A Bitter Truth

Chapter Sixteen

I drove with great care the rest of the way to the turning for Vixen Hill, and in spite of that, the tires swerved in a rut, and Sophie woke up and started to cry again. She was hungry and very, very tired. I was so grateful that Inspector Rother hadn’t seen her in the darkness.

Sergeant Larimore had had her best interests at heart, but he hadn’t thought it through any more than I had when I began to search for Sophie.

We pulled up in front of the door to the hall, and I turned off the motor.

In the quiet that followed, Sophie sniffed and looked at me as if to ask why we were stopping. “C’est votre maison, maintenant, chérie. Votre nouvelle maison.”

This is your home now, dear one. Your new home.

She turned to look up at the imposing house before her, tears still streaking her cheeks, and then held up her arms to me to take her out of the motorcar.

Keeping her well wrapped against the cold, I carried her to the door and lifted the knocker. But Daisy must have heard the motorcar arrive, because she opened the door at once.

“Oh, Miss, we was so worried!”

“I’m sorry, Daisy. It’s a long story. Is-everyone all right?”

“Yes, Miss. It was you we was worried about.” She peered into the shadows at the bundle I was carrying. “Is that a baby?”

“A child,” I said, “hungry and tired and frightened.”

“I’ve looked after my brothers and sisters,” she said. “I can manage. But where did she come from?” She reached for Sophie, who pulled away.

“I’ll take her down to the kitchens, Daisy. Will you lead the way?”

There was no one in the hall as we entered. Daisy had been building up the fire when I knocked, her tongs lying on the carpet, an extra log in the wood box for the evening. She hastily put the tongs back where she’d found them, and, dusting her hands, she went through the door into the passage.

“The family is dressing for dinner,” she said. “Should I send for Mrs. Matthew?”

“Later, perhaps.”

We made it to the kitchen without meeting anyone. Around me sat the array of dishes that would be taken to the sitting room in another quarter of an hour. Onions baked in a cream sauce, a side dish of greens, a small platter of roasted chicken and potatoes. I felt my own empty stomach growl at the sight.

We put Sophie down in one of the wooden chairs, and Daisy found milk for her in the pantry, as well as a scone that had been left over from tea.

Sophie sat on my lap and drank the milk, then nibbled at the scone, her gaze sweeping the kitchen and then scanning Daisy’s face. I expect she had never seen so much food or been in a room quite so warm. After a moment she got down and held out the cup to be filled again, and still nibbling at the scone, she considered me.

I smiled. “ Je m’appelle Bess, ” I said softly. I call myself Bess.

Daisy stared. “What was that you said, Miss?”

“It’s French-” I could have bitten my tongue. But I was tired, it had been over twenty-four hours since I’d slept, and I’d driven miles.

Daisy’s eyes grew wide. “This isn’t the little girl that was spoken of in the drawing room before the Lieutenant was killed?” She studied the small, tear-streaked face. “My good lord, she does look like Miss Juliana, in that portrait.”

“How did you hear about her?” I asked sharply. “You weren’t in the drawing room that night.”

“No, Miss, but the lad who brings our order from the greengrocer’s is brother to the cook at Dr. Tilton’s house, and she overheard them talking about the child. They said it was Mr. Roger’s. Is that true?”

“You’ll have to ask him,” I said. “Will you make up a little porridge, or a pudding?”

“Yes, Miss, and there’s an extra potato left in the pot. I can make up a little soup with the broth from the chicken.”

“Yes, that will do well.” I held out my arms to Sophie, and after a moment she came to them, wary and uncertain. “I’ll take her to my room for now. And I’d rather you didn’t say anything until after-”

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Lydia came in. “Was there someone at the door-” She too broke off in midsentence.

“Bess! Where on earth have you been? “And then she saw Sophie, whose face had crumpled at the sight of the newcomer, and I remembered that the nuns had said that there were few visitors who saw the children.

“Is that-oh, Bess, where did you find her? How?” She came around to the other side of the table. “Dear God,” she whispered as she saw Sophie clearly. “She’s Roger’s daughter. She must be.”

“I don’t know whose child she is,” I said quickly. “And she’s here only for a very short time. The nuns in France-”

“I don’t care about the nuns,” Lydia said, and dropped to her knees before Sophie. “Can she understand us?”

