The Mitford Murders Page 9

  Otherwise, she had settled into the Mitford routine, such as it was, very well. There had been no attempt from her uncle to find her and she had, until the last few nights, managed to push him from her mind for the most part, concentrating on folding the linens or walking Decca slowly around the garden, counting snowdrops.

  But with Lady Redesdale on bed rest for the next few weeks, as she had been for the last month – the baby was due any day now – and the children irritable with their Lenten sacrifices, it had been decided that a few days by the sea, staying with Nanny’s twin, Rosa, was just what was needed. Louisa had asked if she might not be more useful staying at Asthall, to look after Lady Redesdale and the expected newborn, but Nanny Blor determined that she needed her more. The maternity nurse would be more than enough for Her Ladyship, who was, after all, practised at the business of birth.

  The trip had been inevitable, whatever Louisa felt about it. From the second the idea had been mooted, Nancy had campaigned for its fruition. The others were just as enchanted at the thought of Rosa’s teashop with its scones and steamed-up windows, the sea that was too cold to swim in but just about bearable for paddling, the caws of the seagulls and the exotic taste of salt in the air.

  Nancy was taken with the notion of playing detective on the train. She had realised early on that they would be taking the same fated journey as Nurse Shore, if not the very same train. Lord Redesdale, believing his daughter to have taken a sudden, if surprising, interest in household economy, had readily agreed to their travelling third class.

  Alongside cuttings from the reports on the attack and subsequent inquests, Nancy had put a notebook and pencil in her pocket, together with a magnifying glass she had snuck out of her father’s desk. It had an ivory handle, delicately carved, with a satisfyingly heavy silver rim around the glass itself. She knew he would be furious when he realised it was missing but had already told Ada that it would be returned. She didn’t want the maid to get into trouble.

  Tom, taking seriously the instruction from his father that as the only male in the party he needed to keep an eye on things, had hurried ahead to Nancy. She linked her arm through his – despite the five years between them he was only a head shorter than her – and they led their merry band past the enormous station clock and on to platform nine, where a train was waiting for them, as sleek and glossy as a sleeping seal.

  Nanny Blor huffed up at the rear of their gang, signalling to Louisa, who was struggling slightly with the sinking weight of Decca and rat-a-tat walking step of Unity.

  ‘I need to spend a penny,’ Nanny whispered. ‘Give me Miss Decca. You can settle everyone on to the train.’

  Louisa handed over the child and, catching the eye of the young porter who was wheeling along their luggage, hurried to catch up with Nancy and her brother. She had met Tom for the first time only a few days before, when he arrived home for the holidays, and had liked him instantly for his cool-headed nature and polite manners. Although still only eleven years old, the fact of his being away at school gave him an independence his sisters could never claim and it was clear they found his other life as exotic as that of a man who came from Timbuctoo. He took the teasing of his siblings in good nature, too, and rarely seemed to nip back, though Louisa had found in his room a homemade badge that declared: ‘Leag Against Nancy, head Tom’.

  Nancy was telling her brother the sad story of Nurse Shore’s demise. It was a tale with which he was by now very well acquainted, but each re-telling featured a further polish. Nancy told the story as if presenting a brilliantly cut diamond, examining it at different angles to see which side caught the light best.

  ‘Slow down, please, Miss Nancy,’ said Louisa, pulling Unity along, aware of Diana trailing behind and that Pamela, liable to be distracted by the sight of someone with a dog or even just a pigeon pecking at crumbs on the platform, could easily be left behind altogether.

  ‘We’ve got to get the last compartment,’ said Nancy. ‘I don’t want anyone else sitting in there.’

  ‘Run ahead then and save our seats,’ said Louisa, allowing herself to slow down slightly. She hoped Nanny wouldn’t take too long.

  When Louisa arrived a few minutes later, she saw that only Nancy and Tom were in there, much to Nancy’s delight.

  ‘This could be the one, Louisa!’ said Nancy, beaming. ‘The very compartment that saw the final moments of Nurse Florence Nightingale Shore.’

