House of Lies Read online

  ‘Who is she?’ Alex asked.

  ‘None of your business. Let’s just say I want to find her.’

  It would be very easy for Alex to flee from Michael Grenville. He had connections in the underbelly of Edinburgh and London. He could easily placate the man and simply move on, with Michael Grenville none the wiser.

  ‘Don’t think about running away, Mr Bradshaw,’ Michael Grenville said. ‘If you run, I’ll find you. That’s a promise.’

  ‘How do I know I can trust you? You could be with the police.’

  The man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a thick wad of notes. ‘There’s twice that much when the job is complete. Get to Rivenby and lie low. I’ll be in touch.’ Michael Grenville slid out from behind the table, pulled his hat down over his face and walked out the door.

  Alex sat for a moment, disconcerted that someone actually knew about his past criminal history. Glancing around the room to make sure no one had been spying on their conversation, he tucked the envelope into his coat pocket.

  ***

  Hugh awoke to a cold grey morning and the sound of rain pinging against his window. Resisting the urge to stay under the warm eiderdown, Hugh placed his feet on the cold floor and dressed hurriedly. Margaret hadn’t spoken to him at all the previous evening, and she hadn’t come to their bedroom, not that Hugh expected her. With any luck, she’d find a new lover to take care of her. If Lady Fate smiled on him, maybe he would never see Margaret again. It didn’t take him long to pack his holdall, as most of his belongings were at his mother’s house. In a few hours, he would be well away from Margaret. For the first time in their marriage, he was going to sneak off without a word and leave his wife wondering.

  Shutting his holdall with a resolute snap, Hugh glanced around the room one more time to make sure he hadn’t left any personal belongings. Martin and Hermione would be upset with him for not saying goodbye, but Hugh needed to leave the Shorehams’ before his mother came knocking on his door, ready to enforce her own plans for Hugh. He was ready to walk out the door when Margaret burst into the room. A blood-red stain – probably wine – was splattered across her breast. Her rumpled dress hung unevenly around her ankles. The smell of yesterday’s drinks, another man’s cologne and sweat assaulted Hugh’s senses.

  Margaret’s eyes darted over Hugh and around the room, coming to rest finally on Hugh’s closed holdall. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Having decided on taking up my mother’s offer, I’m off to scurry home with my tail between my legs and live a quiet life in a secluded cottage. You, dear wife, are officially free of me. I’ll have my solicitor contact you, so we can get divorced.’

  ‘Quiet secluded life? You? Good god, Hugh, you’ve no idea what it’s like to be without funds. Believe me, darling, you’ll hate it.’ She moved over to the mirror and fussed with her hair.

  ‘Will you never grow up?’

  ‘Me? Grow up? This from the man who is incapable of earning his way in the world. Face it, darling, you’ve done a horrid job of providing.’

  He picked up his holdall and headed towards the door. ‘Good luck, Margaret.’

  Margaret moved to block his way. ‘What about me?’

  ‘Surely you can get one of your lovers to take care of you. And so there’s no misunderstanding between us, if you ever forge my signature again, I shall prosecute.’

  Margaret’s eyes showed fear for a second, but she recovered, secure in the knowledge there would be no legal proceedings. Neither Hugh nor Lady Rosalind would shame themselves with a court case. She walked over to Hugh and reached out to touch his face. He pushed her hand away.

  ‘Darling, I’ve actually solved all of our problems.’ She reached into the small evening bag she carried with her and pulled out a wad of notes, waving them in front of Hugh before she tucked them into his pocket. ‘Soon I’ll have more. That’s a promise.’

  ‘Where did you get that? My god, Margaret, what have you done?’ He took the money out of his pocket and thumbed through the wad of bills. Suspicious of Margaret and disgusted with his own momentary swell of greed, he thrust the money back at her.

  She snatched it away and tucked it into her purse. ‘You don’t want it? Fine. I’m just trying to pay you back.’ Kicking off her shoes, she sat on the bed and rubbed her feet. ‘I’m trying to help you. Help us. Why don’t you trust me?’

