CHAPTER VIII.
PRODIGALS
It was indeed Alec d'Urberville. 'Liza-Lu gave a weak cry and crumpled to the floor in a faint. Mrs. Brooks, apparently unshaken, retrieved her sewing-basket. Three officers of the Wessex Constabulary followed our 'ghost' into the room. While two of them arrested and handcuffed the spitting and swearing Angel Clare, the other revived his accomplice.
"There is the weapon," said Holmes. "It is a Portuguese stiletto, the veteran of several bloody bar fights in Brazil. And the creature beside it is Mr. d'Urberville's assailant - am I not right, sir?"
"Perfectly correct, Mr. Holmes," the victim confirmed.
"Captain Mycroft - Sherlock Holmes?" gasped Clare. "Duplicitous bastard!"
"Dinna speak tae him like that, you peelie-wallie wee runt! You'll be payin' for my house-repairs - and the linen your wee bit friend ruined!" cried Mrs. Brooks, not entirely accidentally treading on his hand.
'Liza-Lu coughed as she regained her senses. She stared at the young man she had stabbed, her thin face twisted into a hideous image of hate. "Why couldn't you die? We shouldn't have to live on your dirty money - my sister's whoring! Stoke charity and d'Urberville shame!"
She tried to claw the face of the policeman who snapped the handcuffs upon her slender wrists. As he dragged her away, she sobbed hysterically: "She was the fairer in the face..."
"You should extend your knowledge of Tennyson," Holmes countered:
"'Tis only noble to be good.
Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith than Norman blood."
Mrs. Brooks and I helped Alec d'Urberville to the couch. He looked drawn and tired, and his breathing was rather shallow, but his health had improved remarkably since our last meeting.
"Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, I'm indebted to you both - and to you, too, Mrs. B.!" he said.
"Och, laddie!" she exclaimed, and left off arranging the cushions to hug him maternally.
He winced. "Gently, old girl! I'm in no condition for anything compromising!"
"Wheesht!" She pretended to scold: "Hae you ony idea how bad this has been for business- We thocht you were deid!"
"The Devil looks after his own!"
"Clootie be danged! I ken your like, chiel, aye misca'in' yoursel'! It's the unca' guid that's the warst - wolves in sheep's claes!"
"- Or a demon in Angel's!" added Holmes.
"Please," said d'Urberville, "not too witty - some of us are in stitches already!"
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
"Still sore about the chest - the bandages are like a damned strait-jacket - but it's better than being dead, even temporarily."
I looked at Holmes, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat through his false beard.
"It's my doing, I'm afraid," my colleague confessed. "It was apparent to me from the first that this was no straightforward crime of passion, and that the best way of catching the criminals would be to convince them that their scheme was succeeding. Inevitably, they would overplay their hand."
"Talking of cards, Mr. Holmes told me you'd met the two Queens," Alec said, turning to me. "A narrow escape - they hunt as a pair! You know, it's almost worth having a misspent youth for the memories: it's no fun being confined to bed alone... Anyway, I must thank you again for patching me up - the 'Angels of Death' would've done for me, but for you and Mrs. B.!"
"It's my job," I said. "I was an army surgeon before I went into general practice: the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."
"But I dinna ken how -" Mrs. Brooks faltered. "I mean, tae mak' us a' think -"
Holmes replied: "The local police agreed to maintain secrecy in order to obtain our assistance on the case. They in turn directed the press to reveal nothing which could jeopardise the investigation. Mr. d'Urberville had his wound treated at a nursing home, under his original name. One advantage of staying at a health resort!"
"I should still be resting," said Alec, "but I wouldn't have missed this for the world!"
Mrs. Brooks tutted disapprovingly, then addressed all three of us: "Weel, I think we a' could dee wi' a cup o' tea after thon stushie! Or would you prefer whisky? 'The sun's owre the yaird-airm', as the auld man used tae say!"
Whisky was unanimously preferred, although our hostess insisted on diluting it for the convalescent: "You've no' eneuch bluid yet, chiel!" He gave her a mock-mournful look. "- And dinna contradict, or you'll get beef tea instead!" she added, with a minatory wag of the finger.
While she brought out glasses and poured the drinks, Holmes took off his beard and removed Captain Brooks' watch and chain from his waistcoat. "Thank goodness it's over!" he said.
After we had recovered from the dramatic events of the séance, Holmes explained how he had approached the case:
"Initially there was little firm evidence which was not contradictory. Mr. d'Urberville was too weak from shock to remember much coherently. A carving-knife was missing, yet his wound was clearly caused by a smaller weapon. Angel Clare was an obvious suspect - the obvious suspect - in terms of motive; also his past behaviour, particularly the coffin episode, indicated morbid tendencies and the potential for violence. But he had the perfect alibi - being seen taking breakfast in the busy dining-room of a large hotel. Moreover, the assailant was almost certainly a woman - we all saw her. The nature of the crime and the fact that she had paused to put on perfume before leaving the scene suggested that she had acted in a cold and calculating manner, rather than impulsively.
