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‘It’s more than likely she did,’ Amos now interjected, ‘but we’ll never be able to prove it.’
‘John Summers has cooled on Margot Grant, angrily turned away from his Queen Bee, but not for long. Christopher Green says they are once more in cahoots, and just as friendly as ever, whilst Jack Beaufield has been relegated to a back bench.’ Alfredo sat back, his eyes on Neville.
‘None of this is really surprising,’ Neville began and then stopped abruptly, considered things for a moment. ‘However, come to think of it, it’s not such a bad idea, having them all at each other’s throats.’
‘They won’t be for long,’ Ned interrupted. ‘They are all smitten by that woman, solidly behind her.’
Alfredo said, ‘I would like to speak to you all about Aubrey Masters now. Apart from the fact that he’s been acting somewhat strangely, he’s apparently got it in for me. I hear he is trying to have me thrown out of the company. And out of the country. He’s blackening my name, I’m afraid, and I don’t like the look of things.’
‘He must be stopped. Immediately,’ Neville said in a cold, hard voice, staring at Amos. ‘He should be induced to retire.’
‘He has become a bit of a…nuisance,’ Amos murmured, struggling to find the right word to describe Aubrey Masters. He looked as if he was about to say something else, but he stopped himself.
‘Who will rid me of this turbulent priest,’ Will said, a quirky smile playing around his mouth.
Neville glanced at him then said softly, ‘I knew we would hear that before long.’ Turning to Amos, Neville added, ‘Perhaps we can find a way to persuade Aubrey Masters to cease. He must be made to understand he can’t speak ill of people and most especially Oliveri here.’
‘I will certainly try, sir.’ Amos looked doubtful as he said this.
‘To my last and perhaps most important discovery,’ Alfredo announced, looking from Neville to Ned, and began in a low, confiding voice, ‘I think I’ve found out what’s wrong with the mines…what your father discovered, too, Mr Edward.’
The room went quiet. No one spoke. No one moved. Everyone was waiting for Alfredo’s words.
‘Somebody is stealing the product from the mines, skimming diamonds, emeralds and gold. Or money off the top.’
‘But who?’ Ned asked, incredulity echoing in his voice.
‘In my opinion it could be the local managers,’ Alfredo answered him.
‘They wouldn’t dare!’ Neville exclaimed. ‘Or would they?’ His eyes narrowed slightly, and he threw Alfredo a pointed look. ‘Unless they had approval from the head office…located on the Strand. A partner in Deravenels?’
‘That was my guess.’ Alfredo nodded. ‘And Rob Aspen agrees with me. I’d been working late last week, and so had he; that was when he actually drew my attention to discrepancies he was finding. I knew at once what this meant. I gathered he did, too, had had the same idea. Anyway, I asked him not to reveal this to Masters, or to anyone else. At least for the moment.’
‘Why?’ Ned asked, and then swiftly added, ‘I understand, don’t bother to answer my stupid question. If the other side finds out we know about the discrepancies, they’ll try to cover them up. Somebody in London is running this scheme.’
‘Precisely.’ Alfredo gave Ned a knowing smile.
‘So we’re not going to deal with it until we’re running Deravenels ourselves, later in the summer,’ Neville announced. ‘Let’s leave this matter in abeyance for the moment. And move on. Finnister informed me several days ago that he now has in his hands all of the records from the insane asylums, where Henry Grant was sequestered a number of times. Let’s hear about it, Finnister.’
‘Mr Watkins told you the most important part of my story,’ Amos began. ‘We are indeed in possession of the records. They are very detailed and extremely useful. I have hired a well-known doctor to look at these records, study them, and give a written report on what they mean. In other words, how will Henry Grant behave over the next few years? Is he on the brink of going totally mad? Is he already suffering from dementia? What are his chances of survival? And finally, is he capable of running a company such as Deravenels?’
‘I think the doctor will have no problem giving you the best written opinion there is, and no doubt it will be the kind of opinion which will serve us best.’ Neville threw Amos a questioning look.
