01 - Murder at Ashgrove House (6 page)

‘I’m fine, Lavinia, really I am,’ Rose said trying to pull herself
together, although she did not feel at all fine. If truth be told, she was
beginning to feel quite queasy about the whole weekend. It was bad enough that
Lady Belvedere was going to be there and likely to put a dampener on
proceedings, but for Viscount Sedgwick to be there as well. Lavinia had always
spoken warmly of her younger brother and she was sure he would prove
delightful, but from Rose’s point of view it changed the weekend completely. It
was one thing to pass the weekend at Ashgrove with Lavinia’s delightfully
eccentric old aunt and her old school friend, but quite another to find that a
young and, from what Rose could tell from the society pages, extremely
attractive and eligible member of the aristocracy was also going to be present.
Instinctively her thoughts went to her wardrobe. She thought of her sensible
tweed suit, her faithful silk velvet evening dress and her mother’s pearls; she
should have been more adventurous with her clothes because, especially compared
with Lavinia, she was likely to look distinctly dowdy.

Lady Withers assured them that she would make her own way back to the
house through the gardens and asked that they give her ten minutes’ start
before they set off along the drive in the car so that she was there to greet
them. Rose and Lavinia got back into the car, the doors opened for them by the
diligent Brewster. Rose could tell at once that her friend was in an agitated
state.

 ‘Oh, Rose,’ said Lavinia clasping her friend’s hand excitedly,
‘it’s going to be a bore, of course, having Mother here and you mustn’t mind a
thing she says to you because I’m afraid she’s bound not to like you at all,
what with you working in the shop with me, but it’s so wonderful that Ceddie is
going to be down. You’ll find him great fun and think him awfully nice,
although he can be rather an annoying little brother at times. But that’s not
why I’m excited, Rose. I’m excited because of who he may bring with him.’

‘He’ll be bringing down someone else with him? But Lady Withers didn’t
say anything about there being another guest,’ Rose said,
anxiously.        

‘Well, I doubt whether she knows. Ceddie can be awfully vague and
irritating at times. He’ll think nothing of bringing down a friend with him
without asking Uncle William and Aunt Connie first. And he needn’t really,
because they’re always delighted to see us and they have got loads of servants
and bedrooms and things, so it’s not as if they’d be caused any inconvenience
although, of course, they weren’t to know that my parents were coming down, and
if Mother doesn’t bring her own lady’s maid with her and Daddy his own valet I
suppose there might be ….’

‘Lavinia,’ Rose interrupted, ‘who do you think your brother will be
bringing down with him?’

‘Why, Hugh, Marquis Sneddon, of course. He’s the only surviving son of
the Duke of Haywater and he’s recently become a great friend of Ceddie’s,
they’re quite inseparable.  He’s quite a few years older than Ceddie, but
still quite young, about twenty-eight or nine, I think. Mother will be
delighted because she’s quite set her sights on him for me. There aren’t that
many eligible heirs to a dukedom around these days of the right age, I can tell
you. Because of the war and everything, they’re either much too old or still children,
and mother doesn’t really want me to marry below a marquis although, at a push,
I think she’d settle for an earl, like Daddy. But she’s got her heart set on my
being a duchess. Normally I don’t fall in with her wishes, as you know, but
Hugh is exceedingly handsome, all dark and brooding, you know the type. He’ll
quite take your breath away, Rose.’

It was clear to Rose then that the weekend was likely to prove more
eventful than she had been expecting. While she was beginning to approach it
with a feeling of trepidation, she was excited too. It never occurred to her
for one minute that the mix of people that the weekend was throwing haphazardly
together, might result in murder.

