Penny Green series Box Set 2 Page 6

  “Not at the moment, but it’s likely to reach us very soon. They say it’s happened in the south of France because of the heat. Well, it’s also hot here! They need to start disinfecting the streets as a precaution.”

  “How’s Fenella?” I asked. “I hope she wasn’t upset over that unpleasant business with Simon Borthwick after the fair.”

  “She’s absolutely fine. We didn’t see or hear anything about it. Thankfully, the cab had whisked us away before he committed the heinous act. I haven’t mentioned it to her, either. Children don’t need to hear about such things.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that she was unaffected,” I said.

  “Why would the man do such a thing? And so publicly, too?” said Eliza. “Perhaps it was an accident. Perhaps he was sitting in the cab inspecting his revolver when it accidentally went off.”

  “No, it was suicide,” I replied. “He planned it and left behind rather a despondent letter.”

  “Oh dear. Perhaps he had a weakness of the mind,” said my sister. “Perhaps his brain was prone to episodes of sudden paroxysm. It can happen, you know. A neighbour of Cousin Agatha’s suffered the same affliction and shot himself because he could withstand the symptoms no longer.”

  “That’s very sad. I’m not sure how a mind as brilliant as Simon Borthwick’s could be affected by an impairment such as that.”

  “Oh, that’s where you’re quite wrong, Penelope. It is generally considered that a mind with genius capability actually possesses a higher incidence of flaws.”

  “How do you know that, Ellie?”

  “I read it somewhere. Anyway, I can’t stop here for long discussing such morbid matters. I came to ask if you’d like to join our meeting of the West London Women’s Society this evening. We’re discussing the sad news that the Clause for the Enfranchisement of Women has been rejected. I had such hopes for Mr Woodall’s proposed amendment to the Reform Bill. We had the support of seventy-nine Liberal MPs, and yet it came to nothing.”

  “That’s sad news.”

  “Well it is, and I cannot foresee when the next opportunity will arise for women’s suffrage. But there’s no use in bemoaning what has happened. We plan to formulate our next plan of action at this evening’s meeting.”

  “Miss Green!” Mrs Garnett knocked at my door. “There’s a gentleman here to see you.”

  Eliza’s eyes widened with sudden interest. “A gentleman, Penelope? Were you expecting someone?”

  “No, I’m not expecting anyone. I wasn’t even expecting you this evening.”

  Was it James?

  I quickly repinned my hair and smoothed out my cotton dress.

  “Miss Green! Can you hear me?”

  “I’m on my way, Mrs Garnett!” I called back as I skipped over to the door and opened it.

  “He’s waiting in the hallway,” said my landlady as I followed her down the narrow wooden staircase and then descended the wider carpeted stairs. Eliza followed close behind me.

  It wasn’t James in the hallway; instead, it was Mr Edwards. Wearing a pale grey suit, he held his hat in one hand and a leather document case in the other. He greeted me with a wide grin.

  “Miss Green! And Mrs Billington-Grieg, too! What a delightful surprise.”

  “It’s a surprise to see you here this evening, Mr Edwards,” said Eliza. “Are your visits here a regular occurrence?”

  “No, Ellie. This is the first time Mr Edwards has visited,” I said swiftly.

  “Hugo Bannister!” he announced as he held up the case. “All the notes I’ve made about him are in here.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mr Edwards. That’s extremely kind of you,” I said. “And rather quick work as well. There was no need for you to go to the trouble of delivering the notes to my home. I could have collected them from you during my next visit to the reading room.”

  “It was no trouble at all. It’s a good excuse for a stroll on a pleasant summer’s evening.”

  “You’re not worried about cholera, then?” I asked.

  “Cholera?” His face grew concerned. “Has there been another outbreak?”

  “It is spreading in the south of France,” I replied.

  “That’s rather far away,” he said. “I shouldn’t think you need to concern yourself about that at the present time, Miss Green.”

