Truth or dare – Part 4

Sherlock:

"So, it seems we cannot help it, but visit Mr Adams as his sister is staying with him. Hopefully, she has recovered from the shock by now." Hopkins said as we stepped out and into the slippery street, the Regents Park only a little down the road.

"I actually would like to try and retrace her steps," I remarked, turning towards the park. "After that, we can go and speak to Mrs Wolseley."

"But we know where she was found and..."

Interrupting him impatiently I explained: "Of course we know, but I want a more accurate idea how long she would have needed to get to where she was found."

Davina Adams had been found shortly after five, which left us with a fairly short time span. We walked swiftly, as Clairemont had stated she had basically run from the room and if something had startled her, then it was unlikely she would have commenced with any less haste than before. Taking into consideration, that we wore more practical shoes than the slippers Miss Adams had worn we could soon establish, that she had needed at least ten minutes to reach the spot – if she indeed had walked there on her own. It was of course still possible, that she had been killed before she was brought there and yet there were several places, where the killer could have discarded of her long before he had reached the bridge. The path was slippery and carrying a body is a tedious task at the best of times. No, it was unlikely then, that she had met her death elsewhere. I was all but certain she had met her end where she had been found.

A theory began to form in the back of my mind, now it needed establishing.

"I think we can visit the Adams' now. I have seen everything there was to be seen." I told Hopkins as we stood on the small bridge, looking about us.

"And to what conclusion did you come." he inquired curiously.

"None."

xxx

As in this weather, it was more convenient we took the underground to Waterloo Station and from there a train to Kingston, reaching our destination a good hour later. The house in which the family lived was an imposing one, built from timber and brick, parts of it covered by ivy. The homestead was surrounded by a large park-like garden, which was covered with a layer of pristine looking snow. Money certainly was not an issue with the Adams'. Knocking on the front door, it was opened by a very proper looking housemaid with a placid face and red-rimmed eyes.

"Sirs?" she curtsied.

"We are here on behalf of Miss Adams' death. Could we please come in?" Hopkins asked her mildly. "We would like to speak to Mrs Wolseley and to Mr Adams, if we may."

"Oh, of course. Mr Adams said police might come and ask a few questions. He is in the drawing room. If you will follow me."

She led the way through the large entrance hall. A hall befitting a country manor with its wood panels, stone tiled floor, the family portraits and even an ancient looking Arras-tapestry on the wall opposite the entrance door. Opening a small door next to the staircase, we walked down a wide yet dreary corridor with a well-trodden carpet, which I assumed was meant to keep the draught at bay. It only worked to an extent.

Opening a sturdy blackened oak door, the girl stepped in to announce us and from within we could hear the dictatorial voice of a man. Stepping into the comfortable room, I was surprised to see an array of oriental weapons and a set of ceremonial Hindu masks. By the way, the man carried himself it was clear he once was a soldier. He did look stern and forbidding indeed, but looking at him more closely, I could detect the grief hidden behind this mask of sternness.

"Mr Adams." Hopkins bowed. "This is Mr Sherlock Holmes. He was present when your daughter was found and as he is..."

"I have heard of him, of course." Adams cut him short. "Please come in and make yourself comfortable."

His voice seemed devoid of all emotion. But knowing an officers training, I was certain that it was rather due to this than to him being unfeeling.

We both sat down on the sofa across from the man. Jacob Adams was in his late forties, tall and broad-shouldered and his golden blond hair, which his daughter had inherited was beginning to grizzle.

"So, you have found my Davie? Why were you looking for her?"

First I was startled, then it dawned on me that due to my profession he had assumed I had found her purposely.

"I have not been looking for your daughter and technically I did not find her, it was my cousin and his betrothed, who did. I and my wife had just come across them a couple of minutes earlier, taking a walk in the park and a few moments after we had parted we heard a cry and hastened towards it, thus finding what had unsettled them."

"Which was my daughter floating in the water, I suppose. I was informed she had been thrown into a pond. Is that correct?"

"It is, Mr Adams." With a side glance at my young companion, I took a deep breath to break the news. "Mr Adams, there is more, I am afraid."

"How can there possibly be more? I have just lost my daughter, my only child." his incredulousness was the first show of anything akin to the emotion he displayed.

"Your daughter was expecting a child," I spoke quietly yet decidedly as there was no use beating about the bush.