The front door was opened to Rose and Lavinia by Stafford who, to Rose’s
mind, seemed to embody respectability and have every attribute that a good
butler should. He was tall and thin and suitably deferential, but he also had a
certain authoritative air about him as if one could expect him to be
knowledgeable on every matter of importance. She could well imagine that a
person like Lady Withers would defer to him on decisions affecting the smooth
running of the house. Lavinia seemed delighted to see Stafford and Rose thought
that she could detect the shadow of a smile cross his face, as he bowed at them
slightly. She remembered what Lavinia had told her in preparation for her
visit, about herself and Cedric almost growing up at Ashgrove, because they had
visited so often in their childhood, and how Stafford had been with Sir William
since a young man. She noticed that Stafford’s bow had encompassed them both
and, when he looked up, Rose was relieved not to detect in his eye any sign
that he thought her beneath his respect or considered her presence there
inappropriate, either as a friend of Lady Lavinia’s or as a guest at Ashgrove.

Behind them Brewster was unloading their luggage and a footman dressed in
tailored livery, who Rose found out later was called Albert, sprang forward to
take it up to their rooms.

‘I must apologise, Lady Lavinia, that neither Sir William nor her
ladyship is here to greet you. Her ladyship was in the rose garden, but
unfortunately we have been unable to locate her exact whereabouts and Sir
William is engaged on an important telephone call in his study, but will be
with you in a moment.’

‘Don’t worry Stafford, you’re here to greet us and we passed Aunt Connie
on the drive. She’ll be here in a moment,’ Lavinia assured him with an air of
confidence that showed that she felt very much at home at Ashgrove. ‘And it
isn’t as if I don’t know the way. This is Miss Simpson, a very good friend of
mine, she works in the shop with me, don’t you know, but she is ever so much
better at it than I am. Which rooms has Mrs Palmer given us? Do say it’s the
Snug and the Silk Room.’

‘It is indeed, Lady Lavinia; Mrs Palmer knows
how you love the Silk Room and she thought you’d like Miss Simpson in the room
next to you.’

Rose looked around her trying to take it all
in. The ground floor of Ashgrove House consisted, as far as the residents and
guests were concerned, of a large square hall, drawing room, dining room,
library, study and most conveniently a lavatory. What lay beyond the green
baize door, the domain of the servants: the long corridor, which led eventually
to a back door; the rooms opening off the corridor which included the servants’
hall, the housekeeper’s parlour, a pantry, a large kitchen, a scullery, the
service door to the dining room, the male servants’ bedrooms, a back staircase
of linoleum steps off the corridor which finally led up to the female servants’
bedrooms way up in the attic and the staircase leading down to the cellar, boot
room and coal cellar, she was not aware of on her arrival, although she was to
become unexpectedly acquainted with a few of these rooms during the course of
her stay. At the moment, however, she was taking in the rather grand, old,
highly polished wooden staircase leading off from the hall to the first floor
and admiring the oil paintings on the wall encased by heavy, ornate gilt gold
frames.

‘Well, Stafford, I understand the old battle
axe is here?’

‘I beg your pardon, Lady Lavinia?’ The butler
stared looking ever so slightly taken aback.

‘My mother, Stafford, I understand she has
invited herself down for a visit.’

‘Ah, indeed, Lady Lavinia, the countess is here
and I gather most keen to see you.’

‘Well, I’m not at all keen to see her. I
suppose it’s too much to hope for that she’s having a lie down after her
journey, so that we can just sneak in?’

‘Indeed, m’lady, Lady Belvedere was most
anxious to see you as soon as you arrived and is waiting for you in the drawing
room.’ 

‘Oh, fiddlesticks! Well, I suppose we had
better get it over with. Rose, you mustn’t let her intimidate you. She’ll try
and talk down to you, as if you were one of her servants. You mustn’t stand for
it. Pretend she’s one of those awkward customers that we get in the shop
sometimes; you’re ever so good at knowing how to handle them.’

Rose took a deep breath and followed Lavinia
into the drawing room.