  Louisa paled slightly and looked around. There weren’t, thankfully, any signs of the nurse’s final moments. Nancy had taken the magnifying glass out of her pocket and was inspecting the seats closely, with something of a theatrical flourish.

  ‘Hmmm, no sign of any blood,’ she said. ‘In the paper it said she had received three severe blows to the left side of the head,’ she continued, oblivious to Tom’s stony reaction. He looked, in fact, distinctly queasy. ‘So there must have been some blood somewhere. Ah – what’s that?’

  She leapt upon something small and shiny lying far beneath the seat. A sweet wrapper. ‘Well, you never know, it might have been the very last thing she ate,’ said Nancy, and put the square of waxy paper in her pocket.

  ‘I think this is where she sat,’ she went on, choosing the seat in the corner, furthest from the open door, facing the engine. ‘So this is the last time she ever saw Victoria station—’

  ‘Miss Nancy!’ said Louisa. ‘Not in front of the children, please.’ She climbed on-board with Decca and Diana; Pamela had been given instructions to wait on the platform so that Nanny Blor would find them. With the children deposited, the porter brought the luggage on and there were a busy few minutes stashing it on the racks and beneath the seats.

  Nancy suddenly spoke. ‘I say, porter.’

  The young man, his thin arms heaving a case up, was caught mid-swing. He looked at Nancy.

  ‘Did you carry the bags for Nurse Shore? You know, the one who was murdered on the train?’

  ‘No, miss,’ he said. He nodded to Louisa and left without even waiting for a tip.

  Nancy just looked out of the window again. ‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ she said. ‘I bet he had met Nurse Shore, though.’

  Louisa knew this would now be woven into Nancy’s anecdotes about the day’s trip.

  Nanny Blor appeared at the door and looked in nervously. When Miss Nancy had suggested they go third-class, she’d been comfortable enough with the idea at first. She had told Louisa that the task of keeping the children quiet in first class meant she could never enjoy herself, but she wasn’t at all sure about sitting where a woman had been killed. She had never met Florence Shore but she knew a great deal about her from Rosa and had even written to her once, to thank her for the news of Lord Redesdale during the war, as it had been so reassuring for all the family and servants.

  There was no time to hesitate. The guard’s whistle blew and Nanny scrambled to get in and sit down before the jolt of the moving train could take her unawares. Unity had already crept in before her, inspected all the available places and chosen one by a window, quite alone.

  Louisa watched Nancy taking notes in her little schoolbook and though she looked quite comical – her nose crinkled in concentration, her girlish pigtail of dark hair betraying her childishness – she was, after all, trying to find clues for a real murder that had happened. Yet Louisa could not bring herself to feel afraid of their being attacked by a stranger, even one who had killed before. She was much more frightened of seeing Stephen. If he was staying on the coast nearby, it would all be over for her.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  While Nancy and Tom sat together, notebook and pencil out, Pamela and Diana were opposite, looking out of the window, in the perfect position to eavesdrop Nancy’s whispers to their brother. Louisa sat beside them with Decca; she knew she looked washed out and anxious but she tried to keep her mind off the last time she’d made this journey by singing snatches of ‘Pack Up Your Troubles’ in the baby’s ear and jiggling her on her knee. Nanny Blor sat by the opposite win
dow, straightening her skirts and catching her breath; she started rummaging in her bag, looking for some mints.

  For the next hour, the children, their nanny and their nursery maid were uncharacteristically quiet. Decca was soon soothed by the rocking motion of the train and leaned against Louisa, sleeping. Unity watched every passing tree and building, looking enraptured to be moving further and further away from home with every turn of the wheels. Diana read her book, dozing occasionally and leaning against Pamela, who pointed out horses galloping across the hills or cows chewing the cud. Tom sucked toffees that he had found in his pocket. Louisa caught his eye as he did so and when he tried to hide the bulge in his cheeks, she guessed he had no wish to share – the tyranny of children who have siblings – so kept silent.

