murderer. But given the
opportunity
, once in a lifetime, he’s weak enough and strong enough to take it. Much more likely. Much more likely. The only other that I can see, that had some sort of grudge against the
deceased
, is our pretty Kate. And she wouldn’t commit herself. Our Kate won’t budge an inch unless the country’s mapped out first. She’d like to be her mistress, but she never will be. Not in a thousand years. Kate has a head on her, and she’s cautious. The other one, in the same position as Kate, would have ruined herself by now with an underfootman! Aye, and called it love and
need and whatever word best suits her. Ah, reckless, reckless! And yet – poor creature.
But I must let them know what I’ve found out, and put a stop to it. Why, Lord above, what might happen to her else? She can no more deal with that sort of fellow than a babby can. We don’t want another scandal atop of this one. If she got herself in trouble we’d never fetch that piece of fat out of the fire! And it brings everybody else in, too, children and all. No, no, no. She must get through her widowhood as best she can, without Master Titus’s attentions. She could marry again later – some steady chap who would look after her, fuss over her a bit. Women only need a little management. A kind word here and there, a kiss before you go in the morning and another at night, an arm about them when they’re feeling down, and just say what you think about them now and again. Like my Bessie. A cosy woman, my Bess, a warm woman, a woman that loves me. But all that about ‘needs’. I’d set it down to sheer badness!
*
They were wary of receiving him, but had no choice. Lintott thought them a handsome couple, an elegant couple, as he
permitted
Kate to take his hat. Titus stood in his favourite attitude by the fire, one arm on the draped mantelshelf, one foot on the brass fender. Laura sat resplendent in black velvet; her amethysts about her neck, and pendant from her ears, and sparkling on arms and bosom and fingers. Mourning suited her, lent her an added dignity above which her pale beauty seemed more moving and more fragile than usual.
Her dressmaker does well out of her, Lintott reflected. What an air she has of giving a fresh picture of herself – like my Bessie with a new hat. And his tailor knows his business. I hope he gets paid!
‘Good evening, Mrs Crozier. My regrets for asking an
interview
of you both, but it is a matter of some importance. Of grave importance, I may say. Thankee, yes, I’ll take a chair.’ And he sat stolidly upon the balloon-backed ornament, his thick boots planted beneath its gilt legs. ‘Cold again, this evening?’
Something in his manner alerted Laura, and she looked at him quickly. He looked back, remote and implacable.
‘Cold indeed, Inspector,’ said Titus amiably. ‘Now, perhaps, if you would state your business?’
‘Certainly, sir. Straight to the point. That’s what I prefer – if it suits the lady?’
Again she raised her head, sensing withdrawal. Then nodded slightly, in agreement, and fanned herself.
‘Evidence has come my way – I shan’t say what or how unless it’s necessary – but conclusive evidence as to one aspect of this inquiry.’
‘You have discovered something in connection with my brother’s death?’
‘No, sir. In connection with yourself and this lady.’
‘More gossip, no doubt,’ said Titus angrily, shifting his
position
as though the fire were too hot.
Laura became very still, the fan dropping from her hand.
‘I said
evidence
,
sir.’ And, as Titus prepared to brave him out, he added persuasively, ‘Surely you won’t cause the lady further distress by asking me to produce it? I will, if you insist. I can, you know.’
You
made
a
fool
of
me,
ma’m,
with
that
lost
air
about
you.
But
I
found
you
out.
Not
what
I
thought,
ma
’
am.
Not
what
I
thought
at
all.
Titus flung himself into Theodore’s easy chair, crossed his legs, set the palms of his hands together, and regarded Lintott steadily.
‘I will accept that you have evidence, Inspector. Pray go on.’
‘There’s little enough to say, sir – and ma’am. I can prove that a certain relationship existed – I don’t say that it does so now – between you. I can prove that it was a strong one. I venture to say, strong on
both
sides.’
He
didn’t
take
you
lightly.
At
least,
he
may
have
done
so
in
the
beginning,
but
not
in
the
end.
Laura spread out her fan slowly, and did not see a silk flight of humming birds winging across it. A little warmth comforted the supreme chill of exposure. He had said,
on
both
sides.
‘Now before we go any further,’ said Lintott carefully, ‘and I shall go no further than I must, I assure you of that, do you
admit
the said evidence?’
Titus replied coolly, ‘If it is evidence then we need no
admission
, surely?’
‘It’s just that I never did like talking in the dark,’ said Lintott bluntly.
Titus hesitated, wondering if it were possible to out-fox him. But Laura spoke softly and definitely, staring at her painted aviary, trying to set everything right again.
‘The relationship did exist, and now does not, Inspector Lintott.’
If
he
does
not
take
care
of
me
then
I
shall
come
home
to
you.
‘Very well, ma’am. You’ve spoken out fair and open. I’ll do the same. A man that was inclined to jump to conclusions would say that he had a case here that could stand up in court.’
Let
us
have
no
nonsense
on
that
score,
Laura.
You
understand
me
?
‘You consider,’ said Titus quietly, ‘that my sister-in-law and I, being guilty of the one offence are also guilty of the other and greater?’
‘It is a possibility to be explored, sir, but it is not yet the answer.’
Laura wounded and drooping, communed with her fan.
Lintott
glanced anxiously at her.
‘If my word is of any value to you,’ said Titus slowly. ‘I can assure you that neither of us is guilty of murder, at any rate.’
Lintott nodded, short and sharp, as if to say
I
hear
you.
But no more.
‘I believe we are not above halfway through this case yet, sir. I have to trace the lady who delivered the letters, and in her will lie other answers. I don’t say all the answers. I don’t know. I must find her first.’
He glanced again at Laura, but she had been rebuffed once too often.
‘Perhaps you and I could have a word alone somewhere, sir? Mrs Crozier need not be disturbed any more this evening.’
Run
along,
now,
Laura.
‘Pray do not trouble yourselves,’ she said quickly, and with great dignity, ‘I have household matters which require my
attention
. I beg you to excuse me.’ She confronted Lintott without
defiance, without hope. ‘Goodnight, Inspector. Please do not hesitate to call again if that is necessary.’
Still he had one more duty to perform, that of cautioning her.
He bowed awkwardly.
‘Goodnight, ma’am. And, if I might mention it, I should leave any personal papers in the house exactly as they are. I have
witnesses
as well as evidence. If you was inclined to tear or burn anything, say, I should take it as an admission of guilt and act accordingly.’
Alarmed, Titus surveyed them both, trying to gauge the
gravity
of the situation. Laura held herself proudly, tried to meet
Lintott’s
flat gaze, and trailed gracefully from the room.
‘Now, sir, we may speak a bit freer. I’ve had a word with an old friend of yours, Miss Eliza Tucker of the Alhambra,
thinking
she might be the lady involved with your brother. I am
satisfied
that she was not.’