‘You are right, sir. The doctor I engaged, Mr Rupert Haversley-Long, is a specialist, a psychiatrist who has been a colleague of the famous Dr Sigmund Freud.’
‘I have no fears he will do the job perfectly,’ Neville murmured. Rising, Neville continued, ‘Let us all go into the dining room. We will be able to discuss everything further over an apéritif before we partake of lunch.’
The others rose and followed Neville out of the library.
Ned said to Alfredo, ‘Don’t worry, old chap, we’ll neutralize Aubrey Masters in some way or other. We can’t lose you, we especially need you here in London these days. Permanently.’
‘I agree. When are you returning to the office?’
‘On Monday morning. The hospital gave me several examinations this past week, and everything is apparently quite normal. In my opinion, they’ve been overly cautious, but my mother insisted on these extra tests and I don’t think even Dr Robertson had the nerve to contradict Cecily Deravenel.’
Alfredo smiled. ‘I know what you mean. There’s no one quite like your formidable mother. Anyway, she was right. Head wounds can be dicey, very dicey indeed.’
TWENTY-FOUR (#)
Lily stood in the centre of the drawing room in Vicky Forth’s Kensington house, turning her head, taking everything in, a delighted smile on her face. ‘It’s absolutely beautiful, Vicky,’ she said at last. ‘But then you’ve always been so clever in the way you decorate your homes.’
Vicky’s eyes lit up, and she exclaimed, ‘Oh, I’m so glad you like it. To tell you the truth I’ve been a little bit worried, wondering if it was all too—pale.’
Walking over to Vicky, who was still standing in the doorway, Lily said emphatically, ‘Not too pale at all…the room is perfect, in fact I love the way you have mixed all of these different creams and whites together, and the touches of green and lilac are charming.’
‘It’s not too feminine?’
‘Of course it isn’t. Anyway, the antiques are dark, and help to give the room exactly the right balance.’
‘I just pray that Stephen’s going to like it.’
‘I know he will,’ Lily reassured her best friend, and then asked curiously, ‘And when is he getting back from New York?’
‘In a week. He had to go to San Francisco unexpectedly, and that delayed him, but his business has gone well, and he’ll be sailing from New York in a few days. I can’t wait to see him, it’s been ages.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Lily murmured, and walked slowly across the room, went and sat down on a plump curving love seat upholstered in pale apple-green damask. As she settled back against the lilac and apple-green silk cushions, she said, with another glance around, ‘The flowers are lovely, Vic, you’ve managed to create a feeling of spring here today.’
‘Thank you, darling.’ Vicky took a seat in a chair next to Lily, and looking at her intently, she asked, ‘Have you told Ned?’
Lily shook her head. ‘No, not yet. I only saw him once last week, after he came out of the hospital, and I felt it wasn’t quite the right time. But I am going to tell him, please don’t worry.’
‘Good. I’m glad. Now, you’ll be interested to hear that I’ve found a charming house quite near us in Kent. I think it’s lovely and not too big, and I was hoping you could come down to see it with me on Monday or Tuesday, before Stephen arrives in London.’
‘Oh, Vicky, darling, how wonderful! I’d love to,’ Lily cried, turning to her friend, beaming at her. ‘To tell you the truth, I’ve been thinking about moving from Belsize Park Gardens. Moving to a house I saw in South Audley Street, in Mayfair.’
‘I see. I hope you’re not taking on too much, in your condition, I mean.’
Lily laughed. ‘I really feel wonderful. Very fit and healthy, and it’s only the awful morning sickness getting me down at the moment. Also, the house in Mayfair is not large—compact really, yet very adequate for me, the child and a small staff. I just hate the idea of Ned being stranded the way he was in Belsize Park when he was attacked. I need to be in the West End.’
‘I understand.’ Vicky fell silent for a few seconds, and then, leaning towards Lily, she asked in a quiet voice, ‘You do plan to keep the baby, don’t you?’