“She speaks only French,” I said.

To my surprise, Lydia began to speak to Sophie in French that was far better than mine. I hadn’t known she’d studied the language, much less spoke it so well.

For a moment Sophie leaned back against me, staring at Lydia. But the accent was familiar enough that after a moment Sophie began to reply. Tentative at first, and then more readily.

Lydia asked her name and where she was from, how old she was-the sort of questions an adult usually puts to a child.

I said, “Where did you learn to speak French?”

She answered, never taking her eyes from Sophie, “When I was fourteen, we had a French mistress at our school. I won a prize for the best accent.”

“She’s very tired,” I told Lydia. “I was just about to take her to my room. She isn’t used to so many strangers at once.”

“No, I want her in my room. There’s Davis’s cat, she’ll like Bluebell, and I can get to know her.” She got up from her knees and flung her arms around me. “Bess, you’re wonderful. I’m so grateful. You can’t know how grateful.”

“She isn’t yours,” I insisted. “She must go back to France as soon as I can return her to the convent. The nuns will be frantic, there was a fire-”

Lydia’s face hardened. “She’s not going anywhere. She’s mine. I won’t let her be taken back to France.”

I said wearily, “You don’t have any choice, Lydia. She’s not yours. Nor is she mine. There are laws, papers, arrangements to be made.”

“Then we’ll make them. Why should she live out a life of drudgery in a convent? Look at her, she’s the image of Juliana. Roger is her father, he can tell the French authorities that he’s adopting her. Or whatever they call it in France.”

“He doesn’t know she’s here. He may not want to keep her.”

“Yes, he will. She’s his flesh and blood. And I’m his wife.”

There was no reasoning with her. Before I could say anything else, make any stronger arguments, she had lifted Sophie into her arms, asking the child if she wanted to see the cat.

Sophie’s tired face brightened, and she nodded.

“See?” Lydia said to me over her shoulder. “She’s happy with me.”

“She’s hungry, Lydia. I’ve asked Daisy to make her a light supper after the family has dined.”

“That’s a lovely idea. Daisy, ask Molly to bring a tray to my room.” She corrected herself. “The room I’m using. And some bedding, please. Pillows, a quilt or two.”

“We’ll see to it,” Daisy promised her. “But isn’t she the dearest little thing?”

And Lydia was out the door, calling over her shoulder, “Bess, please, will you tell the family I have a headache? I won’t be dining tonight.”

And she was gone.

I didn’t know how I was to get through the dinner ahead. I debated going after Lydia and taking Sophie away from her. But that would only serve to frighten Sophie and make her cry.

“I must hurry and change,” I said and left the room before Daisy or the cook, Mrs. Long, could ask any more questions.

I bathed my face and hands, changed out of the uniform I had worn for nearly two days straight, and put on the only evening dress I had with me, a dark blue one that was more practical than it was stylish.

When I came down to the drawing room ten minutes later, everyone turned to stare as I crossed the threshold.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Ellis. When I went to Hartfield to take the call, I was asked to proceed at once to Dover. There was no one I could ask to carry a message to you.”

“Why Dover?” Roger Ellis asked, suspicion darkening his eyes.

“There was a problem with one of my patients. Daisy said you’d been worried, and I apologize for that as well.” I looked from Mrs. Ellis to Margaret and then to Gran. “As Captain Ellis can tell you, duty is not a matter of choice.”

“We were quite concerned, especially after the situation in Hartfield. We were afraid something had happened to you.” She went to the table by the window. “There’s a little sherry left of our trove. You look as if you could use something to lift your spirits. Was it very bad in Dover?”

I took the sherry gratefully, feeling its burn as I swallowed it. “I drove straight there with a Major on his way to join his regiment, and I returned, without sleep. Yes, Dover was quite trying.” While I still held the floor, I asked, “But what were the police doing in Hartfield? I had to leave before I could discover what their interest was in Bluebell Cottage. The constables were holding everyone back. Tonight, when I encountered Inspector Rother on the road, he told me that they were searching for another body. But he refused to tell me any more than that.”

“A body?” Mrs. Ellis turned to her son. “You didn’t say anything about a body.”

