That Would Be a Fairy Tale (23 page)

‘Yes.’ Alex replied to Sophie’s question. ‘He went to see his contact, as we hoped he would, and was in the process of negotiating a price for the tiara when the two private detectives I’d hired took him in charge.’

‘Do we have him? Really have him?’ asked Cicely. ‘Will the police be able to make the charges stick?’

Alex nodded. ‘They will have sworn statements from us saying what took place here tonight - leaving out the part about it being a trap, of course - and the testimony of the private detectives. The Honourable Martin Goss will be going away for a very long time.’

‘Hooray!’ said Sophie. ‘Then I had better be getting back to the dinner party. It will be finishing soon. All of Mother’s guests are at the spa for the good of their health, and the evening will end at an early hour. Wait for us in an inconspicuous corner of the
Kurhaus
. I know Mother wants to invite you back to the villa for coffee,’ she said to Alex. ‘She wants to hear all about it.’

Cicely and Alex escorted Sophie back to the
Kurhaus
, where the dinner party was already breaking up. They stayed in the background whilst Sophie and her mother said goodbye to all their guests, and then the four of them returned to the villa, where they set about talking over the night’s events over a cup of coffee.

‘I am so relieved it all went well,’ said Mrs Lessing, who had not liked the scheme and had doubted the wisdom of going along with it, despite her agreement.

She had been particularly anxious when Sophie had walked out of the
Kurhaus
with Mr Goss,  and had almost called a halt to the proceedings there and then. Even the knowledge that Alex and Cicely would be keeping an eye on Sophie had not completely stilled her maternal worries. But it was over now, and successfully so. Martin Goss had been caught.

‘Your sister will at last be vindicated,’ said Sophie, who had heard all about Katie’s ordeal at the hands of Martin Goss.

‘Yes.’ A look of satisfaction crossed his face. ‘She is no longer in service, so in one way it no longer matters, but she will still be delighted to know that no one will now believe she stole that wretched bracelet.’

‘And Gladys, too, will be vindicated,’ said Cicely. ‘I will make sure that news of Goss’s arrest reaches everyone who attended the ball at Oakleigh Manor, so that no one will be left with any suspicions about her honesty.’

‘A very satisfying evening,’ said Mrs Lessing, relaxing now that it had come to a close.

The servants came in to remove the tray and Alex rose.

‘Very satisfying,’ he agreed. ‘But now, it’s late. I must be getting back to Karlsbad.’

‘Must you go so soon?’ asked Sophie.

He gave her a tolerant smile. ‘It is almost
two o’clock
. Good night,’ he said to Mrs Lessing. He turned to Cicely. His eyes lingered on hers. ‘Good night,’ he said softly.

‘Good night,’ she returned.

And then he was gone.

Alone in her room some half an hour later, Cicely began to tidy away her things. She had dropped her aunt’s black coat and hat on the bed when she had returned from the
Kurhaus
and, as the maid had not been into her room since then, she knew she must put them away before she could settle down to sleep. She arranged her aunt’s coat over the back of the chair that stood in front of the dressing table and then picked up the matching hat.

She remembered the moment when he veil had caught on her hat pin outside the
Kurhaus
and the way in which Alex’s hand had brushed hers as they had both tried to free it. The memory of it was so strong that she could almost feel the touch of his fingers even now.

She longed for things to be different; for Alex to believe in her as she believed in him; and Eugenie to be nothing to him. But it would not be wise to encourage such wishful thinking.

She brought her thoughts back to the present and carried the hat over to the wardrobe - and then stopped suddenly, her heart pounding in her chest. For there, in the corner, almost hidden by the shadows next to the wardrobe, was a dark figure, unfolding itself from its hiding place. She stood still, frozen, and then backed away, even as her eyes widened in fear. For there, pushing himself out of the shadows was  . . . Martin Goss.

‘No,’ she gasped. ‘It can’t be.’

