11 - Ticket to Oblivion Page 11

  ‘What about my missing arm?’ she asked.

  ‘It will have to wait, alas.’

  ‘You can’t just walk away and leave me like that.’

  ‘I’m needed elsewhere, Dolly,’ said George Vaughan. ‘Besides, you shouldn’t really have seen the portrait before it’s completed. I always think it bad luck if a model views a painting too soon in the creative process.’

  ‘I look ridiculous without an arm.’

  ‘Think how many Greek and Roman statues lack a limb of one kind or another. It adds character. In some cases, they don’t even have a head.’

  ‘I’m not a statue, George,’ she said, fiercely. ‘I’m a real woman and I want to be finished.’

  ‘And so you shall be – when I return from Oxford.’

  ‘But you said you never wanted to go there again.’

  ‘That was before I heard about Imogen’s disappearance.’

  ‘Oh, it’s her, is it?’ she said, jealously. ‘It’s that precious cousin of yours. Because she’s more important than me, I’m left in London with a missing arm.’

  ‘Don’t be absurd.’

  ‘You love her more than you love me. That’s what it amounts to, isn’t it?’

  ‘I love her as a cousin. When she’s in danger, I’m bound to worry about Imogen.’ He glanced across at the bed. ‘I love you in a very different way.’

  It was not long after dawn and they were in his studio at the top of the house in Chelsea. After a restive night thinking about Imogen, he’d felt the urge to go back to his family. Having left under a cloud, he was not sure what kind of reception he’d get but nevertheless felt impelled to return to Oxford. Dolly looked upon the decision as a betrayal.

  ‘You said that I’d taught you the meaning of freedom,’ she recalled.

  ‘And I’m eternally grateful to you, Dolly.’

  ‘So why are you putting her before me?’

  ‘That’s not what I’m doing. In most things, you’ll always come first.’

  ‘Prove it,’ she challenged.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If you really love me, take me to Oxford with you.’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ he spluttered.

  ‘Exactly – you’re ashamed of me, George Vaughan.’

  ‘I’m prouder of you than of anyone else in my life. You’ve changed the way I look at the world, Dolly. Nobody else could have done that. Living and working with you has made me feel that I’m in paradise.’

  ‘Then stay here and give me a second arm.’ She moved in close to embrace him. ‘I’ll be extremely grateful,’ she purred. ‘You’ve no idea what treats I’d have in store for you. Why bother about your old life? Put it behind you for good.’ She caressed his hair. ‘Come to bed with me and talk it over.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, tempted by her blandishments but easing her gently away. ‘This is something that I have to do. I’m not leaving you, Dolly. I’ll be back before you know that I’ve gone.’

  ‘And will you tell your family about me?’

  ‘I … might do so.’

  ‘Will you say that I mean far more to you than your cousin?’

  ‘No – I’m simply going there to offer support in a fraught situation.’

  ‘In other words,’ she said, astringently, ‘Dolly Wrenson won’t even deserve a mention. She’ll cease to exist because she’ll be an embarrassment to you. Real freedom consists in being true to yourself, George. It’s showing the whole world what you believe in and care about. You can’t be a devil-may-care artist in Chelsea and a dutiful son in Oxford at one and the same time. You can’t live in sin and pretend to lead a virginal existence. It’s sheer hypocrisy.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ he yelled, banging the table. ‘There’s a crisis in my family and my place is with them. If you can’t appreciate that, then you’ve lowered yourself in my esteem. You must stop being so infernally selfish, Dolly. Someone else’s need is greater than yours. For heaven’s sake, learn to accept that.’ He picked up a battered valise and headed for the door. ‘We’ll discuss this in full when I get back.

  Dolly folded her arms. ‘How do you know that I’ll still be here?’

  At a time when his thoughts were concentrated solely on his daughter’s safety, what Sir Marcus Burnhope needed least was an attack by his sister-in-law. He’d returned home too late for her to ambush him that night so she bided her time and waited until he descended for breakfast. Before he could even enter the dining room, Cassandra Vaughan popped out from behind a suit of armour in the hall to accost him.

