A Woman Unknown Page 0,111
taken Diamond’s place as newspaper photographer.
By contrast with Diamond’s muted funeral, Everett Runcie’s last goodbye was exceedingly grand, as befitted a minor member of the aristocracy, the second son of a long-established family of bankers. He was laid to rest in the family vault. The day dawned cold and blustery. Philippa Runcie drew no odd looks for being swathed in a voluminous sable coat. At the funeral breakfast, a cleverly designed black velvet dress concealed her pregnancy. In a few more weeks she would sail for New York, smuggling in her womb the rightful heir to the Runcie name and ancestral home. He would be born on the other side of the Atlantic, and live an altogether freer life.
Marcus had travelled north for the funeral. We exchanged a few words before entering the chapel, and I felt glad that we would always get on with each other.
During the service, he sat with an elderly man who sported a colonial style moustache and carried a cane with a gold horse’s head knob.
Aunt Berta whispered, ‘I see your old friend Mr Charles is getting to know the right people. Is he chasing a knighthood?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. Who is the man he is with?’
‘My dear, you must get to know your dukes. I’ll introduce you later. He owns an immense chunk of the Highlands. Your uncle won’t buy anyone else’s whisky.’
The pair left the chapel before us. As they walked along the aisle, they glanced in my direction.
Aunt Berta said, ‘They are talking about you.’
It was on the walk back to Kirkley Hall for the funeral breakfast that the bewhiskered duke engaged Aunt Berta in conversation.
Marcus fell into step with me. ‘Kate, you’ll hate me for saying this, but I want to know that I can rely on your discretion regarding that little deal between Hartigan and the distiller.’
The sun had put in an appearance when we left the chapel. But for me, brightness fled from the day.
Marcus did not trust me. He would never completely trust me. As far as he was concerned, he was inside the establishment tent and I was outside, slightly dangerous, a person to watch.
The two women in Runcie’s life stayed apart from each other at the funeral, and at the breakfast that followed. Caroline Windham remained in the orbit of Lord and Lady Fotheringham. My aunt spoke to her, but I did not, not until it was almost time to leave.
We were on the veranda, with glasses of sherry. She was standing alone, near a potted plant, and waved to me.
Not a person to take time coming to the point, she said, ‘Rupert asked to see me, a condemned man’s last request.’
I did not know what to say.
‘I broke his shoulder, you know, when I hit him with the poker. I’m not sorry. He said he wished I’d hit him on his skull and killed him.’ She took another sip of sherry. ‘I don’t know how he did it, but he had a will that pre-dated his arrest or something. All his work comes to me.’
It seemed an unusual outcome. I would have expected a condemned man’s assets to be seized by the Crown. Perhaps one of the Viking Queen’s ancestors had fought alongside the ancestor of an Important Person in probate. Would she try and flog me a sculpture?
Mercifully, not.
‘I don’t know what to do about any of it,’ she said. ‘Fotheringham has no idea either. He says no one in England will want Cromer’s work for a generation or more. You wouldn’t, would you?’
‘No.’ I thought of the bust of Philippa that she had sent me. It remained in its wrappings. Then I spotted King. A brilliant idea occurred to me. ‘Go to Paris, Miss Windham. Sell the work there. You could open a gallery.’
Her eyes widened at the possibility.
Having come up with the idea, I warmed to it. ‘I will photograph the work for you, anonymously. That would help make the pieces more widely known. It will give you a fresh start.’
‘I should hate to leave England.’
‘But you were going to Italy.’
‘That’s different. I’m not sure about France, but I suppose I might take to Paris.’
‘Paris would take to you.’
‘Something will have to happen. Otherwise the sculptures stay on Fotheringham’s estate and he thinks there’s something ghoulish about it all. I would not be surprised if he had them smashed up for gravel. There has always been a philistine streak in that family.’
‘Then do it.’
‘I could certainly talk about the work, be enthusiastic