  All the while, Nancy continued to write careful notes on the three tunnels they passed through, noting when they occurred in the journey, guessing the timing as best she could without a watch, and how long they lasted (she counted in potatoes). She looked at houses and wondered aloud if anyone in them could have seen what was happening in the carriage as it sped past; she wondered where you might throw a weapon away. So absorbed was she in her detective work, that she failed to see the tears slowly running down Louisa’s cheeks; at least, she made no comment. Nanny Blor had her chin on her chest and was lightly snoring.

  Louisa rubbed her face and dug in her pockets for a biscuit for Decca. An hour had almost passed and she wanted to look out of the window at Lewes station, to see if Guy was there.

  She’d often thought about writing to him but other than posting him the money she had borrowed – which she’d sent with a short note to say thank you but adding no address where he could find her – she had not dared. She couldn’t see how he’d ever want anything to do with her. What if he suspected she had tried to steal that man’s wallet? The memory of that day flooded through her in waves as if it could sink her.

  ‘Lou-Lou?’ Nancy looked at Louisa. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She gave a watery smile. ‘Something came to mind, that’s all. I’m fine.’

  The two of them had begun to forge a tentative friendship, one that was rooted in their sex and age but obstructed by the fact that Louisa was a servant and Nancy, if not quite a mistress, was certainly closer to that end of the spectrum. Louisa felt their hands almost reaching out to each other but not able to touch, like the painting of God and Man on the Sistine Chapel ceiling that she’d seen in a book.

  ‘You look as if someone’s walked on your grave,’ said Nancy. ‘Have you been here before?’

  Louisa hadn’t told any of them that she had been at Lewes station the day that Nurse Shore had been attacked. It was, after all, the same day that her uncle tried to force her to Hastings; she didn’t want her employers to know that she was running away from anything, let alone such a person as Stephen. The less she talked about her life before the Mitfords, the better.

  ‘No,’ said Louisa. ‘Not really.’

  Nancy gave her a questioning look but Louisa started to fuss with Decca, so she was forced to resume looking out of the window again. The train was just pulling into Lewes station and as the guard had warned, the final two carriages, including theirs, had no platform beside them. Nancy had walked across to the window and opened it, letting in the cool spring air, and leaning her head out.

  ‘Careful, Miss Nancy,’ said Nanny, woken by the breeze.

  ‘I’m just looking to see how far down it is,’ said Nancy. ‘It is quite far. You’d have to jump a bit, I think. And then climb up on to the platform.’

  ‘What are you bothering your head with all this for?’ said Nanny, though this sounded like less of a question than a statement intended to close the matter. ‘Shut the window, please, it’s too cold.’

  Reluctantly, Nancy pushed up the window and sat back down with a soft thump, just in time to reveal the view to Louisa, as the train started up again. They rolled slowly through Lewes station and Louisa looked carefully but she couldn’t see the tall, navy silhouette of Guy Sullivan. Whether she felt relieved or disappointed, she wasn’t quite sure.

  ‘It’s a funny thing, though, isn’t it?’ said Nancy suddenly. Her sisters and Tom, immune to her wonderings and teasings, remained absorbed in their books or musings of their own. With no one else responding, Louisa felt obliged.

  ‘What’s funny?’

  ‘Well, it’s occurred to me that you can’t open these doors from the inside,’ said Nancy. ‘You have to open the window, lean out and then turn the handle. Don’t you think it’s odd that if the man in the brown suit had attacked the nurse, then fled the scene at Lewes station, dropping down on to the tracks, that he would turn back to reach up and close the window? I mean, there’s no reason for him to do that.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ asked Louisa, interested, despite herself.

  ‘It said in the report in the paper on the inquest – when the railway workers got on the train, both the windows were closed.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Louisa. She didn’t really know what conclusion to reach with this. Nancy shrugged her shoulders and turned back to her notebook. The fields and hedges went on flashing past their window.

  ‘Are we there yet?’ asked Pamela, bored with trying to count animals.

  ‘Not long now,’ said Nanny Blor. ‘Polegate next, then Bexhill, Hastings and finally St Leonards and we’ll be there. If you all keep nice and quiet until we arrive, I’ll ask Rosa to get you all a cream bun each for tea.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  For the next few days, Nanny Blor and Louisa happily oversaw their charges as they stayed by the sea. In woollen jumpers and cotton dresses, the children walked along the beach every morning, Decca and Unity stopping frequently to inspect underneath stones, Diana and Tom marching ahead like soldiers. Pamela spent many agonising minutes watching mysterious creatures in rock pools squirm away from Nancy’s net as she fished hopelessly.

