‘Fanny!’
Edward’s expression darkened. ‘It was terrible, a terrible thing. Poor Fanny. A man, an intruder – I don’t know who he was … Fanny ran off and I went after her. I heard the shot when I was near the chestnut tree, and I ran inside, Lucy, but I was too late. Fanny was already … and then I saw the back of the man, running from the front door towards the lane.’
‘Lily Millington knew him.’
‘What?’
Lucy wasn’t sure exactly what she meant, only that she was sure that she was right. There had been a man and Lucy had been frightened, and Lily Millington had been there.
‘He came to the house. I saw him. I went back to the house, and the man came, and he and Lily Millington talked.’
‘What did they say?’
Lucy’s thoughts were swimming. Memories, imaginings, dreams were all as one. Edward had asked her a question and Lucy always liked to give the right answer. And so she closed her eyes and reached into the pot of swirling noise and colour. ‘They spoke about America,’ she said. ‘A boat. And something about a Blue.’
‘Well, well, well …’
When Lucy opened her eyes, she discovered that she was no longer alone in the room with Edward. Two other men had come in while she was concentrating on her brother’s question. One of the men was wearing a grey suit; he had ginger sideburns and a moustache that curled at the ends, and he was carrying a black bowler hat in his hands. The other was dressed in a deep navy coat with brass buttons down the front and a black belt strapped to his round middle; his hat was on his head and had a silver badge on its front. It was a uniform, and he a policeman, Lucy realised.
As it transpired, they were both policemen. The shorter man in the blue uniform belonged to the Berkshire Constabulary and had been contacted because Birchwood Manor fell within his jurisdiction. The grey-suited fellow was an inspector with the Metropolitan Police in London, and had been brought in to render assistance with the investigation at the request of Mr Brown, Fanny’s father, who was wealthy and important.
It was Inspector Wesley of the Metropolitan Police who had spoken, and when Lucy’s eyes met his across the room, he said again: ‘Well, well, well … ,’ adding, this time: ‘Just as I suspected.’
What he suspected, as he was to tell her over the coming days – after a thorough search had been carried out and it was discovered that, just as Lucy had suggested, the Radcliffe Blue diamond was missing – was that Lily Millington had been in on the whole thing.
‘A mighty deception,’ he announced through his moustache, his thumbs tucked into the lapels on either side of his coat. ‘A most scandalous and brazen scheme. The pair of them hatched it well in advance, you see. The first step was for one Miss Lily Millington to win a place as your brother’s model, whereby gaining access to the Radcliffe Blue. The second step, once your brother’s trust was won, was for the two of them to make off with the prize. And there it might have ended had Miss Brown not caught them in the act and paid the price with her blameless young life.’
Lucy listened to this scenario, trying to take it all in. It was true what she had said to Edward: she had heard Lily Millington and the man talking about America and the Blue, and she could remember now seeing a pair of boat tickets. She had seen the pendant, too, of course – a beautiful blue diamond, her family’s heirloom jewel. Lily Millington had been wearing it. Lucy had a clear picture in her mind of Lily Millington in a white dress, the pendant fixed in place within the hollow of her neck. And now Lily and the diamond and the tickets were gone. It made sense that they were together somewhere. There was just one problem. ‘My brother met Lily Millington at the theatre. She didn’t seek him out to become his model. He rescued her when she was being robbed.’
The inspector’s top lip quivered with pleasure at the opportunity to bend a pair of innocent ears with tales of the seamier side of life. ‘Another ploy, Miss Radcliffe,’ he said, lifting a slow, solitary finger, ‘as devious as it was effective. Another deceitful double act, the two of them in it together. We’ve seen how the likes of them operate, and if there’s one thing certain to gain the attention of a respectable gentleman like your brother, it’s the sight of a beautiful woman in need of assistance. He was helpless but to respond – any gentleman would have been. And while he was busy restoring the woman to rights, distracted by the rendering of care and concern, the fellow – her partner in crime – returned, accused your brother of being the thief who’d just made off with his sister’s bracelet, and in all the ensuing confusion’ – he flung his arms out to great dramatic and triumphant effect – ‘slipped his fingers into your brother’s waistcoat and pocketed his valuables.’
Lucy remembered Edward’s account of the night that he met Lily Millington. She and Clare and Mother – even their maid, Jenny, who was listening from where she was pouring the pot of breakfast tea – had exchanged fond, knowing glances when he told them that he’d had to walk the whole way home because he had been so transfixed by the young woman’s face, so excited at the prospects that it presented, that he’d managed somehow to lose his wallet. Forgetfulness in the face of inspiration was so in keeping with Edward’s nature that none of them had thought to question it – not to mention, his wallet had been as empty as it ever was, so recovering it was of no great consideration. But according to Inspector Wesley, the wallet had not been lost at all; it had been taken – stolen from Edward by that man, Martin, at the very moment that Edward had believed himself to have been coming to Lily Millington’s rescue.
‘You mark my words,’ the inspector said, ‘because I’ll eat my hat if I’m wrong. A man doesn’t spend thirty years wading through the rot and the filth of London’s streets without learning a thing or two about the despicable elements of human nature.’
And yet, Lucy had witnessed the way Lily Millington looked at Edward, the way they were together. She couldn’t believe that it was all a ploy.
‘Thieves, actresses and illusionists,’ the inspector said with a tap to the side of his nose when Lucy said as much. ‘Cut from the same cloth, they are. Great pretenders, tricksters all.’
Viewed through the prism of Inspector Wesley’s theory, Lucy could see how Lily Millington’s actions might not have been exactly as they had seemed. And Lucy had observed Lily with the man. Martin. That’s what she had called him. ‘What are you doing here?’ she’d said, and, ‘You must go, Martin. I said a month.’ And the man, Martin, had replied, ‘You did, but you’re a fast worker, one of the best,’ and he’d held up a pair of tickets and said, ‘America … the land of new beginnings.’
But Lily hadn’t left the house with Martin. Lucy knew that she hadn’t, for Lucy had locked Lily Millington in the hideaway. She was sure she could remember feeling proud when she revealed the hidden chamber.
Lucy tried to say as much, but Inspector Wesley only said, ‘I know all about the priest hole. That’s where you were hidden, Miss Radcliffe, not Miss Millington,’ and he reminded her of the bump on her head and told her that she should rest, calling for the doctor: ‘The child is confused again, Doctor. I fear I’ve worn her out with my questions.’