The Murder Of Gonzago

15

They walked along an interminable avenue of tall houses with elegant if faded façades, none of which seemed to show any sign of life. If one could imagine a terrace of tombs, Payne murmured. Several moments later, having arrived at their destination, he observed that the steps to Hortense Tilling’s front door were as steep as the side of a pyramid; one would hesitate to knock on the door for fear of a mummy emerging, didn’t Antonia think?

‘No, I don’t. Sometimes, Hugh, I do wonder if you say these silly things with the sole purpose of finding out if I’m listening.’ Antonia grasped the door knocker resolutely.

‘Well, murder will out! Old deceits claim their dues! They always say that, don’t they? Thy sin will find thee. I have been dreading this moment. Absolutely dreading it.’ Hortense Tilling shut her eyes. ‘Someone turning up out of the blue. The moment of truth. Having to explain.’ She was holding her hand at her throat. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have let you in, but it’s too late for that now.’

‘If you show us the door, we shall march back to it with complete submission,’ Payne said gravely.

‘Will you really?’ She hesitated. ‘No – I hate making scenes. I haven’t got the strength. I am afraid I don’t feel awfully well. I have this persistent, rather sickening sense of down-rushing ruin, as if I’ve been flung off a precipice… It’s loneliness that’s said to beget loquaciousness, though in my case it is nerves. I talk too much, don’t I?’

‘No, not at all,’ Antonia said. They wanted her to talk.

‘Would you like to sit down?’

‘Thank you,’ Payne said. ‘Most kind.’

They had decided to call on Hortense Tilling without giving her any notice. Always more effective than trying to make arrangements over the phone. Didn’t give her the chance to say no and put down the receiver.

‘I might as well offer you tea,’ Hortense said.

‘Tea would be lovely,’ Antonia said.

‘I must give you scones too. With Devonshire cream and seedless raspberry jam? Though let me calm down first. My nerves are in a bad state, you see.’

‘Perhaps you should sit down for a bit?’

‘No, no, my dear. I’d rather stand. It induces in me the feeling of being in control. It’s completely illusory. Could we pretend we have known each other for years and this is a social call?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Payne said.

‘Perhaps we could talk about the weather first? It will make things easier, I think. I find talking about the weather relaxing, don’t you?’

She was a thin, birdlike woman in her sixties, wearing a silk dress in what Antonia thought were strong dead colours: dark red and old gold and purple. Her face was pale pink and gently wrinkled, her silver hair parted in the middle, and she wore round horn-rimmed spectacles which seemed to accentuate her oddly pious expression and made her look rather like a nun.

‘Isn’t it cold today?’ Antonia said.

‘There was a chill drizzle from the north-east as we set out.’ Payne glanced towards the window.

‘It feels more like autumn than spring,’ said Hortense.

‘Spring is late this year,’ Antonia said.

‘It is, isn’t it, my dear? Terribly late. I keep shivering, even with the central heating on. Well, that’s England for you. One shouldn’t wear silk. There! It’s done the trick. I already feel better.’ Hortense nodded. ‘Thank you.’

‘I imagine you are feeling the cold more acutely than us,’ Major Payne said. ‘Having returned from the Caribbean not so long ago? Did the Caribbean agree with you?’

‘It did, to start with.’ She clasped her hands before her. ‘Have you been to the Caribbean? No? Cobalt blue skies – cicadas – dragonflies with diamond wings. Fizzing hot days, as my father used to say. The endless susurrus of the sea. An easy life. La dolce vita. Used to be my idea of paradise. But then – then it all changed.’

‘Because of Lord Remnant’s death?’

‘Well, yes. The morning after he died, I took a walk round the island and I was struck by the amazing absence of meaningful ambulation. The idea depressed me. Oh how it depressed me. I’d never thought in those terms before, you see. Suddenly I felt faint-’

‘Was it very hot?’

‘Well, yes, but up till then I hadn’t minded the heat. It was the kind of heat that’s been described as “swooning”… Everybody on the beach was in a horizontal position, limp and languorous, fanning themselves. I had the odd sense people were horizontal in their very souls. What a silly thing to say! Do forgive me. Why am I standing here? I was going to do something, wasn’t I?’

