A Place For Repentance (The Underwood Mysteries Book 6) Read online

  He found as the weeks wore on that he could not enter the Pump Rooms or indeed any other sort of watering place in Hanbury, without being hailed by one or the other of the ex-soldiers, insistent upon introducing him to one of their erstwhile comrades-in-arms, who had begun to descend upon the town in ever increasing numbers. He quickly realized that Adeline had not exaggerated when she had complained that word had spread rapidly amongst the old soldiers and they were only too happy to have an impromptu reunion in a place where they found they could very nearly take over the whole town for their own purposes. When it became evident that they were intending to make merry for several weeks, some of the more elderly and delicate visitors hastily decamped, much to the delight of Harrogate. However mothers of hopeful and unmarried daughters began to arrive in droves. Naturally some of Jeremy James’ old friends were penniless and permanently disabled by the war, but others were the offspring of the aristocracy, who had a habit of keeping the ‘heir’ close by, but sending the ‘spares’ either into the army or the church, and there would rarely be a better opportunity to catch a younger son with rich parents.

  Underwood’s situation was not helped by the continued presence of Martha Jebson, who, to Verity’s dismay, showed no sign of going home, but had instead written to her husband, ordering him to set her new plans in motion. She had, in return, a few heartfelt begging notes asking that she reconsider the situation, but she was adamant. Joe was quite capable of running the apothecary shop in West Wimpleford and as soon as he possibly could, William was to bring the children and Violette to Hanbury. Will had made the mistake of assuring his wife that the French girl was caring admirably for the little girls, and Martha was never slow to recognize an opportunity. She had long wanted to be free of her maternal duties and the desperate refugee was an ideal solution. She was prepared to work for little more than her keep and actually seemed to enjoy the company of the girls – or so Will had told his wife. She cared very little if he was lying, for it suited her purposes to take him at his word.

  Underwood, however, had other things on his mind and had very little interest in Mrs Jebson, except to do his very best to avoid her company – that this evasion left poor Verity to entertain her alone concerned him not at all. If Verity wished to be rid of the succubus, it was up to her to deter the woman and to stop being so nice as to encourage her impertinent pretensions.

  The two Misses Northfleet came upon him, twittering like a pair of caged birds, as usual, and full of the latest gossip. If they buttonholed him in the Pump Rooms he usually pretended to be asleep, but on this occasion he had not noticed their approach until it was far too late to make good his escape. Their talk was all about how they intended to leave town as soon as they were able, for the combined horrors of Thornycroft’s party and a sneak-thief who had been lifting small items of jewellery was altogether too much for their delicate sensibilities.

  Underwood had not taken much interest in the robberies, having been told in no uncertain terms by George Gratten that he had everything firmly in hand. The Constable was unaware that Verity had lifted her ban upon her husband’s crime-solving and Gratten was merely trying to obey her strictures. Underwood had not pursued the subject as he felt that the disappearance of a few gewgaws from people who could well afford their loss was of little moment.

  The thefts had been going on for around two weeks, but Underwood, when he thought about it, which was not often considering his rejected offer of help, well knew that this did not necessarily mean that the thief had not been around for longer and had merely refrained from beginning his campaign until he felt the populace would regard him – or indeed her – with a degree of trust. Luckily it exempted most of Jeremy James’ comrades as they had only recently begun to arrive in town.

  The Constable of Hanbury, along with his arch rival the Magistrate, had finally asked for the help of the local militia to track down the missing gems, but in spite of the outraged protests of those persons whom they insisted on searching and questioning, they had discovered nothing. Not a trace of the jewels, nor a hint of whom the thief might be.

  “Lady Clifton-Webb found her brooch missing after an evening at the Theatre,” supplied Miss Roberta, in answer to Underwood’s politely disinterested query, “She didn’t even notice it was missing until she went back to her rooms and was undressing for bed.”

  “A brooch can come un-pinned,” said Underwood, “I presume the theatre was search thoroughly?”

  “Of course, and her poor maid was taken to the lock-up and questioned most severely, but she swore she knew nothing. Her room was searched and all her belongings, but nothing at all was found.”

  “Poor girl,” said Verity with true sympathy, for her own time as a governess before her marriage ensured that she knew how all too often the servants were treated as the first suspects whenever anything went missing.

  “A ridiculous assumption,” said Underwood grimly, “No servant with a modicum of intelligence would rob her own mistress.”

  “Underwood!” chastised his wife, worried about the innocence of the two maiden ladies, “theft is not about intelligence it is about good or bad character!”

  “On the contrary, my dear, it is entirely about intelligence. More than half the population would indulge in criminal behaviour if they thought they could get away with it.”

  “Mr Underwood!” declared the shocked Misses Northfleet in unison, “You are wicked to say such things.”

  “Criminals are very much a minority, surely?” added Miss Roberta, with the certainty only a vicar’s spinster daughter could feel.

  “That rather depends upon what you view as criminality,” said Underwood, refusing to be daunted by the females rounding upon him, “How many people would avoid paying their taxes if they could? How many would keep a coin even if they saw the person who dropped it? How many would return to a shop if they were given too much change after a purchase?”

