The de Vere Deception (David Thorne Mysteries Book 1) (10 page)

            “Moldar insisted Llewellyn’s design include a Keep as the main element of the castle. The Keep was to serve as a fortified bastion as well as quarters for the queen, her guards, and staff. It was designed to be the last line of defense when attacked or laid siege to.

            “Moldar was sure when the fame of the virtually impregnable grand castle, built especially for her and her alone, spread throughout England, the queen was sure to visit. He appealed to Lord Cecil Burghley, chief spokesman and administrative head of Queen Elizabeth’s government, to suggest she come to Kilshire, but to no avail. Moldar was confused. Surely, Lord Burghley was aware of the value of the generous contributions by the House of Moldar to the Crown.

            “Unfortunately, for Moldar, and despite Lord Burghley’s urgings, Queen Elizabeth continued to ignore him, his wife Diana, their grand manor—and the castle. She told intimates she simply didn’t like the commoner Moldar and his dull, graceless and unpleasant personality.

            “Because of her disinterest, the queen’s Keep remained unoccupied for the remaining fifteen years of Moldar’s life. Even though the queen’s chambers were never used, Moldar insisted they were to be kept spotless. Linens were changed daily, the floor was swept and firewood was kept at the ready next to the fireplace. Moldar spent many hours alone in the Keep looking out the window in the direction of the main gate. To the consternation of his wife, he eventually moved his bed into the apartment and spent the nights there alone.

            “When Moldar referred to it as Queen Elizabeth’s Keep or the queen’s Keep, the servants laughed behind their hands and referred to it as Moldar’s Keep. Ever hopeful to the end, he was said to have asked on his deathbed—there in the queen’s Keep—‘Is there any word from my queen’?”

            “The rumor that Richard Moldar’s ghost still haunts the upper floors of the queen’s Keep is well-known among the people of the surrounding countryside. It is said to this day he still roams the Keep with a candle on dark nights, preparing for Queen Elizabeth’s eminent visit.

Chapter 18

STRATFORD-UPON-AVON

Monday, November 29

3:15 PM

The imposing Bada manor house was set back from the main road at least a thousand feet and was built in the Tudor style, prevalent during the Elizabethan era. The four-story high structure was clad in white stucco with exposed dark half-timbers, strap works, and twisted masonry chimneys in keeping with the Tudor style. It was set on a low hill, and was the most imposing structure in the area, and was prominently visible against the blue sky to the east of the castle .

            The brooding hulk of Kilshire Castle was set down the hill next to the River Avon, a quarter mile away from the manor house.  There were wharves up and down the river from the castle, and were once used for commerce. Now they only accommodated tour boats. The large quay was made of the same stone as the castle.

A curved driveway lined with now leafless two hundred year old majestic Black Poplars, wound its way up the hill to the manor house. It ended at a spacious cobblestone motor court at the entrance to the covered Grand Portico. In the center of the motor court, marble Italian figures frolicked in the center of a large quatrefoil-shaped stone fountain. The portico and the Italian-style fountain were not in the character of sixteenth century Tudor architecture, and were obviously added later.

            The Bentley pulled to a stop at the foot of the wide marble stairway leading up to the covered portico. The driver unloaded the luggage as Thorne and Freddie stepped from the car.

            A tall, straight-backed man in a butler’s uniform was standing under the covered portico. He directed two men to help the driver with the luggage.” Pleased to have you with us, Mr. Thorne. I do hope you’ll be comfortable,” he said with a broad smile.

            This was the second cheerful and pleasant English butler he had met recently. He even knew Thorne’s name. Maybe the movies had it all wrong about English butlers being unsmiling, stiff-necked snobs. The butler said, “Mr. Bada wanted you to have ground floor accommodations since you’ll be visiting the castle at odd times and may not want to be disturbed in your comings and goings.”

            Freddie walked down a long hallway with Thorne to a large room at the rear of the house. “Gil wants to welcome you to dinner tonight. I have business in the bookstore and I can’t be here tonight. Gil will have returned from Birmingham in time for dinner, and after dinner, you’ll get lined out on the upcoming meeting at the castle. I’ll see you tomorrow at the castle.”

