A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [99]
Maisie sighed. She wondered how the power of such a worthy conviction could lead to so much desolation, so much pain. And Greville Liddicote had died with a photograph of Ursula Thurlow in his hand.
“Do you think Liddicote loved your mother?”
At first Alice seemed angered—a dull chill seemed reflected in her eyes—but she said nothing, composing her thoughts before speaking again. “I was a child, Maisie, though I confess, I have asked myself the same question time and again, and I have come to the conclusion that he was a confused—and rather selfish—man who chose the easier option.” She picked at the grass again, then brushed off her hands and looked at Maisie. “Here’s what I think. I believe he was enchanted by my mother, and I believe he loved her, in his way. She did not love him—she loved my father too much—but she was grateful, and I think she was probably scared. I have tried to imagine how she must have felt, having lost the love of her life, the man who shared everything she believed in. I think she would have married Liddicote, had he asked—for the security, if nothing else. But he did not ask, and having worked for him, I can imagine why. He was an ambitious man, and I think he probably saw how marriage to the widow of a conscientious objector—and remember, he didn’t really lean towards pacifism until the success of The Peaceful Little Warriors—might stand between him and the recognition he craved. She was a liability.” She paused and caught her breath. “And I think he probably regretted his decision for the rest of his life, though he was not the sort of man who would have taken action to make amends.”
“Yes, I can see that,” said Maisie. “So you waited until your brothers and sister were mature enough to care for your mother, and you left to seek work with Greville Liddicote. And he didn’t recognize you?”
“I would be amazed if he ever even really noticed me.”
“I would be amazed if he didn’t, to tell you the truth.”
Alice shrugged.
“Did you think you could kill him?”
“I had anger enough, but when it came to it, there was no will in my heart. My parents had done a good job. I was a child on a mission to avenge a wrong, almost like in a fairy tale, but I don’t know what I thought I could do. I don’t know at all. I imagined hitting him over the head with a poker, or a vase, or putting poison in his tea.” She laughed, then tears came again. “How stupid of me. But I earned money to send back to my family, and I came home once a month or so; if I was in service, they might not have seen me quite as much.” She picked at some grass alongside the sleeve of Maisie’s jacket. “And someone else did it, anyway. I think that, if I discovered anything, it was that Greville Liddicote was a very lonely man. I believe I almost felt sorry for him. All that passion for peace, and he was alone.”
Maisie allowed the silence to linger once again, and instead listened to the wheeling seagulls above, whose cry she suspected was a warning that stormy weather was moving in from the sea.
“Do you know who might have murdered Liddicote? From your words it’s clear you know that he did not die from a heart attack.”
Alice pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “There were people in and out all day, but I think he might have had one visitor who was not originally on his list of appointments, though I did not see him arrive.”
“Who was that?”
“Well, Dunstan Headley telephoned to ask if Dr. Liddicote was in his office that day.” She looked away, as if gauging how fast the clouds were moving, and seemed distracted as she continued speaking. “I said he was, and would he like me to make an appointment. He said no, that wasn’t necessary, but he might send his son around with a message, or he might come himself. Then he told me not to worry, that he realized Dr. Liddicote was busy—and he hung up the telephone