“It was mostly over by the time I got there,” he replied. “I told you, I asked Mr. Smyth what was going on, and he said he wasn’t at liberty to tell me.” He turned to me. “Just where did you run into Rother?”

“There’s a track coming in from the left that meets the main track running past Vixen Hill. A mile or two from where your lane turns to the right. He was coming from that direction.”

Roger said, “There’s the ruin of a windmill that way. Not much else.”

“And you’re sure he said a body?” Margaret asked, a frown between her eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure. I was asking him about the excitement in Hartfield. And that’s when he told me. I think he was too angry with me for leaving to say any more than he had. My-punishment-for disappearing.”

“He’s incompetent,” Gran said. “I’d complain to the Chief Constable if I thought it would do any good.”

“It can’t be easy for him,” Margaret pointed out. “He hounds us because he doesn’t know where else to turn and George was our houseguest.”

Before I could make Lydia’s excuses, Daisy came to the door to announce dinner. Mrs. Ellis said, “We’re waiting for Lydia. She hasn’t come down.”

Daisy flicked a glance in my direction then said, “She has a headache, ma’am, and doesn’t feel up to having dinner.”

“Then I should go up to her,” Mrs. Ellis said.

Daisy hastily improvised. “I think she’s sleeping. She’s asked for a tray later.”

“Well, then,” Gran said, “there’s no reason to let our own dinner spoil.”

She led the way into the dining room, and as we were taking our places, I saw Roger Ellis watching me with wary eyes.

We didn’t linger over dinner. And when everyone went to the hall to have our tea, Roger Ellis caught my arm and held me back.

We stood there in the dining room, the remains of dinner on the table behind us, and waited until the others were out of earshot.

“What took you to Dover?” he asked in a low voice. “It wasn’t duty. They wouldn’t summon a nursing sister from Sussex to deal with a patient in Kent.”

“I actually did meet a former patient and got him transferred back to the Base Hospital in Rouen.” I pulled my arm from his grasp.

“Rouen? What was he doing in Dover?”

“He’d been badly burned in a fire, and was out of his head. They put him on the ship by mistake.”

“The devil they did! Why did you go to Dover?”

I took a deep breath. He would learn about Sophie soon enough.

“It’s true. As far as it goes. But the fire was in Rouen, a street of houses burning. In one of them lived a handful of dispossessed nuns caring for a number of French orphans. Your daughter was among them. Thank God the children were rescued, and the man who brought her out of the fire knew I’d been searching for such a child. He brought her to me. Only I didn’t know that when I drove to Kent. I only knew that a man I’d treated in France was in Dover without proper papers and in a great deal of trouble. It wasn’t until I’d got there that he told me the rest of the story.”

“You knew when I met you in Rouen where she was. I suspected it then. I know it now. Why did you lie to me?” He was very angry.

“I didn’t lie. I didn’t feel it was the right time to tell you the whole truth. What could you have done? Nothing. Which is all I was able to do. And-to be perfectly honest-I didn’t know what you intended to do when you found Sophie.”

“Did you believe I would harm her? I only wanted to pay for her upkeep, to give her a chance at a decent life.”

“But not to bring her to England.”

“Where is this child now?”

I hesitated. “Here. At Vixen Hill. I didn’t know where else to take her, and I’d already been away from Sussex too long. But I must find a way to return her to France as soon as possible. The nuns will think she’s dead in the fire. Or worse. That’s not right. The Sergeant meant well, he thought he was doing what was best. But he shouldn’t have taken her away. The nuns are the only family she’s ever known. And the other children are her family-”

He cut me short, his voice harsh. “Is she in your room?”

“No. Lydia came into the kitchen when I was trying to feed her and comfort her. She took her to the room above the hall.”

He swore then, and started for the stairs. I went quickly after him, and said, “Whatever you want to say to me or to your wife, you will not frighten that child. Do you hear me?”

“I don’t frighten children.”

But I thought in the mood he was in, he might not remember Sophie. And so I followed him.

When we came to the room Lydia had taken over, he knocked, and then without waiting for an invitation to enter, he opened the door and walked in.

Lydia, startled, looked at him and then her gaze slid to me. “You told him,” she accused.

Beside her on the cushions spread about the floor, the cat and the child were curled up asleep. She moved away from them and stood up to face her husband.

