Snobbery with Violence (23 page)

Miss Fairfax’s voice boomed out, ‘I think it’s all very fishy. No one will tell me quite what happened. I was talking to Lady Hedley the other day and she seemed happy and well.’

There was a shocked silence. Then Sir Gerald said, ‘Now, my precious, you mustn’t be so tactless. It makes your eyes narrow, and we don’t want that, now do we?’

To Harry’s amazement, Miss Fairfax gave a giggle and rapped Gerald on the arm with her fan. ‘Naughty,
naughty
boy.’

She really must have an awful lot of money, thought Harry cynically. He glanced again at Rose, who was listlessly picking at her food. Did she feel like him, a misfit? He had been more comfortable in the company of Kerridge than in the fellowship of his peers.

Upstairs, Becket knocked at the door of Daisy’s room and crept in. He glanced at the inner door which connected Daisy’s room with Rose’s and whispered, ‘Is she in there?’

‘Gone down to dinner.’ Daisy was lying propped up against the pillows, a bound copy of
Young England
on her lap and a box of chocolates on the table beside the bed.

Becket drew up a chair and sat down next to her. ‘Did you get your pay-off?’

‘One hundred guineas. Did you get the same?’

Becket nodded.

‘Going to leave the captain?’

‘Never. What about you? You could buy a shop.’

‘No, I’ll stick with Lady Rose. She needs me. If we’re going to run away to London, she’ll need some money and so will I.’

‘Thank goodness you had those corsets on.’

‘She’d just given them to me, too. She hates them, but I felt so grand even though they were uncomfortable. Choc?’

‘Thanks,’ said Becket, picking one out. ‘Someone’s coming along the corridor. They’ve stopped outside the door.’

‘Get into the bed,’ said Daisy, whipping back the covers.

There was a knock at the door. ‘Come in,’ called Daisy.

Curzon, the butler, walked in. ‘I know the true story of how you saved your mistress’s life. I have always said that breeding will out. I would like you to accept this as a token of my esteem.’ He held out a carved cigarette box.

‘Thank you,’ said Daisy in a weak voice because Becket’s body under the covers was crammed against her own and she wanted Curzon to go.

To her relief, the butler said, ‘I can see that you are still very shocked. Be always assured that your secret is safe with me.’

‘Thank you.’

Daisy waited until she heard Curzon’s footsteps go along the corridor and down the steps and then she whipped back the covers. ‘Get out of here!’

‘I wasn’t doing anything,’ complained Becket. ‘I was suffocating. Any cigarettes in that box?’

Daisy opened the lid and sniffed. ‘Turkish. The best.’

‘Let’s have one, then. Do you smoke?’

‘Now and then.’

He lit cigarettes for both of them. ‘Will you write to me?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I can write now,’ said Daisy proudly.

‘Aren’t you going to give some of that money to your family?’

‘Naw! Da would drink it all. So would Ma, come to think of it. Oh, maybe I’ll go down there and see if I can slip something to the children.’

‘Daisy, do you think that one day, maybe one day, we—’

The inner door opened and Rose walked in. ‘You should not be here, Becket,’ she said. ‘I think Daisy deserves to enjoy your company, but if my mother should find you here, I would be in more trouble than I am already. And smoking, as well!’

Becket left. Daisy began to get up. ‘No, stay where you are,’ said Rose. ‘I can put myself to bed. My parents’ servants have packed most of our things, so you do not need to exert yourself.’

‘You’ll be glad to get out of here,’ said Daisy.

‘Yes, of course I will. Good night.’

Rose trailed off to her own room and sat down at the dressing-table. Back to London tomorrow. No more frights and alarms, no more Kerridge and his policemen, no more Captain Harry Cathcart. Why did life suddenly feel so flat?

There’s something undoubtedly in a fine air,
To know how to smile and be able to stare,
High breeding is something, but well-bred or not,
In the end the one question is, what have you got.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.
And the angels in pink and the angels in blue,
In muslins and moirés so lovely and new,
What is it they want, and so wish you to guess,
But if you have money, the answer is Yes.
So needful, they tell you, is money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.

A.H. Clough

T
he next morning, everyone was up early. Everyone seemed so glad to get out of the castle at last.