  ‘What’s going on, Marcus?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m having an early breakfast,’ he replied, astonished to see her. ‘What are you doing here, Cassandra?’

  ‘I came to look after my sister and to find out the facts. Paulina is in low spirits as it is. Why make her condition worse by concealing the truth from her? Do you wish your wife to expire from neglect and anxiety?’

  ‘Paulina has not been neglected. The doctor calls every day. As for her anxiety, I share it. I wish I was in a position to alleviate it.’

  ‘Something is afoot,’ said Cassandra, suspiciously. ‘I know it.’

  ‘Then you know more than I do.’

  ‘Why is that disagreeable Mr Tunnadine staying under our roof? I was asleep when you finally returned last night but his booming voice woke me up. I could hear him stamping around down here in the hall.’

  ‘Clive is here as our guest,’ said Sir Marcus, wanting to divulge as little as possible. ‘He is, after all, an interested party.’

  ‘What about Imogen’s mother? Is not she an interested party? As for her aunt, I am very interested and I won’t leave your side until you let me in to whatever secret you’re hiding. Come on, Marcus. We are adults. Tell us the truth.’

  When he’d first met her, Sir Marcus had been fond of Cassandra because she was unfailingly pleasant and comparatively subdued. The emergence of a new sister-in-law, strong-willed and outspoken, had dulled his affection and he’d tried to avoid her on social occasions. He was now in a quandary. Cassandra was too intelligent to be fobbed off with a paltry excuse. As long as she was in the house, she’d stick to him like a burr. If he told her the full truth, on the other hand, the information would be passed on to his wife and he believed that it would cause her even greater alarm than if she were left in ignorance. Uncertain as to what he should do, he opted for a compromise, deciding to release crucial facts while holding back others.

  ‘All that I can tell you is this—’ he began.

  ‘I want the truth,’ she warned, ‘with no prevarication.’

  ‘Imogen and her maid are alive.’

  ‘Thank God for that!’

  ‘Of her whereabouts, however, we have no details.’

  ‘Then how can you say that they’re still alive?’

  ‘I’ve told you all I can, Cassandra,’ he lied.

  ‘Have they been kidnapped? Are they being held against their will?’

  ‘You know as much as I do.’

  ‘Someone has been in touch with you, haven’t they?’

  ‘When I learn more,’ he said, trying to mollify her with a smile, ‘I’ll be sure to pass on the news to you and to Paulina.’ He moved away. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to have some breakfast.’

  ‘You’re not getting away as easily as that, Marcus,’ she said, tugging at his sleeve. ‘I feel as if I’m only hearing a portion of the truth. Is there nothing you can tell me that will help to revive Paulina?’

  ‘There’s nothing.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘That’s your prerogative,’ he retorted. ‘I’m sorry that our late arrival disturbed you. Since you must be very tired, I suggest that you get some sleep now instead of hounding me like this. I’m hungry,’ he went on, detaching her hand from his sleeve. ‘Good day to you, Cassandra.’

  Before she could stop him, he went into the dining room and closed the door behind him with such finality that
even she did not dare to go in pursuit. She’d learnt something of moment. It would have to suffice her for a while.

  A welcome night at home had not only cheered Colbeck, it had given him the opportunity to share more details of the case with his wife. Madeleine was no silent helpmeet who simply ran the household in his absence. She was an intelligent woman who’d been involved in the investigative process a number of times. Edward Tallis would have been beside himself if he’d known how many of Colbeck’s successes had owed something to the enterprise of his wife. But there was another reason why her husband had consulted her. Madeleine had experience of being abducted. Had she not been rescued by Colbeck from the ship on which she was being held, she would have been taken abroad by two strangers, one of whom had already molested her. It had left an indelible mark on her.

  As she helped Colbeck on with his frock coat, she relived the memories.

  ‘What frightened me most,’ she said, ‘was being completely unaware of what was really going on. And I hated being locked up like a criminal.’

  ‘I’m sorry that you had to go through that ordeal, Madeleine.’

  ‘I survived.’

