In Hallowed Ground

By Trevor D'Silva

‘Good afternoon, Your Grace,’ said Dermot as the elderly dowager duchess, clasping a small handbag, entered the drawing room of a classical-style house in London’s Belgravia district. ‘I’m DS Dermot Carlyle. My superior, DCI Lloyd, is ill, so I’m taking over. I will investigate the unfortunate death of your son, Wallace Howard, the Duke of Norridge. May I ask you a few questions about what occurred yesterday?’

The dowager gestured Dermot to sit. As she sat down on an armchair opposite, she winced in pain and grabbed at her left arm. She quickly regained her composure and looked up at Dermot.

‘There’s nothing to investigate. I already told your superior that Fenella killed him,’ she said calmly.

Dermot took a deep breath. ‘I’ve spoken to the duchess, at her flat in Chelsea, and she maintains that she was at Harrods. I’ve people checking her alibi.’

‘We own this house and others in London, and come here every summer.’ She shook her head in disgust. ‘Wallace spoiled her. He gave her that flat because Fenella was bored at Norridge House in the country and wanted to frequent London to enjoy life.’

‘She was his second wife?’

‘Yes! Fenella was Jane’s, that’s Wallace’s first wife’s nurse. She took care of Jane after the difficult birth of my grandson, and I know she killed her too so she could marry Wallace. He was devoted to Jane, feeding her and reading to her during her illness. But Fenella, she twisted Wallace around her finger while he was grieving Jane’s death, and he married Fenella despite my warning. I see that she’s done the same to you,’ she said, smirking.

A memory flashed through Dermot’s mind, of Fenella putting her cigarette down, clasping Dermot’s hands in hers, telling him that she’s innocent and imploring him to help her.

‘But she’ll be punished,’ her voice croaked a little, ‘and, once this is all sorted, Wallace can rest in the family graveyard next to his beloved Jane.’

‘How did Jane die?’ asked Dermot calmly, writing in his notepad.

‘They tried to conceive for ten years unsuccessfully. As they were about to adopt, Jane discovered she was pregnant. The doctors warned that her heart wasn’t strong and she could die giving birth, but she continued the pregnancy. She survived the birth, but her heart was weakened.

‘I was a nurse during the Great War, when Norridge House was a convalescing home for soldiers, and could’ve taken care of Jane, but Wallace felt a younger nurse would suit better. Fenella arrived and Jane improved at first, then she took a turn for the worse and died.’

‘So natural causes!’

‘Call it what you want, I still say Fenella killed Jane,’ the dowager said, waving her hand dismissively. ‘Fenella and Wallace were arguing before Wallace was killed – she was carrying on behind his back. She is nothing but a common tart! I intercepted a love letter from her lover and showed it to Wallace.’

‘Because of the argument she’s a suspect, but she insists he was going to grant her a divorce.’

The dowager looked at Dermot angrily. ‘Young man, we are one of the last remaining noble Catholic families in England.’ She pointed to a painting of a man dressed in the style of the 1500s. ‘That’s the seventh Duke of Norridge, one of the few nobles who didn’t accept Henry VIII’s divorce to marry Anne Boleyn. For that, he was beheaded. Nobody has ever divorced in this family, and nobody ever will,’ she said determinedly.

‘So you’re saying she’s lying?’

‘Certainly. She’s making herself the innocent victim,’ she replied scornfully.

‘How did you learn of the murder?’

‘Pauline’s screams woke me from my afternoon nap. I rushed out of my room and saw Pauline running out of the study. I fainted and hurt my arm…seeing all that blood…my son… I raised him after his father died in the Somme,’ she said, her voice choking.

‘Did you know your daughter-in-law had left the house?’

‘Yes, Nurse Drake, my grandson’s nurse, came to my room a little before two o’clock to give me my vitamin injections and told me that she’d seen Fenella leaving through the side door. I suspect Fenella only pretended to leave, then returned, killed Wallace, and left the same way. She did it to marry her paramour and inherit Wallace’s money. She put on quite an act when she learnt that Wallace was dead.’

Dermot jotted on his notepad and then asked if he could talk to Pauline and Nurse Drake.

*****

Dermot entered the servant’s quarters and found the servants having tea. Everyone stood up. ‘Good afternoon, my apologies for interrupting. I’m looking for Pauline and Nurse Drake.’

Two ladies raised their hands and introduced themselves. Pauline was younger with blonde hair, while Nurse Drake was older with greying hair. They went into the kitchen with Dermot. As they sat at a table with some vegetables and knives on it, Dermot explained why he was there and asked them to tell him what they had witnessed.