‘You were going to make us tea,’ Antonia said brightly.

‘Tea, yes! Let’s have tea! The cup that cheereth!’

She disappeared into the kitchen.

The sofa was large and the colour of whipped cream. They sat among a proliferation of ancient tasselled cushions of petit-point. The wall above the sofa was covered with framed photographs, some of which had faded to so pale a brown that it was simply the pattern of the black rectangles of their frames on the pale cream walls that seemed to serve the purpose of decoration. But there were some good, clear ones…

It was the photograph of a stunningly beautiful dark-haired girl that drew their attention. The girl’s hair was done in the style of the early sixties, her shoulders bare, one hand held clasped under her chin. Round her wrist she wore a striking bracelet in the shape of a coiled snake, most probably a cobra, made from what looked like black pearls.

Payne raised a quizzical eyebrow at Antonia. ‘That our hostess? Can’t be.’

‘I think it’s her… many summers ago. She’s still got the same smile.’

‘Golly, yes.’

‘Isn’t time cruel?’

‘Merciless.’ Payne’s eyes had strayed towards the bookcase. ‘Books on adoption… Cuckoo in the Nest. I can’t help noticing people’s books, can you?’

‘I find myself instinctively disapproving of people who have no books in their houses. In a funny kind of way it puts me on guard,’ Antonia said. ‘I don’t think I can be friends with people who don’t read.’

‘I can’t be friends with people who read the wrong kind of books… Dan Brown, J. K. Rowling, Martina Cole, old McCall Smith, Jeffery Deaver – or is that unfair?’

‘Do you think she’s been considering adoption? A bit old for that,’ Antonia whispered.

‘The books are also old, which suggests she may have considered it when she was younger.’

‘I am worried about her. She is in a febrile state… She seems scared out of her wits.’

Payne’s eyes were back on the photograph. ‘What a magnificent bracelet that is… Now where-?’

There was a tinkling sound as Hortense Tilling reentered the room, a tea-tray in her hands. ‘In case you are wondering, that’s me, yes. You wouldn’t think it, would you? Vogue offered me a modelling contract, but my mother made me turn it down. My mother disapproved of models. She feared for my virtue. It all seems like a dream now. I was an altogether different person then.’ She hummed the tune of ‘Where Is The Life That Late I Led?’ She set the tea-tray on the coffee table.

‘I have been admiring your bracelet,’ Payne said.

‘Ah, the Keppel Clasp.’

‘The Keppel Clasp? Is that what it’s called? Exquisite craftsmanship. Is it Fabergé?’

‘It is. You are a connoisseur, I see. As it happens, Mrs Keppel was a distant relation on my mother’s side. The clasp was a present to her from you-know-who.’ She picked up the silver pot and started pouring out tea.

‘Edward VII?’

‘Indeed. From Kingy. I believe that’s what she called him. The stout sceptred satyr… Sugar? No?’

‘It’s in the form of a snake,’ said Antonia.

‘Yes. Are you squeamish about snakes? I don’t blame you. Most people are. But snakes can be so beautiful… The snake’s head and the tail form a knot, did you notice?’

‘Yes. Most unusual. Exquisite craftsmanship,’ Payne said again.

‘The Keppel Clasp was quite unique.’ Hortense sighed.

‘Why the past tense? Haven’t you still got it?’ Antonia asked.

‘I am afraid not. I’d love to be able to show it to you, my dear, but it is no longer in my possession. The Keppel Clasp was stolen from me. A long time ago. I hadn’t even had it insured. Well, I believe I was punished for being a bad girl.’ A shadow passed across her face.

There was a pause.

‘Delicious scones,’ Antonia said. ‘I love raspberry jam.’

‘It’s home-made. I love making jam. Something comforting about jam-making.’ Hortense perched on the arm of an armchair. ‘How curious that you should have turned up. I was right. I mean I knew that sooner or later someone would ring my front door bell! I knew it was only a question of time, though of course I had no idea who it would be. The police? Private detectives? The intelligence service? Men in black? Anyhow, now that I have met you, the worst is over.’