He didn’t look at Sophie. His eyes were on his wife. “Her father’s name is Hebert. She is not my child.”

“You’ve only to look at her to know she is,” Lydia retorted. “Whatever name you used.”

“He was a French officer. He died in the fighting six months before she was born. Her mother died of childbed fever.”

Lydia shook her head. “You can’t deny her, Roger. It would be cruel to try.”

“You can’t keep her,” he said doggedly. “Ask Bess, if you don’t believe me.”

“She’s here. And she’ll stay with me. I don’t care about French law or the nuns or anything else.”

“Lydia,” I began, but she shook her head a second time.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. Roger made his choice. I’ve made mine. I’ll have a child now. It’s what I wanted from the beginning. And you needn’t worry about me anymore.”

“How will you explain her to the world, Lydia?” I asked. “You must think about this practically, not emotionally. Will you let everyone in Ashdown Forest point her out as Roger’s love child? She’ll be under that cloud for the rest of her life, if you aren’t careful. She’s not yours. She must go back to France. If Roger wants her, he can go through the proper procedures. I’ll take her back as soon as possible.”

“You won’t. I won’t let you. Now go away, both of you. I’ve nothing more to say.” And she turned her back on us, walking to the window and looking out into the darkness.

Roger tried to argue with her, to no avail. And then she said, suddenly turning toward us, “There’s a motorcar coming up the lane. I expect it must be the police.”

She turned toward the bed, intent on taking up the sleeping child and going somewhere with her.

I said, “Lydia, stop! The police don’t know anything about this. They’ve come because there was another murder, not for Sophie.”

She hesitated. “You’re lying to me.”

“No. There’s no way they could have discovered anything about her. Even if the French police are searching everywhere, there’s nothing to lead them to Sussex.”

Roger looked at me. “You have more explaining to do,” he said, and then turned and went out of the room. I could hear his steps on the stairs.

Lydia hovered protectively over Sophie, daring me to take her away.

I said, “Are you sure you want a child who looks so much like Juliana?”

“I don’t care what she looks like. It won’t matter.”

“But it might to your husband. Did you see? He never looked in Sophie’s direction. He doesn’t want to know how much she looks like his sister. He doesn’t want to be reminded.”

“He’ll change his mind in time. You don’t know him, Bess.”

I was getting nowhere, and I could just hear the knock at the hall door.

I said, “We’ll have to deal with this later,” and followed Roger Ellis down the stairs.

When I walked into the hall, I saw that Lydia was right. Inspector Rother had just been admitted. He crossed to the hearth and put out his hands to the blaze, saw that I had joined the others, and nodded. “You’re all here then. Except for Mrs. Roger Ellis,” he said. “Will you please bring her down to hear what I have to say.”

“She has a headache. I hope you will allow her to rest now,” I answered him.

“Very well. We’ve come to search Vixen Hill.”

Captain Ellis moved a little from where he stood. “I’ll know the reason why before I allow you to search my house and upset my family.”

Inspector Rother said, “We’ve searched the Forest in every direction. The windmill, the church, the villages, everywhere. This is the only place we haven’t been.”

Roger flicked a glance in my direction. I knew what he was thinking: Had the hue and cry gone up for Sophie Hebert after all? Or was this police business of another sort?

But Sergeant Larimore would never have given us away, even if somehow he’d been connected to her disappearance. I moved my head just a fraction, and Captain Ellis saw it.

He said, “That’s all well and good, Inspector. But you’ve yet to tell me why you must invade my privacy.”

“Very well,” he said grudgingly. “Dr. Tilton went out on his rounds yesterday afternoon. His last patient was Mrs. Jenkins, who lives in Wych Cross and suffers from sciatica. He saw her, and as he was leaving, she offered him tea, but he told her he was expected home for his own. But he never arrived. Someone suggested he might have gone into Bluebell Cottage, which is of course empty now. And so we went there to look for him. There was no sign that he’d been in the cottage. That’s when we began searching the Forest.”

“He’s not here. I can give you my word on that.”

“That may well be. But this is a large house, you don’t use all the rooms these days. And the grounds are extensive.”

Roger Ellis considered the request. “I shall give my consent with one reservation. I was just in to see my wife, and asked Sister Crawford to give her something for her headache. She’s in the room above the hall, here. You will not disturb her.”