Perhaps not surprisingly, given Sir William’s
and Lady Withers’ position, it was the grand décor of the room, rather than the
rather matronly figure of a woman perched very upright on a striped patterned
regency chair, that initially caught Rose’s attention. The drawing room, with
its almost double height ceiling, plasterwork frieze over the doorway and fine
marble fireplace framed by a large, highly ornate gilt mantle mirror, was
papered in a duck egg coloured damask wallpaper. The room was dual aspect with
two sets of double French windows, each opening out onto a stone terrace which,
as far as Rose could tell, went all the way around the house.  Heavy gold
brocade silk curtains, complete with swags, framed the French windows. The room
itself contained a selection of richly upholstered armchairs and sofas in raw
silk or velvet.  Highly polished mahogany occasional tables were scattered
around the room, on which were displayed a selection of photographs in silver
frames and bunches of freshly cut roses and other in season flowers from the
grounds in lead crystal vases. Paintings by one or two of the lesser known
masters decorated the walls; the overall feel of the room was of elegance and
understated opulence.  

It was only when Rose had fully taken in the splendour
of her surroundings that she focused her attention on the Countess of
Belvedere. Lavinia had advanced forward to greet her mother and while Lady
Belvedere was berating her daughter, Rose had the opportunity to take in the
countess’s appearance, relatively unobserved. Lavinia had spoken often of her
mother having been considered a great beauty in her youth, but in Rose’s view
there was little evidence of this now. She could see that there was a faint
family resemblance between Lady Belvedere and her sister in that they had the
same colour of very dark brown, almost black, hair which had mostly turned to a
shade of iron grey, but whereas Lady Withers was slender and almost doll like
in physique, Lady Belvedere was stout with a plump face and sagging jaw line.
Even had she remained silent, Rose could have told by the sour expression on
her face that her nature was cold and spiteful; clearly there did not seem much
love lost between mother and daughter as Lavinia approached her cautiously, as
if anticipating a trap and Lady Belvedere in turn looked at her with annoyance.
To Rose’s eye, Lady Belvedere was dressed in a fashion more associated with the
Edwardian era with her lace cuffs and high-necked collar, complete with straw
hat decorated with ribbons and feathers. In her right hand she clutched a cane
although it was not to aid her in walking, for Rose was to find that she was
surprisingly agile and quick for a woman of her age and build, but rather she
used her cane for emphasis by tapping it on the ground to make her point or
show her disapproval.

‘Mother, how are you?’ Lavinia had crossed the
room to bend and kiss her mother’s cheek as the woman in question remained
sitting. ‘I did not expect to see you here, what made you decide to come and
stay with Aunt Connie this weekend of all weekends?’

‘Obviously you did not expect to see me
otherwise you would have changed your arrangements, and my intention in coming
here was to see you, as well you could have guessed.’

Rose hovered by the door somewhat taken aback
by the exchange between the two women. Clearly there was to be no pretence by
either that they were particularly pleased to see the other.  Lavinia,
Rose noticed, was agitated, first looking down at her shoes to avoid her
mother’s eye, then glancing around the room as if seeking salvation, and then
fiddling with her enamelled mesh bag, obviously wanting to be anywhere than
where she was.

‘Mother, if you’ve come here to
–
.’

‘Quiet, Lavinia; now you listen to me.’ Lady
Belvedere tapped her cane on the floor for emphasis and the sound was clearly
audible throughout the room, notwithstanding the rug. ‘This nonsense has gone
on for quite long enough. I want you to stop it now. You have had five seasons
as a debutante and you are still to find a suitable husband.  How are you
to marry a man of equal, if not senior rank to your father, if you go about
working in a dress shop? You know I have my heart set on your becoming a
duchess or a marchioness. What man of title will be interested in marrying you
now? You must put these ridiculous, childish games aside and act like a young
lady. Have you any idea of the ridicule you have opened us all up to as a
family with your antics? Why, even
Mrs Booth had the audacity to tell me
that it would be quite unthinkable for anyone in her circle to serve in a shop,
as if somehow she was above me because my daughter did just that; the very
cheek of the woman!’

‘I’m sorry, mother, but I –.’

‘Don’t interrupt, Lavinia, or try to make excuses for your behaviour. It
all stops now, do you hear me? And who is this
person loitering by the door
who
you have failed to introduce to me? I assume it’s one of your fellow shop
girls?’