  “Thank you for the reassurance, Mr Edwards. If you’re not worried about it then neither am I.” I glared at my sister, still mindful of the window she had slammed shut.

  “If it were to reach Paris that would be a different matter,” said Mr Edwards. “I think we should need to be on our guard then.”

  “Is it going to reach Paris?” asked Mrs Garnett.

  “We don’t know,” said Mr Edwards. “I wasn’t aware that it was prevalent in the south of France.”

  “I don’t want it getting to Paris,” said Mrs Garnett. “If it gets there it won’t be long before it ends up in London. I don’t want any cholera here again. I remember it back in ’66. Awful times. Dreadful times. It was exactly like hell on earth.”

  Her lower lip began to wobble, and I wished I had never mentioned the disease.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs Garnett,” I said breezily. “I’m sure it won’t return.”

  “With this heat you can never be too sure,” said Eliza.

  “The heat brings it on, does it?” asked Mrs Garnett, her eyes wide with fear.

  “No, it doesn’t, Mrs Garnett. There is no need for unnecessary concern,” said Mr Edwards. He handed me the leather case and I thanked him again.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Green,” he replied. “I enjoyed finding out about Mr Bannister, although it’s a rather sorry tale.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes. He was an extremely clever man by all accounts and worked on early prototypes of the electric lamp, but he died poor and alone.”

  “I worry about that happening to me,” said Mrs Garnett.

  Eliza rolled her eyes.

  “You won’t be alone, Mrs Garnett,” I said. “I’ll be here.”

  “Will you, Miss Green?” asked Mr Edwards. “You won’t have moved somewhere else by then?”

  “Why should I move anywhere else?” I asked.

  “Your circumstances might change,” said Eliza.

  “I have no plans to change my circumstances in the immediate future,” I replied curtly, aware that my sister was hinting at marriage.

  “Mr Edwards,” said Eliza. “Has Penelope mentioned to you that we are due to dine with the celebrated plant-hunter Mr Fox-Stirling and his wife?”

  “She has indeed. I hope he has some more useful information to impart about your father.”

  “Has she not invited you to join us?” asked Eliza.

  I felt a sinking sensation in my chest and saw a flush of colour spread beneath Mr Edwards’ spectacles.

  “Invited me? Oh, I see… Well, I don’t recall Miss Green mentioning an invitation.”

  “That was rather remiss of her,” said my sister. “Would you like to join us?”

  “I should be delighted to,” said Mr Edwards. “But only if Miss Green is acquiescent.” He gave me a half-worried, half-expectant look.

  “I acquiesce,” I said with a forced smile. The alternative was that I would be the only person without a companion for the evening.

  A wide smile spread across Mr Edwards’ face.

  “Wonderful! Well, I must say I am looking forward to it immensely. Thank you, ladies.”

  He took his leave of us and departed.

  Mrs Garnett shook her head once she had closed the door behind him. “Now there’s a lovesick man if ever I saw one.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “It’s in his eyes, Miss Green. The way he looks at you. Lovesick.”

  “Exactly, Mrs Garnett,” said my sister. “You and I don’t often agree, but I’m pleased that you are also able to see it.”

  “Nonsense,” I retorted. “He’s merely a chap who works in the reading room. H
e helps me with my research.”

  “And why does he help you so much with your research?” asked Eliza.

  “Because he’s naturally helpful.”

  “Does he help many other people with their research?”

  “Probably. Anyway, I need to get on and take a look at these notes.”

  I wanted to rebuke Eliza for inviting Mr Edwards to dinner without my permission, but it would have been impolite to do so in front of my landlady.

  “So he’s replaced the inspector, has he?” asked Mrs Garnett.

  “No!” I replied. “Absolutely not. And I don’t know what you mean by replaced. In what capacity would Mr Edwards replace Inspector Blakely? One is a clerk from the reading room and the other is a detective.”

