The remotely-controlled gates swung open. Wendy put her car into gear and drove the hundred yards up to the front of a Georgian mansion.
Amelia had said that her parents were titled, but she had never said they were exceptionally wealthy.
The door to the house opened, a man in his fifties, dressed in a blue suit, stood there. ‘His Lordship will greet you in the drawing room,’ he said.
Wendy had never heard a Yorkshire accent spoken with the haughtiness that the butler imparted. To her, it was odd.
In the drawing room, larger than Wendy’s house, she looked around. The room had an aura of old-world wealth, the peasants toiling in the fields, the squire cavalierly dispensing his orders with no concern as to who was inconvenienced or who it hurt. On the wall, a Rembrandt, a Van Gogh, even a Picasso, but it looked out of place.
‘The most valuable in the room,’ said a voice from behind her. Wendy looked around to see a man well over sixty, closing in on seventy. He was dressed casually.
‘I’m Lord Bentham,’ the man said, extending his hand to shake Wendy’s, a bear-like grip.
‘Sergeant Wendy Gladstone.’
‘Yes, I know. Amelia said that you looked after her after she had discovered the body. Why was she in the house in the first place?’
‘She had a key. If I’d entered without her, I would have needed a search warrant.’
‘Surely you would have required one anyway.’
‘Debatable. The woman’s brother was dead, and we’d just found out about his sister. She had not been seen for a few days. Amelia helped us out.’
‘Explanation accepted. Please take a seat, Sergeant.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Geoffrey’s the name. The title comes in handy, and so do the privileges, but apart from that we’re simple folk.’
‘I doubt that, Geoffrey,’ Wendy said. ‘Not with all this,’ she said, as she looked around the room.
‘You don’t approve?’
‘It’s not the way I was brought up.’
‘Honesty’s the best policy. Amelia has some issues, as well. Picked them up from the school we sent her to. Education for the nobility on the promotional blurb.’
‘It wasn’t?’
‘I could have had them for false advertising. A hotbed of revolution, rich children sponging off their parents, idealising about the inequalities in society.’
‘Not that they were willing to divide their share.’
‘That’s the problem, Sergeant. You and I understand, both worked hard over the years, made a contribution.’
‘Have you?’
‘I inherited this pile from my father, a waster of the first order: gambler, philanderer, risk taker. Left me with nothing, other than a mansion I couldn’t afford to renovate, and his debts. I set up an engineering company with my brother, a garage at the back of a trading estate. Ten years later, a few close shaves, sailing too close to the wind too often, and then we broke through, manufacturing mining equipment. This place was renovated at my expense, and that place in Pembridge Mews, we bought it for Amelia.’
‘My father was a farmer, no money, but he worked hard, looked after the family. I started as a constable in Sheffield, saw the inequality between those with plenty, those with nothing.’
‘Then, Wendy, if I may be so bold as to use your first name, we understand each other. Now, what is it that you want with my daughter?’
‘My time was limited with her on the day, and she was upset. If I could spend a couple of hours with her, then she may be able to help us with our enquiries.’
‘A tragedy, Matilda dying like that.’
‘You knew her?’
‘Every few weeks, my wife and I would make the sixty-mile trip to London, business mainly, some pleasure, take in a show, visit one of the tourist attractions. Amelia and her mother would go to Oxford Street more often than I liked, but I couldn’t refuse. Matilda would come out with us sometimes.’
‘You seem to be a devoted family man.’
‘I am.’
‘Matilda’s was not.’
‘Amelia seemed to know something about it. The woman was a friend to Amelia, and we mourn her passing.’
‘Her brother?’
‘I met him briefly once. He seemed to be a pleasant man. Amelia liked him.’
‘And…?’ Wendy waited for an answer. So far, Amelia had not shown her face.
‘We are an open family. Amelia has a good heart, and we did not interfere with her life in London. If, as it seems you might be implying, she had a relationship with Barry Montgomery, then I would suggest you ask her.’
‘You’re not what I expected,’ Wendy said.
‘You expected me to be clothed in ermine, shouting down at the peasants, is that it?’
‘Well, not quite, but I didn’t expect such a liberal attitude.’
‘We trust our daughter and her sound judgement. If she liked the brother, spent time with him, then that’s her business. Is it relevant to your murder enquiry?’
‘Amelia is the closest person we have to the two of them. Her insights are invaluable.’
Geoffrey Bentham poured two glasses of wine and gave one to Wendy. ‘We will wait for her. She’s out riding. In the meantime, you and I will sample my wine collection. You do appreciate a drink?’
‘Of course. What’s with the butler?’
‘He’s been with us for over thirty years. He’s more family than a servant, but he likes the airs and graces.’
‘He certainly does,’ Wendy said as she sampled the wine, a Shiraz. She was sure there would be a few more before her return to Challis Street.
Chapter 14
Isaac relished the opportunity to get out in the field and away from the office. He and Larry made the trip to the Montgomery family home. It wasn’t far, located just north of the city in Hampstead, on the edge of Hampstead Heath.
On their arrival, the door was