Lady Polly was fussing about her daughter as a footman helped Rose into the carriage. Rose knew her parents were feeling extremely guilty at having sent her to the castle in the first place, and she hoped to work on that guilt when they got to London.

Rose looked out of the carriage window. Harry was just emerging from the castle, pulling on his driving gloves. Infuriating man. Perhaps if she went to some parties in London he might be there. It would be pleasant to let him know just how infuriating he was.

‘What I don’t like’, grumbled the earl as the carriage jolted forwards, ‘is Hedley being so cheerful about getting his wife’s money.’

‘He won’t live long to enjoy it,’ said Rose. ‘The syphilis is already beginning to eat up his appearance.’

‘That’s enough of that,’ snapped the earl. ‘A young girl should not know of such things.’

‘Maybe if Mary Gore-Desmond had known of such things she would still be alive,’ retorted Rose.

‘Don’t speak to your father like that,’ said Lady Polly. ‘I know your poor nerves are overset by your dreadful experience, but there is no need for you to be so . . . coarse.’

The Peterson sisters were driven off in their motor car while Miss Fairfax followed in her carriage, accompanied by Sir Gerald.

‘Faster,’ Harriet urged the chauffeur. ‘I want to leave her behind. We really need to write to Mother, Debs, and get her off our backs. She was bad enough before, but she’ll ruin our chances, twittering and ogling with that awful creature on her arm.’

‘Goodbye, rotten castle,’ said Deborah, as the car rolled over the drawbridge. ‘As I told you, there was something fishy about Lady Hedley shooting herself. Rose was there. I tried to ask her this morning but her mother interrupted and pulled her away. Also, I sent my maid over to Creinton for some ribbons and she told me that Captain Harry, Rose and their servants were singing in the street. For money!’

‘Can’t have been them. The Earl of Hadshire is most frightfully rich.’

‘Ah, but the captain’s reported to have very little over his army pension,’ said Deborah. ‘It must be so demeaning to be poor. He should marry Rose. I mean, her parents should be glad to get anyone for her now.’

‘Oh, that scandal about Blandon will be over and forgotten. She’s got money and a title and looks. She won’t stay on the shelf for long,’ said Harriet.

‘You know what I think?’ Deborah clutched her hat as the car swung out onto the main road. ‘I think Rose is the type to make things happen. Mark my words, she’ll be embroiled in another scandal before Christmas.’

‘I hear her parents are shipping her off to India.’

‘Well, all I can say is poor India,’ said Deborah. ‘She’ll start another mutiny or something.’

Freddy Pomfret and Tristram Baker-Willis and their valets were deposited at Creinton Railway Station by one of the castle carriages.

‘Absolutely poisonous visit,’ complained Freddy, listlessly poking the fire in the first-class waiting-room. ‘Deaths and shootings. Boring melodrama. Like being trapped between the covers of one of Mrs Henry Wood’s novels.’

‘And that Rose creature,’ said Tristram. ‘Getting us into trouble. That Trumpington woman was leering at us in the most horrible way. Turns my stomach to think of it.’

Freddy produced a silver flask. ‘Here. Have a swig of this. I filled it up with Hedley’s brandy.’

Tristram took the flask from him and downed a great swallow. ‘That’s better. We didn’t have a chance with the Peterson girls after that. Tell you what. Lady Rose is going to London. Let’s think up some way to get even.’

The waiting-room began to shake under the thunder of the approaching train. ‘Here we go,’ said Freddy. ‘London, here we come.’

Margaret Bryce-Cuddlestone, accompanied by the Trumpingtons, stared bleakly out of the window. The landscape was white, in the grip of a severe hoar-frost.

She could only be grateful that she had escaped with her reputation intact. She did not believe for a moment the reasons given for Lady Hedley’s taking her own life. Remembering her talk with Rose, she was sure that somehow Rose had found out that Lady Hedley was a murderess and had challenged her. Thank goodness it was being hushed up or she might have had to appear in the dock as a witness. The whole experience had shaken her. She could only pray that she was not pregnant. Her menstruation was not due until the following week.

In that moment, Margaret made up her mind. She would stop looking for love and this time she would accept the proposal of the first man who asked her to marry him.

