Christina slept until midday, unaware that the mansion too had been sold. When she awoke she felt as if a lead weight had been tied round her neck, and her fear returned. Looking out the window, she saw all the movement in the stable yard and presumed her husband must be exercising the horses. She showered, dressed, and went to the kitchen to make herself some breakfast. There she found out what had been happening. The new owner had left a courteous letter asking her to vacate the premises with her possessions and furnishings within a week. She also discovered the almost empty bottle of her sleeping tablets where de Jersey had left it along with the loaf of bread he had used to make their toasted cheese sandwiches.
By the time she discovered from the staff what had happened, she was too upset to talk to anyone. She returned to the house and ran to the sink to throw up.
Christina could not admit that, along with everyone else, she had not been privy to her husband’s intentions. At first she had expected him to return and explain everything to her. By mid-afternoon, still shocked, she called her daughters’ school, only to be told by the headmistress that the girls’ fees were outstanding. If there was a problem, perhaps Mrs. de Jersey would arrange a meeting to discuss her daughters’ future. Christina, at a loss, asked if she could speak to her elder daughter. She kept control of her emotions as she told Natasha that she would like her and Leonie to catch the next train home and she would collect them at the station. She told her she could not discuss the reasons over the phone.
When Christina called the bank to discuss paying her daughters’ school fees, she learned that the joint bank account was virtually empty, and payments on certain loans had not been made. She also discovered outstanding bills from the grocery and wine merchants, as well as those for horse feed and veterinary visits. The phone rang constantly until she took it off the hook, unable to listen to any more queries about unpaid accounts. The papers she’d found in her husband’s desk revealed only a fraction of the truth about their debts.
Drawing on what little energy she had left, she went to see Donald Fleming. He was as shocked as she was. Now she discovered that wages were owed to most of the staff. She felt so ashamed that she couldn’t continue talking to Fleming, who broke down in front of her. “How could he have done this? Not to even discuss it with me,” he said.
“I’m so sorry,” she replied. “I’m so very sorry.”
He looked at her, shaking his head. “I can’t believe he’d do this, not take me into his confidence. It’s just… I worked for almost twenty years alongside him,” he said.
“I was married to him for that long and…” She felt her chin tremble. “I’ll come back later. We’ll talk. I’m sorry, I can’t think straight right now.”
She ran from the office. Entering the house, she couldn’t even find the strength to take off her coat. The more she began to understand the severity of her situation the more it forced the realization of what her husband had done. She was forced to face the probability that he had planned his departure for a considerable time and it was doubtful that he intended to return. She couldn’t bring herself to think about the previous night and how he had made love to her. She sat at the kitchen table sobbing. Every time she dried her eyes, the tears flowed again.
Christina forced herself to go upstairs and get ready to face her daughters. But when she entered the bedroom, her loss swamped her again, and she lay facedown on the bed, where she could still smell her husband’s scent. The sobs tore upward from her belly.
When Christina finally stopped weeping, she changed and drove to collect her daughters. She was calm. She didn’t tell the girls what had happened until they were back at the house. Then she said that it was possible their father had not just left home but left them too. She found herself in an awkward position. If he did intend to come back and take them away, as he had promised, the less the girls knew the better. She went over and over in her mind their conversation of the previous night: his promises, his protestation of love. But she also knew that he had drugged her.
Christina was unable to tell her daughters everything she knew, but she tried to soften the blow by saying that their father had been in dire financial trouble and had been unable to deal with it. Their confused, sad faces broke Christina’s tight hold on herself, and she was again unable to stop the tears.
Twenty-four hours later, de Jersey had still made no contact. Christina began to earmark anything of value to sell, but her husband’s betrayal hung over her like a dark cloud. It was while she was in this vulnerable state that two patrol cars entered the drive. It had been decided that the uniformed officers would start questioning the staff around the stables while Chief Superintendent Rodgers, with Detective Constable Trudy Grainger, interviewed Edward de Jersey. At the same time, Rodgers had allocated officers to interview Driscoll and Wilcox at their homes.
As they pulled up, Rodgers saw the furniture-removal vans outside the house. “I don’t like the look of this,” he murmured, getting out of the car and stretching his legs. He walked flat-footed, his feet pointing outward, his head jutting forward like a turtle’s, but he had one redeeming feature: incredibly bright blue eyes. Eyes that didn’t seem to miss anything, eyes that could feel like they were boring into your head, eyes that crinkled up when he smiled and made him appear to be a jovial, kindly man. In many ways he was, but underneath it he was as tough as they came.
Rodgers knocked at the open door. When he received no reply, he walked into the hallway, bypassing cardboard packing cases, some open and some waiting to be made up.
“Hello,” he called. He went into the drawing room. The radio was tuned to Classic FM, and Christina was wrapping crystal glasses in newspaper.
Rodgers knocked loudly on the door.
“If you’ve come for the silver, I’m not ready,” she said.
Then he showed her his ID. “I am Chief Superintendent Rodgers,” he said, “and this is D.C. Grainger.”
“Have you come about my husband?” she stuttered.
“I’d like to speak to him,” Rodgers replied.
“So would I, but I’m afraid he’s not here and I’ve no idea where he is.” She wiped her newsprint-stained hands on her apron.
“Could I talk to you?”
“Yes, but I have no idea where he is. He sold the farm and the house, so as you can see, I’m moving out. I have no other option. The new owner has given me only a week.”
Rodgers smiled, trying to calm her. “Mrs. de Jersey, do you mind if I turn down the radio?”
“Not at all.” She took off her apron and burst into tears. Two teenage girls appeared, carrying silver candlesticks, and Christina almost shouted at them, “Just leave those where they are.”
Rodgers nodded and moved toward Natasha. Before he could ask either girl anything, Christina put a protective arm around each of them. “These are my daughters, Natasha and Leonie. You won’t need to speak to them, will you?”
“Not immediately,” Rodgers said and watched as Christina ushered the girls out of the room.
“They have just got home from school,” she said. “They don’t know anything about”-she took a deep breath, catching herself-“the sale.”
Rodgers led her into the kitchen, where he asked if his officer could brew some coffee.
“Go ahead,” she replied, distracted.
He sat at the kitchen table. Even in this room there were packing boxes and crates of china stacked and ready to be taken out.
“I’ve decided to put what I have left into storage and go and stay with my father,” she said. “My daughters are very distressed. As I said, they have only just returned home and don’t know anything.” She took out a tissue and blew her nose. Rodgers bided his time, talking gently to her about the effects of moving. But from the few things she had said, he knew she was privy to something he needed to hear about her husband.