‘Oh yes, I could never give it up! Why, it’s part of me and Ned. I might tell him today, Vicky, then I might not. But please be assured that when I do I will explain that I want to be quite independent. I don’t want anything from him, as you know.’
‘That’s rather brave of you, Lily. I have something to tell you, by the way. It’s rather important. At least, I think so.’
Lily looked at her alertly. ‘What is it? You seem suddenly very excited.’
‘I am. I’ve made a decision about something I’ve thought about for a while. I’m definitely going to do voluntary social work with my friend Fenella Fayne—’
‘The widow of Lord Jeremy Fayne?’
‘Exactly. She’s been a friend for years, and as I think I once told you she runs a women’s…shelter in the East End. I’ve always admired her work, and I want to do something useful with my life. There’s so much poverty and misery in London, greatest capital in the world though it might be. I simply can’t bear the discrepancy between the lives of the rich, and the desperate, miserable existence of the poor.’
‘I’m very happy you finally decided to make a move, you’ve been hankering after doing work like this for as long as I can remember.’ Lily gave her a warm loving smile, and reached out, took hold of her hand. ‘You’ve always wanted to make a contribution, and I think you’ll be wonderful at it. Fenella Fayne must be thrilled to have you.’
Vicky began to laugh, looking embarrassed. ‘I haven’t actually told her yet, but she knows how interested I’ve been in her work, and for a long time. I plan to visit her next week, and volunteer my services.’
‘Stephen won’t mind, will he?’
‘I don’t think so, he understands that I’m…well, that I feel women should be able to make contributions if they wish to do so. He thinks I’m rather emancipated really, and he’s one of the few men I know who believes Mrs Pankhurst has the right idea…about women’s rights. Frankly, Lily, he’s proud that I am emancipated.’
Lily nodded. ‘And you’re so right about the poverty in London. There are some terrible slums, such as Providence Place, and those ghastly tenements…they’re called rookeries, aren’t they?’
‘Yes. And the women who live there are beaten-down and desperate, poor, and frequently in ill health and often abused by their beer-swilling husbands. It makes my blood boil when I think about the wealth in England, and the selfishness of so many people who could help to make a few lives easier—’
Vicky stopped and jumped up, went to the window, saw the carriage coming to a stop.
‘Oh, Lily darling, I think it’s my brother, with Ned, and, oh my heavens, Johnny Watkins. They’re earlier than I expected.’
Amos Finnister settled himself at a corner table for four in the Mandarin Garden, the little Chinese restaurant which was his favourite in Limehouse. Six o’clock was early for him to eat his Sunday dinner, but Charlie had requested this time and so he had acquiesced.
His thoughts settled on yesterday’s lunch with Neville Watkins and the other men. When he considered the information that had passed between them, the decisions made, he filled with a rush of genuine pleasure and satisfaction. Everything was coming together much faster and much better than he had anticipated it would.
The medical records were in hand, the renowned doctor was studying them; Alfredo had produced valuable information about the Mining Division as well as the names of their allies within the company; and now, thanks to Charlie, he had two men whom he could use to tackle James Cliff, Jack Beaufield and Philip Dever. What the two actors were going to do was pose as gentlemen, as aristocrats, and they would reveal they had lethal information about the private lives of these three men. Information that would prove deadly to their lives and careers. Blackmail, in other words.
Right on time as always, Charlie came hurrying into the restaurant. Amos glanced up, raised his hand in a wave.
A moment later Charlie was sitting opposite him, a grin spreading across his handsome face.
‘Evening, Mr Finnister.’
‘Good evening, Charlie. Would you like a pot of this jasmine tea I’m having? It’s most refreshing.’
‘Indeed I would, sir. And thank you very much.’ Charlie sat back in the chair and glanced around the restaurant which was still relatively empty. ‘It appears we are the sole diners,’ he added.
