Captain Barclay interrupted. “Who is William Morton?”
My father said, “He married the Major’s younger sister. The family didn’t approve of him. It would be interesting to see what sort of war he’s had.”
“He could have lured the Major to that false rendezvous. But why wait all these years?” I asked.
“A good point. Still, there’s no accounting for a long-harbored anger. It can spill over unexpectedly,” my father said.
“Which reminds me, Julia told me when I visited her that Sabrina didn’t come to the memorial service. That she was poor again. Her words.”
“She can’t live as she’s used to on a private soldier’s pay,” my father agreed. “There could have been an argument over settling an allowance on her.”
“But how would the Major have felt about that? I know he was closer to his other sister, but surely he didn’t carry on his father’s feeling that she made her choice and must live with it.”
“He never discussed it with me,” my father said as the chargers of food were set before us. Shortages or not, it smelled heavenly, and we set to with an appetite. “And of course by rights he shouldn’t have. It was a family matter.”
“Julia might know,” I said doubtfully, finishing the ham and turning to the last of the roasted potatoes on my plate. “But the same difficulty applies. Could you speak to the Major’s solicitors?”
“I’d rather not make it quite so official. There’s the other sister. Valerie. You could call on her. She might be able to shed some light on Sabrina’s situation and her brother’s handling of it. She lives in Gloucestershire. Not all that far away.”
“I don’t know her as well as I do Julia,” I reminded him. “I shall need a better reason than to offer my condolences at this late date.”
“Your mother will think of something.”
Captain Barclay said casually, “I shall be glad to accompany Sister Crawford, sir. If you like.”
“I can drive myself. If you remember,” I told him.
We finished our tea and then set out once more. The rain had stopped, and after a while the moon followed us up the drive to the house.
Two mornings later-still encumbered with Captain Barclay but armed with an excuse provided by my mother-we set out for Gloucestershire. Valerie and her husband lived on the outskirts of Gloucester, within sight of the castle.
She had married a man in banking who now served with the Navy.
She received me cordially, and I gave her a set of embroidered baby clothes, with a cap and a matching pram coverlet done up in lilac and palest green, for she was expecting a child in three months’ time. Julia hadn’t mentioned it, and when I said as much, Valerie said, “I expect she was wishing she also had a child on the way. But how kind of your mother to remember! I shall write to her at once, but you must tell her I shall treasure this gift.”
“I shall. Does Sabrina have any children? I don’t remember.”
“A little boy. The most adorable child. I went to see her in Oxfordshire this winter as soon as I heard the news. Our old Nanny wrote to me.”
“Did you tell Julia or the Major?”
“I wrote to Vincent. I don’t know if he ever received the letter. He didn’t answer. But they do get lost, don’t they? Letters to the Front?”
“Yes. Sadly,” I answered.
“I can’t believe he’s dead. It’s just not possible. And it makes me anxious for George now. He’s at sea, you know. We don’t hear, his mother and I, for weeks on end.”
“When they’re at sea, there’s nowhere to post a letter,” I said, and she smiled.
“I never thought of it that way.”
“Sabrina eloped, didn’t she?”
“Yes, our father had forbade her to see William again. I wished at the time that I’d had the courage to attend the ceremony, but I was rather afraid of what my father might do or say.”
“Did she ever send you any photographs? Of the happy couple?”
She frowned. “I never liked to display them. I didn’t want to annoy my father.”
“I’d like to see them. I don’t believe I’ve seen Sabrina since Vincent left Sandhurst.”
“I’m really not up to searching for them. Another time, perhaps.”
“Is he dark or fair? William? My mother thought she’d seen him in a play once. Molière? Or Sheridan, perhaps.”
“It was so hard to tell. They weren’t very good photographs, I’m afraid.” And she pointedly changed the subject, clearly not interested in her sister’s husband.
We talked about her pregnancy and her garden, and then it was time to take my leave.
When I met Captain Barclay in the pub where I’d left him, his first question was “Did you learn anything?”
“Only that she doesn’t wish to talk about her sister’s husband,” I said when we’d reached the motorcar.
“Not surprising.”
“But her sister has a child. A little boy, born sometime in the winter.”
Captain Barclay whistled softly. “This man Morton might not have fought for his wife, but he would for his child, wouldn’t he? And he’d have been furious with his brother-in-law for snubbing him. It must have seemed rather callous, I should think, to be met with a refusal to do anything for his family.”
Defending Major Carson, I said, “We don’t know that he did, do we? It’s possible that William Morton wasn’t satisfied with his offer.”
“That’s true,” Captain Barclay replied thoughtfully. “And there’s only one way to settle that-if your father is successful in discovering any provisions in the Major’s will. If he’s taken care of the wife or the child-or both-then Morton is out of the running.”
“I did ask Valerie if she had a photograph of her brother-in-law. But she’s feeling her pregnancy and wasn’t particularly interested in making the effort to find one. She didn’t seem to think any of them were very good, anyway.”
“What about the man’s old theatrical company? Did they have posters and the like? As you said in Rouen, eyes never change.”
“I don’t know if they still exist or how to contact them. Sabrina might have something of that sort. Or a photograph of her husband in uniform. Every wife wants one. In case…”
“In case,” he agreed.
A silence fell, and I found myself thinking about Simon again, all the way home.
When I told my parents about Sabrina’s child, they were surprised. No one had mentioned the boy to them. They were of the same mind, that if Major Carson had been murdered, his brother-in-law could have the best possible motive.
My father said, “It’s not like Vincent to be as vindictive as his father was. I don’t understand it. I’ll look into the will. I can be quite frank, I think, and ask the solicitors if the boy was provided for. If not, I can suggest that Julia might care to make amends.”
“I’m not sure she will,” I said, considering my conversation with Julia. “She doesn’t seem to be as fond of Sabrina as Valerie is. I wish I’d thought to ask Valerie about the will. She must have been there for the reading.”
“Hardly something you could bring up, without a very sound reason,” my mother said. “But getting back to what happened to Vincent, it’s possible that William Morton chose to badger him after the baby was born, and he wouldn’t have cared for that. Even if he’d already included his sister in his own will, he would have resented being pressed that way. And so the two of them quarreled, and Morton went away with the worst possible view of Vincent’s intentions. Morton was worried about his family, and Vincent had more than enough on his mind, keeping his men alive. They didn’t like each other to begin with. This could only have made matters between them even more tense.”