‘Yes, yes, oh, Rose ….
Rose
, I’m sorry I forgot...’ Lavinia, in a
clearly distracted state, turned and beckoned Rose to come over and be
introduced to her mother. Rose wondered why the countess had even enquired
after her, because the way she was speaking to her daughter clearly indicated
that Lady Belvedere considered the two of them alone, or as good as alone, in
that Rose was somehow invisible or not worthy of consideration. This impression
was not altered when Rose walked over and Lady Belvedere looked her up and down
with a look of barely disguised contempt. The countess, with a very slight tilt
of her head, gave her the briefest of acknowledgments, so brief in fact that
Rose half wondered whether she had imagined it.

What would have happened then, whether Lady Belvedere would have
dismissed her or ignored her completely so that she could continue to berate
Lavinia, Rose was not to know because at that moment the door opened and a
middle-aged man in a tweed suit and trim moustache walked in. There was
something very self-assured about the way that he entered the room, a quiet
self confidence that revealed him to be the owner of the house. More
importantly, there was a jovial, good humoured air about him that had the
effect of making Lady Belvedere pause and hesitate as if, for the first time,
she was suddenly aware that she had an audience and that admonishing her
daughter in front of it might not be entirely appropriate. 

‘Uncle William!’ Lavinia ran over to the man and hugged him warmly and
Rose wondered how Lady Belvedere must feel to see her daughter look so pleased
to see her sister’s husband and yet so disappointed to see her own mother.
Looking over at her, it was hard to tell what the woman was thinking because
the sour look on her face, which appeared to be her usual expression, remained
intact. Despite the breath of fresh air that Sir William had brought with him
into the room, Rose was aware of a certain coldness that radiated from Lady
Belvedere which made her shiver. For the first time, she felt afraid, but of
course that was ridiculous, for there was nothing to be afraid of. It was true
that Lady Belvedere’s stay at Ashgrove was likely to put a bit of a dampener on
the weekend, but that was all. Rose still intended to enjoy herself and Sir
William seemed most welcoming. As if on cue, Sir William disentangled himself
from his wife’s niece and introduced himself.

‘How do you do, Miss Simpson? You are most welcome. Lavinia has told us
all about you. You must forgive me for not being here to welcome you when you
arrived. I had a few important telephone calls to make, I’m afraid, which just
wouldn’t keep. I can’t think where my wife’s got to. It’s not like her not to
be here to greet our guests. I say, Marjorie, is anything wrong?’

‘William, entertain Miss Simpson, will you. I’d like to have a private
word with my daughter.’

‘Oh, Mother, not now, surely. We want to go and freshen up before lunch,
and I want to show Rose her room.’

‘Better get a move on girls, Stafford will be in here shortly with the
sherry.’ Sir William watched as Lavinia and Rose made their escape. ‘Don’t
worry so, Marjorie, you’ll have ample time to talk to Lavinia after lunch.
We’re not expecting Cedric until mid-afternoon.’

‘Ah, Cedric, at least it will be a joy to see him, although I fear he is
rather neglecting his studies. I suppose it’s what young men do nowadays, or
perhaps they always did?’ Lady Belvedere, still seated, looked about the room.
‘Where
is
Constance, William? She barely stopped to say hello to me when
we arrived before she disappeared out through that window mumbling something
about having to prune the roses. Stuff and nonsense! Since when has Constance
known anything about gardening, I ask you. You’d better hope that that head
gardener fellow of yours doesn’t catch her chopping bits off his rose bushes,
they can be awfully possessive about their gardens and Constance is bound to
make an awful mess of the pruning.’

The two girls ran into the hall and up the stairs giggling, almost
colliding as they did so, with one of the housemaids, who had emerged from a
bedroom carrying fresh linen. On the first floor, in addition to Lady Withers’
morning room and the linen room, there were six principal
bedrooms and dressing rooms and two bathrooms and
lavatories overlooking the hall. Lavinia did not stop on this floor, however,
but continued up to the second floor where there were a further six secondary
bedrooms, one of which had formerly been a nursery and another a schoolroom.
Two rooms, which had also previously had other uses had been made into a small
bathroom and lavatory.