The Monogram Murders(45)
Richard Negus failed to persuade Ida Gransbury to see things the way he saw them, and relations between them became strained. The villagers, led by Harriet, continued to persecute Patrick and Frances Ive, shouting accusations outside the vicarage all day and night. Ida continued to petition the Church to remove the Ives from the vicarage, the church and the village of Great Holling, for their own sakes.
And then tragedy struck: Frances Ive, unable to bear the ignominy any longer, swallowed poison and put an end to her unhappy life. Her husband found her and knew straight away that it was too late. There was no point summoning Dr. Flowerday; Frances could not be saved. Patrick Ive knew, also, that he could not live with the guilt and the pain, and so he too took his own life.
Ida Gransbury advised the villagers to pray for mercy for the sinful souls of Patrick and Frances Ive, however unlikely it was that the Lord would forgive them.
Harriet Sippel saw no need to allow the Lord any discretion in the matter; the Ives would burn in hell for ever, she told her flock of righteous persecutors, and it would be no more than they deserved.
Within a few months of the Ives’ deaths, Richard Negus had ended his engagement to Ida Gransbury and left Great Holling. Nancy Ducane left for London, and the servant girl who told the horrible lie was never seen again in the village.
In the meantime, Charles and Margaret Ernst had arrived and taken over at the vicarage. They quickly became friendly with Dr. Ambrose Flowerday, who forced himself to relate the whole tragic tale. He told them that Patrick Ive, whether or not he had made the mistake of harboring a secret passion for Nancy Ducane, had been one of the most generous and benign men he had ever known, and the least deserving of slander.
It was his mention of slander that gave Margaret Ernst the idea for the poem on the gravestone. Charles Ernst was against the idea, not wishing to provoke the villagers, but Margaret stood her ground, determined that Holy Saints Church should display its support for Patrick and Frances Ive. “I would like to do considerably more to Harriet Sippel and Ida Gransbury than provoke them,” she said. And yes, when she uttered those words, murder was what she had in mind, though only as a fantasy, not as a crime she intended to commit.
AFTER SHE HAD TOLD me the story, Margaret Ernst fell silent. It was a while before either of us spoke.
Finally I said, “I can see why you gave me the name of Nancy Ducane when I asked you who might have a motive. Would she have murdered Richard Negus, though? He withdrew his support for Harriet Sippel and Ida Gransbury as soon as doubt was cast upon the servant girl’s lie.”
“I can only tell you how I would feel if I were Nancy,” said Margaret. “Would I forgive Richard Negus? No, I would not. Without his early endorsement of the lies told by Harriet and that wretched servant girl, Ida Gransbury might not have believed the nonsense they were spouting. Three people drummed up hostility towards Patrick Ive in Great Holling. Those three people were Harriet Sippel, Ida Gransbury and Richard Negus.”
“What about the servant?”
“Ambrose Flowerday doesn’t believe that she meant to start what she started. She was clearly unhappy as soon as the bad feeling toward the Ives took hold in the village.”
I frowned, dissatisfied. “But from a murderous Nancy Ducane’s point of view—purely for the sake of argument—if she can’t forgive Richard Negus who later saw the error of his ways, why would she forgive the girl who told the lie in the first place?”
“Perhaps she didn’t,” said Margaret. “Perhaps she has murdered her too. I don’t know where the servant ended up, but Nancy Ducane might have known. She could have hunted her down and killed her too. What’s the matter? Your face has turned rather gray.”
“What . . . what was the name of the servant girl who told the lie?” I stammered, fearing I knew the answer. “No, no, it can’t be,” said a voice in my head, “and yet how can it not be?”
“Jennie Hobbs. Mr. Catchpool, are you all right? You don’t look at all well.”
“He was right! She is in danger.”
“Who is ‘He?’ ”
“Hercule Poirot. He’s always right. How is that possible?”
“Why do you sound cross? Did you want him to be wrong?”
“No. No, I suppose not.” I sighed. “Although I am now worried that Jennie Hobbs is not safe, assuming she’s still alive.”
“I see. How strange.”
“What is strange?”
Margaret sighed. “In spite of everything I have said, it’s hard for me to think of anyone being in danger from Nancy. Motive or no motive, I don’t see her committing murder. This will sound peculiar but . . . one cannot kill without immersing oneself in horror and unpleasantness—wouldn’t you say?”
I nodded.
“Nancy liked fun and beauty and pleasure and love. All the happy things. She would want nothing to do with a business as ugly as murder.”
“So if not Nancy Ducane, then who?” I asked. “What about drunk old Walter Stoakley? As Frances Ive’s father, he has a powerful motive. If he laid off the drink for a day or so, it might not be beyond him to kill three people.”
“It would be quite impossible for Walter to lay off the drink even for an hour. I can assure you, Mr. Catchpool, Walter Stoakley is not the man you’re looking for. You see, unlike Nancy Ducane, he never blamed Harriet, Ida and Richard for what happened to Frances. He blamed himself.”