Chapter 32
—A Sworn Statement
“I cannot produce written proof again, but I can give as authentic oral testimony as you can desire, of what he is now wanting, and what he is now doing.”
Jane Austen, Persuasion
I need a favor.
Asking for help tended to leave Adam more than a little chagrined.
Rosalind teased him (gently) for his pride, and he returned the favor.
But it was also true that having to ask for yet more help from Goutier reminded him of all that he’d left behind when he’d walked away from Bow Street.
For the most part, Adam did not let this worry him, but there were times when he missed the aura of authority that smoothed the way when he had an outrageous request.
“If you can, I need you to talk to Layng about postponing the inquest,” Adam had said to Goutier. “Tell him you want a chance to talk to Townsend about what’s going on here.”
“And say it has to be ahead of the races?” Goutier had suggested. “That if there’s something crooked going on, we’ll want it all cleared up before the sweepstakes?”
“Exactly.”
“All right,” Goutier had agreed. “Let’s see what can be done.”
But in the end, it proved to be for naught.
“Ah, Harkness,” Layng hailed him as he and Goutier walked into his office.
The room was low-ceilinged, windowless, and bare.
There was a crooked shelf full of books and ledgers, and a few wooden pegs for coats and hats.
The furnishings were limited to a pair of wooden chairs and a battered desk where Layng sat.
He had evidently had a guest here recently, because there was a teapot that was almost as battered as the desk, and two used cups.
“Thank you for bringing him here, Mr. Goutier,” said Layng. “I’m afraid I must make an apology.”
This drew Adam up short. “For what, sir?”
Layng pushed a stack of neatly written out papers across the desk. “I’ve just spent the last two hours taking a statement from one Miss Elizabeth Kinsdale. She swears that it was Mrs. Sylvia Lynn who pushed Sir Anthony out his window.”
Adam did not often find himself flummoxed. It took an effort to keep his jaw from hanging open. Elizabeth Kinsdale had turned on Mrs. Lynn? Elizabeth, who had been the one to bring Mrs. Lynn into the family, who had been supporting that lady’s plans for her family, and been supported by her.
My God. Could it be true? Could Mrs. Lynn have been the other person in the room when Sir Anthony died?
Goutier whistled, one long, low note. “Miss Kinsdale saw it then?”
“As good as.” Layng folded his hands across his stomach.
Adam picked up the papers. His throat had gone unusually dry. He read silently:
I, Elizabeth Anne Kinsdale, daughter of Sir Anthony Kinsdale, baronet, residing at number 3, Royal Circus, do hearby swear and affirm the following:
There followed a paragraph about how Elizabeth had come (innocently and guilelessly) to introduce Mrs. Lynn to her family.
… believing at the time she was a true and honest friend …
After this, came the description of how Mrs. Lynn and Sir Anthony grew gradually more attached to each other.
… at the time, (Adam read) I was delighted, and cherished the hope that my dear friend might also become my stepmother. …
There followed descriptions of the card parties, and the long nights that Sir Anthony and Mrs. Lynn, and by extension Sir Anthony’s daughters, spent in increasingly dubious company;
… what had begun as fairly ordinary amusements quickly degenerated …
Elizabeth went on to fault herself for not listening to her sisters’ growing concerns.
… so confident was I in my friend that I carelessly disregarded the earnest pleadings of those closest to me …
Adam skimmed these descriptions and lamentations. With each word, he felt his jaw tightening, and his suspicions sharpening.
At last he came to the description of the card party:
That night, that terrible night, the party proceeded as had become usual.
Mrs. Lynn was at her gay and glittering best. But this time, perhaps because of my sister Clara’s impending engagement, or perhaps because his natural good sense had at last begun to reassert itself, my father was not inclined to be amused by the riotous proceedings.
He began to complain that such a gathering was no credit to a gentleman’s house. …
Adam remembered Sir Anthony standing with his chest puffed out as the guests swirled around him. He remembered the man smiling his small, superior smile as they offered him flattery and thanks for allowing them to be part of such a distinguished company.
What he did not remember was any sign of discontent. So why does Miss Kinsdale say there was?
Adam read on:
I mentioned the seeming change in our father’s manner to my sister Cynthia and she confided to me that Father had several times that evening said he intended to separate himself from Mrs. Lynn.
Adam stopped. He read that segment of the text again. And a third time. Satisfied he had not mistaken what it said, he moved on.
At last, Father had had enough. He ordered Mrs. Lynn to send her guests home.
This she did slowly, and with great reluctance.
Overwhelmed as I was by my sister’s confidence, and the flood of emotion that it occasioned in me, I decided to retire to bed at once.
But I could not sleep. I lay awake, trying to calm my warring emotions.
I both welcomed Father’s decision and dreaded it, because I could not deny my responsibility for bringing Mrs. Lynn into our house.
