Chapter 8 #2
‘I think that's why we need to bring the police in now,’ he stated. ‘My hope is that, unlike Sir Drayton, Chief Inspector Hartley will listen and not dismiss everything we tell him. I believe the two cases are connected – the thefts are linked to this agency, but the question is why?’
‘Whoever’s been running Pembroke and Associates behind the scenes — and neither of us believe it’s been Margaret Finch — I have an awful feeling that this agency, along with the Winner Street orphanage, are the tip of the iceberg.
The question is, why would they risk such a well-established operation by stealing a few trinkets from local widows? It makes no sense.’
‘But what if it was Margaret Finch masterminding the stealing without telling those pulling the strings?’ Charlotte mooted. ‘Could they have found out? Perhaps that's why Muriel was sent down here to put a stop to it...’
Their conversation was brought to an abrupt halt by hammering on the front door. Henry looked down at his pocket watch. ‘That must be Albert back with Rhys and, hopefully, Chief Inspector Hartley. Good old Albert, Ned and Max will be getting extra grain this evening.’
Carefully collecting their evidence, he followed Charlotte down to let the newcomers in.
To Henry’s relief, Benedict Hartley was standing behind Rhys at the door. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one.
‘What the devil are you two doing here?’ he growled.
Rhys gave a rueful shrug, stepping into the house. ‘They’re your daughters, Henry, and given the urgency of your message, I didn't think we had the time to spend arguing with them. I've told Albert to stay with the carriage and horses.’
‘You didn't really think we would stay behind, did you, Father? Seriously?’ Alexandra swept past her husband, followed closely by her twin. As the lantern shone onto her father’s face, she paused in shock. ‘What in blazes have you been up to Papa?’
‘It’s a long story,’ Henry answered, turning towards Benedict Hartley, bringing up the rear. The Chief Inspector didn’t speak as he shut the door carefully behind him.
‘Thank you for coming, Hartley. We have something to show you,’ Henry declared, his voice grim. ‘If you’ll follow me.’
Benedict bent his head in acknowledgement but maintained his silence as he followed his predecessor up the stairs, the rest of the party trailing behind.
As they reached the second floor, a familiar, sickly sweet smell began to permeate the air.
He gritted his teeth. Clearly, something terrible had happened here.
As they reached the room with Margaret Finch's body in it, Henry stopped, his hand on the doorknob.
Turning, he directed his words towards the three women.
‘Please do not argue with me over this, ladies, but I am asking you to remain out here.’ Alexandra opened her mouth to do just that but shut it again as their aunt shook her head.
Arabella, standing slightly behind the others, felt her stomach roil uncomfortably, instinctively guessing the origin of the awful smell.
She looked over at Charlotte’s white face.
In truth, she couldn’t remember the last time her aunt had been quite so subdued, adding to the overall dread.
Gripping the banister, she forced down a sudden need for air, holding her breath as their father pushed open the door.
A couple of minutes later, Rhys and Benedict were staring down at the body.
With a grimace, Ben crouched down to look closer.
‘Well, it's pretty clear how she died,’ he commented dryly after a couple of seconds.
‘Judging by the state of the body, I would guess she's been dead for two or three days.’ He looked up at Henry.
‘So, this is the address of Pembroke Domestic Agency. Do you have any idea who this woman was?’
‘We believe her name was Margaret Finch,’ Henry responded. ‘As far as we can tell, she was the person running the agency - the day-to-day running at least. I doubt she was the one pulling the strings, however.’
Ben frowned, bending his head back down towards the body, only for it to snap back up again at Rhys’s next words. ‘Do you think her death has something to do with Muriel Pemberton?’
Benedict looked between them. ‘You're referring to Lionel Pemberton's sister? The one who disappeared after the Winner Street case?’ His voice had turned wintry cold, the earlier camaraderie gone as though it had never existed, and Henry realised that the time for prevaricating was finished.
If they were to get the Chief Inspector's help and support, they needed to tell him the truth, but, as Charlotte had said earlier, that meant telling him everything.
He opened his mouth to speak, however, Rhys got there first after evidently coming to the same conclusion.
His lordship’s voice came out in a sigh. ‘I think we have a lot to talk about. Could we at least repair to a more congenial location? I don’t think Miss Finch is going anywhere.’
Ben remained where he was for a second, then with a grunt climbed back to his feet. ‘Lead on, I'm all ears,’ he declared, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm.
As they walked back out onto the landing, it was clear that Charlotte had informed her nieces of what was in the room, inducing an uncommon silence as they all trooped back down the stairs.
Henry led them into the office. ‘It's about the only congenial room in the house, unfortunately,’ he murmured with a grimace.
Leaning back against the desk, Ben folded his arms and regarded his predecessor steadily.
‘I think you had better sit down, Mr Shackleford,’ he said formally, ‘I shall be interested to hear how you came by your… injuries.’ He extended his regard to encompass the rest of the party, adding, ‘Along with the rest of the considerable amount you’ve been keeping from me… ’
Henry sat down heavily. ‘I’m not sure where to start.’
‘I suggest the beginning,’ Ben responded flatly.
‘What do you know about the Winner Street case and the connection to Paignton orphanage?’ Henry asked him
‘Clearly not enough,’ was Ben’s blunt rejoinder.
During the next half an hour they gave the Chief Inspector the full details of what exactly had transpired during their investigation of the Winner Street orphanage, holding nothing back.
