The Guardian of Secrets: And Her Deathly Pact (10 page)

“Celia, tell us,” Marie said softly when they were all seated. “Tell us everything.”

Celia took a deep breath. “He killed my father,” she began.

Chapter 9

M
arie closed the bedroom door and sank into the cushioned couch. She had ordered Celia to bed with some hot chocolate, urging her to get a good night’s sleep. She and Simon Ayres had listened to her in silence. They had not interrupted her, not once. Marie had sat stony faced throughout, wide tear-filled eyes her only response to the shocking news.

“Oh God, Simon, I’m so ashamed,” Marie sobbed now to Simon Ayres. “I should have stopped it. I should have stopped it right at the start. She should never have married him. I never trusted him! I should have known… I knew, but I did nothing… Oh my God! I did know. I did!”

“It’s not your fault. How could you possibly have known for sure? You suspected, just as I did, but this is Celia’s fault entirely,” Simon Ayres said disapprovingly. “She should have told you everything at her father’s funeral.”

Marie blew into her handkerchief and reached out her hand. “Thank goodness for you, Simon. I couldn’t get through this without you.” She blew her nose again. “So tell me, what do we do now?”

“Tear Joseph’s heart out and feed it to Peter’s prize bull.”

Marie smiled at last. “It’s a nice thought, but failing that?”

Simon paced up and down the room. Marie watched him for a while in silence. She had never seen him so angry.

“Oh, do sit down; you’ll wear out the carpet!” she said when she couldn’t watch any more. “I know you’re about ready to burst, so tell me what you want to do that doesn’t involve the dissection of body parts.”

“Go to the police,” he said decisively. “Go to the police and tell them what we know.”

“No,” Marie told him with equal force. “That’s not a good idea. We have to think about this logically. He’s got a solid alibi, remember? Celia vouched for him the night of the murder. She may be implicated in the conspiracy. Anyway, it would be her word against his. That is, if she decides to change her story, and even if she does, you know that she can’t be compelled to testify against her husband in a court of law. You should know these things. Anyway, we need solid proof before we tell anyone. We must keep this in the family for now, don’t you think? Celia is terrified of him. Did you see her eyes?”

“Yes, Marie, but if you’ll just allow me to talk…”

“No, Simon we have to get her away from him, make her safe. He has legal control over Merrill Farm. He won’t give her a divorce, and I will not hear of her going back to him. I’d like nothing more than to kill him with my own two hands, but we both know that’s not an option. I can see no other way out, other than to force him to divorce her and relinquish his trusteeship. We’ll tell him that we know he killed Peter, and we’ll make him confess!”

Simon, who had tried numerous times to take part in the conversation, lifted his finger to Marie’s lips and gestured with his raised eyebrows that she should listen for once.

She smiled and patted his hand in a meek apology. “Sorry. I’m just getting myself into a tizzy. Please tell me what to do before I go mad with this.”

“My dear, I know the world and the law,” he began hesitantly. “There is nothing simple about either of them, and if I might say, you’re missing the point entirely. Without solid proof of a murder long since committed, you could no more threaten Joseph than invite him to your next suffragette meeting. Joseph is an animal, a predator—worse than that. But he’s not stupid, because so far he’s got away with everything. Would you give up the farm and the money that goes with it if you were him?”

“I’m nothing like him, Simon! But no, of course I wouldn’t. Maybe we could offer him money or get Celia to divorce him?”

Simon Ayres scratched his head, thinking about this. “I don’t think so. Peter made it clear that Celia’s future would be linked to Joseph’s future participation in the running of the farm. He had no sons, and there was no one else he wanted to hand it over to. ‘Better the devil you know,’ he said to me. He wrote the will in such a way that if Celia ever sought a divorce, the farm would, in a subsequent divorce settlement, stay in Joseph’s hands. I tried to explain to Peter that should the marriage fail, his priority should be to make sure that the estate remained under Merrill control; after all, I pointed out, Celia was his only family and the rightful heir. Peter maintained throughout our conversation that he and he alone knew what was best for his daughter, and what was best for his daughter, he insisted, was Joseph. Unfortunately, divorce was to be out of the question under any circumstances. You see, Celia loved Joseph at the time. Peter wanted to be free of the everyday running of the farm, and in his mind, Joseph was doing him a favour. So Celia, out of respect to Joseph, was bound by her marriage contract, with no get-out clause. There was no changing Peter’s mind on the subject, and I was forced to conform to his wishes against my better judgement. So now you know.”