  “Oh, but those are such little sins,” said Belinda, with an indulgent smile. She had left Miss Lethaby’s shop only the day before sixpence up due to a miscalculation. “Everyone does little things like that.”

  “Umm,” said Underwood, noncommittally, “Well, we are a nation who holds Robin Hood in high esteem, but what was he but a thief and a murderer?”

  “That’s enough, Cadmus,” said Verity, acknowledging that Underwood could torment the two ladies for hours on end with this sort of stuff, “If you really want to be helpful, why don’t you find the culprit?”

  “I understood I had been banned from investigating the matter,” he responded testily. “Or so Sir George Gratten took great pleasure in informing me.”

  Verity suddenly recalled her failure to assure Sir George Gratten of Underwood’s return to the world of criminal detection. It was entirely her fault that Underwood’s offer of assistance had been summarily refused. She had the grace to blush.

  “I own I would wish you to stay away from murder for the present,” she said swiftly, “but I have already allowed you to search for a missing person so I dare swear I can cope with a little felony too!”

  He smiled triumphantly, not only at her admission, but at the horrified expressions on the faces of the sisters at the mention of the dreadful word ‘murder’.

  “Ladies, I think you can solve this conundrum with a little guidance from me.”

  “Us?” squealed the Misses Northfleet in unison, “You must be teasing, Mr Underwood.”

  “Not at all. Let us examine the evidence.”

  “Do we have any?” asked Verity.

  “We do.”

  “For example?”

  “What sort of person do you think could commit these crimes?”

  “A dishonest one,” said Belinda promptly.

  Underwood managed to restrain a sarcastic response to that and replied calmly, “I was rather taking that for granted. What else?”

  The two ladies looked blank.

  “Put another way, what would you need in order to get close enoug
h to a person to steal something which is on their person?”

  “Friendliness?” ventured Verity.

  “Exactly, so we are looking for someone personable, someone who has gone out of their way to be open and friendly, helpful even, above and beyond what is strictly necessary. Who answers that description?”

  The ladies looked around them at the visitors to the Pump Rooms. There were perhaps a dozen people present and they immediately discounted those that they knew well.

  “Major Thornycroft and his wife would never stoop to theft,” said Belinda decidedly, and then she proceeded to name several others whom she liked and trusted.

  “Very well,” said Underwood, “we have eliminated those we think could not be responsible, what about those who could?”

  Belinda and Roberta looked harder, “Miss Plumstead could not possibly be a thief; she is a vicar’s daughter like us.”

  “How do you know?” asked Underwood.

  “She told us on the very first day she arrived.”

  “And you believe her because?”

  “She told us,” said the sisters simply.

  “She could be lying,” pointed out Underwood.

  “Oh, she could never lie,” insisted Belinda, “She is a vicar’s daughter!”

  Underwood had never been nearer to giving up.

  “Let’s assume she was lying and she is not a vicar’s daughter. Has she been making herself pleasant?”

  “Oh no, she is very standoffish and really rather pompous,” said Roberta.

  “Then we can discount her for the moment. Standoffish does not get one near enough to remove jewellery from a person. Is there anyone else?”

  Roberta looked thoughtful, “They are not here at the moment, but I think young Gervase Sowerbutts and his sister Lilith are a very odd pair.

  Underwood was intrigued, “In what way odd?” he asked. He had not yet had the pleasure of meeting the Sowerbutts siblings.

  “They are remarkably close for a brother and sister, to begin with,” she said decidedly.

  Belinda protested, “Oh, but Roberta, that is most unjust. Siblings can be close. Look at you and I – why, where should we be without the other?” There was a fleeting expression of longing on Roberta’s face which Underwood could not fail to miss. It spoke of a small, hidden fantasy of a life without the constant presence of a sister. He smiled slightly and asked if there was anything else.

  “Yes, there is some indefinable air about them which puzzles me. He is the elder and she gives the impression of being a silly chit, but he is effete and she is, I think, the stronger character.”

  “What of it?” said Belinda tartly and Underwood wondered if she too had noticed her sister’s moment of dissention. “If they have no one else in the world but each other, then why should they not rely utterly on each other?”

  “Very true,” he said placating the ladies with a swift change of subject. “However, to return to the matter in hand, who else do you think might be our culprit?”

  Belinda’s eye lighted upon Mr Archibald Sutton, who saw her and gave her his ingratiating smile and waved a friendly hand.

  “Mr Sutton,” she said promptly, “Even though he is a school teacher, he seems much more interested in making friends with the elderly ladies who have no husbands. I remarked upon it to my sister when he first came here three weeks ago.”

  “And have you noticed anything else about Mr Sutton?”

  “Such as?” asked Roberta.

  “Have you noticed that he seems to be everywhere you look, all the time?”

  “He is persistent,” admitted Belinda. “But I have noticed that he never bothers Major Thornycroft or his companions – in fact he actively avoids them!”

  “And the book he always carries,” said Underwood, “Have you ever seen him sit and read it?”

  “Oh, no, he is far too busy being pleasant to ever just sit and read. I don’t believe I have ever observed him alone. Always he is with one lady or another. In fact, when I think about it, it is a little distasteful.”

