13 views
Chapter 13
James Carter sat by the roaring fire in the study of 24 Harrington Square, driving the damp out of his bones. Harriet was seated opposite him, toasting a plate of crumpets for them all to share.
Agatha stared out of the study window. Her mind raced, as she folded her hands behind her back, trying to piece together everything she had learnt so far. Turning to face James Carter she asked. “I want to know everything about your sister-in-law and the marriage she had with your brother.”
James sighed as he cradled his cold cup of tea. “Phoebe may be an embarrassment to our family with the gambling and drinking Mrs Christie, Miss Wells. But one thing Phoebe is not, and that is a murderer.
She and Thomas were destined to be married from an early age. The joining together of our two families would strengthen our monopoly already held in the north-west of England’s textile industry.”
“The Lancastrian cotton mills?” asked Agatha.
“Your powers of deduction are superb Mrs Christie.”
“Thank you, but please continue, Mr Carter.”
“The Roehampton’s, Phoebe’s family, owned large cotton plantations across North and South Carolina. Our family owned equally large cotton mills here in England. It was hoped that the marriage of Thomas and Phoebe would produce, in time, a succession of heirs to carry the family business through to the next century.
“So, what went wrong?” enquired Harriet.
“I suppose,” said James turning to look at Harriet. “Thomas is what went wrong.”
Agatha then asked James to explain himself as she took her seat next to Harriet.
“Thomas wasn’t interested in sitting in an office looking out of a window to see hundreds of looms scuttle back and forth each day. He was an outdoors person. Then, one day Thomas saw in the paper that a Dutch company was requesting a site manager for one of its newly excavated diamond mines in South Africa. So, Thomas applied for the job and got it. Within weeks he had left the family cotton business and his wife to go and work in Cape Town.”
“And I take it,” said Harriet. “That Phoebe was not at all happy with that arrangement.”
“Correct Miss Wells. Although Thomas was making more money in South Africa than Lancashire, Phoebe still missed him.”
“But he didn’t stay in South Africa for long, did he?” Harriet pressed.
“Ah! I see like your friend, Mrs Christie, you too are an enlightened woman who likes to read the newspapers. Then you’ll know all about Thomas’s find of the broken hieroglyphic tablet in Cape Town?”
“Yes” answered Harriet. “and of Thomas cutting short his contract to come back to England, but not before stopping off in Egypt to find the fabled tomb of Pharaoh Sneferu and his necklace.”
“I wouldn’t go believing everything you read in the papers Miss Wells. That’s not exactly how Thomas found the tomb.”
Agatha looked up from her note taking.
“In South Africa, Thomas made a sufficient amount of money for him and Phoebe to be comfortable for the rest of their lives, and so he decided to come back to England. That part is true.” James confirmed.
Agatha frantically flipped back some of the pages in her notebook to rewrite her past notes.
“But it was a Sunday afternoon in the British Museum that put Thomas onto the path of Egypt. Phoebe only recently told me how she wished they had never left their home that afternoon.
“So, what was it that Thomas saw in the museum that persuaded him to leave Phoebe for a second time?” Agatha asked.
“There was a lecture being given by a Mr Huntly-Smythe on the recent excavated sites in Egypt.”
“Did Thomas encounter Huntly-Smythe again after the lecture?” asked Agatha.
“Only once more when he went back the following day showing him the tablet.” James replied.
“So, it was Huntly-Smythe who funded Thomas’s trip to Egypt in search of Pharaoh Sneferu tomb?” asked Harriet.
“No, that would have been the director of Egyptian antiquities and Huntly-Smythe's employer, Monsieur Rene de Pont,” James confirmed.
“He’s French!” Harriet said, screwing up her face. “The director of our wonderful institution, is French!”
“We are living in changing times Miss Wells; old wounds need to heal. Besides, he’s a millionaire and money talks.”
Harriet sat back in her chair with her arms folded, still trying to believe what she had just heard. As James Carter continued speaking with Agatha, Harriet could be seen miming the word, ‘French’ several more times to herself with much disdain.
Agatha again paused from her note taking. “But, Mr Carter where does Phoebe fit into all this?”
