Part 26 (2/2)
Daisy had claimed she was ambitious, and that fit nicely with the theory of blackmail. But Lily might well have been innocent of any wrongdoing. I mustn't make her the villain without evidence.
”I'm going back to Owlhurst. I'll speak to Lady Parsons, and see if she had any doubts about what happened to you. If Mrs. Graham had already received permission from the London police to take you directly to Barton's, why did she call in so many people after she reached Owlhurst? The doctor-the police-the magistrate-the rector. To erase any doubt in the minds of people whose opinion mattered in Owlhurst? Or to make certain that you, Peregrine Graham, were seen with blood all over your hands and s.h.i.+rt, so that she and not her stepson would be the object of their sympathy?”
”I'd rather go away now, and not look back.”
”But you're a witness, Peregrine. You can't disappear, if there's to be any justice at all.”
This time I found Simon at his club and asked him to drive me back to Kent. Peregrine was determined to go, but I didn't want him taking the risk. Or to have to explain to Simon.
Curious, Simon agreed, and he took me to the flat long enough to fetch my bag. Peregrine, in Elayne's room, didn't come out, though I was nearly certain he'd call my bluff and find a way to accompany us. I expect if he'd had any uniform but that of my father's old regiment, he might have tried to do just that.
I half expected to find him gone from London by the time I got back. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. What if it was all taken out of my hands, and I didn't have to face what Arthur might have done?
Simon was silent for most of the journey, and I was grateful, lost in thought as I was.
We found Lady Parsons just outside Cranbrook in a very lovely old Jacobean house with a pedimented porch and graceful stonework around the windows. The estate was called Peac.o.c.ks, and on the gates were two magnificent stone peac.o.c.ks, the hen demure and the male with raised head, above the spread of that glorious tail.
I remembered Lady Parsons from the inquest. But I had forgotten how formidable she was.
She received me in her drawing room, austere in mourning black, with jet beads and only a touch of white at her collar and at her cuffs. A pince-nez on a silver chain was pinned at her shoulder.
”You're the young woman who worked with Dr. Philips trying to save Lieutenant Booker. What brings you here, second thoughts about your testimony? As I recall, it was an impa.s.sioned plea for understanding. Remarkable, I thought. We have no room for compa.s.sion in a war such as this one. A shame.”
”I'm afraid that it's another matter that I wish to discuss, Lady Parsons. The fate of Peregrine Graham.”
The door opened, and a little dog trotted into the room, taking his place at Lady Parsons's feet.
”Peregrine Graham, is it? You do have a taste for lost causes, my girl. The odds are, he's dead.”
”So I've been told. But I happened on information that confused me-I'd heard that the body of Lily Mercer had been-er, butchered, for want of a better word.”
”We did not ask for such unpleasant details, Miss Crawford. Mrs. Graham was nearly incoherent with shock by the time she reached Owlhurst. I was summoned, along with Inspector Gadd, because she was unable to continue at that hour to the asylum and attend to all the details of admitting her son. Inspector Gadd and I decided the boy was safest at the rectory until he could be moved again, and the doctor determined that he was stable enough to wait a few more hours.”
”According to the information that Scotland Yard has in hand, Lily Mercer died of a single stab wound to her throat.”
”And how did you come by such information, Miss Crawford?” Her voice had taken on a chilly note, and the dog stirred at her feet.
”My father, Colonel Crawford, was able to discover it for me.”
”And is he aware of the use you are now making of this information?”
”He-is aware of my interest in the fate of Lily Mercer.”
”I see.”
”I believe there might have been a miscarriage of justice, Lady Parsons. And I am seeking advice from you on how to proceed in this matter.”
”My advice, if you will take it, is to leave police business to the police. As I did. Inspector Gadd handled a most difficult matter with admirable skill and discretion. That's all there is to say. It does you credit to want to set the world to rights, my dear, but as Peregrine is dead, I see no point in investigating a tragedy that lies in the past where it belongs. Fifteen years is a long time, witnesses die, att.i.tudes change, and it is almost impossible to make a judgment on new facts when the old ones can't be reconstructed.”
”I'm not asking you to make a judgment. I'd simply like to know if you were aware of a discrepancy in important details.”