  ‘Because you’ve been lying to me since the day I met you. And god knows I’ve suffered for it.’ He imagined Margaret having sex for money, no better than a common prostitute.

  ‘I assure you this money is rightfully mine. I’ve a plan to get us situated once and for all, far away from your mother. I’ve recently discovered I’m entitled to a bit of an inheritance. If you want a divorce, fine. I know I’ve put you through hell. I’m just asking that you wait a little while, so I can get some money to live on.’

  ‘Why do you need me for that? You seem able to navigate the world without me.’

  Margaret looked at him, and for the briefest moment he saw the old Margaret, the beautiful young woman who had ignited his passion so long ago. But that Margaret was a figment of his overzealous imagination. It seemed he’d been waiting a lifetime for that particular side of Margaret to get a foothold in their marriage. It hadn’t, and the realisation that he had fallen in love with an affectation stung.

  ‘For security, I suppose. I’m a woman, alone.’ She looked at him beseechingly. ‘We don’t have to live together, but it will give me comfort to know you’re there if I need you.’

  ‘I thought you said your family was dead.’ Hugh stepped away from Margaret, as if putting distance between them would provide protection.

  ‘I have a brother. I haven’t seen him since I ran away. My childhood was horrid, actually. It’s something I don’t care to dwell on, that’s why I told you they were dead. I just vowed to be alone and forget them. In any event, my parents passed away and left me money. I intend to get it.’

  Hugh thought Margaret could very well be lying, as he had learned ages ago that the truth changed according to whatever agenda she was manipulating. After years of marriage and thousands of lies, Hugh had learned the best course of action was to play along, as a confrontation would only prove fruitless.

  ‘Who is this brother? Where is he? Was there a will? You can’t just show up and demand money. There are legal things you need to do. For one thing, we should get a solicitor —’

  ‘I’ve arranged a solicitor and I have everything under control. I just need you to be available, Hugh. I don’t need you to ask questions or get involved. We don’t even need to live together. I’m asking you to be near, nothing more, until I get my money.’

  ‘No,’ Hugh said. ‘I’m finished. I’m going home.’ He adjusted the strap of his holdall on his shoulder. ‘This is goodbye, Margaret. Face it, we’ll be glad to get away from each other.’

  ‘Wait,’ she said, stamping her foot like a petulant child.

  She moved close to him and fixed the top button of his shirt. Against his will, the heat of her aroused him, just as she knew it would. ‘We’ve had a good run, Hugh. I know you don’t love me anymore, but if we’re going to part ways, I’d like to do so as friends.’

  Her kind words were so out of character, he should have been suspicious, should have known that she was just being nice to him because she had no lover waiting to provide for her. But her nearness, the physicality of her, evoked a response that took away his reason.

  ‘I’m asking you to trust me this one last time. Allow me to at least repay you some of the money I stole. After I do that, we’ll part ways, divorce and you’ll never have to see me again. Come with me while I get my inheritance.’ She ran her fingers over his lips.

  He had to get away from her, before she pulled him in as she had done so many times before.

  ‘Where is your brother?’ He couldn’t stop himself. He bent close and nuzzled her neck.

  She brushed his lips with hers before she stood on tiptoes an
d whispered in his ear. ‘I’m going to get the money to which I am entitled and make things right with you. But you will not get involved. Those are my conditions. You can come with me, do as I say, and recoup your losses. Or we can say goodbye today and you can step out of this home and into your life of dependence on Mummy for your stipend. My rules. Your choice.’

  She kissed him, and in a brief moment of weakness, he let himself go. After all the betrayals, he still physically craved her.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ he murmured into her hair. God help him, he loved her. And hated himself for it.

  ‘Very good.’ Margaret pushed away from him. ‘I’ll go and change. We’ll leave in an hour.’

  Chapter 2

  Cat Carlisle hurried home from Emmeline Hinch-Billings’s secretarial school, the large ledger tucked under her arm. Autumn was in the air, along with its accompanying chill. She was so proud of all that Emmeline had accomplished, training the young women who enrolled in courses as bookkeepers, secretaries and shorthand typists, and then securing them good jobs. At first Cat thought participating as a silent partner, with generous cash donations when necessary, would be fulfilling enough. When Emmeline Hinch-Billings needed a bookkeeper, Cat had taken over keeping the ledgers. Numbers didn’t lie, and Cat had soon discovered she enjoyed the satisfaction of balancing the books.

