The Murder Of Gonzago

Hortense took a sip of tea. ‘Dr Valdemar wanted me to tell him what the trouble was, such a kind man, and I did want to tell him, but of course I couldn’t. The same thing happened when a clergyman friend came to see me the other day. Toute verite n’est pas bonne a dire. He said he would pray for me. I am not boring you, am I?’

‘Not at all,’ Antonia reassured her.

Sometimes she found herself telling the truth only partially – or with distortions, Hortense went on. ‘Not the whole truth, if you know what I mean. I’ve managed to convince myself it makes me feel better. That it assuages the emotional chaos inside me. Who said, Trust me not at all, or all in all?’

‘Tennyson, I think,’ Payne said.

‘Tennyson, yes. The Victorians knew all about trust, didn’t they? You know the story of King Midas who had ass’s ears? He kept trying to conceal them, poor wretch, couldn’t live with the awful truth, so he dug a hole in the ground and jumped in and whispered, “King Midas has ass’s ears!” Then he filled up the hole, but the earth, being a woman, spread the story and the reeds started whispering, “King Midas has donkey’s ears!”’

‘We promise to be more discreet than Mrs Earth,’ Payne said. ‘Ass’s ears, eh? Why does this ring a bell? Oh yes. There was someone dressed up as an ungulate that night, wasn’t there? Or rather, as Bottom after his transformation?’

‘So you saw the shadow? I dreamt of it the other night. Well, we all knew he was there. I mean Stephan. He should have been kept in his room, under lock and key. We ought to have taken better care of him, then, perhaps, tragedy would have been averted.’

‘Shall I pour you another cup of tea?’

‘Yes, thank you, Antonia. Well, I must say this doesn’t feel like an inquisition at all. I assume it was Lord Remnant who asked you to look into the matter? I mean the new Lord Remnant. The thirteenth earl. The former Mr Fenwick.’

‘We are actually acting on behalf of Lady Remnant,’ Payne explained.

‘Lady Remnant? You mean Clarissa asked you-? But that’s impossible!’ Hortense looked at him wildly. ‘No. Clarissa is the Dowager Lady Remnant now. The Dowager Countess. Dear me. So confusing! You mean Felicity Fenwick of course. Poor Clarissa is far from well, but she said she didn’t want me to feel sorry for her. She was a bit snappy with me. It causes me such pain – if only she knew!’

‘You phoned her?’

‘I did. I keep phoning her. I want to know how she is. I care about her deeply.’ Hortense’s eyes were fixed on the bookcase. ‘If only I’d had the chance to bring her up myself, things might have been different… She seemed at first to think I was a man! My voice sounded terribly hoarse, I suppose. I only said, “That you, Clarissa?” She gasped. She sounded scared out of her wits, poor child. It really made me feel guilty.’

Payne frowned. ‘Why was she so scared? Who did she think it was?’

‘I have no idea. When she realized it was me, she got angry. Scolded me for having frightened her.’

‘Shall I butter you a scone, Miss Tilling?’ Antonia suggested.

‘No, my dear. Nothing to eat. I couldn’t possibly. You are too kind. But I’d like some more tea. My mouth feels dry. I am so terribly thirsty. It’s those pills. One of the side effects. Thank you. None of what took place at La Sorciere was Clarissa’s fault. Poor Clarissa is the victim of circumstance. I can’t begin to tell you how much I worry about Clarissa.’ Hortense’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Words can’t express it. Each morning I wake up wondering if she is all right.’

‘You are her mother, aren’t you?’ Antonia said gently.

16

Cards on the Table

‘How perceptive of you,’ Hortense Tilling said after a pause. ‘I am hopeless at keeping secrets. Hopeless. All right. I am her aunt and her mother. None of this has anything to do with Lord Remnant’s murder, mind. Nothing at all. I have been bottling things up for too long, that’s the trouble. My story is not very edifying.’

‘Does Clarissa know you are her mother?’ Antonia asked.

‘No. Clarissa has no idea. I was terribly young. I was a fool. I was seventeen. I went to a party. I met a Frenchman who asked me to dance – no, that’s the wrong place to start – or rather the wrong story!’ She turned deep red. She shook her head. ‘Sorry! I need to collect my thoughts.’

She pressed the thumb and forefinger of her right hand on the bridge of her nose in a seeming effort to concentrate.

‘I lived with my elder sister and brother-in-law. I was very pretty. My brother-in-law seduced me. He was terribly attractive, but quite an impossible character. The two often go together, have you noticed? I wouldn’t call it an affair. The long and the short of it is that I became pregnant. I fell on my knees and confessed to my sister and she forgave me. She said she wanted the baby.’

‘Your sister had no children?’

‘No. She – she couldn’t have any children, you see, but now she told people she was pregnant. She started strapping a cushion around her stomach. I kept out of the way. I went to Dieppe. I had the baby. It was a little girl. I then came back to England and my sister brought up Clarissa as her own daughter. She eventually split up with her husband who, as you may have gathered, was the worst of philanderers.’

‘You never told Clarissa?’

‘No. No. I decided not to. Perhaps I will, one day. I don’t know.’ Hortense paused. ‘She doesn’t like me much, I’m afraid. She finds me a nuisance. I tend to say and do things which annoy her. I love Clarissa, always have. I never married, you see, never had any other children. I keep worrying about Clarissa. She is so terribly unhappy. Her first marriage was quite hellish. Small wonder Stephan’s turned out so badly. Her second – to Lord Remnant – was worse, far worse. And now of course it has all ended in disaster.’

‘Stephan is Clarissa’s son by her first marriage?’

‘Yes. Poor boy. Clarissa used to be married to an awful man called Farrar. I am afraid Clarissa has shown a singular lack of judgement in her choice of soulmates.’

They seemed to be straying from the murder. Payne cleared his throat. ‘Why was Stephan outside? Was he meant to be outside?’

‘He’d been sent out. He was in disgrace for being rude to Lord Remnant. Well, it was Lord Remnant who insisted on our dressing up as characters out of Shakespeare. It was all his idea. Heaven knows why. He was neither a Shakespearean scholar nor a Shakespeare aficionado. He wasn’t a great reader. The only books I ever saw him read were something called The Youth Pill and an ancient tome on resurrecting the dead.’

‘Is that the sort of thing he believed in?’

‘That was the only thing he seemed to believe in. He was teaching himself how to raise the dead, he said. That was one of his less peculiar foibles. He described the book as a DIY manual. He was a godless man. He was mad about dressing up. Once they all dressed up as characters in Winnie-the- Pooh, apparently. I’ve seen a photo – perfectly absurd – Kanga, Piglet, Eeyore and Owl swigging cocktails… You recognized the play of course? The play on the tape?’

‘The Murder of Gonzago.’

‘Hamlet’s ingenious and rather gruesome attempt to make his uncle give himself away. I have nightmares about it. A dumbshow. No talking, only mime. So macabre. There is something disconcerting about the absence of sound… Lord Remnant played Gonzago and, like Gonzago, he was killed… I can’t describe the joy I felt when they told me he was dead. Did you ever meet Lord Remnant?’

‘No, never.’

‘He was quite horrible to me,’ she said. ‘On my first day at La Sorciere he hid my glasses under a sofa cushion. I spent ages looking for them. I am lost without my glasses. I didn’t have a spare pair. He