Amanda Cadabra and The Hidden Depths by Holly Bell (good book recommendations TXT) 📗

but for what I couldn’t say. Did Samantha ever mention her mother?’

‘No, not that I can recall.’

‘Do you know about her mother’s family at all?’

‘No, I’m sorry, Inspector. I’m sure Damian could tell you, though.’

But Trelawney did not have to wait for his interview with Damian Gibbs to find out. In fact, he was still at Amanda’s, halfway through his second shortcake biscuit, when the text alert sounded on his mobile.

Veronica L-G. Be careful there, Thomas. Get the inside track from the ladies at The Grange. Mike.

Amanda never asked about his phone communications, but he offered,

‘From your Uncle Mike. Says I can get the goods on the Loftleighs from the Grange ladies.’

Tempest, dining in the kitchen pricked up an ear. He had been half-listening, both amused and bemused by the humans’ laborious progress. It was like, he decided, watching a newborn hippo learning to walk.

‘Would you mind paving the way and taking me back there with you?’ asked Trelawney.

Amanda’s face lit up. ‘Of course not. They’ll be delighted to see you. Let me just check that they’re both at home.’ She made a quick call. Then hung up.

‘Moffat says they “shall look forward to receiving the inspector”. ’

He smiled. ‘Thank you.’

‘There’s no rush. Finish your biscuit. After all, Tempest is probably only halfway through his third course of lunch, and we couldn’t possibly go without him!’

Chapter 23

Dishing the Dirt

The Loftleighs? Ha!’ was Miss Cynthia de Havillande’s opening reaction to Trelawney’s enquiry. She looked sideways and raised an eyebrow at her boon companion, Miss Armstrong-Witworth, seated beside her on the well-used burgundy velvet sofa. Gwendolen echoed her expression and nodded at the inspector.

‘Yes. Indeed.’

They were occupying the small salon, leaving Amanda in peace to continue work, in the small dining-room, with the aid of magic. Knowing that this was police business, she tactfully and respectfully absented herself and left Trelawney with the ladies. He appreciated Miss Cadabra’s discretion, knowing, at the same time, that the Misses de Havillande and Armstrong-Witworth would relay the discussion in its entirety to her later.

Trelawney leaned back with a feeling of anticipation. The ladies were clearly about to ‘dish the dirt’ and with a garnish of relish.

‘All posh and no dosh,’ stated Cynthia.

‘And not as posh as the de Havillandes either,’ added Gwendolen.

‘Or the Armstrong-Witworths, dear,’ her companion replied to her.

‘But the sort that likes to hold themselves up,’ continued Cynthia. ‘Haven’t had a bean for generations. Not since Veronica’s father Loftus’s great-great-grandfather lost the bulk of the family fortune in a game of Vingt-et-un at Watier’s,’ she explained, referring to a fashionable London gambling club of the Regency period. Miss de Havillande went on,

‘The Loftleighs managed to limp along on a mixture of luck, connections and credit. Finally, Loftus passed Spireworth House over to English Heritage and retreated to a private suite in the building. He always had hopes of getting it back, though. Went to the “right schools”, the “right Oxbridge college”, made sure he had the lowdown on the right people in positions of power. Never seen anyone milk the old boy network like Lofty.’

‘Yes, Inspector,’ agreed Gwendolen. ‘He always seems to charm himself into wherever he wants. I’ve never understood it myself. I always found him a very cold boy.’

‘Ah.’

‘His wife, now. She was a lovely woman.’

‘Veronica’s mother?’ asked Trelawney.

‘That’s right. What was her name now?’ Gwendolen looked out of the window for inspiration. ‘Barbara … Babby! Yes, that’s what she was called. Barbara Stanton-Westgate. Now they were a very good family. In every way. I’m afraid they were quite taken in by Loftus. He still had Spireworth at the time.’

‘I see.’

‘She was quite right to divorce him even though it was a bit a scandal at the time. But she cut him far too many years of slack, in my opinion!’

‘In practically everyone’s,’ remarked Cynthia caustically.

‘I’m glad to say that she very happily remarried.’

‘And what became of the daughter — Veronica?’ asked Trelawney.

‘Well now, that was the curious thing. Veronica was at boarding school at her father’s insistence, and she chose to spend all the holidays with him. I think the pair of them believed they could claw back the Loftleighs’ former glory,’ Gwendolen adjudged.

Cynthia took up the tale. ‘And when Veronica was of age, they hit upon a promising prospect.’

‘Damian Gibbs?’ Trelawney hazarded shrewdly.

‘Precisely. The Gibbs — while excellent people, I have no doubt — are of humble origins.’

‘But he was wealthy?’

‘And set for even greater success.’

‘I’m afraid Veronica charmed poor Mr Gibbs, just as Lofty charmed her poor mother,’ remarked Gwendolen.

‘And did he revive the Lofteighs’ fortunes?’ Trelawney enquired, looking from one lady to the other. It was Cynthia who answered.

‘Now Inspector, you should know that Gwendolen and I know very little personally of the younger generation, Veronica’s, that is, and we had never met Mr Gibbs until he came here to build the Centre.’

‘Understood.’

‘But we heard that he was generous to a fault toward Veronica. Nevertheless, he had sufficient good business sense to draw the line at bailing out her father.’

‘Wise.’

‘Indeed, Inspector. Our understanding is that she bided her time until after the wedding. When Samantha was on the way, then Veronica revived her campaign. Gibbs was adamant, however. That didn’t stop her from extracting every penny she could. Finally, the man, it seemed, could bear it no longer. It was clear that it was no love match on her part, and he ended the marriage. But he paid dearly for it.’

‘The Essex house?’

‘Just so, and as only a part of the divorce settlement. Plus, he was paying her an allowance until Samantha was to graduate.’

‘How will his ex-wife pay for the upkeep of her place now?’

‘Ah well, that’s the Other Matter,’ said Cynthia significantly. ‘Lofty has always had connections in the City, and here and there over the years has made such very, shall we say, fortunate investments that have saved him from ruin and feathered his daughter’s nest.’

‘Insider trading?’

‘Almost certainly, the word was. Never proved, of course. And Lofty was canny