Page 23 of Death of a Courtesan
Before Riley could formulate a response, the door opened and the maid returned.
‘If you would kindly follow me, my master and mistress will see you now.’
The maid led them into a drawing room that faced south, and mercifully there was a fire burning in the grate to take the chill off. The furnishings were of slightly better quality, but the atmosphere was equally frosty. This was not a happy house, Riley surmised. The pictures on the walls all contained religious overtones and the family Bible was prominently situated on a stand in one corner.
A man of middle years rose to greet them. The lady in the room remained seated. She wore a thick woollen blue gown and had an equally thick shawl draped around her shoulders. Her hair was threaded with silver and coiled into an unflattering crown that revealed a scraggy neck, drawing attention to her sharp features. She looked old enough to be the man’s mother, but Riley assumed she must be his wife. Guilt or unhappiness about the disappearance of her daughter had aged her prematurely.
‘Inspector,’ the man said, taking Riley’s hand in a firm grasp. ‘I am Peter Huxton. This is my sister, Ruth.’ Ah, Riley thought, that would explain it. ‘I cannot think what brings two of Scotland Yard’s detectives to my door. We are intrigued. Please take a seat.’
They did so, declining Miss Huxton’s reluctant offer of refreshments.
‘I shall not take up much of your time, sir,’ Riley said, ‘and will come straight to the point. I believe you have a daughter by the name of Mary.’
Miss Huxton gave a sharp intake of breath and then clamped her thin lips together in a tight expression of disapproval. Huxton’s sister had to be a good decade older than her brother and, Riley suspected, disapproved of most things. If she was mistress of this house it was little wonder that it felt so joyless.
‘I have not seen her for over five years…or could it be six?’ He looked vaguely at his sister, who didn’t bother to respond. ‘Time passes so quickly. It’s hard to keep track. Do you know where she is?’ he asked, a hopeful gleam in his otherwise dead eyes. Huxton missed his daughter and wanted her home, there was no question about it. She would be restored to him, Riley had the unenviable task of telling him, but not in the manner that her father wished. ‘Is she in trouble? It must be something serious to bring you all the way from London? Tell me, if you please. I feel persuaded that we can resolve matters. We miss her so very much, you see.’
‘But did not look for her?’ Salter asked.
‘My niece made her own decisions,’ Miss Huxton replied, even though the question had not been addressed to her. ‘She was always headstrong and we lost control of her. She told outright lies and defied us at every turn.’ Miss Huxton’s sharp features matched her disapproving tone. ‘She had every advantage but refused to behave as she ought. She took to flaunting herself and grew quite wild.’
‘My sister exaggerates, inspector.’ The look that Miss Huxton dealt her brother implied that he seldom found the strength to refute any statement she made. How, Riley wondered, had such a weak man managed to build such a decent business? ‘She has high moral standards and fails to make allowance for the aspirations of today’s youth.’
‘What do you mean by that, sir?’ Salter asked.
‘My daughter is exceptionally lovely,’ Huxton said, straightening his hunched shoulders and ignoring his sister’s angry tut. ‘She took after her mother in that respect. She was admired by everyone who knew her, but she and my sister disagreed upon how she ought to conduct herself.’
‘You all live here together in the family home?’ Riley asked, wondering how anyone could reside beneath the same roof as the sanctimonious Ruth Huxton and retain their sanity. Five minutes in her company had almost exhausted Riley’s patience. No wonder Adelaide decided to take her chances elsewhere.
‘This is our family home,’ Huxton replied. ‘I inherited it from my parents.’
‘I see,’ Riley said. And he did see, all too clearly. Miss Huxton had never married, and so became Huxton’s responsibility. His cross to bear, although it seemed that the tables had been turned and the sister now took responsibility for her brother, who was a broken man.
‘There was nothing we could do to make Mary less arrogant,’ Miss Huxton said. ‘She seemed to think that being beautiful gave her special privileges, which of course it did not.’
‘My daughter was not happy here,’ Huxton said, ‘but I was too distracted by my business affairs to realise it.’ He shook his head. ‘I shall never forgive myself for that.’
‘You spoiled and indulged the child at every turn, Peter, so must shoulder your share of the blame for the way she turned out. I keep telling her that you must put her from your mind like the bad apple that she is.’
‘In the end she just upped and left one night,’ Huxton said, his eyes downcast. ‘It was a grave disappointment to my wife, who never recovered from her broken heart.’
‘You wife is not here?’ Riley asked.
‘Alas, she passed away four years ago. My sister has kept house for me since that time.’
‘I am sorry for your loss,’ Riley said, following Huxton’s glance to a miniature portrait sitting on a side table of a beautiful woman with blonde hair and an angelic smile. Mary’s mother, he assumed. He had only seen Mary in death, but the resemblance was unmistakable.
‘Thank you.’
The deterioration in Huxton now made more sense to Riley and he felt great sympathy for the man’s plight.
‘What is this about, inspector?’ Miss Huxton asked briskly. ‘I assume your purpose in coming all this way is not simply to rake up the past and upset my brother, whom you have probably already seen for yourself is no longer strong. You bring news of Mary, I dare say.’
‘I regret to inform you, Mr Huxton,’ Riley said, ignoring the spinster sister and her self-righteousness indignation, ‘that there has been a murder and that the victim is your daughter.’
‘Oh, dear God!’ Huxton fell back in his chair, pale as a ghost, clutching at his heart. ‘What have I done to deserve such punishment? First my wife, now Mary. The thought of my beloved daughter eventually returning home is all that has kept me alive these past years.’
‘You have done nothing whatsoever to reproach yourself for,’ Miss Huxton replied briskly, unmoved by the news that had destroyed her brother. ‘Mary was already dead to us. She made her choice and we long ago agreed never to mention her name in this house again, did we not?’