‘Can’t be what?’ he asked menacingly, stepping forward into the candlelight.

His appearance was immaculate. His double-breasted jacket with its long tails, wing-collared shirt, tailored trousers and flat pumps, were the hallmark of a civilised gentleman. But his blue eyes held an evil gleam.

Cicely’s eyes dropped to his hands. He was holding something between them. It was the sash from one of her evening dresses. As she watched, he stretched it between his hands, wrapping one end round each hand in a menacing manner before snapping it in the most alarming way.

There was no doubting his purpose. He was no longer content with theft. He meant to strangle her. But how had he known she was involved? And how had he known where to find her? And how had he escaped from the detectives? She wanted to know the answers to those questions, but even more she wanted to make him talk to her so that she would have time to try and think of a way out of the terrible situation.

‘How did you find me?’ she asked.

He gave a crooked smile. ‘Find you? I didn’t find
you
- that was just a lucky chance. I found - or wanted to find - Miss Lessing.’ His voice became hard. ‘Because the charming Miss Lessing set a trap for me.’

‘How . . . ’ Cicely’s voice was quavering. ‘How did you know?’ she asked, wondering where their plan had gone wrong.

‘As soon as the detectives revealed themselves I knew I’d been had, and it didn’t take me long to work out who’d had me. The oh-so-charming Miss Lessing, who just happened to bump into me on the promenade and just happened to invite me to her mother’s dinner party, before inducing me to take her outside, where she conveniently lost her tiara whilst appearing to swoon. It was a good set-up. It’s just a pity - for you - the detectives weren’t up to the job. They thought they’d got me, but once outside I gave them the slip. And then I wanted revenge.’

‘But how did you find the villa?’ demanded Cicely. ‘You had no way of knowing where Miss Lessing lived.’

‘Hadn’t I, though? I had already made it my business to find out - although I must admit, it was originally for different purposes. I’m in low water, and Miss Lessing is a pretty young heiress; moreover, a pretty young heiress who’d taken a fancy to me - or at least, that’s how it seemed when she bumped into me on the promenade. I thought she was the answer to my prayers.

‘So as soon as I’d accepted her invitation to the dinner party I made it my business to discover where she lived. In fact, I found out all about her. Where she went, what she did, what she liked and disliked, and - oh, yes - what kind of dowry she was likely to have.’

‘So you intended to marry her,’ said Cicely, realizing that this was why Goss had made so many enquiries.

‘I did.’ His eyes hardened. ‘Until she played me for a fool, and nearly put me in prison. Whereupon I intended to extract my revenge. I sneaked into the house - not difficult, as you were all out and only a handful of old servants were left behind - and found the young lady’s room, intending to pay her back for what she had tried to do to me. It wasn’t hard to tell which one was hers. It had a lot of pretty clothes in the wardrobe, the sort a young lady would wear - only at the time I didn’t realize there were two young ladies in the house.

‘Until you walked into the room. And then, in a blinding flash, I saw the whole thing. That you were behind it, and Miss Lessing was just doing what she was told. I should have seen it coming. Miss Lessing had no reason to trap me. She didn’t even know me. But you did. You were there at the Manor, and you knew who was really behind the theft of the necklace. So you decided to set a trap.’

‘You deserved it,’ said Cicely recklessly. ‘You caused an innocent young girl to be accused of your crime.’

He made a derogatory exclamation. ‘Innocent young girl? She was a maid. What did it matter? You of all people should know that servants don’t count.’

‘They count every bit as much as you and I,’ said Cicely hotly, realizing that Alex had had some reason to take against the landed classes. Goss was everything that was corrupt and disgraceful.

He sneered. ‘Every bit as much as you, perhaps,’ he said, flexing the scarf between his hands again. ‘But no one matters as much as me.’

He took a step towards her and Cicely shrank back. Her hand went instinctively to her neck.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said with an evil sneer. ‘It won’t hurt - much.’