"The picture became clearer when I met 'Liza-Lu. Most young girls would have shared in their mother's distress at such a time. But she was consumed by her jealousy of her sister, by her resentment of the family's dependence upon that sister and her lover, and by her desire for her sister's legal husband. At first I wondered how she could have developed such an infatuation with Mr. Clare, whom she could not have met. Then, watching them together on my second visit to Trantridge I realised that they had met before.
"She must have seen Clare when he called at the cottage in his attempt to track down his wife. There was an instantaneous attraction. She must have slipped out of the house after he had left, and caught up with him on his way to the station. Her mother had been drinking, and would have assumed that she was sleeping downstairs in the kitchen. They hatched the plot on the night train to Sandbourne.
"Early in the morning they came here to The Herons. While he distracted you, Mrs. Brooks, sending you up to call Tess, 'Liza-Lu was able to sneak in and conceal herself in the broom-cupboard. There she remained, until you had descended into the kitchen and Tess had slipped out past her through the back door. Then... I think we should hear from the victim."
Alec took up the story: "I was furious when Tess accused me of lying to her about Clare's return. I have my faults, but that- And she tried to blame me for his desertion of her. So I did say some blunt things, though nothing that wasn't the truth! I knew it couldn't last with him - that she'd probably need me to pick up the pieces again afterwards. I don't mind doing that, but... To see her throwing herself away, running after a man who despised her for bearing my child..." He sighed. "How do you prove you love someone other than by just being there? And how long can you endure being the 'reserve'?"
Mrs. Brooks nodded. I could see that she was fingering the watch and hair chain which Holmes had lain on the table.
The young man continued: "After Tess walked out, I stayed in bed, sulking. When I heard the door handle turn, I was pleased she'd come to her senses so quickly. I decided to pretend to be asleep. I heard her skirts rustle as she came close to the bed. Then, all at once, her lips were on mine, I opened my eyes - and the knife went in... I must've blacked out with the pain more or less at once. All I could remember were her eyes - like Tess's, but not. Like a Fury's. I only recognised them today."
Holmes nodded: "'Liza-Lu then stole the carving-knife, to mislead the police. She put on some of Tess's perfume and her hat and veil, taking the parasol for additional concealment. She then left The Herons in as conspicuous a manner as possible, knowing that the distinctive hat and parasol would lead all who saw her to assume she was her sister. She had plenty of time to hand over the parasol and hat to Mr. Clare at the railway station. She then took the train home, where she was unlikely to have been missed, while he waited for his wife, with her accessories hidden under his coat."
"Sae where's my cairving-knife?" asked Mrs. Brooks.
"I think a careful search of Mrs. Durbeyfield's kitchen will find it. She has acquired many new things since moving to the cottage, but your mark on the handle should identify it."
"I knew Clare was a bad lot from what Tess told me about him abandoning her, but this has gone beyond anything I'd expected!" said Alec. "The way he was able to worm his way into her mind, to convince her that she was guilty! What sort of man could do that to her?"
"He is an extremely twisted individual, there is no doubt of that. He knew - as I think anyone who has spoken to Tess soon realises - that she is deeply susceptible to guilt. And to anyone who has studied the use of suggestion - as Clare had, in the Candomblé rites of Brazilian slaves - such a susceptibility offers potential for exploitation. Even during his interview with her on the staircase he was subtly priming her."
"So which of them is the more guilty?" I asked. "Angel Clare or 'Liza-Lu?"
"Without 'Liza-Lu, Clare would still have tried to kill both those who had sullied his honour, but straightforwardly, with the knife, in accordance with South American machismo. The younger sister's involvement enabled him to devise a more subtle approach, using her as Tess's double. She was more than willing - no mere dupe - and probably suggested the döppelganger ploy herself: it was, after all, her only chance to become the sister she envied. Meanwhile, the psychological manipulation was Clare's forte. And so a simple murder plot became a wider conspiracy: one killing to lead to another, helped by the social and moral prejudices of the judicial system. They are both in it up to their necks. But I must thank you, Mrs. Brooks, for providing me with the key which proved the girl's guilt."
"I dinna ken about that, Mr. Holmes - you found the perfume on her gloves!" she said modestly.
"But you identified the line from Tennyson's The Sisters. That poem revealed to me the tortuous jealousy and arrogance which motivated 'Liza-Lu. She mix'd her ancient blood with shame was the line that unhappy girl quoted; but the whole narrative, especially in your dramatic reading, revealed itself both as a reflection of the case, and as the self-justification of the would-be murderess: Therefore revenge became me well."
Alec shook his head. "These old Norman houses! Plotting murder to preserve their pride, as if they were still living in the Middle Ages!" Then he added, deliberately letting his accent slip: "Thank God my family's common as muck!"
Mrs. Brooks' jaw dropped in surprise: "I beg your pairdon?"
"I was right! Wasn't I, Watson?" Holmes cried. "You don't find vowels like that south of the Pennines!"