  Mrs Garnett wagged her finger at me and grinned, her teeth flashing white against her dark skin. “But we know better, don’t we? You don’t think we can see through your insouciance, but I’ve been around for a long time. I’ve seen it all before. I was married once myself, you know.”

  “Mr Edwards and Inspector Blakely are merely gentlemen I have encountered in the course of my work,” I said. “People always speculate on these matters because I happen to be a spinster. If I were married no one would pay any attention whatsoever.”

  “You’re right, Penelope,” said Eliza. “They wouldn’t. Married women escape such speculation. That is why most women follow the sensible path and become wives at their earliest opportunity.”

  Chapter 13

  Mrs Georgina Fish was a young, pleasant, horse-faced woman with soft curls of dark hair. She wore a pale green linen day dress and received me in her parlour with three of her cats.

  “Edgar and I always joke about our name and the fact that we have so many cats,” she giggled. “Cats catch fish, don’t they?”

  I smiled politely. “They do when they have the chance. My cat lives on the rooftops and catches pigeons.”

  “A rooftop cat? Goodness. Perhaps you should marry a man with the name Pigeon!”

  I feigned laughter. Mrs Fish’s jokes were as poor as her husband’s.

  “I must say that it’s extremely admirable of you to pursue a profession,” she continued. “I don’t possess the brains for such work. And I certainly don’t know how you put up with Edgar every day!”

  “Me neither!” I laughed again.

  “He’s very fond of you, I can tell. He often comes home with a story about what Miss Green has been up to.”

  “Does he indeed?” I began to feel concerned. “Such as?”

  “Oh, little things. Such as the way you like to poke fun at tubby Frederick and the manner in which you talk back to your editor.”

  “Well, I must say that tales such as those make me sound rather rude.”

  “Oh no, not at all.” She waved a delicate hand dismissively. “Edgar always talks about it in such an amusing way. He says you’d like to speak to me about my friend Lillian.”

  “Yes. Lillian Maynell, isn’t it?”

  “The very same!” she clapped her hands together with glee, startling the white cat on the sofa next to her. “Isn’t it funny how these things transpire?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Especially when you think how big London is! What are the chances of it happening?”

  “Indeed. The chances are very slim, I suspect.”

  “Would you like some tea, Miss Green?”

  “Thank you. Do call me Penny.”

  Georgina summoned a maid and asked her to fetch some tea.

  “Lillian is married to Mr Jeffrey Maynell, an engineer with Repton, Borthwick and Company. Is that right?” I asked.

  “Yes. He does something to do with electricity and that’s all I know, I’m afraid. He’s extremely clever, though.”

  “I understand that, previous to her marriage, Lillian courted Mr Maynell’s colleague, Simon Borthwick.”

  “The one who shot himself? Yes.” Georgina’s face fell and became solemn.

  “Did you ever meet Mr Borthwick?”

  “Yes, I did. A few times in fact. I didn’t ever get to know him well, as he was always so busy. I think he was more interested in his work than marriage, and I suspect that was why Lillian turned her attentions elsewhere.”

  A ginger cat jumped up onto my lap and stared at me, its face inches from mine.

  “Just push her off,” said Georgina. “It’s because you’re sitting in her favourite chair.”

  I tried to remove the cat, but she twisted her head around and tried to bite my hand. Georgina hissed at her and she jumped down.

  “Does Lillian know that Simon Borthwick mentioned her in a letter which he wrote just before his death?” I asked.

  “Did he?” Georgina’s mouth hung open. “Goodness! I didn’t know that, and I shouldn’t think she does either. What did he say about her?”

  “He apologised to her, but said that she no doubt cared little for his apology.”

  “Did he really?” I saw tears appear in Georgina’s eyes. “That is quite a surprise.”

  “Why do you find it surprising?”

  “Because it suggests that he cared for her after all. I had assumed he was rather indifferent to the courtship. She grew tired of waiting for him to propose.”

  “That is why the courtship ended?”

