remarked.
Symington sat up straighter. “But why? We have all these theories, but no real reason for Catherine to act as she did.”
Charlotte was struggling to make sense of it. “Could she have been a friend of Eleanor Forsbrook’s? Or of Pelham Forsbrook’s?”
“Has anyone investigated to find out?” Symington asked.
“Victor might know something,” Vespasia said. “At the very least, he has learned enough about Catherine to have an informed opinion.”
Symington studied the table for a few moments, then looked up again. “Anyway, Quixwood could claim that he advised Forsbrook to sell, and Forsbrook didn’t take the advice. No one could prove otherwise. Quixwood might even have a letter to that effect. I would, if I were doing such a thing. I would say that I begged Forsbrook not to invest, and he was greedy and ignored me. That’s quite believable. London is full of people who think Jameson is a hero.”
“And without proof for at least one of these theories, or at least witnesses, we are merely slandering a man who already has the total sympathy and support of the Court, not to mention the jury.” Vespasia’s shoulders slumped slightly.
They were interrupted by Jemima and Daniel, just home from school. Both were greeted, and then politely but firmly dismissed to their own rooms. Charlotte rose from the table and went into the scullery to consult with Minnie Maude as to what they might serve for dinner, with at least three prospective guests. Vespasia and Symington returned to the parlor to wait for Pitt and Narraway, their discussion having come to a standstill.
A full hour later Narraway arrived, and within a few minutes Pitt came in also, in answer to Stoker’s summons. Stoker himself was a step behind. They all looked weary and defeated, though each tried in his own way not to show it.
Pitt looked at Symington after no more than a glance at Charlotte, a meeting of the eyes, and then away again for an instant to Vespasia, as an acknowledgment.
“It went badly,” he concluded.
Symington made a slight gesture with his hands. “We’ve still got tomorrow,” he replied. “I have no way of stretching it any further than that, because although we have lots of ideas-we might even have the answer-we have no proof. We haven’t even a witness to call that we can tie up in contradiction, or to raise doubts.”
“Did you find out anything?” Charlotte asked Pitt, trying not to invest her voice with too much hope.
“I spoke to the surgeon who examined Mrs. Forsbrook’s body after her accident,” he replied. “He said there were old bruises, even a fractured rib that had healed, but it doesn’t prove anything.”
“It seems it could be true that Pelham Forsbrook beat her,” Charlotte said quickly.
“Or not,” he replied ruefully. “It could have been an earlier accident: riding, or even falling downstairs.”
“Maybe.” She would not give up. “We have been wondering … what if Quixwood deliberately advised Forsbrook to invest in the British South Africa Company, specifically the Jameson Raid, knowing it would fail, thus causing his ruin?” she suggested.
“Why?” Pitt asked reasonably.
“We don’t know,” she answered, frustrated. “Perhaps because of Eleanor, if he was her lover? Catherine seems to have been very involved. The whole crime centers on her after all. If Hythe is telling the truth, then he was looking for proof of that for her-”
“Again,” Pitt interrupted, “why? Why would she care if Forsbrook was ruined?”
Symington blinked and frowned. “Maybe
Everyone turned to stare at him.
“Then who raped her?” Narraway asked. “It is difficult to believe Neville Forsbrook did it, in that case, isn’t it?”
“Pelham Forsbrook maybe?” Charlotte replied, seizing the idea. “If he did beat Eleanor, he’s a violent man. And she was supposedly running away from him when she was killed.” She looked to Pitt.
“Yes,” he agreed quickly. He turned to Narraway. “Was Pelham still at the Spanish Embassy when Catherine was raped?”
Narraway thought for a moment. “I saw Neville leave quite a while before ten. I think Pelham went around the same time. It would just have been possible. He would have known Quixwood was still there, and likely to remain at least another hour or more.”
“How do we suggest that?” Symington asked, returning to the practical. “I’ve tried everything, but I can’t persuade Hythe to admit that he was doing financial investigation for Catherine, even though it might offer the only defense he has.”
Vespasia spoke for the first time in several minutes. “Realistically, Mr. Symington, what chance has that defense of succeeding, even in raising a doubt?”
He sighed. “Very little,” he confessed.
“Then if Hythe’s greatest concern is to keep someone safe, so he can provide care for his wife, dare he take the chance of trying what we are suggesting?”
“I wouldn’t. Not if I loved my wife enough,” Symington said.
Now Pitt was frowning. “Are we saying that Quixwood would look after Maris Hythe to keep Alban silent about his financial deceit, and in the process save Pelham Forsbrook, the man he hates enough to ruin, and who raped his wife? You can’t convince me of that.”
“And there is another question still to be answered,” Vespasia continued. “Why did Quixwood lie to defend Neville Forsbrook in the case of Angeles Castelbranco? What was his purpose in that? We are still presuming he lied, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” Pitt said instantly. “Neville raped Alice Townley, and very possibly several other girls: one we know of, others we may not.”
“Have we two rapists, father and son?” Narraway asked, frowning. “That might explain where Neville learned his behavior, from his father’s violence and disregard for women, and why his father protected him when he beat the prostitute, and for all we know raped her too.”
“We need to find something to prove that Hythe was getting financial information for Catherine, something concrete,” Symington answered. “If we have proof, I know I can force him into admitting that was what he was doing for her, whether he wants to or not. Such evidence will throw doubt on the theory that they were having an affair, and will also help confirm whether Quixwood needed Hythe and Catherine dead.”
There were several moments of frantic and miserable silence while each one of them struggled for a way to find any proof at all. Finally, it was Narraway who spoke, taking another tack and looking at Pitt.
“The Jameson Raid could provoke war with the Boers in Africa, which would be a very serious thing for Britain,” he said, measuring his words. “Even if we win, it will cost lives, and at this distance be highly expensive. It could reasonably be within the remit of Special Branch, because the Boers will fight hard, and any country at war seeks to disturb the domestic life of its enemy. You can make an excuse to look into the cost of the Jameson Raid, and who was affected by it. You don’t have to give reasons.”
Pitt stared at him, understanding beginning to take a hazy shape in his mind.
“You have to start somewhere,” Narraway went on. “Begin with exactly what losses or gains Forsbrook and Quixwood made. You don’t need to prove it, only justify what Hythe was looking for to give to Catherine, and show a cause for enmity between Forsbrook and Quixwood.” He turned to Symington, who was now sitting upright, his eyes wide.
“Will that serve?” Narraway asked, although the answer was now obvious.
“Yes,” Symington said firmly. “Yes, it will! It could be just enough.”
“Good.” Narraway nodded, then turned back to Pitt. “You’ll need a little help. It might take us most of the night. If we get whatever we find to you in court by noon, will that be soon enough?” he asked Symington.
“Don’t worry,” Symington assured them. “I’ll create enough of a display to keep it going until then. Thank you.” He stood up. “Thank you very much. I’ll go home and plan.”
“Wouldn’t you like supper first?” Charlotte invited him. “You need to eat in order to fight your best.”
He grinned at her, a wide, charming expression full of warmth, and sat down again. “How wise you are,” he accepted. “Of course I would.”
