Chapter 5
Throughout the train journey back to Paignton, Arabella was unusually quiet.
Like Alexandra and Beatrix, she was cock-a-hoop at the prospect of taking on a real case at last, and of course, scoring a possible victory over their father’s nemesis, but unlike her sisters, she was not entirely comfortable about working with Chief Inspector Hartley.
And she knew exactly why.
While he’d shown some initial resistance, Benedict Hartley had eventually shown a willingness to defy convention and think creatively if doing so would help in solving the crime - much as their father always had. So, her feelings were all the more frustrating.
The problem was, Chief Inspector Hartley was unquestionably handsome.
Tall and lean with broad shoulders, his hair was a deep copper colour, worn slightly longer than one would expect from someone in such a position of authority.
It fell across his forehead in thick, tawny waves.
With dark bronzed skin, hazel eyes and a generous mouth, he would never be short of an attractive woman on his arm.
He was exactly the kind of man that six months ago would have kept Arabella awake at night as she planned how and when they would meet again – going over what she would wear, what she would say, agonising over whether he was husband material…
She would have lain awake night after night, wondering if he would actually look twice at someone like her.
Like Alex, Bella was under no illusion that she possessed the kind of allure to turn heads.
Oh, she was attractive enough, with dark, wavy hair, undeniably the envy of her twin, and grey eyes that she liked to tell herself resembled liquid silver - not that she’d ever laid eyes on any such substance, and if she confessed such a fanciful notion to any of her sisters, they’d fall over laughing.
With an internal sigh, she worried at her bottom lip and looked out of the window, thinking back to the moment they’d shaken hands.
She could not deny that there had been something.
Since Winner Street, she’d been determined that she would no longer be at the mercy of society’s dictates – yet here she was, already distracted by a pretty face and a pension.
She sighed. In truth, it was hard to discard old habits.
But despite her vexation, she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that the spark between them meant something. Indeed, if she hadn’t been so determined to follow a different path, the old Bella might even have described it as a sense of destiny.
How bloody ridiculous was that…?
To Alexandra’s disappointment, their father did not react when they mentioned the prospect of thumbing their collective noses at Sir Drayton, though Charlotte more than made up for his lack of enthusiasm.
Indeed, her delight was such that she went immediately to prevail upon Mrs Williams to prepare sherry cobblers for an impromptu toast.
While she was gone, Henry Shackleford was all business.
‘While Chief Inspector Hartley’s assistance would be an undoubted asset,’ he declared, ‘I do not have his faith that Sir Drayton will ultimately sanction our involvement. But if that’s the case, and we are forced to work alone, we’re not without our own resources.
’ He gave a small smile before adding, ‘Lottie and I managed to persuade the Torquay police department to allow us sight of the ongoing investigation.’
‘That’s excellent,’ Alex enthused, ‘how on earth did you persuade them – especially with Aunt Charlotte in tow.’
Henry’s smile got bigger. ‘I think on occasion we all underestimate your aunt’s appeal,’ he chuckled.
‘Indeed, I believe the desk sergeant found himself particularly smitten.’ His chuckle turned into a guffaw at the expressions on his three daughters’ faces.
‘Charlotte has always been a handsome woman,’ he informed them, ‘it’s just that sometimes it gets buried beneath her caustic tongue. ’
‘So, what have the police discovered?’ Beatrix hastily interrupted. Their aunt’s appeal to the opposite sex was not a conversation she thought she’d ever be ready for.
‘Well, in all honesty, they didn’t appear to have much more than has already been written in the newspapers.
There have so far been four victims. All widows.
All extremely wealthy and well-known in society.
I have passed their details on to Rhys, who will hopefully use his contacts to look a little further into their collective backgrounds to see if they have anything else in common.
’ He paused as Charlotte came back into the office, Billy trailing behind her carrying a tray of drinks.
‘Really, Lottie, I do believe it’s a little early in the day to be indulging in such frivolity.’
‘Nonsense,’ his sister retorted, ‘as Mother used to say, “Let’s just call it eight bells.” And, at the end of the day, whether we get to the bottom of this case or not, getting the better of that… that hornswoggler has to be worth at least a small hangover.’
Before her brother could form a suitable response, the door opened to admit Alexandra’s husband.
‘Hello, darling, we were just speaking of you,’ Alex smiled up at Rhys as he leaned over to kiss her.
