Chapter 17 #2
News of the hunt for the queen’s equerry had made late editions of the evening papers, and rumors swirled.
But the precise charges were not yet public.
Somehow, a curious crowd had gotten word of the prisoner’s imminent arrival.
They were rewarded when a handcuffed FitzGerald exited the police wagon just as the joiners fitted the gallows beam.
The major looked away from the gibbet, shuddering.
It was the first sign of emotion Tennant had glimpsed in FitzGerald since his arrest.
Two lines of grave-faced policemen flanked the prison entrance.
Sir Richard Mayne and Mr. Gathorne-Hardy stood sentinel as well.
The commissioner was there because he had vowed it.
The home secretary attended to report to the prime minister on FitzGerald’s arrest and transfer to Newgate.
The major passed them, his face as stony as the prison walls.
He ascended four steps to a recessed iron door.
It clanged behind him, metal bolts scraping and iron keys rattling in the lock.
Sir Richard held the carriage door as the home secretary climbed in. The commissioner turned to Tennant and O’Malley. “McGrath is dead. He killed a soldier and wounded Princess Louise. Doctor Lewis is treating her by the queen’s command and is hopeful of her full recovery.”
“Thank you for telling us, sir,” the inspector said.
The commissioner nodded. “Good work in a bad business.” He climbed in, and the carriage rolled away.
From their vantage on the corner of Old Bailey Street, Tennant and his sergeant looked up at St. Paul’s dome, ghostly in the moonlight.
O’Malley said, “’Tis only a few hundred yards from there to Trig Lane, where we found poor Brigid Dowling. Are the sisters resting easier this night, are we thinking?”
“I’d like to think so, Paddy.”
The following evening, Tennant and Lady Aldridge were the only guests at Dr. Lewis’s Wednesday dinner party. Julia’s grandfather and great-aunt had too many questions that couldn’t be answered in front of others. Julia was still away at the castle, attending Princess Louise.
They dined and settled into the library’s comfortable fireside chairs. Dr. Lewis looked into his glass. “A toast seems wrong after so much tragedy.”
“Perhaps we might drink to the truth’s discovery,” Lady Aldridge said. “And to justice for those whose lives ended so cruelly.”
“Just right, my dear.” Dr. Lewis raised his glass. “And to averting an unimaginable tragedy.”
Tennant said, “You’ll have to wait for Julia’s return to hear about that. I know only the broad outlines of the events at Windsor.”
Lady Aldridge asked, “Did Major FitzGerald know about the assassination plan?”
“No, according to McGrath’s testament. But to supply lethal weapons to a sworn enemy of the crown is enough to condemn him for high treason.”
She sighed. “And my old friend, Lady Middlebury. Why did she die?”
“She befriended the Dowling girls at FitzGerald’s request, exposing him to questions about his relationship with Lizzie. They met ten years ago in Ireland and had a brief affair. It resumed on the Isle of Wight.”
Dr. Lewis said, “It’s hard to imagine his elderly cousin agreeing to employ a former mistress.”
“FitzGerald made up a story about orphaned daughters of an Irish brother-at-arms who died in the Crimea. In her diary, Brigid confessed to feeling guilty about the lie, but she was glad to be saved from a life on the Curragh.”
Lady Aldridge shook her head sadly. “My kindhearted old friend would have been easily persuaded. I wonder about the girl, Lizzy. Was she really a danger to Major FitzGerald?”
“I wonder, too,” Tennant said. “She was uncommonly close to Princess Louise. Perhaps he feared Lizzy might confide in her.”
“It’s strange …” Dr. Lewis struck a match and drew on his pipe stem until the bowl glowed red.
His sister looked at him curiously. “What is, Andrew?”
“FitzGerald made good on his early promises to Lizzy, finding a place for her and her sister.” He shook his head. “People are a strange mix of things, even the worst of us.”
Lady Aldridge said, “To contract for the murders of your lover, unborn child, and elderly cousin, and the attempted murder of your wife … He is ‘the worst of us.’ It was a tragedy that FitzGerald ever crossed paths with the Dowling sisters.”
“Brigid’s diary is a long record of tragedies,” Tennant said. “One Irish family’s sorrows. When I reached her narrative’s halfway point, Paddy O’Malley said to me …” Tennant looked away and into the fire.
Lady Aldridge said, “What did my friend, the sergeant, say?”
“He said it was ‘a tale told ten thousand times’ across Ireland, a story of poverty, eviction, and displacement.”
“Like ‘wild geese set loose on the winds,’” Lady Aldridge said softly.
Dr. Lewis looked at his sister quizzically. “Caroline?”
“That’s how the sergeant once described leaving Ireland,” Lady Aldridge said. “Julia told me, and the poetic phrase has lingered in my mind.”
“He’s a man of parts, Sergeant O’Malley,” Dr. Lewis said.
Lady Aldridge nodded. “His parents died during the Hunger. Julia said he brought his siblings to England when he was little more than a boy himself.”
Tennant looked at her. “I didn’t know that. But Julia would.”
She smiled. “Yes.”
Lady Aldridge planned to stay with her brother until Julia’s return, so she walked Tennant to the door. She planted the point of her ebony walking stick, placed both hands on its ivory crown, and faced him. Like Julia, she was a tall woman, erect despite her years.
“You haven’t been to Windsor to see Julia?”