“Simon, don’t you go blaming yourself now,” Marie told him, becoming more and more agitated. “Peter always was pig-headed and stubborn, and no one could ever change his mind about anything. My sister would tell you that if she were alive today. He always knew best!”

“Yes, I know all about Peter, but his egotistical stubbornness, not to mention selfish motives, have now put us in a damn awkward position. Thank God he saw fit to hide his savings. At least Joseph can’t get his hands on that.”

“Is there no solution, then? Nothing we can do?”

Simon Ayres curled his whiskers, twisting them round his fingers, plainly deep in thought. “Well, there is something,” he said, still twisting them. “An idea has just occurred to me.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you want to hear this? And will you listen before making any judgements?

“Yes, I promise.”

“When I was at a client’s house last week, he introduced me to a friend of his, a Mr Rawlings. He’s an important man in the shipping industry and has a fleet of steamships going to Spain and the continent of South America. He imports all kinds of produce but mostly fruit and vegetables—raisins, bananas, that sort of thing. In the Valencia region of Spain, landowners are planting oranges and grapevines like there’s no tomorrow. Ever since the demise of their silk trade, they’ve been looking for agricultural products to export. According to Mr Rawlings, the orange is the future, and he’s a very astute businessman, believe me. Anyway, Rawlings has some very good connections.”

“Yes, yes!” Marie interrupted impatiently. “But what’s your point? What’s all this got to do with my Celia?”

“Well, if you let me finish… You did promise.”

“I’m sorry, but really, what has all this got to do with anything?”

“Marie!” he said just as impatiently. “If you allow me, I will tell you. What if I had a word with Mr Rawlings and asked him about the possibility of taking Celia to Spain? I’m sure he would be happy to take her as a passenger on one of his steamships. She could stay in Spain until this is all over, until we figure out a way of getting rid of Joseph Dobbs.”

Marie poured them both a glass of mulled wine. The idea was ridiculous, in her opinion, sending Celia off to a foreign country. Glancing sharply at Simon Ayres, she reminded him, “Celia is pregnant. Have you forgotten that small detail?”

“No.”

“I don’t really think, Simon, that packing Celia off to a foreign country with a baby growing inside her would be the best solution to her problems, do you?” Marie handed him a warm glass. “Let’s just say that we could get her to Spain on one of these ships. Where would she go, and what would she do when she got there? Can you imagine her alone in a strange country, unable to communicate? She would be isolated from everything and everyone she’s ever known. She’s hardly what you’d call a woman of the world. She’s spent her whole life on a farm in Kent, for goodness’ sake, apart from her visits here to me, of course. I’ll grant you that she’s well educated as far as society goes and talks nicely, not at all like a country girl, but no Mr Ayres, I think your idea is a little too far-fetched to even contemplate. For a start, we don’t know enough about Spain or the people who live there. Why, I’d rather send her to India or Africa, for that matter! From what I hear about Spain, they’re always fighting amongst themselves and no one government’s in office for longer than a blink of an eye!”

Simon Ayres opened his mouth to speak.

“No,” Marie said emphatically, ignoring him for the third time. “I think that it would be best if Celia came to live with me. We can fight Joseph Dobbs once she’s safe in this house, where I can keep an eye on her.”

Simon Ayres stared into his glass in silent contemplation. Marie sat back, calmly waiting for his reprimand. She infuriated him sometimes. She was well aware of that. But he could never remain angry at her for long; he loved her and would put up with her infuriating ways until the day death separated them.

“I’m sorry, Simon. You were saying?” she asked him.

“Marie, I wasn’t saying anything, but as you’ve now invited me to do so, I shall begin by saying that since you joined the insufferable suffragists, you’ve taken on a delusional air of independence that just isn’t acceptable! Marie, men are put on this earth to protect the weaker sex, provide answers for them, and make hard decisions that women just aren’t capable of making. For instance, how could you even think that you are worldly enough to vote on matters that concern the country? Politics belongs to the world of men and so do important decisions, like the decision about what to do about Celia.”

Marie allowed him to pour another glass of wine, remaining silent and suspecting that he hadn’t finished his chauvinistic and patronising speech of which she would take no notice whatsoever. Right on cue, he took a swig of wine and followed it with a deep intake of breath.