‘You’re just in time for a sherry cobbler. Mrs Williams made them specially.’
Rhys raised his eyebrows, but nevertheless helped himself to a drink. ‘What are we celebrating? Have you solved the case already?’
‘Alas, not yet,’ Arabella sighed. ‘However, we are celebrating the fact that Sir Pigeon-Livered Drayton is even now eating his own words – hopefully.’
Alexandra went on to tell him everything that had transpired during their interview with Mrs Pettigrew.
‘Well, you’ll be pleased to know that I have something to add,’ Rhys declared, seating himself next to Alex and taking a cautious sip of his drink.
‘Well, go on then, don’t beat around the bush,’ Beatrix muttered.
‘I discovered a particular connection between the four victims…’ He paused, just long enough for Alex to give him an exasperated look.
‘They all hired servants through the same agency in the past year.’ He stopped again, and this time his face was deadly serious.
‘The name of the agency they all used is Pembroke and Associates Domestic Services.’
Alex frowned at him. ‘I could be grasping at straws, but Pembroke sounds awfully similar to Pemberton.’
‘My thought exactly,’ her husband agreed.
‘And it’s still running?’
‘As far as I could ascertain. I’ve made discreet enquiries regarding the company’s records and should hear back by the end of the week.’
Arabella pulled a face. ‘But if the agency is still running, it’s less likely they’re connected. Lionel and Violet are dead, and Muriel is still missing.’
‘No, she ain’t,’ a small voice piped up. ‘She wos tryin’ on unmentionables in Rossiter’s not two hours ago…’
All eyes turned toward Billy. The was a moment’s silence, then everyone began talking at once…
‘You saw her?’
‘What in blazes were you doing in Rossiter’s ladies delicates department?’
‘Did she see you?’
‘Was she with anyone?’
‘Where did she go afterwards?’
‘Did you get arrested?’
Henry thumped his cane on the floor twice to stop the flood of questions.
Then he turned to Billy, his expression stern.
‘It sounds as though you’ve had a busy day, young man.
Perhaps you would be so good as to favour us with the details.
’ His mild tone fooled no one – especially when he added, ‘I trust you won’t leave anything out. ’
Billy’s proud grin faltered a little, and he gave a small cough, pulling self-consciously at his stiffened shirt collar.
‘When you’re ready…’ Henry Shackleford murmured.
‘The thing is…’ Billy paused and cleared his throat again, caught sight of his employer’s raised eyebrows, and quickly launched into his tale – ninety percent of which was actually true.
He didn’t mention how or why he happened to be standing next to Paignton Railway Station, and he thought it prudent not to mention his armful of lady’s corsets…
Naturally, he finished on a high note, and triumphantly brandishing the folded piece of paper, he smugly announced that he’d found it in Muriel Pemberton’s pocket.
‘And you obtained this while you were loitering in ladies' delicates…’ Billy winced. Somehow Miss Charlotte’s comments weren’t quite as admiring as they had been in his imagination. He nodded sheepishly, placing the piece of paper into the matron’s outstretched hand.
‘It’s an address,’ Charlotte murmured seconds later. ‘Twenty-three, Lower Warberry Road.’ She looked up, catching sight of Rhys’s grim face.
‘That’s the address given for the Pembroke Agency,’ he growled.
Charlotte looked over at him, frowning. ‘Which solves the issue of whether there is a connection. But then, why would she have it written down? One would assume she’d be familiar with the agency’s location.’
‘Perhaps she’s had nothing to do with it before now,’ Rhys guessed.
‘As far as we can tell, blackmailing wealthy supposed clients was Madam Verity’s speciality.
We still don’t know how much she was actually involved in her brother’s child-selling activities, and it’s perfectly possible that Lionel Pemberton was involved in other fraudulent businesses without her knowledge. ’
‘Well, she certainly knows about the agency now,’ countered Beatrix.
‘If you think about it,’ Alex interjected, ‘It’s logical to assume the two are connected - Children sold into slavery and worse - and a domestic agency providing servants to wealthy households…’ She paused to let her words sink in, leaving Arabella to voice what everyone was thinking.
‘Could the Pembroke Agency possibly be the piece of the puzzle we’ve been searching for to lead us closer to Jacob?’
Rhys turned towards Billy. ‘Can you describe the man you saw her with?’