Throughout the account, Benedict listened without speaking.
When they’d finished, he closed his eyes for a second, clearly assimilating the admittedly fantastical tale.
‘Am I correct in assuming that was why you decided to establish the Shackleford Investigative Agency?’ he questioned Henry at length.
‘There were so many children we didn't save - that we couldn't save,’ Henry responded quietly.
‘The police weren’t interested in the ones still missing once Lionel and Violet Pemberton were dead,’ Alexandra declared, ‘and since there was no trace of Muriel…’ Her voice trailed off with a frustrated shrug, leaving her twin to say it plainly.
‘The children were orphans. Their whereabouts was not considered important enough to waste valuable police time on.’ Arabella’s voice was challenging, waiting to see if Benedict would argue.
He did not. He simply sighed and nodded. ‘I can understand your frustration, but you really should have shared this with me before now.’
‘We had no reason to suspect the two cases were connected,’ Charlotte countered, her voice defensive.
‘That’s a terrible excuse,’ Ben shot back, making no attempt to stem his brusqueness. ‘You knew the police were looking for Muriel Pemberton.’
Charlotte bristled. ‘We had no idea of her involvement until we discovered the agency’s name and address written on a piece of paper in her pocket…’
‘And that was only three days ago, Chief Inspector,’ Alex added heatedly. ‘I do not believe we have been tardy, especially after Sir Drayton’s refusal to work with us. He knew there was more to the Winner Street case but flatly refused to acknowledge it.’
Ben regarded them thoughtfully. ‘If you’d spoken out, perhaps Margaret Finch would still be alive.’
Henry shook his head. ‘I doubt that,’ he snapped.
Benedict turned back to Charlotte. ‘You say you had no idea the two cases were connected - do you now believe differently?’
‘We do,’ the matron confirmed. ‘Muriel Pemberton’s involvement confirms it.’
‘We think the Winner Street orphanage was supplying orphans to this agency - many of whom were children,’ Henry explained. ‘Pembroke in turn supplied domestic staff to the wealthy in Torbay.’
‘That’s certainly not illegal,’ Ben interrupted.
‘But selling children is,’ Arabella burst out heatedly.
‘As yet we have no real proof they’ve been bartering children,’ Henry added, ‘but Muriel Pemberton’s participation makes it very likely.’
‘What you’re describing does have the hallmark of a much larger operation,’ Ben agreed. ‘So why would they risk exposing themselves by stealing a few trinkets?’ His words unknowingly echoed Henry’s earlier comments.
‘We think the thefts might have been masterminded by Margaret Finch on her own,’ Henry explained. ‘As you say, it’s unlikely the shadowy figures behind the whole operation were aware of it - at least initially.’
He pulled out the letter Charlotte had found and held it out. ‘We believe the contents of this letter might well go some way towards explaining her motives.’
Ben took the missive and, without looking at it, tucked it into his jacket pocket. ‘And you think that once they discovered what she was up to, Margaret. Finch’s days were numbered.’ He didn’t phrase it as a question, and Henry simply nodded.
The Chief Inspector nodded towards Henry’s bulging pockets.
‘I can see from the shape of your jacket that you have documents you haven’t yet shared,’ he observed drily.
‘I assume you have good reason, so at this point I will not insist that you do so. However, can I also assume that you will share what you’ve learned sooner rather than later?
’ His tone made it clear he would accept nothing less than full disclosure.
Henry nodded slowly. ‘We will share all we have,’ he agreed.
‘Good,’ Ben retorted briskly, pushing away from the desk. ‘And now I believe it is time for you all to leave.’ He held up his hand to stem any protests.
‘As you say, Sir Drayton will almost certainly resist any attempts to open a wider case, and your presence at this crime scene will simply muddy the waters. The discovery of a dead body here will keep the police focused on the current investigation nicely, especially if we can establish for certain that Margaret Finch was the perpetrator of the thefts. For that I still need your help - even before we go down the appalling rabbit hole of child enslavement.’
He paused before adding, ‘You have my word that I will do everything in my power to help you bring the evil you describe to an end.’
Henry nodded, his relief visible. ‘We will wait to hear from you, Chief Inspector.’
Benedict led the way back down the stairs. ‘Despite the unexpected turn of events, I believe it will be prudent for us to continue our discussions at Simla House,’ he went on, ‘So, with your permission Lord Tavistock, I will send word there as soon as I have dealt with Margaret Finch’s body.’
‘You have it, of course,’ Rhys answered.
‘Do we have your permission to continue our investigation while we are waiting?’ As usual, Charlotte’s words were both acerbic and challenging, and Ben recalled the many less than flattering comments from those who’d already had the misfortune to deal with the matron.
Clearly Charlotte Shackleford did not suffer fools gladly.
She also did not appear to have a very high opinion of the law.
‘You are employed by Lavinia Pemberton,’ he reminded her politely. ‘My only advice would be to concentrate on the servants, rather than the guests, given what we now know.’
Closing the door behind them ten minutes later, Ben felt a sense of trepidation greater than any he’d ever known since joining the force. Everything they’d described had an undeniable ring of authenticity about it, and it terrified him.
He watched from the window as Arabella Shackleford climbed into the carriage.
He should now be working out just how he was going to explain the presence of a coach and horses if Sir Drayton insisted he interview the neighbours, but instead he was thinking of the feel of her against him as she’d stumbled earlier, and the almost irresistible urge to comfort her in an entirely different way…