  “Yes. Lillian was rather saddened by it, and I cannot deny that she was also receiving the attentions of Jeffrey Maynell. He seemed to possess more enthusiasm for marriage than Simon Borthwick. But it seems that Simon must have cared for her if he mentioned her in his letter in such a manner.” Georgina paused and wiped her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “I think she would be saddened to know that he had written that.”

  “Do you think it would be appropriate to tell her?”

  “I really don’t know. She’s happily married now, you see, and it wouldn’t do to stir up a hornet’s nest.”

  “Simon Borthwick’s letter concerns me because he suggested that he was persecuted to the point where he had no option but to take his own life.”

  “Oh, that really is dreadful.” A tear trickled down Georgina’s cheek. “I had no idea he had suffered so much.”

  “You’re not aware of anyone persecuting him?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think Lillian would know?”

  “I don’t think she would.”

  “Do you think she might be happy to speak to me? I would be very tactful about the matter.”

  “She’s already had quite an upset hearing about his suicide. A sudden and untimely death is one thing, but suicide...”

  “It’s not at all pleasant, is it? If I were to meet her you would be more than welcome to accompany me. If you were happy to, of course.”

  “Can I please think about it, Miss Green?” She wiped away her tears. “I feel as though I’m having to consider so many things all at the same time, and I don’t have the brains for thinking, I can assure you.”

  “Nonsense, Georgina. You seem like a woman with plenty of brains to me.”

  “You think so?” She smiled.

  “Apart from marrying Edgar. Perhaps you didn’t use your brains properly when you made that decision.”

  “Oh, Miss Green!” She laughed and clapped her hands together. “You are so terribly funny!”

  Chapter 14

  “I’m not sure why you’re here again, Miss Green. I have nothing further to share with you about the murder of Mr Geller.”

  Chief Inspector Stroud did not admit me to his office this time. Instead, he spoke to me while leaning with one elbow on the desk of the main lobby. His thick grey whiskers were damp with perspiration.

  “That’s a shame, Inspector. How many people have you interviewed?”

  “There is no requirement for me to disclose that information to you.”

  “Would it be helpful if I wrote an article in the Morning Express appealing for witnesses who may have seen a person acting suspiciously in or near the medical school on the day that Richard Geller wa
s murdered?”

  “If, at some later date, I consider that to be a useful course of action I shall inform you then.”

  “Do you have an alibi for Mr Kurtz yet, for that brief period of time when he says he left the museum and Mr Geller’s murder took place?”

  “It would not be customary for me to share that information with a news reporter.”

  “I understand, Inspector, but don’t you think the public would like to learn more about the investigation? It was an extremely shocking attack on an innocent man, and I would like to write an article which reassures our readers.”

  Chief Inspector Stroud made a derisory snorting noise. “I think the good people of London instinctively put their trust in our police force. There is no need for supposed reassurance from the newspapers.”

  “I’m afraid I disagree, Inspector. When a terrible crime occurs gossip spreads misinformation and people can become disproportionately concerned. The ability to read and digest certain facts about the case will put the public’s mind at rest.”

  “This is the City of London police force, Miss Green, not the Metropolitan. I’m well aware that my colleagues in the Met are happy to share every detail of their investigations with the scribbling race, but that is not the case here. We have a certain way of doing things, and we have done them most successfully for forty-five years now.”

  “My editor has asked me to write about any progress that has been made with Mr Geller’s case,” I said. “Shall I return to the office and tell him that there has been no progress?”

  “Tell him that the Richard Geller case is of no concern to the press.”

  It was my turn to emit a derisory snort.

  “Times are changing, Inspector Stroud. You cannot exclude the press from a case such as this.”

  “I can and I will.”

  “I shall return to my editor and tell him there has been no progress whatsoever.”

  “That would be a lie, because there has been.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Then I shall report that no progress has been made.”

  “It would be misleading to report such a thing.”