“Agreed,” the Inspector said with poor grace.

He went to the door and admitted his men. Among them was Constable Bates, whom none of us could abide. As they spread out to search, I said, “Who told you that the doctor had gone into Bluebell Cottage?”

“It was his wife,” the Inspector answered. “Mary Tilton. His mother is coming up from Eastbourne to live closer to him, and if Bluebell Cottage was to her liking, he was prepared to make an offer for it.” He turned and followed his men from the room.

We sat there in silence, the tea that Daisy had brought in while I was upstairs with Lydia and Roger growing cold.

After a moment Mrs. Ellis said, “I do hope they’ll be careful and not break anything.”

“Or pocket anything,” Gran added sourly. “I don’t trust the police.”

“Why should Dr. Tilton have gone missing?” Margaret asked. “I can see that he might have been summoned to see another patient in an emergency. But if that were true, surely he’d have sent word to his wife?”

“One would think so,” Mrs. Ellis replied distractedly, listening to any sound from the search.

“I wish Henry was here,” Margaret said. “I’m afraid.”

“There’s no need to be frightened,” her brother told her. But I thought she’d been away from the Forest long enough to feel differently about it.

After what seemed to be hours, the police returned.

Roger, standing by the fire, came forward to meet the Inspector.

“Are you finished?”

“All but searching the grounds.”

They left, and we could see their torches flashing as they spread out across the grounds.

Gran said, “If they were as clever as they think they are, they’d have come here before dark. Those torches will do them no good, and we shall have them back tomorrow. Wait and see.”

And as she had prophesized, they returned at first light in the morning.

I was first down to breakfast, judging by the dishes that Daisy had set out.

When Roger Ellis came in just minutes after me, I said, “What will you do about Sophie? Have you told the rest of your family that she’s here?”

“If I do,” he said tiredly, “there will be no hope of taking her back to France. You have put me-and that child-in an untenable situation.”

“I realized that, the instant I saw her in Dover. But I couldn’t leave England. And there was no safe way to return her.”

“The fool who brought her to you deserves to be taken out and shot.”

Before I could answer that, Mrs. Ellis came in. She had passed a sleepless night, her eyes dark-ringed, her face drawn.

“They’re out there, just as Gran predicted,” she said. “The police. Surely they don’t believe we could have harmed Dr. Tilton. It’s ridiculous.”

“They have their duty to perform,” her son told her. “I expect they rather enjoyed this one.”

“Yes, it’s so different since the war, isn’t it?” She filled her plate, then set it aside. “I don’t feel like eating after all. How is Lydia feeling this morning?”

“I haven’t disturbed her,” he answered.

She glanced at me. After a moment she asked him, “You and Lydia will make up this quarrel, won’t you? Whatever was said or not said, done or not done when she fled to London, surely it isn’t as important as your marriage. God knows your father and I didn’t always see eye to eye. About many things. But we loved each other.”

“Not enough to prevent him from killing himself over Juliana,” he retorted, then said at once, “No, I’m sorry, that was cruel and uncalled for.”

She bit her lip. “But so true, I’m afraid. We were all devastated, my dear. You as well as the rest of us. I don’t quite know how any of us survived. Well. I hope you and Lydia can find common ground to mend matters.”

“I’m willing to try,” he told her, but I didn’t think he meant it.

Just then Daisy came into the dining room. “That Inspector Rother is in the hall, and he wants to see the family.”

Mrs. Ellis rose. “I don’t think Gran is awake yet. Will you look, Daisy? And see if Miss Margaret has come down, as well.”

Roger was already heading for the door, passing Daisy and striding down the passage toward the hall. I waited for Mrs. Ellis and walked with her.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she said, speaking to herself as much as to me.

“I expect he’s come to say that the second search was no more successful than the first.”

“Pray God you’re right, Bess, dear. I don’t think any of us can endure much more.”

But as soon as I saw Inspector Rother’s face, I knew she was right.

Roger Ellis was already speaking to him as we came into the room. “You will not disturb my grandmother or my wife. What you have to say you can say to me.” He looked around as his mother came in. “I’ll deal with this, my dear. Don’t let it distress you.”

