Chapter Thirteen #3
The room turned out to be a small study.
Lord Cater closed the door after she entered, then sat behind a walnut Italianate desk with a wine-red leather insert on top and legs covered with gilded carvings, ending in four brass lion’s paws.
There was a matching work cabinet behind him with a collection of photographs on top, mostly of earlier versions of Lord Cater standing proudly with a younger man at various stages of his life.
Bruce, she thought. The scenes were largely of hunting expeditions or visits to various European capitals.
The latter for the most part included Lady Cater and the two other children.
The younger brother resembled Lady Cater.
The sister, smallest of the three, was a combination of both parents.
She clung to Bruce’s hand in several of the pictures, looking up at him with adoration.
‘That’s Bruce in most of those hunting shots,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘So you did know him.’
‘I can’t say I knew him,’ she said. ‘Only that I remembered meeting him at Kimbolton Castle.’
‘Sit, Mrs Bainbridge,’ he said, indicating a leather-covered chair in front of the desk.
She took her seat and waited.
‘You are Lord Harold Bainbridge’s daughter-in-law, if I’m not mistaken,’ he said.
‘I am.’
‘I’m surprised that you would bother with such a mundane job, given your status.’
‘It interests me,’ she said.
‘It may also interest you to know that Lucinda Kendall is my goddaughter,’ he said. ‘We speak frequently.’
‘Do you?’
‘Yes. In fact, she mentioned receiving a visit from you last week,’ he continued. ‘You and another woman were attempting to locate her brother, Kevin.’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Sadly, it turned out that he died in the war.’
‘Which I would have expected you to know before making your visit,’ he said. ‘Being the keen reporter that you are.’
‘What exactly are you getting at, Lord Cater?’
‘I paid little mind to your visit to Lucinda until you showed up at my home this afternoon,’ he said. ‘You made no mention to her about your employment, which means that you were either there or here under false pretences, perhaps both.’
‘If you care to verify my employment with the BBC—’
‘I do not,’ he said, standing abruptly. ‘What I demand is that you immediately cease prying into my family’s affairs or those of the Pickards. I’ve made some enquiries about you, Mrs Bainbridge. You have a reputation for sticking your nose in places where it doesn’t belong. I won’t have that.’
‘Why did you let your son flee to Spain, Lord Cater?’ she asked. ‘What were you protecting him from here?’
He strode quickly around the desk towards her. She propelled herself from the chair before he could get to her.
‘Stay away from me, or I will call for my colleague,’ she warned him, backing away.
‘He won’t hear you from there,’ said Cater. ‘And if you won’t listen to reason, I think stronger methods are called for.’
He reached for her. She waited for him to get close, then grabbed his right elbow from underneath with her left hand, his wrist with her right hand, and pivoted to her right, forcing his arm down. He wasn’t expecting any resistance and was caught off guard, his body following his arm downwards.
‘Are you the one who taught him?’ she shouted. ‘To treat women like toys, then discard them when they were broken? Is that another one of your family traditions?’
He tried to straighten, but she applied more pressure to his elbow, the pain forcing him to his knees.
‘Are you insane?’ he gasped.
‘Used to be,’ she hissed into his ear. ‘Now, I’m only angry. Bruce went to Spain to avoid the scandal of what he and Kevin Pickard did to Nancy Spurlock, didn’t he?’
He grunted in distress.
‘Answer me!’ she said.
‘He could have gone anywhere!’ he said. ‘We didn’t care where he went, as long as he stayed away until we hushed everything up here.’
‘Are you still hushing everything up? Is that why Tony Danforth was attacked?’
‘Danforth?’ he asked in confusion. ‘What does he have to do with anything? He’s in China somewhere.’
‘You didn’t know he had returned?’
‘No! I swear it! Dammit, woman, you’re going to break my arm!’
She released him, retreating towards the door.
‘If you want my silence about Bruce, you will stay here until I leave,’ she said. ‘Others know that we’re here, so don’t try anything. It will go badly for you and your precious family reputation if you do.’
With that she left him, still on his knees, clutching his arm in agony.
Sally was waiting for her in the front hall.
‘Shall we go?’ he asked.
‘We should. Rather quickly, in fact.’
He asked no questions, nevertheless wondering at her expression and flushed appearance. She watched out the rear window as they drove away. It wasn’t until they reached the end of the driveway that she turned forwards, taking a deep breath.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘I am now,’ she said. ‘I had an unexpected conversation with Lord Cater.’
‘Is he our firebomber?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘He didn’t even know Tony was back in England.’
‘How can you be sure if he was telling the truth? Did you use your cold-reading skills on him?’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘I used a different method. Much more satisfying, although I probably shouldn’t make a habit of it.’
‘It’s too bad we came all this way for nothing,’ said Sally.
‘It’s all right,’ said Gwen grimly. ‘I found what I needed to know. Let’s go and see Iris.’
Sally pulled up by the Cecilia at six thirty. Iris opened the door as they crossed the gangplank.
‘Oh, good, you’re back,’ she said, motioning them inside. ‘Any luck?’
‘A good working theory,’ said Gwen as she came in. ‘The Caters believe Tony talked Bruce into going to Spain, so they blame him for his death. It wasn’t vengeance for Nancy that led to the attack. It was vengeance for Bruce. Only Lord and Lady Cater didn’t know he had returned.’
‘So it wasn’t them?’
‘No,’ said Gwen. ‘But Bruce had siblings. A younger brother and a little sister who worshipped him. They were only children when he died, which would explain why they didn’t take action when Tony came back from Spain.’
‘But they would be adults now,’ mused Iris. ‘So we need to find them next.’
‘No, we don’t,’ said Gwen. ‘One of them found us. His little sister, Charlotte. She’s Evelyn Lowle.’
Iris stared at her for a moment. Then a smile spread slowly across her face.
‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘That’s the piece that explains everything.’