“Dear Marie, I come here to see you because I’ve always admired you. I find your company stimulating. You’ve always managed to outwit and rise above any adversity that we men have thrown at you, and I have the greatest respect for you. But this is the first time in the twenty-seven years of our long acquaintance that I’ve been truly disappointed in you. You know, I see some of your traits in Celia, and I think she has more courage and spirit than you give her credit for. Do you remember her composure when the will was read? Her strength, even her sense of pride, misguided though it was, shows that she has that same spark, that same fire that lights your eyes. The very fact that she came here tonight, alone, in the snow, must give her the right to choose her own destiny. Will you not consider other options? Do you really want her living here with you, afraid to go out of the house, embarrassed and humiliated every time someone asks her where her husband is? Everyone will despise her because a woman with a child who’s been taken from his father is an undesirable stain on good society. Now, I know it seems cruel and unjust to you, but it’s the way of the world, my dear, and whatever your suffragette movement may tell you, this is the way things are. Do you want your niece to be treated with contempt?”

Marie’s eyes shone with tears, and Simon Ayres reached for a handkerchief, visibly regretting his harsh words.

“I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

“No, of course I’m not all right! I’m devastated by all of this.” She blew into the handkerchief and talked at the same time. “But surely no one will blame Celia for leaving Joseph Dobbs? He killed her father and beat her, for goodness’ sake!”

“But are you ready to tell the whole world about it? Where’s the proof?”

“We’ll get it.”

“That may be so, but for the moment, let’s talk about Celia. Now, I know you’ve always taken a great interest in her education. She has grace and beauty, but she’s very innocent and most definitely naive. She was so besotted with Joseph that in her sheltered world, she failed to see any evidence of the real man. Do you think she’s capable of dealing with bigotry and fear?”

“No, but she’s got us.”

“I know, dear, but the point is that she should be the one to make the decisions that directly affect her. I’m sure that Mr Rawlings has good connections in Spain, people with money, good people. She won’t have to stay away forever, just until we get rid of Joseph Dobbs. We’ll call it a holiday, a well-earned rest. Think about that poor baby; his father is a murderer. Now ask yourself, do you want Celia and her child anywhere near him? You know as well as I do what that man’s capable of!”

“I know.” Marie nodded in agreement. “I know you’re right.”

Chapter 10

“
C
elia, you look dreadful!” Marie said, dishing up scrambled eggs at the breakfast table.

Celia smiled. “I know, Auntie. Don’t remind me. But at least my face is intact this time. He’s too clever to mark me now.”

“Dear God, what has he done to you? You sound so accepting, as though this is your lot in life. I could shake you for not telling me about this sooner. This might never have happened if you’d only told me at the funeral. Whatever possessed you to keep quiet? Did you think I wouldn’t understand?”

“No, of course… It just wasn’t the right time to tell you at Papa’s funeral, that’s all. Anyway, it’s all worked out. I wanted proof, and I got it,” Celia said triumphantly.

“Yes, and you nearly got killed in the process.”

One hour later, Celia sat on the couch with her legs curled up underneath her. She held a cup of tea in both hands, accepting now that her aunt would do all the talking, however much she protested.

“So what do you think, dear?” Marie asked when she’d finished replaying her conversation with Simon Ayres.

Celia stared at the floor. Her aunt’s suggestion about going to Spain had taken her completely by surprise. It was such a strange notion—to leave the country, go to Spain, have a holiday—but she couldn’t help but be attracted to the idea. She remained silent for a moment longer, thinking that she would have to disappoint her aunt now, defend her decision, and be strong enough not to be dissuaded.

“I think I like the idea, although I’m not sure about the practicality of it. I hate Joseph. He’s beyond redemption, rotten to the core, and I want to destroy him, but how can I do that if I’m in another country?”

“Joseph will be taken care of. Don’t worry about that. But first we have to make sure that you and the baby are safe; this is non-negotiable,” Marie told her.

Celia sat back on the plush couch and closed her eyes. She was tired, so tired that her eyes stung from tears shed and lack of sleep. She had been thinking about her future all night and had gone over every possible scenario until she arrived at the same conclusion, the only acceptable conclusion. Her aunt wouldn’t agree with the decision she’d made, of course, but now was not the time to back down, not even for her aunt.

“Auntie, I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I must go back to Merrill Farm, and it must be today.”

“But, my dear…”

“No, Auntie, please don’t say another word. You see, if I don’t go back, Joseph will know that I’ve told you everything. He was very drunk yesterday, but he might remember that he said he’d killed Papa. ‘The night I did her father’ was what he actually said.”

“But you can’t possibly…”

“Auntie, think about it. Joseph will probably run, and if he runs, we will never catch him. I want justice, and I won’t have a future of any kind if I don’t get it.”