  Try as she might, going over the ledgers in the tiny office at the school proved difficult today. A handful of the young women had received job offers in Scotland. Their excitement had been contagious, their success an inspiration to the new young women who hoped to acquire the skills necessary to earn a living. While encouraging, the thrum of excitement had proved a distraction, and Cat decided she’d be better off doing the books in the privacy of her office at home. The school had been in operation almost a year, and it was already turning a tidy profit, much to the surprise of the bankers who had refused to give Emmeline Hinch-Billings a loan. Cat had stepped in with the financial backing and was happy to have done so.

  As she stepped from the lane onto the path that led to the front door of Saint Monica’s, Bede Turner was busy hanging linen pillowcases on the clothesline. When she saw Cat, she picked up her laundry basket and headed in her direction.

  ‘You’re finished early,’ Bede said.

  ‘Couldn’t concentrate at the school, too noisy. I thought I’d work here. How’s Mrs Grenville doing?’ Cat said.

  ‘Not good. She’s been in her room crying a good part of the day. I took her a tray with tea and toast about an hour ago. The poor woman’s scared to death. And her face is terribly bruised.’

  ‘Should I get her a doctor?’

  ‘Given her current state of mind, a female nurse would probably be better. She does need medical attention though, Miss Catherine.’ Bede shook her head. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing. These women have violent men in their lives who will eventually come looking for them. Have you given any thought as to what might happen when an angry husband shows up on our doorstep? You can’t protect these women alone. Can’t you at least ask Mr Charles—’

  ‘Bede, I don’t want to talk about this. No one is going to find the women we’re sheltering. Their batterers live in other counties far away.’

  ‘And what if they tell them where they are? What if they write to them out of guilt or misplaced loyalty? You don’t know what’s going on in their heads. Are you going to monitor the post every day?’ Bede pulled her jumper tighter around her stout body.

  ‘Why would they tell the men who battered them where they are?’

  Bede gave Cat a knowing look. ‘Because they feel guilty about leaving. Because maybe they still love their husbands, despite the brutal treatment.’

  ‘But they’ve taken the first step towards freedom by coming here. Doesn’t that count for something?’

  ‘I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. We’d be better off with a man around here. That’s all I want to say about it. Oh, and that Lucy Bardwell still hasn’t done the breakfast dishes, even though it’s her turn. I did as you said and left them for her.’

  Cat bit back her irritation. Lucy Bardwell had been nothing but trouble since she came to Saint Monica’s. She frequently missed her classes at Emmeline’s school and rarely did her chores, leaving the others to take on her share of the work. ‘Thanks, Bede. I’ll deal with Lucy.’

  Bede nodded her approval and hurried back to the clothesline, her laundry basket resting on her hip. Cat watched her go, certain she was doing the right thing for these unfortunate women, despite Bede’s misgivings. Currently there were only two women in residence at Saint Monica’s. Elaina Masterson had shown up for her first day of secretarial training with a fresh scar down the side of her face. 22 years old and the daughter of a farmer, Elaina had married early at the encouragement of her parents, who were eager to have one less mouth to feed. It didn’t take long for Elaina to discover her husband’s violent side. Over the course of a few months, the beatings increased to a daily occurrence. Elaina had fled back to her parents, but her father had encouraged her to stay by her husband’s side and be a better wife. When she returned to her marital home, her husband, who was so drunk he couldn’t stand up straight, cut Elaina’s face with a knife. The next day after he’d left for work, Elaina took all the money she had, packed her meagre belongings and bought a one-way bus ticket to Rivenby, secure in the knowledge her husband would never find her there. She had taken a room in Miss Foster’s boarding house and immediately enrolled in secretarial school. Cat had taken one look at Elaina and knew she needed help.