Tennant shook his head. “Meetings all day, tying up loose ends. Tomorrow morning, there’s another conference scheduled at the Home Office. And then …”
And then, he thought bitterly, seething with frustration. Sir Richard ordered him to leave for the Isle of Wight the following afternoon. The queen insisted that a new coroner’s jury be convened immediately to change the open verdict in Lizzy Dowling’s death to one of murder.
Lady Aldridge raised her eyebrow. “What then, Richard?”
“I travel to Cowes tomorrow afternoon to give evidence on Friday morning. At the command of Sir Richard Mayne and the queen.”
“Julia knows this?”
Tennant nodded. “We … we’ve exchanged telegrams.” Christ, how pathetic it sounds.
Lady Aldridge offered her hand. “Don’t let it drag on too long, Richard … and I don’t mean your trip to the Isle of Wight.”
The following morning, the home secretary rapped his conference table for attention.
Mr. Gathorne-Hardy eyed the three men at the table. “What I want to know is this: is the evidence strong enough to send that blackguard to the gallows?”
“Yes,” Sir Richard Mayne said.
“Tell me.”
The commissioner looked at Tennant. “Inspector, your summary, please.”
“We have FitzGerald’s signed note to the Windsor head groom, offering the services of ‘Marcus York.’ Then there are the stolen French rifles found on his property and his attempted flight with a carpetbag filled with thousands of pounds in unexplained banknotes. I’d say it’s damning.”
Sir Richard smiled grimly. “FitzGerald will have his appointment with the hangman.”
Lionel Dermott said, “And there is McGrath’s ‘last testament.’ Juries find deathbed statements persuasive. An Irishman who swears on his mother’s grave? The prosecution will read that in court to full effect.”
“McGrath’s letter explained that FitzGerald killed by proxy,” Tennant said. “Simon Flood murdered at the major’s command. FitzGerald counted on McGrath’s sniper skills to put Harriet in her grave and her fortune in his hands.”
“Happily, the lady lived,” Dermott said. “There are a few additional twists and turns—”
Gathorne-Hardy raised his hands. “I’ve heard enough. More than enough to measure FitzGerald for a rope. We’re done here, gentlemen.”
Tennant walked with Dermott to the corner of Downing Street, eyeing the sleeve of hothouse roses in Lionel’s hand.
Dermott caught his glance. “Susan is on the 2:10 leaving from Windsor.”
“I see.”
“I imagine you do. No one pulls the wool over the eyes of ‘Tennant of the Yard,’ or so says the Illustrated London News. No one except …” Lionel’s lazy grin spread. “Except Tennant himself?”
“Meaning?”
“I understand Dr. Lewis returns tomorrow. Give her my regards.”
“Unfortunately, I will be on the Isle of Wight.” The inspector nodded curtly and crossed Downing Street.
“Tennant.” The inspector turned at Dermott’s call. “Then see her the next day, man. Stop dithering, you bloody fool. She might not wait forever.”
Just before noon, Princess Louise took her first walk down the corridor to the queen’s dining room. Louise eyed the shattered chandelier without comment and turned.
“Short walks like this one, Your Royal Highness,” Julia said, watching Louise lean on Susan’s arm as she retraced her steps to the bedroom. “Today and tomorrow, twice a day. After that, you can extend the distance. But not too much at first.”
Susan looked at Louise. “I leave today. I trust the princess won’t overdo it.”
“And I’ll say goodbye tomorrow,” Julia said.
Louise shook her head. “Only farewell, Doctor. Mama placed me in your care, and when the queen commands …” Her smile trembled, and she said, “I’m grateful to you. If ever I should require …”
“Her Royal Highness need only summon. A note will bring me.”
“Thank you, Julia. For everything.”
An hour later, Julia and Susan took a last turn around the castle’s Upper Ward courtyard.
A footman approached. “The carriage for the station will be at the gate at half past the hour. Does Your Ladyship require a telegram sent to arrange a coach in London?”
Susan said, “Thank you, that won’t be necessary.” After he bowed and strode away, she said to Julia, “Lionel is meeting me at the station.”
“Ah … Like that, is it? I thought so,” Julia said, smiling.
“Yes, but I’ve said nothing to Alix, so keep it under your bonnet. She’ll be surprised. I’m surprised, after two terrible choices …”
“Two?”
They’d reached the halfway point along the graveled walkway surrounding the Upper Ward’s emerald lawn. Susan stopped and turned to Julia.
“Years ago, I expected a marriage proposal from Peter FitzGerald.” Susan shuddered. “Horrible to think of it now, but I was … besotted. Then he met Harriet.”
Julia squeezed her arm. “A lucky escape, although I’m sure it didn’t seem so at the time.”
“No. And then I rushed into my disastrous marriage to Augustus.”
Julia kissed her cheek. “I wish you every happiness, though you don’t need me to cheer you on. I suspect life with Lionel Dermott will be a delightful adventure.”
“Bless you for that, Julia.” Susan looked up at the looming towers and the windows of the guest wing.
“Royal service and a tiny legacy … I could live in modest independence. There was a time when I thought that would make me happy. But when you meet a person—someone whose absence leaves a hole in your life and heart—what you thought goes out the window.”
“Yes,” Julia said, and they walked on. They’d reached the gateway before she felt Susan’s gaze.
“Tell me, Julia. Was that a polite ‘yes’ or a ‘yes’ with conviction? I rather think the latter. I imagine Inspector Tennant hopes so, too.”
Julia’s smile spread slowly. “Aunt Caroline would say I’ve taken far too long to figure it out. But yes, with conviction. Both of you are absolutely right.”