"Excuse me?" Jacob Adams looked taken aback, but not angry. It was as if the words I had just said had not yet sunken in.

"Your daughter was pregnant."

"But that is impossible!" he cried, getting up from his armchair pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, his composure clearly shaken at last. "How could she have been with child?"

"She was very pretty." I reasoned. "Perhaps one of her admirers managed to..."

"She hardly ever went out and if it was in company. Davina was a shy girl, always has been. Even at school, she had few friends and mostly kept to herself – if it had not been for Leonor Fairchild who is a most lively young lady. Had I not insisted, she would have been more than glad to not come out into society officially. She dreaded it. I should never have forced her."

For a moment he looked quite human before once more the emotionless mask hid his true feelings.

"There is more..." I carried on after a few minutes of contemplative silence.

"More?!" the man cried out disbelieving.

"The baby is alive. You have a little granddaughter."

Adams gaped at us, glanced from one to the other before toppling over, close to unconsciousness.

"This reaction I did not expect," Hopkins admitted as we pulled the man into his chair trying to get some brandy into him. "I would have thought he would be raging and storming, but not that he would faint."

"Remember how Watson reacted after his son's death." I reminded him, thinking of how his wife had thought him to be completely unfeeling till I had pointed out that this was the way the doctor dealt with the pain.

"Where is she? My granddaughter, I mean." Jacob Adams whispered, opening his eyes. "How is she? Will she live? How is all of this even possible?"

Burying his face in his hands we let him sob for a moment, till he had managed to calm himself sufficiently.

'Not so devoid of emotion after all' I thought to myself, patting his shoulder reassuringly. He was so utterly taken, that he was not even embarrassed by this display of weakness.

"She is with my wife and very well – she will live. Would you like for me to send a message to my wife so she can bring the child over?"

"No. No, I would rather come with you than to drag your wife and a newborn baby out into this freezing weather. And we have nothing prepared anyway." Slowly he recovered some of his composure, showing a surprising practicality in the face of such news. "I will have to make some arrangements so I think I should be able to take her off your hands within the course of tomorrow if that will be all right."

"Yes, of course." I agreed, knowing that Harriet, despite her lack of sleep and her consequent irritation would have no objections, at the same time vowing to give her a hand.

"Then we should leave. It looks like more snow is going to come down in an hour or two."

"Sir, I would like to speak to Mrs Wolseley first, before we leave." Hopkins tried to stop him.

"Then do so, Inspector. Mr Holmes?"

"While I understand your desire to see your granddaughter, I have to admit I would like to join Inspector Hopkins. There are a few questions to which I am most curious to have an answer. It should take but an hour, if that. I could give you our address and you could go ahead if you like."

He gratefully accepted the offer.

xxx

The same maid which had led us into the house now brought us to a very feminine looking boudoir leading directly off the entrance hall. Unlike her brother, Mrs Wolseley was anything but composed, tears brimming her eyes, lips quivering and shoulders drooping, which was the more pitiable as she was clearly a woman of strong character. But the shock sat deep and the guilt was only natural, even though nonsensical.

"How on earth shall I live with this grief. Had I not gone to look at some fabric to choose for a new dress for myself, Davina would still be alive." she cried, as soon as we had greeted her, barely able to introduce ourselves.

We let her carry on like this for a while in the hopes she would mention something or another that might be interesting yet might be hidden in the subconscious and it paid off.

"If only Miss Fairchild could have stopped her." she carried on already calming herself. "But she was just as surprised as the rest of us. It was minutes till we realised she had gone from the shop – without so much as taking her coat. Oh, why would she run out of there just like that?"

"As I understood from Mr Clairemont you all thought she had gone to the bathroom. How was it you found that she had not done so?"

"When she did not return after several minutes Miss Leonor went looking for her and found it was unoccupied bit Davina still missing. We then searched the salon, but to no avail. Davina was gone."

"And you have no idea why she might have left in such a hurry?" I dug deeper.

Theodora Wolseley shook her elegant head, tears once again threatening to fall freely.

"Could something have startled her?"

Another shake of the head was all the answer we got.

"Is there a possibility, that she was due to meet with someone?"

"No. - Well, she meant to meet with Miss Fairchild, but aside from that she had not many friends and certainly none in that part of town."

"And enemies?"