“But I’m afraid my news will distress all of you,” the Inspector said, looking from one to the other of us. “We have found Dr. Tilton’s body. It was lying in that culvert that runs past the barn. It’s overgrown, that’s why we didn’t find it last night.”

Mrs. Ellis grasped the back of a chair to steady herself. “Our barn? But how did he come to be here?” she said. “I don’t understand.”

“What happened to him?” her son was asking at the same time, his words cutting across hers.

“He was struck over the head. Murdered.” As Gran came into the room, followed by Margaret, he added with intense anger, “One of you in this household is a murderer. Three dead men at your doorstep, for all intents and purposes. Now what do you have to say for yourselves?”

There was a long silence as we digested his words. Then Roger Ellis said coldly, “Until you can prove that, I shall ask you to leave my house. Do what you must do to remove the doctor’s body, and then I’ll thank you to leave my land as well.”

Inspector Rother smiled. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I shall require statements from each of you regarding your whereabouts night before last. We’re waiting for Dr. Ledbetter from Groombridge. He will tell us the hours of interest. Until then we ask that you not leave the premises. I’ll be posting a constable at the door, meanwhile. At the moment I must go and break the news to Mrs. Tilton. You might spare a thought for her in her loss-”

He’d been standing with his back to the door. It opened, and I heard Margaret cry out. I turned in time to see her husband, Henry, walk through the door.

“What the hell is going on?” Henry demanded, looking from one to the other of us.

Inspector Rother said, “You were summoned days ago.”

“I know. There’s a war on, you see. I was rather busy.” He went directly to his wife, who held him as if he were the anchor she’d been waiting for.

“Where were you these last two nights?” Inspector Rother demanded.

“In London,” Henry replied shortly. “I couldn’t leave France, and when I did, I was seconded to carry dispatches to the War Office. My commanding officer doesn’t hold with provincial policemen disrupting his war.”

It was said to irritate, and it hit its mark. Inspector Rother flushed.

“Nevertheless, you will give your statement to one of my constables,” he said, and then turned to the rest of us.

“In your earlier statements, none of you reported the conversation in the drawing room that led to Lieutenant Hughes retiring early. No one, that is, save Dr. Tilton and his wife. Even the rector and his sister professed not to recall what led to the Lieutenant going up to his room. And by the next morning, Hughes was dead and Davis Merrit was accused of his murder. But Davis Merrit must have known something about that conversation. After all, Mrs. Lydia Ellis had rushed into Hartfield to speak to him on that fatal Saturday morning, and the only conclusion to be drawn is that she was upset by events and confided in him rather than her husband. Merrit disappeared, and again the only conclusion was that Merrit, in a fit of misplaced gallantry, rid Mrs. Lydia Ellis of this man who had upset her. But Merrit turned up dead, and not by his own hand, as we’d begun to suspect might be the case. And now Dr. Tilton, who might have appeared to be the tattler to the police, is dead.” He swung around toward me. “Indeed, Dr. Tilton had mentioned that you refused to allow him to question the Lieutenant more fully, and that you’d been ordered to accompany him to help put Hughes to bed by Roger Ellis himself.”

“I was sent because he was too unsteady to walk alone to his room. Captain Ellis gave me no instructions. The rector and his sister can verify that. I was acting in my capacity as a nurse, not a spy,” I replied shortly. “And if you question Mrs. Tilton on this subject, she will tell you that that’s the truth.”

“Nevertheless, Dr. Tilton is dead. On your property, Captain. Because he failed to keep your family’s secrets. Now I ask you to consider who among you had the greatest need to do murder.”

Mrs. Ellis stood up. Her face was pale, but her voice was steady. “It wasn’t my son,” she said. “I killed these men.”

Gran crossed the room and stood beside her. “Don’t believe her. I did it. I can even tell you how.”

We were all shocked into silence. Then Roger Ellis said sharply, “There’s no need to defend me. I can speak for myself.” He turned to Inspector Rother. “You’re telling us that these murders were done to keep the world from discovering that I possibly had a love child in France. This ‘love child’ of mine, however, is the daughter of Claudette and Gerard Hebert, both of whom are dead-the mother in childbirth, for which there are witnesses, and the father fighting in the French Army.”

There was the ring of truth in his voice, and it was the truth. As far as it went. As he finished, he flicked a glance in my direction, as if defying me to contradict him.