‘I was in the corridor dusting and Nurse Drake was in the nursery putting the baby to sleep,’ said Pauline. ‘We both heard them arguing loudly, but couldn’t understand what they were saying. After a few minutes of silence, I saw His Grace come out of his wife’s bedroom and say, “I’ll no longer be in your way.” His face was red as a beet, and he went into his study…’

Dermot wondered if it meant that he was going to grant Fenella a divorce.

‘A few minutes later, the duchess came out of her bedroom, passed by me and went out the side door, which has a staircase that leads to the garden and out into the street. I then dusted the landing and the living room before heading to the kitchen at three o’clock to help prepare tea.’

‘Nurse Drake, did you tell the dowager that her daughter-in-law had left through the side door?’

‘Yes, while leaving the nursery, I saw the duchess walking towards the side door and Pauline dusting. After helping the dowager with her injection, I went back to the nursery and fell asleep. The water running in the washroom near the nursery woke me at half-past three. The duke used that washroom often. I fell back to sleep and woke up again when Pauline began screaming.’

‘I brought the duke his tea at four o’clock,’ said Pauline, her voice quivering. ‘When he didn’t answer, I opened the door and saw… the horrible scene.’ Dermot stopped writing and nodded at her reassuringly. ‘I dropped the tray and began screaming. Nurse Drake came and tried to calm me… I could barely talk. She checked to see if he was alive and then told me to telephone the police.’

‘The dowager appeared after Pauline left, and screamed before fainting,’ said Nurse Drake. ‘Her face was so pale and I noticed her left arm was bleeding when I tried to revive her; probably hurt herself when she fell!’

Dermot thanked them both and requested Nurse Drake to show him the study and the washroom.

*****

After carefully examining both rooms and making notes, Dermot left the house and headed to the taxi stand and inquired about the taxi driver who drove Fenella to Harrods. An hour later, he found Alton and showed him a photograph of her.

‘Yes, I picked her up around two o’clock, from the street opposite the house. I remember the clock tower from the church began to chime.’

‘You’re sure it was her?’

‘Detective, I’m very sure. A pretty face like that ain’t easy to forget.’

‘You’re right about that,’ said Dermot, smiling.

‘How did she seem when you picked her up?’

‘In good spirits.’

*****

Dr Galton, Scotland Yard’s medical examiner, sat at his desk briefing Dermot on the autopsy results.

‘The weapon penetrated the back, puncturing the heart. Death would’ve been instantaneous; probably around two-fifteen.’

‘Strange, Nurse Drake mentioned she heard someone in the washroom at three-thirty,’ said Dermot, looking confused. ‘Please continue.’

‘The killer must’ve had some knowledge of anatomy to know precisely where to thrust the weapon to penetrate the back muscle and the heart.’

‘So he didn’t put up a fight?’

Dr Galton paused and said, ‘I understand that his back faced the study door, so anyone could’ve silently entered and stabbed him if he was busy.’

‘Yes, you’re correct. Nurse Drake showed me the study and he liked to sit so he could see out of the window. There was a pitcher of water, a glass and writing paraphernalia on his desk. He could’ve been writing before he died, as there were indentations on his writing pad. Now, to stab him where the weapon would penetrate his heart, he would’ve had to be sitting still.’

Dr Galton sighed. ‘There’s been something troubling me ever since I conducted the autopsy… You see, lividity, where the blood begins draining towards parts of the body closest to the ground after death, due to gravity… well, on a hot day, it drains faster. I hypothesise that the stabbing occurred postmortem. But his clothes were soaked with blood like he’d just been killed, which isn’t likely with someone stabbed postmortem unless it occurred immediately after death.’

‘He wasn’t a weak man. Was he hit on the head before the killer stabbed him?’ asked Dermot.

‘No, from what I was told he had quarrelled with his wife. Probably fell asleep on his desk from exhaustion, giving the killer the perfect opportunity to kill him.’

‘There are three people who have knowledge of the human anatomy. His wife, a nurse before their marriage, was in a taxi heading to Harrods around the time he died. Nurse Drake, but I see no possible motive for her to kill him. Finally, the dowager, who doted on her son. She’s certainly the type to keep up appearances and shuns scandal. The question is, would she kill her son to avoid a divorce scandal and frame her daughter-in-law? If she was asleep the whole time, how did she know her son wanted a divorce?’