“To be honest with you Mrs Christie, I don’t know. Certainly, with Thomas going away a second time she became, shall we say, a little outgoing. Phoebe soon became a good time girl, frequenting the drinking parties held in Sloane Square. Some people even said she employed an illegal bookmaker to take her bets, but I don’t know how much of that is true. What I do know is that Thomas knew Phoebe was not good with money, and so would send her only a small allowance each month.”
“Just suppose Mr Carter, that Phoebe was living beyond her monthly allowance.” enquired Agatha.
James sat looking into the eyes of Agatha Christie, a cold feeling soon swept over him as he anticipated her next sentence.
“Where would the money come from if her debts were suddenly spiralling out of control?”
James shook his head, then came the question he didn’t want to hear.
“How much does Phoebe stand to receive now that your brother is dead?”
James Carter, took in a deep breath and looked up at the shadows on the ceiling. “She stands to inherit the whole of Thomas’s estate.”
Just then there was a knock at the study door, “Enter!” shouted Harriet.
Sarah opened the door, stepped into the room and curtsied, “Mrs Christie’s evening paper ma’am.”
“Thank you, Sarah.” said Harriet as she took the newspaper from her maid. Sarah curtsied once again, before leaving the room.
Harriet was eager to read the paper. She only got as far as the headlines when she announced, “Ladies and Gentleman, we are on the front page.”
Agatha and James gathered around Harriet to read; ‘Socialite, Phoebe Carter Arrested for Murder.’ Then further on down they read, ‘Phoebe Carter is to attend a hearing at Bow Street Magistrate Court tomorrow at 9.30am to enter her plea. Public Gallery Open at 9am.
“If Phoebe pleads not guilty,” said Agatha. “Then Cosgrove has to persuade the Magistrate that he has enough evidence to request a crown court trial. That’s the point when we get to hear what he has discovered.”
James and Harriet nodded, then glancing at the mantlepiece carriage clock, he saw that it was getting late.
“I’ll send a cab for you both in the morning.” said James putting on his black three-quarter length coat, then after saying goodnight to the two women, he left 24 Harrington Square.
If James had not been so pre-occupied with the thoughts of his sister-in-law, he may have noticed there was a man across the road in a long grey coat with a matching hat, smoking a cigarette.
The bright orange tip from the cigarette was quickly extinguished beneath the sole of the stranger’s boot. Then, turning his collar up to the cold-damp air, he followed James Carter out of Harrington Square.
© Alice White
Agatha stared out of the study window. Her mind raced, as she folded her hands behind her back, trying to piece together everything she had learnt so far. Turning to face James Carter she asked. “I want to know everything about your sister-in-law and the marriage she had with your brother.”
James sighed as he cradled his cold cup of tea. “Phoebe may be an embarrassment to our family with the gambling and drinking Mrs Christie, Miss Wells. But one thing Phoebe is not, and that is a murderer.
She and Thomas were destined to be married from an early age. The joining together of our two families would strengthen our monopoly already held in the north-west of England’s textile industry.”
“The Lancastrian cotton mills?” asked Agatha.
“Your powers of deduction are superb Mrs Christie.”
“Thank you, but please continue, Mr Carter.”
“The Roehampton’s, Phoebe’s family, owned large cotton plantations across North and South Carolina. Our family owned equally large cotton mills here in England. It was hoped that the marriage of Thomas and Phoebe would produce, in time, a succession of heirs to carry the family business through to the next century.
“So, what went wrong?” enquired Harriet.
“I suppose,” said James turning to look at Harriet. “Thomas is what went wrong.”
Agatha then asked James to explain himself as she took her seat next to Harriet.
“Thomas wasn’t interested in sitting in an office looking out of a window to see hundreds of looms scuttle back and forth each day. He was an outdoors person. Then, one day Thomas saw in the paper that a Dutch company was requesting a site manager for one of its newly excavated diamond mines in South Africa. So, Thomas applied for the job and got it. Within weeks he had left the family cotton business and his wife to go and work in Cape Town.”
“And I take it,” said Harriet. “That Phoebe was not at all happy with that arrangement.”
“Correct Miss Wells. Although Thomas was making more money in South Africa than Lancashire, Phoebe still missed him.”
“But he didn’t stay in South Africa for long, did he?” Harriet pressed.
“Ah! I see like your friend, Mrs Christie, you too are an enlightened woman who likes to read the newspapers. Then you’ll know all about Thomas’s find of the broken hieroglyphic tablet in Cape Town?”