Mrs Trumpington nudged her husband awake. ‘I wonder if I should go to India with the Hadshires’ gel. There’s something unstable about her. At first I thought, well, jolly good, free holiday and all that. Bit of travel. But the more I think about it, the less I like it. I mean, heat and flies and Rose likely to get embroiled in something awful. This suffragette business! She’s just the sort to go around campaigning for equal rights for the Indians and befriending the untouchables. Then one has to think of the distance and socializing with all those frightfully boring memsahibs. No, I won’t go. You’d miss me, wouldn’t you, dear?’

‘What? What?’

‘I said, you’d miss me.’

‘Yes, yes,’ grumbled Mr Trumpington. ‘Now can I go back to sleep?’

Miss Fairfax and Gerald sat holding hands. ‘I am so glad I met you,’ she said.

‘I’m amazed a charming lady like yourself never married,’ said Gerald, gazing into her eyes and mentally paying off his tailor’s bills.

‘Oh, I had my chances. But would you believe it? The men in Virginia are every bit as mercenary as they are here. Not you, of course, dear heart.’

‘You had to fight off adventurers?’

‘On my poor little dowry?’

‘My poppet, everyone knows your family is extremely rich.’

‘That’s my sister, Clarrie. She did well. Married Burton, who is rolling in railroad money. She’s paying for my trip to London and all my expenses.’

Gerald felt as if a cold dark stone had settled in his stomach. He tried to pull his hand away but she held it in a firm grip.

Clive Fraser, Bertram Brookes, Harry Trenton and Neddie Freemantle had only journeyed as far as the village pub. Drawn together by a feeling of failure, they set about getting drunk. Each had hoped to become engaged to one of the American sisters and put the sisters’ obvious lack of interest in any of them down to the odd happenings at the castle.

They got so drunk and obnoxious that the landlord had to send a message to the castle appealing to the marquess to come and get rid of them.

The remaining ladies, equally disappointed, were heading towards London. Perhaps each in her way was more shocked by the happenings than Rose. For a brief spell their lives, which had been as well-padded by wealth and class as their fashionable hourglass figures, had been invaded by a darker world. Maisie Chatterton and Lady Sarah Trenton longed for the bright lights and shops of London. Frederica Sutherland planned to stay only two days in London before journeying to her home in Scotland.

Maisie Chatterton decided she would never lisp again. Her mother had told her that men were fascinated by a girlish lisp, but all they did was to stare at her and then ask her to repeat what she had just said.

Lady Sarah planned to hint at the horror of the dark happenings at the castle and at the next ball conveniently swoon into the arms of the most handsome man present.

Frederica Sutherland was determined to convince her parents that there was no need for her ever to go south again, no need for her to leave her beloved dogs and horses.

She turned in the carriage and looked back at Castle Telby standing up square and bleak against the winter sky. She considered herself a jolly good sort, good at hunting and shooting, better than the men. She could not wait to get out of these frippery clothes and get some decent tweeds on again.

Harry felt quite low as Becket unlocked the door of the house in Water Street. His leg was hurting and he put it down to that. Becket went upstairs to unpack Harry’s bags and Harry lit the fire in his front parlour and settled down with a glass of sherry.

He felt almost angry with Rose at having hit on a solution to the murders and nearly getting herself killed. He was the detective. He was the one who should have hit on a solution to the mystery.

He rose and picked up his mail and began to sift through it. There was one from a Mrs Debenham asking him if he could find her lost poodle. Is this all his intelligence was capable of, while some silly, unfeminine female went around solving murders?

Becket came in carrying his slippers.

‘Pour yourself a glass of sherry, Becket, and sit down. I feel like company.’ Becket poured a glass and sat down on the other side of the fireplace.

‘I don’t think I should go on with this stupid detective business, Becket. What do you think?’

‘It is not my place to say, sir.’

Just this once, make it your place.’

‘If I may say so, sir, you were doing very well and we have comforts such as the motor car which we did not have before.’

‘I could travel. Find some work in the colonies.’

Then I really won’t see Daisy again, thought Becket.

‘You said, sir, that Superintendent Kerridge had suggested you might start a proper detective agency. Should you do that, you would maybe be given more interesting work. The insurance companies, for example, must always be looking for investigators.’

‘I feel I, and not Lady Rose, should have hit on the solution to what had been going on at the castle.’