Dr Galton shrugged and said, ‘people kill for many reasons. It wouldn’t surprise me. Maybe he had a heart attack after arguing with his wife. Probably, after he died, the killer came in, thought he was sleeping, and stabbed him.’

‘His first wife died of a heart attack. Could some medications or poisons induce one?’

‘Some could, but what’s your point?’

‘I have a theory. Can you analyse his blood for anything unusual? That might tell us if the stabbing was postmortem or antemortem.’

*****

Dermot read his notes in his office at Scotland Yard as he waited for the result of the analysis. He considered who else benefitted from the duke’s death besides Fenella. A thought occurred to him.

‘Hmm, outlandish, but worth pursuing,’ he said out loud.

The phone rang and Dr Galton gave him the results. Dermot thanked him and then made two phone calls.

*****

Fenella arrived at the Belgravia residence wearing a red dress and a hat. Dermot led her into the living room, where two policemen, the dowager, Nurse Drake and Pauline waited.

‘This case stumped me from the very beginning,’ began Dermot. ‘Everyone either had an alibi or no motive, with the exception of the duchess—’ Fenella began protesting, but Dermot held his hand up and then continued. ‘Another thing that troubled me, why would the duchess use her own letter opener with her fingerprints to make it obvious? Killers usually cover their crimes.

‘When I interviewed the duchess, she mentioned that she and her husband argued about her affair. The dowager intercepted a love letter from the duchess’ lover and showed it to her son, who was obviously upset that his wife was unfaithful. A loud confrontation ensued in her bedroom, which was heard by the dowager, Pauline and Nurse Drake. Then there was a period of silence.

‘After that, Pauline, who was dusting nearby, heard the duke say, “I’ll no longer be in your way” as he exited his wife’s bedroom. The duchess told me that her husband had agreed to grant her a divorce. Therefore, I concluded she was telling me the truth when Pauline told me what she’d overheard.’

‘Yes, he did. I told him I was unhappy being married to him, and having to deal with his mother too,’ said Fenella contemptuously.

‘He went into his study and nobody saw him until Pauline brought him tea at four o’clock. Pauline also witnessed the duchess leave her room and go out the side door close to two o’clock. She walked to the other side of the street and caught the taxi driven by Alton, who heard the church’s clock tower strike at two. He drove her to Harrods where she bought some shoes and then went to her paramour’s flat. She returned only after the body was discovered.

‘Since the autopsy determined that the duke died at two-fifteen, there’s no way the duchess committed the crime, but someone else wanted everyone to think she did and purposely used her letter opener to frame her.’

‘I told you I’m innocent,’ said Fenella, sighing with relief.

Dermot smiled and said, ‘yes, you are, and now I’ll reveal who stabbed him.’

He turned to the dowager, ‘it was you, Your Grace!’

The older woman looked at him, stunned. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said slowly.

‘I knew it was you, you old bat,’ said Fenella gleefully.

‘But you didn’t kill him,’ said Dermot, ‘and I think I know why you did it.’

The others began gasping and whispering in disbelief.

‘When I met you, you insisted that the duchess had killed both your son and his first wife, am I right? How did you know this?’

The dowager stared at Dermot, offering no reply.

‘You woke up from your nap shortly after three and went to your son’s study to ask him what had transpired between him and his wife. You saw him slumped over the desk and, as you got closer, you got the shock of your life. Your son had killed himself by ingesting aconite. Dr Galton found it in his system.

‘You found the bottle next to a glass of water and a letter addressed to you explaining why he’d killed himself. Being a Catholic, he knew suicide was wrong; yet he killed himself out of despair, because the duchess told him something.

‘You have that letter in your handbag, don’t you?’ asked Dermot, holding his hand out.

‘Yes, there’s no point denying it.’ The dowager opened her bag and handed him an envelope. ‘I might as well give you this too,’ she said, handing him a bottle of aconite.

Dermot took them and read the letter. He then turned to Fenella.

‘The dowager was right. You’re responsible for their deaths, and she didn’t want you to get away.’

He turned to the others and said, ‘according to this letter, while arguing, the duke threatened to cut the duchess off financially. That meant no more shopping for expensive clothes and jewellery. They wouldn’t divorce, but separate, and he would give her a tiny allowance. However, she had a trump card, which she cruelly used.