"Sir, she was eighteen years old and had been sheltered for all her life. How could she have any enemies?"

This, of course, was a good question. One I could not answer without using too many ifs to sound credible in any way.

"Mrs Wolseley, did you know that your niece was expecting?" I gently carried on.

Even though she did choose not to answer this question, her lowered gaze and the flush to her otherwise pale cheeks gave her away.

"Did she confide in you, or did you find out accidentally?" I carried on.

"A bit of both, I presume." was her whispered reply.

She broke out in tears once more, sobbing violently.

"It was so horrible. Davina was such a good girl and then this had to happen to her! And now she is dead. She should have had such a promising life – full of happiness and there she was born just for tragedy after all."

I startled and so did Hopkins.

"What do you mean?" the inspector enquired. "Do you mean to say, she did not conceive the child willingly?"

Nodding, Theodora Wolseley pressed her handkerchief to her lips to calm herself.

"Yes, sir, that is what I mean. She came home one evening last March, crying, looking a complete mess, injured – she looked so horrible. So incredibly vulnerable, so lost and broken. From what she told me I could discern what must have happened as she hardly knew the words for it. I promised not to tell her father, as she was sure he would be very disappointed in her for having lost her innocence. Oh, how I wished she had told him or allowed me to do so. But her trust had been so violated already, I could not but keep quiet. Then she mentioned she had ceased to be unwell and I panicked."

"You resorted to tight lacing in the hopes of killing the babe, didn't you?"

"Yes, but it grew and grew, it was no use. It was as if the child wanted to spite her even further. Well, at least that problem is solved, I suppose. She will never be a mother, now. Never be reminded of the wrong that had been done to her." a hysterical laugh escaped her lips.

Hopkins and I looked at one another, lost for words. How to tell this woman, that the child she had tried to kill for months, had been born into this world? Was not only living but well while its mother was not.

"Did she know the father of her child?"

"No. She said they were like shadows she could not discern."

"They?" Good grief! Sometimes mankind made me wonder if it deserved to be called superior to any animal, even the vilest.

Theodora Wolseley just sobbed into her handkerchief, nodding.

There, of course, was another alternative to this and I had to ask: "There could not be the possibility that your niece has met with a young man and had herself persuaded by him to…?"

"Of course not!" was her decided reply. Well, what did I expect? Even if it had been a possibility, her aunt and confidante would have hardly owed to it being so.

"Why are you asking all these questions about her violation when it is her murder you are investigating?" she asked testily when she had, at last, managed to keep her tears at bay.

At least to that I could give her an answer: "Your niece had been young and sheltered, yet she had become the victim of a crime twice within the last year – or rather nine months. As yet we have to consider every possibility as to what might have led to her death. It is a common misconception that people get killed randomly by strangers, so we are only trying to make a connection and seek a motive. Her condition is such a motive thus it interests us."

"Of course, I am sorry." She did not sound sorry in the least. "But I really cannot help you. She was such a gentle creature and I really do not know why somebody might have wanted to kill her. Davina was very shy, my brother insisted on her being introduced, but I know she would have rather not."

"How was it possible for your niece to be raped? As you said it yourself, she was not the kind of young woman to go out all by herself."

"It was the week after Easter. There was a charity bazaar down at church she had promised to attend. I was ill at the time and so she left together with Miss Fairchild. We were assured that they would be escorted back home by Mrs Thomas, one of our neighbours a little down the road. But as it was, Mrs Thomas was called home early as her youngest had fallen ill. The two girls went home on their own as it is a walk of barely ten minutes. As it was getting late, they parted at Albert Road and as she did not want to be late, Davina took a shortcut through the park as we do frequently. It is the shortest way for anyone and regularly frequented. It is there she met her assailants. That is all I know, after all, it was better to not talk about such an unpleasant thing – it is just too upsetting, is it not?"

Harriet would have greatly disagreed with her, but as it was, there was nothing more to be learned from the aunt and at long last, we left her to her tears.

"Thank you for your time, Mrs Wolseley. If you remember anything more, please let me know." Hopkins said, getting up, looking troubled.

We had almost closed the door when an idea struck me: "Is there perhaps a diary?"

"She had a journal when she was at school. I gave it to her because she felt so lonely there. She might have continued writing one after she had returned home, I am not sure."

"May I have a look around her room?"