“Yes” answered Harriet. “and of Thomas cutting short his contract to come back to England, but not before stopping off in Egypt to find the fabled tomb of Pharaoh Sneferu and his necklace.”
“I wouldn’t go believing everything you read in the papers Miss Wells. That’s not exactly how Thomas found the tomb.”
Agatha looked up from her note taking.
“In South Africa, Thomas made a sufficient amount of money for him and Phoebe to be comfortable for the rest of their lives, and so he decided to come back to England. That part is true.” James confirmed.
Agatha frantically flipped back some of the pages in her notebook to rewrite her past notes.
“But it was a Sunday afternoon in the British Museum that put Thomas onto the path of Egypt. Phoebe only recently told me how she wished they had never left their home that afternoon.
“So, what was it that Thomas saw in the museum that persuaded him to leave Phoebe for a second time?” Agatha asked.
“There was a lecture being given by a Mr Huntly-Smythe on the recent excavated sites in Egypt.”
“Did Thomas encounter Huntly-Smythe again after the lecture?” asked Agatha.
“Only once more when he went back the following day showing him the tablet.” James replied.
“So, it was Huntly-Smythe who funded Thomas’s trip to Egypt in search of Pharaoh Sneferu tomb?” asked Harriet.
“No, that would have been the director of Egyptian antiquities and Huntly-Smythe's employer, Monsieur Rene de Pont,” James confirmed.
“He’s French!” Harriet said, screwing up her face. “The director of our wonderful institution, is French!”
“We are living in changing times Miss Wells; old wounds need to heal. Besides, he’s a millionaire and money talks.”
Harriet sat back in her chair with her arms folded, still trying to believe what she had just heard. As James Carter continued speaking with Agatha, Harriet could be seen miming the word, ‘French’ several more times to herself with much disdain.
Agatha again paused from her note taking. “But, Mr Carter where does Phoebe fit into all this?”
“To be honest with you Mrs Christie, I don’t know. Certainly, with Thomas going away a second time she became, shall we say, a little outgoing. Phoebe soon became a good time girl, frequenting the drinking parties held in Sloane Square. Some people even said she employed an illegal bookmaker to take her bets, but I don’t know how much of that is true. What I do know is that Thomas knew Phoebe was not good with money, and so would send her only a small allowance each month.”
“Just suppose Mr Carter, that Phoebe was living beyond her monthly allowance.” enquired Agatha.
James sat looking into the eyes of Agatha Christie, a cold feeling soon swept over him as he anticipated her next sentence.
“Where would the money come from if her debts were suddenly spiralling out of control?”
James shook his head, then came the question he didn’t want to hear.
“How much does Phoebe stand to receive now that your brother is dead?”
James Carter, took in a deep breath and looked up at the shadows on the ceiling. “She stands to inherit the whole of Thomas’s estate.”
Just then there was a knock at the study door, “Enter!” shouted Harriet.
Sarah opened the door, stepped into the room and curtsied, “Mrs Christie’s evening paper ma’am.”
“Thank you, Sarah.” said Harriet as she took the newspaper from her maid. Sarah curtsied once again, before leaving the room.
Harriet was eager to read the paper. She only got as far as the headlines when she announced, “Ladies and Gentleman, we are on the front page.”
Agatha and James gathered around Harriet to read; ‘Socialite, Phoebe Carter Arrested for Murder.’ Then further on down they read, ‘Phoebe Carter is to attend a hearing at Bow Street Magistrate Court tomorrow at 9.30am to enter her plea. Public Gallery Open at 9am.
“If Phoebe pleads not guilty,” said Agatha. “Then Cosgrove has to persuade the Magistrate that he has enough evidence to request a crown court trial. That’s the point when we get to hear what he has discovered.”
James and Harriet nodded, then glancing at the mantlepiece carriage clock, he saw that it was getting late.
“I’ll send a cab for you both in the morning.” said James putting on his black three-quarter length coat, then after saying goodnight to the two women, he left 24 Harrington Square.
If James had not been so pre-occupied with the thoughts of his sister-in-law, he may have noticed there was a man across the road in a long grey coat with a matching hat, smoking a cigarette.
The bright orange tip from the cigarette was quickly extinguished beneath the sole of the stranger’s boot. Then, turning his collar up to the cold-damp air, he followed James Carter out of Harrington Square.
© Alice White