‘When she was the former duchess’ nurse, she sunk her hooks into the duke. Being Catholic, he wouldn’t divorce his wife, so she came up with an evil plan. Aconite is a double-edged sword. In controlled doses, it’s used to treat the heart and other ailments, but can kill in larger doses. She viciously started adding aconite while preparing her patient’s daily tea, masking the bitterness with sugar. Unknowingly, the duke lovingly gave his wife the tea with her meals every day, slowly causing her to deteriorate. When she died of a heart attack, the cause of death was reported as such.’

He turned to Fenella and said, ‘I think you revealed all this to the duke and threatened to tell the authorities that he was complicit in his first wife’s death. The very fact that she died as she was getting better and then he married you would make him a suspect and it would be investigated.’

Coming closer to her, he said, ‘struck with guilt, he saw only one way out because he couldn’t live with what he’d done and with your infidelity. He had a bottle of aconite in his study, for his personal use, and decided to die the same way he’d unknowingly killed his wife.’

‘But why not just show the suicide note to the police instead of going through all this trouble?’ asked Pauline, throwing up her hands.

‘Because suicide is a sin according to the Catholic Church, and so he would be denied burial in the hallowed ground of his family’s graveyard. The dowager told me how important it is that her son is buried in the family graveyard. It led me to believe she staged the whole scene to incriminate her daughter-in-law, who will now be convicted for murdering her predecessor.’

Turning to the others, he said, ‘after reading the suicide note, the dowager took the duchess’ letter opener from her room, carefully with her handkerchief to preserve the fingerprints. She returned to the study and stabbed the corpse in the back. Being a nurse during the Great War, she knew where to stab to puncture the heart and make it look like he died that way. But since he had been dead for a while, there wasn’t much blood. She brought the syringe from her room, which she uses for her vitamin shots, drew blood from her left arm, which bled when she later fell, and sprayed it on his back to make it look like he died due to the stabbing.

‘She washed the syringe and the glass containing traces of aconite in the washroom sink next to the nursery. The sound of running water woke Nurse Drake at three-thirty, who thought it was the duke. After placing the glass on the desk, she took the aconite bottle, syringe and the suicide note to her room and waited for the body to be discovered. Nurse Drake noticed the dowager looking pale when she saw her son’s body; it was due to the loss of blood and she fainted because of that.’

‘Please arrest the duchess!’ said Dermot, pointing to Fenella.

The policemen handcuff Fenella and she goes without any protest.

As the door closes behind them, the dowager tearfully says, ‘it’s all over. Wallace and Jane are gone. I might as well be dead.’

‘You still have your grandson and can raise him like you raised your son after his father died,’ said Dermot sympathetically.

The dowager sighed and looked angrily at Dermot, ‘you’re right, but damn you… damn you for exposing the truth. Fenella would’ve been punished for murdering Wallace and simultaneously be punished for murdering Jane. Now Wallace will never be buried in the hallowed ground of the family graveyard.’

Dermot was taken aback at her bluntness, but knew she was right. He straightened himself and said, ‘I only did my duty. Don’t worry, let me take care of it.’

*****

Later that day, Dermot drove in his 1923 Bentley to the Duchy of Norridge, an hour from the bustling streets of London. He parked in front of the church and Fr Donaldson came out to greet him.

Dermot explained the dowager’s dilemma, but the priest firmly replied, ‘impossible, I cannot allow it. It is the rule of the Church. He knew it was a sin and yet he killed himself.’

Dermot tried to reason, telling him that the duke wasn’t in the right frame of mind, but the priest remained adamant.

‘Haven’t the Howards been patrons of this church for generations?’

‘Yes, way before Henry VIII’s soldiers destroyed it. They continued even after the church was rebuilt. The late duke was going to fund the restoration of the choir loft, but I hope now the dowager will. They also provide flowers for the altar every day.’

‘After more than five centuries of continued patronage, could you not oblige them this once?’ pleaded Dermot.

‘It’s out of my hands. I have to follow the rules.’

‘Then I suggest you overcome your scruples and bend the rules, because when the dowager learns you denied her request, even after I explained the situation, I doubt you’ll receive funding or flowers.’

*****

Two days later…

At the church graveyard, the dowager, dressed in black, stoically watched as the duke’s coffin was lowered into his grave next to his wife, while Fr Donaldson chanted prayers in Latin. She glanced at the new duke sleeping peacefully in Nurse Drake’s arms, who stood beside her. He was now the dowager’s responsibility.

A cool wind raised the dowager’s veil a bit and her eyes met Dermot’s on the other side of the grave. She nodded at him in gratitude, and he nodded back in acknowledgement.

ENDS

You can read more about Trevor D’Silva and his books here.

View all stories