  Louisa watched her own pale, thin face take on a healthy colour from the wind and sun, not to mention the brandy snaps that Rosa took great pleasure in handing out. Nanny and Rosa, pleasingly, were recognisably twins, each with their long, wiry grey hair pinned up, and Rosa’s comforting figure a clear match for Nanny’s stout middle.

  Where Nanny saw her duty in a firm but fair hand with the children, Rosa delighted in a stream of affectionate sentiment, kissing each one as they came in, their damp jumpers steaming in the warmth of the café, which was constantly full and yet somehow there was always a table to be found for them, a teapot of scalding hot tea brought instantly. It was clear that Rosa was missing her two daughters, Elsie and Doris, only a little older than Nancy, who had both gone to work as maids in a big house near Weston-super-Mare.

  Away from the strictures of Asthall Manor, Louisa found it easier to talk to Nancy and there were a few occasions when the two of them would find an excuse for a walk together, whether to post a letter or buy a button to replace one that had fallen off Diana’s coat. Louisa indulged herself that, although Nancy’s coat was of a finer wool and better cut than hers, they were of a similar height and shape, and any passer-by might assume it was two young women walking out as friends together.

  Nancy linked her arm through Louisa’s. ‘Thank you for taking me with you,’ she said, uncharacteristically polite. ‘I had to get out for a bit. The girls were driving me around the bend.’

  The phrase sounded too grown-up for her rosebud face, and Louisa couldn’t help smiling. ‘That’s all right, Miss Nancy,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, don’t call me “Miss”, Lou-Lou. It sounds so formal. Call me Nancy, please.’

  ‘I’d better not let Nanny Blor catch me doing that.’

  ‘Very well, then, just when it’s the two of us out together. Now which way are we going?’

  Louisa hesitated. She hadn’t had any intention of going to the post office at all; all she’d wanted was to get some air. Thoughts of the past had been encroaching on her lately, a general dark fear of Stephen. B
eing near to Hastings hadn’t helped, what with his connections in the town, though she was fairly certain he would have returned to London, where he could be sure of a free bed under her mother’s roof. And there was nothing to let him know that she was in St Leonards now. More than that, as she got comfortable with the Mitfords, particularly with Nancy, she found she wanted to tell her more. It was just a question of how much she could tell.

  That morning Louisa had overheard Rosa and Nanny Blor talking about their mother and it had made her feel homesick to the point of nausea. She had been struck with a sharp pain of longing for her ma and the knowledge that she was too afraid of going home to see her, in case Stephen was there, had pushed her to ask Nanny if she might go to the post office as a matter of some urgency.

  ‘Um, yes. This way. I think the post office is down here,’ she said, and paused. ‘Nancy.’

  Nancy giggled. Louisa regarded the girl beside her, nominally her charge but she had a sharp wit that was far from girlish. Her clothes were not fashionable and some were visibly homemade – Lord Redesdale was not a man about to pay a dressmaker’s bill for his daughters – but nobody who saw her could think she was anything less than upper class.

  Louisa straightened her back and lifted her chin. But as she did so, her lip wobbled and, before she knew it, the ache behind her eyes had given way and tears were flooding down her cheeks.

  ‘Lou-Lou?’ said Nancy. ‘What is it? Tell me, what’s the matter?’

  ‘I can’t tell you,’ said Louisa, hiccupping and wiping her face. ‘It’s too many things. I miss my ma,’ she continued as a fresh tide swept over her.

  ‘I think you are lucky. I long to get away from mine,’ said Nancy.

  ‘Yes,’ said Louisa and tried to smile, to chase away the dark shadow of fear that was threatening to close over her. The sun was out but spring had not yet completely banished winter from its seaside holiday. They didn’t have long before Nanny would start to wonder where they were. Not that Nancy seemed concerned about any timekeeping.