”The nightmare here, Miss Crawford, was that of a child committing murder. We were appalled, and we did what we could to make Mrs. Graham's hideous duty as simple as humanly possible. You cannot know her state of mind at the time. I witnessed it. I saw the young man myself, and his own state was pitiable. It was I who suggested that Mrs. Graham's cousin, acting in loco parentis, remove the child the next morning to Barton's while the doctor treated Mrs. Graham for exhaustion. She had done more than any woman might be expected to do in such circ.u.mstances, and I admired her courage in seeing the matter through. But she had three other sons who were in desperate need of her care, and her place was naturally with them. A man's steadying hand was what Peregrine Graham most needed, and that is what we were able to provide for him.”
”What did Peregrine have to say for himself?” I asked.
”Very little. He was quite naturally dazed by the turn of events, and on that score, it isn't surprising. I asked him how he had come to kill, and his answer was that he wanted his father's knife returned to him, he was quite upset that it had been taken away. I asked him how he felt about what he'd done, and he said that he didn't care for the smell. I asked him if he'd liked the unfortunate victim, and he replied that she was spiteful when no adult was present, and that he had disliked her for it. All very consistent, according to the doctor, with the boy's inability to tell right from wrong. He couldn't seem to grasp the severity of his actions. There was no malice, no cunning, no viciousness. There was no doubt in my mind, as there was no doubt in the minds of the London authorities, that prison was inappropriate and that Barton's Asylum was the proper choice, where he could be evaluated.”
”Why not a London hospital?”
”I believe that the doctor, a man called Hepple, who was a specialist in mental derangement in children, had recently removed to Barton's. Mrs. Graham was very persuasive. She felt that her stepson had no prior history of violence, no indications of a violent nature, and that it had most likely been a disagreement over a pocketknife, about which he was obsessive, that might have triggered this event. In supervised circ.u.mstances, it was likely he would never kill again.”
I could see that I was speaking to a wall. Lady Parsons had made up her mind that night, and she was not accustomed to changing it. I could also see that Mrs. Graham had been terribly distressed but had somehow kept her wits about her as well. And that would be indicative of a shocked and horrified mother who had to fight for a child she loved with every tool at her disposal. Nothing else mattered, not even her own near collapse.
I thanked Lady Parsons for her time and prepared to take my leave.
She said, ”My dear, when one is young, one sees dragons everywhere, and one is prepared to fight them. That's an admirable trait. But as one ages, one often sees that injustice is rare, and that what had appeared to be dragons are merely the shadows the mind creates when it wishes to avoid a bitter truth.”
I stood there for a moment, then asked, ”Did you feel I was fighting dragons when I made the plea for Lieutenant Booker?”
”In a way, I did. Sh.e.l.l shock is little understood, although I believe that in young Booker's case, it was clear that both Dr. Philips and you had fought hard against his his dragons. But the dragons won, and that was neither justice nor injustice, but the simple fact that in the end, he didn't have the strength to endure.” dragons. But the dragons won, and that was neither justice nor injustice, but the simple fact that in the end, he didn't have the strength to endure.”
She hadn't used the word courage, courage, but it hung in the air between us. but it hung in the air between us.
The little dog accompanied us to the door of the drawing room, either ready to defend his mistress or hoping for a walk, it was hard to say.
Which brought me to another matter I hadn't intended to broach.
”I understand you had a terrible fall from your horse some years ago, Lady Parsons.”
”Oh, my dear, I was frightened to death that I wouldn't walk again! I don't know why the horse fell-my groom found cuts on the mare's knees, and he very rightly called in Constable Abbot, but I could swear that there was nothing on the path that might have tripped up Henny. We had ridden through high gra.s.s before we reached the wood, and she might well have encountered something there that I couldn't see. I don't wear my spectacles when I ride.”
And that was Lady Parsons's dragon-that no one would dare touch her or her horse. She was sacrosanct.
Simon said as I walked out to the waiting motorcar, ”You don't appear to be happy with the outcome of your visit.”
”I've been fighting dragons. Or so I'm told.”
Simon put the motorcar into gear and drove several miles until he came to a place wide enough for us to pull to the side of the road. The view across the Downs was wonderful in the cold light of a winter's day.
He said, simply, ”What can I do?”
”Dear Simon, I thank you, but it isn't a position the army can take with full cavalry charge in support of the infantry.”
”Try.”
I shook my head.
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