  ‘It still gives me pangs of guilt,’ he said. ‘You were kidnapped because of me. When I was on their tail, they needed a hostage and they chose you. I dread to think what might have happened if we hadn’t intercepted you in Bristol.’

  ‘I often have shivers about that, Robert,’ she admitted. ‘The worst moment was when one of them cornered me in a wine cellar and tried to take advantage of me. I managed to smash a wine bottle over his head but, if his friend had not interrupted us, God knows what would have happened to me.’ She brightened. ‘But there was one consolation.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘He told me that I’d been abducted because you were my “ardent admirer”. You’ve no idea how much that phrase rallied me.’

  ‘I was and still am your ardent admirer, Madeleine,’ he said, gallantly. ‘But you were snatched from your house as a means of keeping me at bay. Sir Marcus’s daughter and her maid are being held for ransom.’

  ‘They’ll still feel as I did – trapped, helpless and terrified. The one advantage is that there are two of them. They’ll be able to draw comfort from each other. I was alone and defenceless.’

  He grinned. ‘Not entirely defenceless,’ he observed. ‘You excelled yourself with a bottle of wine in your hands.’ He became serious. ‘There’s another aspect to this case, however. I’m still convinced that the two of them cooperated in a scheme to disappear. That being the case, they may be totally oblivious to the fact that they are victims of kidnappers. Instead of being in a state of terror, they may believe that the fulsome promises made to them will be honoured.’

  ‘What will happen if the ransom is not paid?’

  ‘I’ve no doubt that the threat made against them will be carried out.’

  ‘So they could be ignorant of the fact that their lives are in danger?’

  ‘It’s a possibility that I’ve chosen not to share with Sir Marcus. He would never accept that his daughter would actually run away from home.’ He took out his pocket watch and glanced at it. ‘I must rush. Victor and I have a train to catch.’

  Transport once again brought misery into Leeming’s life. He loathed trains and hated voyages at sea even more. Both had prominence in his nightmares. On balance, however, neither provoked the immediate sense of danger that riding a horse did. As he hauled himself up into the saddle outside Burnhope Manor, he felt as if he was risking life and limb. His mount was far too frisky and bucked mutinously. He and the animal could never be described as sharing a marriage of true minds. In fact, it was clear that the horse – a bay mare, skittish by nature – had a mind of her own and she’d taken a particular dislike to her rider. Even before they were in motion, Leeming was dividing his time between hanging on for dear life and fervent prayer.

  It was afternoon and Vernon Tolley had harnessed the horses and put them between the shafts. Sir Marcus had already climbed into the landau with Clive Tunnadine and Edward Tallis. Though they said nothing to the coachman, their very presence helped to instil hope in Tolley. He believed that they would not all be there unless they were going to retrieve the missing women. His earlier pessimism waned. Rhoda Wills was still alive. It sent the blood coursing through his veins.

  While Leeming was still trying in vain to control his mount, Colbeck strolled across to him. The inspector had used cosmetics to put dark shadows under his eyes and he’d added a silver moustache to his face.

  ‘What do you think, Victor?’ he asked. ‘Do I look old enough?’

  ‘You’re not as old as I feel, sir. Sitting up here has added years to my age. This horse is determined to kill me one way or another.’

  Colbeck was amused. ‘Show her that you’re the master.’

  ‘But I’m not – she’s in charge.’ The horse bucked violently and he was almost thrown from the saddle. ‘Do you see what I mean? I’d much rather walk than ride. Why can’t I go in the carriage?’

  ‘There’s no room, I’m afraid.’

  ‘There would be if we changed places. You’re an experienced horseman.’

  ‘I’m also the owner of Burnhope Manor,’ teased Colbeck. ‘You can’t expect a man of my age and distinction to forego the comfort of a carriage.’

  ‘What if I get thrown off?’ wailed Leeming.

  ‘You simply get back on again, Victor.’