  “You are just jealous because he has not singled you out for his attentions,” said Roberta, rather cattily.

  Belinda blushed, “That was unkind and untrue, sister,” she said, “In fact I find him very slightly unnerving.”

  “Your instincts do you credit, Miss Belinda,” said Underwood, “I do believe he is our man. I suspect he has some woman as an accomplice, but he is the perfect character for this type of situation. In fact he is a winner whichever way the wind blows, for if he cannot manage to steal the gems, there is always a chance that he will be able to bag himself a rich and elderly wife.”

  “But where does he hide the jewels, Mr Underwood? Everyone in the Pump Rooms was searched after Mrs Winnington’s emeralds were stolen.”

  Rather than answer the question, Mr Underwood called Mr Sutton over.

  The gentleman obeyed with alacrity, well aware that Underwood was held in high regard in Hanbury.

  “Mr Underwood, I do not believe we have been formally introduced, but may I say how honoured I am that you appear to know my name,” he said, bowing low to Underwood and his lady companions, “May I be of assistance?”

  “You may, Mr Sutton,” said Underwood, rising to his feet, “I have a wager with the ladies that I could guess the title of your book. I swear it is Robinson Crusoe, but Miss Belinda insists that was last week’s title and you could not possibly be still reading the same tome.”

  The smile was a little false, “Alas, Miss Belinda is correct; I am still ploughing through the adventures of Mr Crusoe.” He clutched the book protectively to his chest, but Underwood was not to be deterred.

  Before the man could do anything to prevent him, the book was snatched from his fingers in an action so unexpected that the ladies gasped.

  “One of my favourite stories, pray let me see where you are up to,” said Underwood smoothly.

  Sutton tried desperately to grab it back but Underwood was too quick for him. He opened the book and there, nestled in the centre, where a hole had been gouged in the pages for the purpose, was a diamond brooch.

  “Well done, ladies,” said Underwood, “You caught our sneak thief!”

  “How the devil did you know?” growled Sutton viciously.

  “You’ve been clutching a book and never reading since you arrived,” said Underwood, “And when, a few days ago I set my brother to direct a Latin quotation at you, you had no idea what he meant. Let me tell you, Sutton, if that is your real name, there is not a school teacher in the land who does not know that tempus fugit means ‘time flies’, for it is engraved on every clock face that ever counted down the dull, interminable hours spent watching little boys avoiding work.”

  It did not take long for Sir George to arrive and remove the gentleman to a place of confinement, whereupon the Misses Northfleet also departed, shocked and excited by their remarkable discernment in unmasking the robber.

  Verity watched them scuttle away, still twittering at each other, “Dear Bill and Bob,” she said warmly, “I wonder that they don’t kill each other, for all they claim undying affection.”

  Underwood lifted a quizzical brow, “Bill and Bob?” he queried.

  Verity laughed, “A soubriquet bestowed by the Hanbury ladies,” she explained, “but pray never use it to their faces. Belinda and Roberta have no idea that they are gently mocked by most of their acquaintance.”

  “Dear God,” he responded, “What the devil do they call me?”

  “You don’t want to know, my love,” teased Verity. “There is, however, something I should like to clarify.”

  “What is that, sweetheart?”

  “You told Mr Sutton that you had directed Gil to quote Latin to him.”

  “Did I?”

  “You did. But you must have made that request some time ago – which leads me to suppose that you had already suspected Mr Sutton and all this supposed disinterest in the robberies was a mere blind. And in spite of being warned off by George
Gratten, you had every intention of unmasking the robber!”

  He smiled, “My dear Verity, you really do have the most suspicious mind.”

  “Do I?”

  “You do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  (Extract from a journal discovered by C H Underwood, Winter, 1829)

  We surprised ourselves by how quickly we became proficient with the firearm – desperation can work miracles indeed, for the sooner we could put our plan into action, the sooner we would be free.

  I still cannot believe that the other servants did not know what was going on in that cellar. The noises we made were certainly muffled, but I cannot imagine they were entirely silenced by the thick walls – I like to think that though they were not courageous enough to offer us their help, they possessed sufficient sympathy for our plight that they chose not to interfere. They could not be unaware that there was something very wrong with my father’s behaviour. He was too arrogant to hide his true nature in his own home, devious as he undoubtedly was outside the walls of the house, and he believed he had them all in his thrall because he paid them so well.

  Whatever the truth, nothing was ever said, not even after my father’s ‘unsolved’ murder.

  But I am getting ahead of myself for that was in the future, and I need to explain exactly how I managed to kill him, and then avoid prosecution.

  Once we were sure we could both shoot with the accuracy needed to ensure a clean kill – injury would not do, for we could not risk his survival – the next part of the plot was perfected.

  I could not easily leave the house, I was too closely observed, but X could move freely about in the hours between any tasks, and so it fell to X to follow my father whenever he left the house so that we might become familiar with his habits. We needed just one moment when he would be alone and unnoticed so that the bullet could be fired, leaving us enough time to flee the scene. We could not allow ourselves to be caught in the act.