  Shortly after that, Jennie LaGrange had come along. Jennie kept her story to herself, but she was a kind soul, got on well with everyone in the household and didn’t shirk at doing her chores. Jennie and Elaina, along with the women who had come before them, had used the sanctuary of Saint Monica’s to recover from their brutal home life. Every day they grew mentally stronger. The courses at Emmeline’s school engaged their mind. Bede fed them well and gave them chores around the house, so they could feel useful.

  Tomorrow Jennie and Elaina would move to Scotland, where good jobs and a new future awaited them. Lucy Bardwell and Alice Grenville were the newest arrivals. Lucy had been at Saint Monica’s for six weeks, while Alice Grenville had only arrived two days ago. Although Cat and Bede were both concerned about Alice, who was frightened of her own shadow, Cat believed with time she would heal and the promise of a fresh start would bolster her, like it had for Jennie and Elaina.

  Cat stood inside the front door for a moment, savouring the quiet solitude. She carried her ledgers up the stairs, pausing before Alice Grenville’s room. She pressed her ear against the door, glad to hear the soft sounds of Alice’s snores. Thank god. The woman needs a good rest. Her mind was so preoccupied when she stepped into her own bedroom that it took her a moment to see Lucy Bardwell, who stood before the looking glass, dressed in one of Cat’s suits.

  ‘Oh!’ Lucy cried out.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Cat snapped at the same time. She tossed the ledgers on her writing desk and surveyed the clothes that lay scattered on her bed. ‘You’d best explain yourself.’

  Lucy sat down on the chaise under the window, buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. Cat stood silently by, not taken in by Lucy’s dramatic display.

  Cat handed her a handkerchief. ‘Here.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lucy said. She dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Carlisle. I know I shouldn’t have come in here.’

  ‘You’re right. You’ve no business going through other people’s things.’ Cat bit back her anger. ‘How do you expect anyone to feel safe here if we can’t trust each other?’

  ‘You can trust me!’ Lucy said. She jumped up and faced Cat, her cheeks pink with either rage or shame, Cat couldn’t tell which. ‘I haven’t had a new dress for as long as I can remember.’

  ‘Neither has anyone else,’ Cat said. ‘You’re not the only one affected by rationing
.’

  ‘It’s not the rationing,’ Lucy said. ‘My brother thinks nice clothes are a waste of money. I’ve had to buy all my things second-hand.’ She ran her hand over the fabric of Cat’s suit. ‘The first thing I’m going to do when I start working is buy a new suit.’ She gave Cat a shy smile. ‘I mean brand new, as in never worn by anyone else.’

  ‘Lucy, why won’t you let me help you get your money? We could get you a solicitor, at least to look into it.’

  ‘Oh no. You mustn’t! Ambrose would be so angry.’ Her eyes had a frantic look Cat recognised all too well. ‘Please. Promise me you won’t speak to Ambrose. And I’m sorry I came in here. I know I shouldn’t have.’

  ‘Go and change into your own clothes. And when you’ve finished, there’s a sink full of dishes waiting for you.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Lucy said.

  ‘I don’t want to have to discuss missing chores with you again, Lucy. I mean it. Another mishap like this, and you’ll have to leave.’

  Lucy nodded, not meeting Cat’s eyes as she grabbed her clothes and hurried out the door.

  Cat sat down and tried to focus on her bookkeeping duties, but her mind kept wandering back to Lucy Bardwell. After finding a room in which to lodge, she had registered for school. Cat had noticed the dark-haired, outspoken woman right away, but had never thought she came from a difficult home, until she’d come to school one day with a black eye and a swollen lip. Emmeline and Cat had taken the young girl into a private room to find out what had happened to her.

  ‘It’s my brother,’ she’d said. ‘I went home to get some money out of my bank account. He got angry. Ambrose doesn’t believe women should manage their own money.’

  Cat had immediately offered Lucy Bardwell a place in her home and a scholarship for school, thinking Lucy could save her money for her future. But Lucy hadn’t saved her money. When she didn’t show up at school one day, Cat and Bede Turner became worried her brother had found her and taken her away against her will. They had been in the process of formulating a plan to rescue her, when Lucy returned home, laden with shopping bags.