He lunged towards her and she held up the hat in a useless gesture of defence . . . and then saw the candlelight gleaming on the head of the hat pin. She was saved! If only she could pull it out in time . . .

He closed the distance between them, throwing the scarf round her neck and pulling it tight. She fought down an impulse to raise her hands to her throat and instead focused all her energies on drawing the wicked long pin out of the hat. It flashed momentarily in the candlelight as she pulled it free, and then she brought it down with all the strength she could muster, driving it into his hand.

He let out an exclamation of pain and she felt the pressure go from her neck as he dropped the scarf and clutched his injured hand, which was dripping with blood.

‘You little . . . !’ he shouted.

Eyes watering, coughing and wheezing as she gasped in lungfuls of air, Cicely nevertheless braced herself for a renewed attack. She held the hat pin aloft, ready to defend herself.

Martin looked at the wicked pin and then at Cicely’s determined face. His eyes went beyond her, over her shoulder to the door.

For one moment, Cicely was tempted to step out of the way. If his route to the door was clear she felt he would make his escape. She nearly moved aside. But then she remembered that Sophie and Mrs Lessing were in the villa. If Goss should come upon them, there was no telling what he would do. She raised the pin still higher and stood her ground.

His eyes blazed with rage. Then, darting suddenly over to the window he threw it open and climbed out.

Cicely willed herself to follow him but she felt dizzy and weak, and knew she would never be able to climb out of the window in her present condition. She was still not breathing properly, her throat being bruised and sore, and without proper lungfuls of air she could do no more than collapse onto the bed.

But at least he had been foiled. He had not managed to harm her. Nor would he be able to harm Sophie or her aunt. She must content herself with that thought, she realized, as the pin dropped out of her nerveless fingers and fell to the floor.

Outside in the drive, Alex was finishing his cigar. He had not smoked inside as he knew Mrs Lessing did not like it, but he had lit a cigar on leaving the villa. He was making it last as long as possible because he was loth to go. He did not want to leave Cicely. He wanted to stride back into the villa, take the stairs three at a time to her room, throw open her door and demand that she give up the idea of marrying Lord Chuffington.

His cigar finished, he threw the butt down onto the drive and ground it beneath his foot, as he wanted to grind anyone who threatened to take Cicely away from him.

The strength of his feelings took him by surprise. He had never felt so strongly about anyone before, but Cicely provoked in him all manner of new emotions. She was the most surprising, perplexing yet adorable woman he had ever met, and she drove him to distraction.

If only he could go back into the villa . . . But he knew he could not. Even though his cigar was now finished, he could not bring himself to leave. He walked round to the side of the villa, looking up at the windows.

He was behaving like a lovesick boy, he thought uncomfortably. And yet he could not help himself.

He wondered which room was hers.

A moment later he had his answer, as he could see her graceful figure silhouetted against the blind at the last window. Her hand was raised. She must be about to unpin her hair. How long was it? he wondered. Strands of her hair had come loose on several occasions, and he had revelled in the sensuous feel of them beneath his hand as he had pushed them back into place, but he did not know exactly how long her tresses were. Would they fall to her shoulders when her hair was unpinned? he wondered longingly. Halfway down her back? Or to her waist?

But no. She was not unpinning her hair, he realized with a frown. What, then, was she doing? She was standing in a most unnatural attitude, leaning backwards as though she were in fear of being attacked. He was immediately alert. Something was wrong. His instinct was confirmed a moment later when he saw a second figure outlined at the window, the figure of a man.

He began to run towards the window, covering the ground with long strides. Then the window was thrown open and the man, whoever he was, climbed out.

Alex froze for a second as he recognised the gleaming blond hair of Martin Goss in the moonlight.

Goss? Here? But how?

There was no time for further thought. In one fluid movement he moved to intercept him, tackling him as he dropped to the ground. There was a scuffle, and then Alex ended it with a well-placed blow.