I had no intention of betraying his confidence. It would only hurt Lydia and stain Sophie’s reputation for all time.

“What do you know about this business, Sister Crawford?”

“I have seen this child.” I heard Mrs. Ellis and Gran gasp. “And no one has tried to kill me. What’s more, the nuns into whose care she was given called her Sophie Hebert.”

“Are you defending this man for personal reasons, Sister Crawford?”

“I am not. But if he has committed murder, it was not because of Sophie Hebert.”

He considered Roger Ellis, then said, “Thank you for being frank, sir. But it’s clear your family is not a party to this information. That leaves them as suspects in these murders.”

“I tell you, neither my mother nor my grandmother is capable of killing anyone.”

“How much strength does it take, Captain, to slip up behind a man and strike him hard on the back of the head, hard enough to break his skull? One blow was not sufficient for Lieutenant Hughes-he was left to drown while he was unconscious. But practice makes perfect, does it not? A single blow dispatched the other two victims.”

He hadn’t told us any of that. “What was the weapon?” I asked. “I thought a revolver was found by Merrit’s head?”

“A walking stick? One might carry that without suspicion. As for the revolver, it was window dressing.”

“But you’ve taken all the walking sticks in this house. Did you find that one of them had been used as a murder weapon?” Captain Ellis asked.

“You’re right. None of the sticks showed signs of use. But were these all the sticks that were here to start with? I questioned the staff, and they either can’t or refuse to help me.”

“What about William Pryor?” I asked him. “At one time you thought he might know more about the death of Lieutenant Hughes and even Davis Merrit than he was willing to admit.”

“I haven’t forgot Mr. Pryor,” he told me, and then said, “Mrs. Ellis, I’d like you to come with me.”

Roger stepped between his mother and Inspector Rother. “No. She’s had nothing to do with this business.”

Mrs. Ellis put her hand on her son’s arm. “Let me go with him, let him question me. The sooner we cooperate, the sooner this will be finished.”

“He’ll do his best to confuse you. I won’t have it. If he has questions, he can ask them here, in my presence.”

Gran said, “I have told you. I killed these men. You can decide, Inspector, which of us to believe.”

The door opened and Lydia walked in. I thought perhaps she’d been listening at the door, because she didn’t appear to be surprised to see the Inspector or to feel the tension in the room.

“Inspector, do I understand you to say that one of my family has killed three times to keep my husband’s secret love affair out of the public eye?”

“Indeed, Mrs. Ellis. That’s how it appears.”

“Well, you’re wrong. Why should any of us kill poor George or Davis, or even Dr. Tilton, when the child is here in this house, for all the world to see.”

I felt cold. This was Lydia’s attempt to make certain that Roger couldn’t send Sophie back to France. I couldn’t believe how misguided it was.

Inspector Rother stood there with his mouth open.

“I don’t believe you,” he said bluntly.

“Then I’ll prove it.” She turned back into the passage and held out her hand. Sophie Hebert reached for her fingers, and in front of all of us, Lydia led her into the hall.

She stood there, looking around with large, uncertain eyes. And then she saw me, turned Lydia’s hand loose, and rushed across the room to cling to my skirts, smiling up at me.

Lydia’s face froze.

Gran stopped stock-still, with such an expression of pain in her eyes that I took a step backward. Margaret sat down suddenly, as if her limbs could no longer hold her. And Mrs. Ellis’s knees buckled. If Roger hadn’t been quick enough to catch her, she would have fallen to the floor in a dead faint.

Holding his unconscious mother in his arms, Roger Ellis turned his back on the child, as if she were not in the room.

I lifted Sophie into my arms, and she leaned into me. “I think it best for me to take Sophie back upstairs.” Turning to Inspector Rother, I went on, “You have ruined a surprise, Inspector. I hope you are satisfied.”

But he didn’t hear me. Lydia started to follow me from the room, but Roger’s voice stopped her in midstride. I left them there and carried Sophie back to the room where Gran had once played with another small, fair-haired child, long ago.

She said, an arm around my shoulders, “Le chat?”

“Yes, we are going to see the cat. Will you stay there with it for a little bit? And I’ll bring you soup, perhaps a little cheese, and more biscuits.”