‘Playing the toff this evening are we, Charlie?’ Amos asked with a wide smile. He was extremely fond of the young actor, and they had worked together on many projects, as Charlie was wont to call them. For ten years, at least.
‘I am the toff tonight, sir. Don’t forget I’m stuck with a posh part at the moment, so I try to keep my voice in character with the character, if you get what I mean. Makes my life easier.’
‘It’s quite extraordinary the way you assume such different voices, can flip from one accent to another,’ Amos remarked, giving him a thoughtful look. ‘You’re the best mimic I know, except for Maisie.’
‘Thanks, guv.’
The waiter came hurrying to the table and at once Amos ordered jasmine tea and asked to see the menus, then he continued, ‘I think it’s a genuine gift, Charlie, your miraculous voice.’
‘Mebbe it is, mebbe it ain’t.’ Charlie grinned at Amos cheekily as he dropped with the greatest of ease into his native Cockney. ‘Fings ain’t wot they used ter be around ’ere, Mr F., so I’m off to America wiv me sister.’
Startled by this sudden and unexpected announcement Amos sat up straighter in the chair, gazing at Charlie, an expression of disbelief on his face. ‘Well, I’ll be blowed! So you made your mind up to do it at last. She must be thrilled.’
‘She don’t know nuffin’ yet. Yer see, I ain’t told ’er nuffin’. It’s a surprise, guv.’
‘Very good, very good indeed, Charlie. I’m delighted you came to this decision, that you’re going to remove yourself from these shores. I shall miss you of course, but I think perhaps it’s…well, a wise move, shall we say?’
‘Wiv me sister by me side I think we can mek it big in America, Mr F., an’ we do ’ave a double act, yer knows.’
‘So you’ve told me, and I—’ Amos broke off when the waiter came scurrying back with the pot of jasmine tea and a cup on a tray, along with the menus. He gave these to Amos, poured the tea for Charlie and bowed low, then disappeared again.
Once they were alone Amos leaned across the table and said in a much lower voice, ‘Is everything set for tomorrow?’
Answering in his cultivated voice, Charlie murmured softly, ‘It is, Mr Finnister. Maisie has arranged to meet Aubrey Masters at the coffee shop in Shepherd’s Market. She will explain she’s going to be away for a week visiting her grandmother, and she’ll give him the going away present.’
Amos simply nodded and reached into his pocket. A second later he placed a small packet on the table between them.
Charlie eyed it, then picked it up and looked at it.
‘Purple paper. Very fancy.’ He slipped it into his pocket without further comment.
‘Maisie knows what to do with it?’ Amos gave him a penetrating stare.
Charlie nodded. ‘She’s to mix it in with the grains and pods she’s giving him in the brown paper bag.’
‘Correct.’
‘What is it, by the way? What is it going to do to him.’
‘It’ll give him a loose bowel for a few days, keep him at home. Away from the office, which is the purpose of this exercise. And for your information it’s a mixture of dried herbs and seeds, that’s all.’
‘That’s awright then, innit,’ Charlie muttered. Now he pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. ‘Wiv these ’ere two lads yer won’t go wrong, guv.’
Amos glanced at the paper. ‘Real names?’
‘Naw, ain’t a good idea ter give real names, yer knows that. Aliases, like my Maisie called ’erself Phyllida Blue. Cor blimey, don’t arsk me where she got that from.’
‘Has she used that name before, with anyone else?’ Amos asked, sounding worried.
‘Naw,’ course not, Mr F. I mean, I’m not bleedin’ daft, yer knows. Invented it she did an all, on spur of the moment, so she told me.’
‘And your two fellow thespians will meet us here in an hour?’
‘That’s right.’
‘So we should order dinner? Or should we wait for them?’
‘Naw, naw, they won’t be eatin’ wiv us. They ’ad Sunday lunch wiv their mums down Whitechapel way.’
‘Very good. I shall have duck with orange sauce, and would you like to have your usual, Charlie?’
‘I will, thanks. Sweet and sour, and steamed rice, please.’
