‘We’ll give her a decent burial,’ Pitt promised. ‘Both of them. Thank you for your time, sir.’
Ransom shook his hand and Pitt left to begin the next step.
Narraway thought long and hard about whom he should approach regarding the death of Bennett Kynaston, and the relationship he had had with his brother. Certain records were easy enough to find: birth, schooling and university. He checked them, but it only confirmed what he already knew. The Kynaston brothers were wealthy, privileged in Society, extremely well educated and both of them well above average intellect. Dudley was slightly the more serious of them: Bennett had the charm and was the one of whom all had expected great success. Nothing suggested tragedy to come.
Nobody was going to be willing to give away secrets. Narraway knew from the beginning that he would have to find someone who owed him a debt the payment of which they could not afford to refuse. Narraway found it distasteful to collect on a debt of help that had been freely given. Yet the only alternative was worse. The choice between good and bad was simple; anyone could make it without a moment’s hesitation. It was the choice between bad and what might or might not be worse that tested the judgement.
And yet Narraway barely hesitated. He debated with himself all the way to see Pardoe, the man whose debt he was about to call in, but he did not digress from the path. A long time ago he and Pardoe had been in the army together. Pardoe had made a bad error. It was an honest mistake, but it would have looked like cowardice, and that would have ruined not only his army career, which he had not cared about so much, but his social career as well. ‘Coward’ was a word that closed all doors irrevocably. Narraway had covered for him, at some risk to himself, although in the end he had not suffered any consequences. But since he had put himself at risk, the debt existed.
He went to the offices in Whitehall where Pardoe worked and left him a brief, sealed message. Two hours later he and Pardoe sat down to dinner at Narraway’s club.
Narraway approached the subject immediately. There was too little time to waste, and to begin with pleasantries would be almost insulting.
‘I need a little help from you,’ Narraway began. ‘I wouldn’t ask if it were not of the utmost importance.’
‘Of course,’ Pardoe responded, but already the shadow was across his face. He knew Narraway too well to imagine he was going to be given an alternative. Narraway had never asked anything of him before, and now the debt was due. Pardoe cleared his throat. ‘What can I do to help?’
‘Tell me about Bennett Kynaston, Ailsa, and Dudley,’ Narraway replied.
‘What about them?’ Pardoe was confused. ‘Bennett’s been dead for years. I think Dudley looks after her to some extent, for Bennett’s sake. He was devoted to him. But I’m sure you know that. It’s hardly a secret.’
‘Let’s start with how Ailsa and Bennett met. Was it through Dudley?’
‘Good heavens, no!’ Pardoe was clearly surprised. ‘It was by chance, in Stafford, I think. Ailsa was over on holiday.’
‘Over? From where?’
Pardoe was slightly surprised. ‘Sweden. Ailsa is Swedish. I think originally her name was Ilsa, and she changed it to the more Scottish-sounding name. I think she did not wish him to know she was Swedish.’
‘Why not?’ Narraway was puzzled. ‘I thought both Bennett and Dudley loved Sweden?’
‘They did, until …’ Pardoe was obviously embarrassed.
Narraway could not afford to ignore anything. ‘Until what, Pardoe? I haven’t time for delicate answers.’
Pardoe clenched his jaw and there was a small muscle beating in his temple. He looked wretched.
‘Look, Narraway, this is all a long time ago, and a private tragedy. It happened when Bennett was on a trip to Sweden, and it can’t have anything to do with whatever you’re looking for. It wasn’t his fault. It could happen to anybody. You of all people should know that!’
Narraway was surprised. ‘I should! Why?’
‘You’ve sown a few wild oats, and certainly used your charm to extricate yourself a few times.’ There was an edge of bitterness in Pardoe’s voice.
‘Pardoe!’ Narraway said sharply. He hated having to do this, but he was too good at it to find it difficult. ‘Stop mincing around and tell me the story.’
Pardoe gave in. The weight of his obligation was something he could never have denied. He might have told any other man to go to hell, but not Narraway. Their relationship was old and deep, going back to their time together in the army in India.
‘Bennett was very charming,’ Pardoe said quietly. ‘It was perfectly natural, not an act or something he turned on and off. He went for a long break, several months, to Sweden. He stayed with a family called Halversen. They all got along well, except that their younger daughter, Ingrid, was about fifteen. Lovely young girl, but a bit of a dreamer, very intense. I dare say we all are, at that age.’ His face grew tighter, the muscles in his back strained.
‘Go on,’ Narraway prompted.
Pardoe resumed reluctantly. ‘Ingrid fell in love with Bennett, and wrote him love letters that she never sent. He had no idea. When he finally found out, he was horrified. He had no intention of having anything but the occasional friendly conversation with a girl that age. He was about thirty at the time. Perhaps he wasn’t as gentle as he could have been, or maybe he was! Regardless, the result was that she felt rejected, humiliated, even deceived. She took her own life, rather dramatically. Drowned in a stream near the house, but it was definitely suicide. The family blamed Bennett and read her letters to mean that he had seduced and deflowered her, and she died of misery and shame.’
‘What a wretched tragedy,’ Narraway said quietly, trying to imagine the pain of it, the misunderstanding, the hysteria of youth. ‘Is that why Bennett couldn’t go back to Sweden?’ He was disappointed. It didn’t seem to be relevant to Dudley’s treason, but he could not tell Pardoe that.
‘Good God, no!’ Pardoe gave a grating laugh. ‘The … family regarded him as a rapist and had him charged. The whole town was up in arms and he was arrested pretty much for his own safety. The father was a man of some influence. Gradually he prevailed on the local authorities to make the charge stick, and bring Bennett to trial. He was painted as an arrogant foreigner who went around seducing young girls too decent and too innocent not to be taken in. Abuse of hospitality is one of the most morally repellent of crimes in a lot of cultures. It’s a betrayal of all that’s basically good. It’s practically a denial of God to some people-’
‘I know that!’ Narraway cut across him. ‘What happened? Bennett died in England, didn’t he?’
‘Yes … yes. When Dudley heard of it he was frantic. He went to Sweden to do anything and everything he could to rescue the brother he adored.’
‘And succeeded?’
‘Yes. But at some cost. It turned into a very ugly battle, and Dudley finally found the help of a man called Harold Sundstrom, who had a great deal of influence. He used all his power to get Bennett out on bail, and then to escape out of the country altogether, and home to England. From England he persuaded the Swedish authorities to let the matter drop. He pointed out how much better it would be for the family’s reputation, especially that of poor Ingrid. He paid the local coroner, or whatever they’re called in Sweden, to say the death was accidental, and let the girl be buried in peace, without the stain of suicide, whatever the cause, or of having been virtually raped.’
‘I see,’ Narraway responded. What he saw was that Dudley Kynaston had saved the reputation, and possibly the life, of the brother he loved, and incurred a debt towards Harold Sundstrom that he would never be able to pay for the rest of his life — except by instalments of treason, an inch at a time.
Pardoe said nothing, but the answering emotion was in his face.
Chapter Seventeen
Early next morning, Pitt was sitting in his own kitchen with a cup of hot tea and fresh toast, butter and marmalade. With him were Stoker, Narraway, Vespasia, and of course Charlotte. Minnie Maude was busy making more toast, holding the slices of bread on the toasting fork as close as she could to the open door of the stove where the coals were hottest.