“Justice might be expensive, dear. He could kill you the next time.”

Celia wagged her finger, stressing that her aunt was wrong. “No, he is too greedy, and he’s not stupid. If I died, he would be the prime suspect. Not only that, but he’d also lose my inheritance in the bargain. Two deaths in one family would be too much of a coincidence for the police to overlook, and he loves his life too much to risk it all in a fit of rage.”

Celia had thought long and hard about this. If she went back to the farm, behaved as though nothing was untoward, pretended that she’d forgiven him again, he would drop his guard and carry on, giving them time to somehow prove his guilt. Her aunt would have to force Joseph to reinstate Mrs Baxter, of course, for living at the farm alone with him would be foolhardy, and she was not that brave. Joseph hated her aunt; therefore, it was a foregone conclusion that he would try to keep them apart. But she was convinced that he feared her aunt Marie just as much as he hated her. He wouldn’t say no to her.

“Can you get Mrs Baxter back for me? Get him to agree to her living at the farm again?” she asked Marie, voicing her thoughts.

“I suppose so, but can I not convince you to leave him now? Please, darling, don’t do this. I’ll worry myself to death if you don’t get away from him now!”

“No. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going back today. Look, why don’t you come with me? We can pick Mrs Baxter up on the way; I know she desperately wants to come back.”

“Are you sure about this?” she asked again.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Marie made them both some more tea. Celia remained where she was, alone with her thoughts and glad of the respite from questions and disappointed exclamations. According to Dr Sutton, her baby would be born at the end of June or the beginning of July. She felt sure that she could put up with Joseph until then, especially if she had Mrs Baxter with her. She would ask her aunt for a little money to make sure that she didn’t go without vital nourishment or emergency funds, just in case she had to get away from Joseph in a hurry. As soon as the baby arrived, she would leave Joseph no matter what.

“Do we have a deal, Auntie?” Celia asked when her aunt returned with the tea.

“I suppose so,” Marie said with pouting lips. “I can’t stop you from doing this, but I think you’re making a big mistake. You’re in just as much danger now as you ever were. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do it?”

“I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do… the only thing to do!” Celia snapped, impatient now to end all conversation and return to her home.

Celia sat with arms crossed and a sullen, stubborn lift of her brows; she would not justify her decisions any longer. Her aunt was displaying the dominance that usually won her every argument, but today she had to be stronger than her aunt. No small feat, she thought.

“Auntie, I don’t want to fight with you. I am tired of trying to justify myself to Joseph. I don’t want to have to justify myself to you too,” she eventually said. “Will you do as I ask, please? Trust me, just this once.”

Instead of being angry, Marie nodded her head in agreement, a sad but proud expression in her eyes. She smiled for a moment at Celia and then spoke in her voice that brooked no argument.

“All right, I’ll do as you ask, but you must promise me that you will leave the moment you feel threatened in any way. This is no time for heroics!” she said, now in control again.

“I will stay a couple of days and get you settled in. You can tell Joseph that you just had to come visit me. After all, this is your first Christmas without your father. Tell him that you needed to spend some time with me and that you are sorry for disappearing. He won’t dare say anything, not while I’m around, and we must act as though everything is perfectly normal. We mustn’t let him think that anything is out of place, Celia. I’ll arrange for Mrs Baxter to come back but only if she agrees to stay at the farm during the week; otherwise, I’ll take this out of your hands completely and bring you back here even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming. Joseph won’t say no to Mrs Baxter, not when I tell him that I’ll be paying her wages and that you’ll need the extra help, what with having his baby and all. That’s what we’ll tell him.”

“I agree,” Celia said.

“Once Mrs Baxter is back at the farm, you will have a friend and ally. That husband of yours may be all that he is, but he’s not stupid enough to touch you when someone else is about. Remember, dear, silence will be your only weapon. Do you trust Mrs Baxter completely?”

Celia thought about the question. She was well aware that Mrs Baxter’s tales were the talk of the tea rooms. She thrived on stories, and the Merrill family had furnished her with some prime gossip through the years, but the old woman loved her and hated Joseph. She would not put her in harm’s way by tipping their hand.

“Yes, I trust her completely.”

Marie nodded her head. “It won’t be easy to get rid of Joseph now. You do know that?”

“Yes,” Celia admitted. “When I heard the news about my father, I was confused. It was like a dream, a bad dream that I had no control over, and I didn’t know what I was doing or saying until much later. I wish I could turn the clock back, Auntie. I might have done things differently, but I can’t…”