As I opened the door, she got down from my arms and went to the low bed of cushions, climbing into them and rousing Bluebell from her sleep. Giggling, she pulled a bit of green ribbon from her pocket and began to drag it over the bedclothes. I thought Lydia must have given her that.

Shutting the door, I went back to the hall, where Lydia was standing over the still-unconscious form of her mother-in-law while Gran was searching around the hearth for feathers to burn under Amelia Ellis’s nose. Lydia looked tearful now, and I thought that her grand entrance at the wrong time had suddenly dawned on her.

Gran found part of a feather from a duster caught in a length of wood sitting by the hearth, and held it to the flames for an instant. The nauseating odor of burning feathers filled the room, and she blew out the small spurt of fire on the tip before hurrying to Mrs. Ellis’s side to wave it under her nose.

Mrs. Ellis moaned a little, brushing weakly at the feather to push it away, and then opened her eyes. Looking around, she said, “Did I dream that Juliana was here?”

No one quite knew how to answer her.

Inspector Rother drew me to one side. “What happened? How long has that child been here? Why didn’t the others know she was here?”

“Mrs. Roger Ellis wanted to-to make sure Sophie was comfortable here before introducing her to everyone else. Sophie speaks only French, you see. And she doesn’t know these people.”

“Is Mrs. Lydia adopting her? The Captain didn’t appear to be keen on the idea.”

“She would like to, very much. There are procedures to be followed-” I let my voice fade away.

“So it’s not all that certain that the child will stay?”

I sighed. “She’s an orphan, Inspector. I’m not entirely sure what must be done.”

“They could still have killed Hughes, Merrit, and Dr. Tilton. Those women. Not knowing.”

“They could have,” I agreed. “But Mrs. Roger Ellis knew from the start that a search was being made. First by Lieutenant Hughes, and then by her husband.” I was praying he wouldn’t ask me how Sophie came to be here in the first place.

He cleared his throat, trying to attract the attention of a family who had all but forgot that he was even here.

Mrs. Ellis was crying, Gran was gripping her shoulder so tightly I could see that her fingertips were white from the pressure, and Lydia was staring up at her husband, silently pleading with him.

Roger Ellis was very angry. The back of his neck was red above the collar of his tunic. He turned, saw me, and came toward me, catching my arm and leading me to the outer door.

Inspector Rother shouted, “Here!” But Captain Ellis ignored him, slamming the door behind him.

If there was a guard posted, I didn’t see him, although a constable sat in Inspector Rother’s motorcar, staring out across the emptiness of the heath.

I pulled free and said, “Blame me if you like. Then go back to your family. They need you.”

“This is why I didn’t want anyone to know about that child. By bringing her here you’ve ripped open scars that had finally healed. You’ve given my wife the means to blackmail me for the rest of my days. You’ve caused irreparable harm by interfering. Are you satisfied?”

I held my ground before his onslaught. “Captain Ellis. You never wanted to see that child because you knew that if she looked as much like Juliana as George Hughes insisted that she did, you were more likely to be her father, not Hebert. And you couldn’t face that.”

He put his hands over his face and brought them down again, as if to scour the very flesh from the bones.

“God help me” was all he said.

I reached up and touched him, then let my hand drop. “There is nothing you can do about the past,” I said. “And there will be nothing you can do about the future. Your mother won’t let that child go now, and Gran will support her in that. She will become a little Juliana, with all the promise that was taken away when the real Juliana died. You must try to prevent that from happening. Lydia will help.”

“Lydia will want to keep her from them. For herself.” There was agony in his eyes. “What if Lydia dies? Just as Alan did? What then?”

“You think-you believe that your mother or your grandmother could be a murderer?”

He shook his head, but I could tell he didn’t know how to answer me.

“Do you believe they could have killed the others-George, and Davis Merrit, and even Dr. Tilton?”

“I don’t know. Damn it, I don’t know. Why did you do this to me? To us?”

“I never intended to bring Sophie to England without your permission, without the arrangements only you could make. The fire in the Rue St. Catherine changed that. I can only say I’m sorry. But in the end you would have had to face up to Sophie. Thanks to George Hughes, too many people knew she existed, and that was the end of secrecy for you.”

“Then why the killings?

“Perhaps,” I said wearily, “they have nothing to do with Sophie. And we’re just too blind to see it.”