‘Fear of the unknown is the worst kind of fear,’ Payne said amiably.

‘Well, the heavens didn’t fall and there wasn’t a great bolt of lightning! You are not related to the Remnant family, are you?’

‘Only in an exceedingly distant sort of way. My aunt tried to explain exactly how, but it all sounded too convoluted and far-fetched for words. I met Felicity Fenwick yesterday, for the first time. You are Clarissa’s aunt, correct?’

‘Correct. I am Clarissa’s mother’s sister. Clarissa’s late mother. I am Clarissa’s only living relation. Poor child. I care deeply about my daughter – I mean niece – Clarissa is like a daughter to me… I must admit I always had misgivings about Clarissa’s marriage to Lord Remnant. I’d heard stories. I knew something would go wrong at some point. I felt it in my bones.’

‘Was he really as awful as that?’ Antonia asked.

For a moment or two, Hortense gazed at them, saying nothing. Then she leant forward slightly. ‘I believe he was truly evil. That marriage should never have taken place, never. I tried to warn Clarissa but she wouldn’t listen to me. Marriage is a serious affair, to be entered into only after long deliberation and forethought, and suitability of tastes and inclinations should be considered very carefully indeed. I don’t think Clarissa had much in common with Remnant, apart from a penchant for theatricals.’

‘He was older than her, wasn’t he?’

‘Much older. I suspect she was dazzled by his ancient title and – and by that island. How I hate that island!’ Hortense cried. ‘Almost as much as I hate St George’s Church. At one time I felt like burning St George’s Church to the ground. I really did.’

‘St George’s Church in Hanover Square?’

‘Yes. That was where the wedding took place. That’s where the accursed Remnant married her. Irrational of me, I know, but that’s how I felt. Poor Clarissa. No daughter of mine should have had to endure-’ Hortense broke off. ‘I keep saying things I shouldn’t be saying. Somehow you have succeeded in goading me into unguarded speech. I keep forgetting you are perfect strangers.’

‘That’s not such a bad thing, is it?’ Antonia smiled.

‘Did you say Felicity Fenwick showed you a tape? And perhaps you believe that it was I who sent it? What if I denied any knowledge of the tape?’

‘Somehow I don’t think you would.’

‘You exude such certainty, Major Payne. It is reassuring somehow. It is Major Payne, isn’t it? Of course you have nothing to do with the police?’

‘Nothing at all.’

‘I hope I never have to talk to the police, though heaven knows what the future holds… Do remind me of your name, my dear?’

‘Antonia.’

‘And you and Major Payne are-? Sorry! I have no business asking questions like that.’

‘Husband and wife.’

‘Husband and wife. I am so glad. Makes such a difference. You strike me as extremely nice people, if you don’t mind my saying so. I am rarely wrong. I suppose I am old enough to be your mother?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Antonia said. ‘We are not as young as you seem to think.’

‘I can never tell people’s ages. I believe you to be of superior intelligence, but also sensitive, understanding, compassionate and, most importantly, sympathetic. I have the feeling I have known you a long time.’

‘I am glad you don’t find us threatening.’

‘Murder is a terrible business. I keep thinking of those characters in Elizabethan tragedies, who burst into castle halls, shouting, “Murdered – he’s been murdered!”… I can’t get what happened out of my head… Didn’t someone describe murder as a tangible expression of hysteria? No, I am fine, Antonia, just a touch of vertigo. I haven’t been eating properly. Another cushion, yes, thank you, dear.’

‘Have you taken anything?’ Payne asked. ‘Any medication?’

‘I have been taking some tablets. I believe they are quite strong and they seem to have a number of side effects. In normal circumstances I am much more reticent. I was prescribed tablets for anxiety, you see. I was in such a bad state, I had to go to the doctor’s.’

‘You don’t have to apologize,’ Antonia said.