Eventually, I heard the sound of voices engaged in a loud argument. These voices belonged to my father and Mrs. Lynn. I could not be mistaken, as I knew both voices intimately. I had, however, never heard them raised in such animosity. I could not make out the words, but the tone was very clear.
Then, I heard a sharp, wordless cry and a sound like furniture being overturned. I leapt from my bed and pulled on my wrap and hurried to knock on my father’s door.
The door was opened by Mrs. Lynn, but only a little. I could not see into the room.
I asked if anything was the matter. She told me that my father had discovered a wine stain on his coat.
My father was unusually particular about his clothing and appearance, so it was easy for me to believe that this discovery had made him shout.
She assured me that she had rung for his valet and said I should return to bed.
I am deeply ashamed to say that I obeyed her. Yes, I had begun to doubt her sincerity, but how could I have realized that she could lie in such a cold-blooded fashion?
But when morning came, and the tragedy of my father’s death, and the ignominy of her flight were discovered, I understood what I had heard. Once the shock of that realization faded, I determined I should tell my story to the coroner.
Written by my own hand,
Elizabeth Kinsdale
Adam passed the papers to Goutier so he could read them.
“And so, I admit it, Harkness.” Layng spread his hands. “I was wrong and you were right. You said it was likely not as simple as it seemed, and I should have listened. But no harm done. I’ve been to the sheriff and the warrant has been issued, and the woman is now in custody.”
Adam felt himself go still. “Where was she found?”
“The Green Briar Inn,” said Layng. “Evidently she’d gone there to hide until she could find some way to get herself out of Bath.
We’ll be holding her over at the King’s Swan until the inquest is finished, and then I don’t know what we’ll do with her.
” Layng sighed and scratched his head, hard.
“We’ve no jail for female prisoners here.
Probably have to hold her at my house, which the wife will not like but—”
Adam found he wasn’t listening. Mrs. Lynn was found at the Green Briar? She must have been looking for Rosalind.
Why?
Which was only one question of many questions bubbling up in him. At the moment, it was probably the least consequential.
Because Elizabeth Kinsdale had sworn to a statement full of lies and omissions—starting with her declaration of her father’s discontent with Mrs. Lynn, and moving on to whom she’d spoken to about it.
Elizabeth swore she spoke with her sister Cynthia.
She said Cynthia had talked of being confided to by their father “several times” that evening.
But Cynthia was not at the party. She had been exiled in disgrace.
Adam had been keeping as close an eye on the gathering as he was able, as had Rosalind.
He did not see the youngest Miss Kinsdale, and if Rosalind had seen her, she would have said.
And yet, when Elizabeth wrote out this statement, she must have been confident that Cynthia would confirm the story, if she was asked.
Why would Elizabeth believe that Cynthia would lie for her but Clara would not?
Especially when it was Cynthia, as well as Clara, who decided to bring Rosalind to Bath.
But the most important question was why had Elizabeth decided to turn on her friend? And in such a decided manner? Could she have really seen what she declared? It was possible. Were the lies about the party simply an attempt to preserve her father’s reputation, and by extension the family’s?
Or perhaps she feared that if she didn’t speak first, Mrs. Lynn would tell some story about her that she wanted kept quiet?
But there were no answers to any of these questions, or the dozens of others that gathered in Adam’s uneasy mind. At least, not here.
“Well, it seems clear enough,” said Goutier.
It was only because Adam knew him so well that he understood that Goutier meant the exact opposite.
“You’ll forgive me, Mr. Layng, but given Sir Anthony’s rank, and the fact that Admiral Walsingham was his tenant, it might be advisable to postpone the inquest for a day, to see if there’s something more to come from all this.
” He laid the pages of Miss Kinsdale’s statement back down on the desk.
But Layng shook his head. “My only concern is determining whether Sir Anthony’s death was murder, and we have a statement that says it was.
And as the admiral did not shoot himself, a verdict of person or persons unknown will cover that.
The magistrates can sort out whether Mrs. Lynn had a hand in that business as well. No need for us to delay the inquest.”
“Unless Miss Kinsdale lied,” said Goutier.
Layng’s expression became one of long-suffering patience.
“If Miss Kinsdale lied, that is also for the courts to determine. She swore the oath, and she gave her statement. My job is to see that the statement is heard by the jury. My answer to you, Mr. Goutier, is the same as it was to Mr. Harkness. If you think there’s something amiss, bring me the witness.
I promise their words will be entered into evidence with the jury on the same basis as Miss Kinsdale’s. ”
He did not point out that if the inquest found against Mrs. Lynn, the magistrates would be most likely to follow suit.
Because given the circumstances, it was the easy conclusion and the obvious one, and because Elizabeth Kinsdale and her sisters were the daughters of a baronet, while Mrs. Lynn was a Bath widow up to her hips in cheating the local gentlemen out of their money.
And because Elizabeth Kinsdale was lying.