  Crossing to the landau, Colbeck clambered into it and sat beside Tallis. He would have been far happier not to have the superintendent there but had no choice in the matter. Tunnadine was grim and patently aggrieved. Sir Marcus was hunched in his seat, clutching a leather bag protectively in his lap. His curt command made the coachman crack his whip and the horses set off. Leeming followed the carriage on his prancing bay mare. The journey only lasted a couple of miles. Colbeck had some idea of what to expect because he’d studied the ordnance survey map of the area. The site had been well chosen. The kidnapper had insisted that Sir Marcus came alone with the specified amount of money in a bag. When it was counted and deemed correct, his daughter and her maid would be released. The actual point of exchange was at the base of a hill. To reach it, Colbeck – in the guise of the older man – would have to walk two hundred yards or more across a field.

  The carriage reached a copse and drew to a halt. Beyond it was open country where it was certain to be seen. Everyone climbed out of the vehicle. Colbeck was momentarily diverted, helping Leeming to dismount. As she was reined in, the bay mare tried to dislodge her rider by rising up on her rear legs. Leeming more or less fell into the inspector’s arms. Showing great presence of mind, Tolley leapt from his seat, grabbed the reins and calmed the horse with soft words and gentle caresses on her neck. Tallis was unimpressed by the sergeant’s horsemanship.

  ‘You must learn to ride properly, Leeming,’ he said, sharply.

  ‘I’d rather not, sir.’

  ‘It could be the saving of you one day.’

  ‘I was born to keep my feet on the ground.’

  Colbeck consulted his watch again. ‘It’s almost time to go.’

  ‘I still think it’s my right to undertake the exchange,’ said Tunnadine, chafing. ‘Imogen would expect it of me.’

  ‘This is a task for a professional detective, sir,’ said Tallis.

  ‘I endorse that,’ added Sir Marcus. ‘You’ll take no part in this, Clive.’

  Tunnadine scowled and retreated to the carriage, lurking beside it. Colbeck had come prepared. During an earlier investigation in Scotland, he’d learnt the value of using a telescope and had brought one with him. With Leeming at his heels, he crept through the trees until he reached the edge of the copse, then used the instrument to survey the land ahead. The hill was visible but he could see nobody on its summit. Handing the telescope to Leeming, he returned to the others.

  ‘I’ll need the ransom money now, Sir Marcus,’ he said.

  Reluctant to pa
rt with it, the older man suddenly thrust it into his hands.

  ‘Take great care, Inspector. You are holding a small fortune.’

  ‘I’ll exercise every caution,’ Colbeck promised.

  Tunnadine appraised him. ‘Are you armed?’

  ‘No, sir – it would be pointless.’

  ‘In the interests of self-preservation, you should at least have a pistol.’

  ‘The best way to safeguard my life is to carry no weapon,’ said Colbeck. ‘The kidnapper will not approach me until he’s certain that I bear no arms.’

  Tolley was thrilled by the confirmation that Rhoda Wills was alive. In return for a large amount of money, she’d be set free. When the others wished the inspector good luck, he joined in. Colbeck thanked them all and moved off.

  Breaking cover, he walked for a few minutes before he reached the field designated in the ransom demand. He opened the five-barred gate then closed it behind him, moving slowly to indicate advanced years and bending forward to make it more difficult for his face to be scrutinised through the telescope that he was sure would be trained on him. When he reached the base of the hill, he stopped and waited. There was a long, uneasy silence. Though he could see nobody ahead of him, he knew that someone was there. To his right were acres of farmland, stretching into the distance. To his left was a low hedge that fringed the field on that side. Colbeck had a strong feeling that he was under surveillance from the hill and from behind the hedge. The kidnapper was taking no chances. Apparently, he’d brought an accomplice.

  Eventually, he came into view at the top of the hill, one eye peering through a telescope. He was tall, slim, well dressed and had a voice that easily carried across the distance. Colbeck was subjected to a cross-examination.

  ‘Are you Sir Marcus Burnhope?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Colbeck.

  ‘Do you have the money?’

  He patted the bag. ‘It’s here.’

  ‘Is it the full amount?’

  ‘It’s as you requested.’

  The man laughed harshly. ‘It was no request – it was a command.’