‘I tend to regard going to the doctor’s as an unnecessary indulgence. My mother was like that. My mother was terribly puritanical… Poor Clarissa told me she was taking something too. We are so alike. I have no idea about the Hunters’ current state of mind. I don’t know whether they are being gnawed at by their guilty conscience or whether they have managed to draw a veil over the whole shocking episode.’

‘You know the Hunters well?’

‘No, not at all well. We were fellow guests. I’d never met them before. She likes tea and he likes coffee. She is a big lumbering woman. He has a moustache. He is something of a Dismal Desmond. That’s all I know about them. I don’t think they communicate much. Communication is important in a marriage, isn’t it?’

‘A sine qua non,’ Payne said solemnly.

Hortense took a sip of tea. ‘Dr Valdemar wanted me to tell him what the trouble was, such a kind man, and I did want to tell him, but of course I couldn’t. The same thing happened when a clergyman friend came to see me the other day. Toute vérité n’est pas bonne à dire. He said he would pray for me. I am not boring you, am I?’

‘Not at all,’ Antonia reassured her.

Sometimes she found herself telling the truth only partially – or with distortions, Hortense went on. ‘Not the whole truth, if you know what I mean. I’ve managed to convince myself it makes me feel better. That it assuages the emotional chaos inside me. Who said, Trust me not at all, or all in all?’

‘Tennyson, I think,’ Payne said.

‘Tennyson, yes. The Victorians knew all about trust, didn’t they? You know the story of King Midas who had ass’s ears? He kept trying to conceal them, poor wretch, couldn’t live with the awful truth, so he dug a hole in the ground and jumped in and whispered, “King Midas has ass’s ears!” Then he filled up the hole, but the earth, being a woman, spread the story and the reeds started whispering, “King Midas has donkey’s ears!”’

‘We promise to be more discreet than Mrs Earth,’ Payne said. ‘Ass’s ears, eh? Why does this ring a bell? Oh yes. There was someone dressed up as an ungulate that night, wasn’t there? Or rather, as Bottom after his transformation?’

‘So you saw the shadow? I dreamt of it the other night. Well, we all knew he was there. I mean Stephan. He should have been kept in his room, under lock and key. We ought to have taken better care of him, then, perhaps, tragedy would have been averted.’

‘Shall I pour you another cup of tea?’

‘Yes, thank you, Antonia. Well, I must say this doesn’t feel like an inquisition at all. I assume it was Lord Remnant who asked you to look into the matter? I mean the new Lord Remnant. The thirteenth earl. The former Mr Fenwick.’

‘We are actually acting on behalf of Lady Remnant,’ Payne explained.

‘Lady Remnant? You mean Clarissa asked you-? But that’s impossible!’ Hortense looked at him wildly. ‘No. Clarissa is the Dowager Lady Remnant now. The Dowager Countess. Dear me. So confusing! You mean Felicity Fenwick of course. Poor Clarissa is far from well, but she said she didn’t want me to feel sorry for her. She was a bit snappy with me. It causes me such pain – if only she knew!’

‘You phoned her?’

‘I did. I keep phoning her. I want to know how she is. I care about her deeply.’ Hortense’s eyes were fixed on the bookcase. ‘If only I’d had the chance to bring her up myself, things might have been different… She seemed at first to think I was a man! My voice sounded terribly hoarse, I suppose. I only said, “That you, Clarissa?” She gasped. She sounded scared out of her wits, poor child. It really made me feel guilty.’

Payne frowned. ‘Why was she so scared? Who did she think it was?’

‘I have no idea. When she realized it was me, she got angry. Scolded me for having frightened her.’

‘Shall I butter you a scone, Miss Tilling?’ Antonia suggested.

‘No, my dear. Nothing to eat. I couldn’t possibly. You are too kind. But I’d like some more tea. My mouth feels dry. I am so terribly thirsty. It’s those pills. One of the side effects. Thank you. None of what took place at La Sorcière was Clarissa’s fault. Poor Clarissa is the victim of circumstance. I can’t begin to tell you how much I worry about Clarissa.’ Hortense’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Words can’t express it. Each morning I wake up wondering if she is all right.’

‘You are her mother, aren’t you?’ Antonia said gently.