"That's extraordinary, Mr. Holmes!" the young man replied in his usual more careful tones. "Yes, I'm sorry if this disappoints you, Mrs. B., but I'm as much of a sham as a gentleman as I was as a ghost! My father's name was really Stoke - or at least that was his mother's name. She came from these parts, and went up north in service - you can guess the rest! Some gypsy - I've heard that his name may've been Smith - but then, it usually is in these cases, isn't it- So we're utterly self-made! It's Tess who's the genuine d'Urberville! Do you forgive me?"
"Dinna fash yoursel' about it, son! We're a' Jock Tamson's bairns! Sae what's tae befa' Mistress - whatever she's ca'ed - your lassie? What about Tess?"
"She'll be released as soon as possible," Holmes assured us. "After that, well... I think that's for you and her to decide between you, isn't it, d'Urberville?"
"Indeed," he smiled, his eyes brightening with their old laughter.
I met Tess at the station in Melchester. Her mother and younger siblings had greeted her on her release, but now she parted from them, tearfully but happily, to return to Sandbourne in my company. She was wearing her elegant walking costume, freshly laundered, and her pretty hat with the black feathers. She still appeared a little pale, but she had a new air of confidence, born of a painfully-won self-knowledge.
"Dear Dr. Watson!" she smiled. "I'm so grateful to you for your help! Times like these always show who your true friends are, and you and Mr. Holmes and Mrs. Brooks have been mine!"
"I'm very touched, dear girl. I'm only sorry it's meant that you had to spend these past days in a cell..."
"I'm not," she replied. "I needed that time to think - to grow out of that foolish infatuation with Angel... It was like waking from a nightmare."
"The worst is over, anyway," I reassured her.
She looked at me earnestly. "Tell me... Alec is going to be all right, isn't he?"
"He's young and strong, and mending fast. His wound's less deep than was first feared - thankfully, 'Liza-Lu is so much weaker than yourself! Besides, he hasn't the temperament to play the invalid for long! Mrs. Brooks says he's quite impossible without you - she has to keep threatening him with her beef tea and poultices to make him take things easy! And I've told him it's rather soon for him to be smoking again. But no doubt you'll keep an eye on him until he's fully recovered!"
"So he does want me back?"
"He talks of nothing else. Did you doubt that he would?"
She hesitated. "After what happened at Bramshurst Court... Angel trying to... If it were to come out in the trial, it would be so cruel..."
"Alec knows the ways of the world: he guessed Clare would make an attempt, especially since you were effectively hypnotised."
Tess laughed as if to herself. "Of course! He's not like Angel! My God, when I think how I swallowed all his contempt for me - 'not the woman he married'! There wouldn't be much to confess this time, anyway: I discovered why Angel prefers virgins... I've had more excitement digging turnips, but I'd not have realised that if I'd hadn't been able to compare! Anyway, he couldn't even... Well, maybe it doesn't count after all!" She looked down at the wedding ring on her ungloved left hand. "This is a lie, isn't it? I suppose I ought to take it off..."
"I shouldn't if I were you. You may need it again soon."
"Oh? And what do you know?" she asked with a hint of archness.
"I think a better offer may be pending, once you're free to take it up! I wish you both every good fortune: divorce cases can be vicious."
"We'll weather it together," she answered serenely.
I shall not attempt to describe the joyfulness of our young friends' reunion at The Herons. For both, the past few days had been a time of trial, perhaps the greatest test any marriage (for such it was, de facto if not yet de jure) could face. They had survived, not unscathed, but perhaps had grown in maturity and wisdom through their ordeal.
Seeing them embrace, Mrs. Brooks began to dab her eyes with the edge of her apron: "Och, the dear bairns!"
"A most satisfactory conclusion!" I observed, turning to Holmes. "Now this is resolved, I think I should invite Mary here for a few days, for a proper holiday!"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed he. "We should be thinking of returning to London! I feel quite re-invigorated! And crime never takes a holiday!"
He was not mistaken: following our return home, we soon became engaged with other cases. Betwixt times, we were called upon to give evidence in the trial of Angel Clare and Eliza-Louisa Durbeyfield for attempted murder and conspiracy to pervert the course of justice.
As I had anticipated, the concomitant divorce proceedings were tangled, Tess's charges of cruelty and desertion being countered by her known adultery. However, the eventual result inclined to her favour. The guilty verdict on Clare in the criminal case and certain evidence concerning his health hardly aided his lawyer's efforts to present him as a wronged innocent in the divorce. (This may explain his particular interest in virgins: I once encountered a patient with the hideous belief that defloration could effect a cure when mercury had failed. - J. H. W.)
Even as I write, I have on my desk before me a small envelope addressed to Mary and myself. It contains an invitation to a civil marriage before the Melchester registrar. No doubt at this very moment, Mrs. Hudson is taking a similar missive up to Holmes; while in Sandbourne, her cousin Polly Brooks is already airing her best silks.
To be concluded.