            Thorne said, “Thanks, Freddie, I appreciate all your efforts.”

            Thorne surveyed the large bedroom. An entire wall was covered with oak bookcases full of leather-bound books. An imposing king-size bed faced a view of the wood out the rear of the house.

            He unpacked and found a large comfortable chair in front of the fireplace. He read only part of the front page of the
London Times
before dropping it in his lap and dozing off to sleep.

A light knock on the door aroused him and a soft feminine voice said, “Dinner will be served in an hour, Mr. Thorne.”

            He rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch and answered,. “Thank you.” He went to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, and combed his hair. He straightened his tie and went out into the broad hallway.

            As he proceeded to the dining room he passed through the spacious entry foyer with an enormous chandelier that dominated the space. Opposite the large entry doors was a wide central stairway that split at the top and shorter rungs of stairs went up on either side. A large tapestry of a hunting scene framed the top of the stairway landing. A Lalique table holding a large fresh flower arrangement was centered under the chandelier on the black and white tiled floor. The furnishings throughout the house could best be described as tastefully contemporary traditional, not what would have been found in the manor two hundred years ago. The only things that seemed out of place were the dark and aged portraits of past Moldar and Bada family members.

            The dining room was a large wood paneled room with a long table in the center flanked on either side by ornate sideboards. The table was covered with a lace-edged, white linen tablecloth, and mounds of fresh flower arrangements were interspersed between three large brass candlestick holders spread in a line down the center of the table. Three large chandeliers hung from the carved wood-beamed ceiling over the festive dining table.

            Small groups of people stood about, chatting amiably around the large dining room. Conversations ceased as a tall, attractive blonde woman wearing a stylish pink St. John’s Knit suit and lots of jewelry swept into the room.

            She flashed a bright smile of even white teeth behind a red mouth. “Well, isn’t this just too marvelous. All our dear friends in one room at the same time. Who could have wished for more?” She sought out Thorne and extended her hand. “Mr. Thorne, I’m Gil’s wife, Andrea. We’ve heard so much about Gil’s good friend from America. I do hope you’ve found your accommodations to be comfortable.”

            “Thank you, Mrs. Bada, The accommodations are wonderful.”

            “Oh, please, do call me Andrea—all my friends do,” she bubbled.

            Andrea immediately turned her attention to the direction of heightened activity of the dinner guests gathered at the large double doors. She bent to Thorne and whispered enthusiastically, “Our star arrives.”

            The group parted and a young, dark-haired woman in a wheelchair emerged. It was Gweneth Bada. She was pushed in the direction of Andrea and Thorne by Charles, the driver who had driven him and Freddie up from London. Thorne moved aside as she approached.

            Andrea looked at a diamond-encrusted watch on her thin wrist. “You’re a bit late. I thought you might not be coming, Gwennie. How did the therapy go today?”

            Gweneth Bada’s dark eyes were fixed on a spot over Andrea’s shoulder.

            “Oh, about the same. My leg still hurts—same as before.” She laughed softly. “The great thing about it is it feels so good when they stop jerking it around.”

            Andrea said with mock seriousness, “Oh, Gwennie, I’m so sorry I couldn’t join you in those marvelous festivities.” Both bent over and sputtered with laughter like a couple of schoolgirls.

            Thorne was perplexed at the casual attitude about the young woman’s injuries.

            After the two had stopped laughing, Andrea turned to Thorne. “Gwennie, I want to introduce you to Mr. David Thorne. He’s Gil’s friend from America.”

            “Hello again, Mr. Thorne. It’s good to have you with us.” Her small round face broke into a warm smile.” Please call me Gwen, everyone does.”

            Thorne was amused by the ever-present “. . . all my friends do . . .” attitude of the usually staid Brits. He assumed the reason was people living a geographically insular life would tend toward similar habits.

            “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Gwen. Please call me David.”

            Andrea moved to the head of the table. “Well, now that we’re all on a first name basis, I think we should separate ourselves from all these formal types. Come over here and sit across from us.”

            Gweneth’s wheelchair was pushed into a vacant spot next to Andrea. “Thank you, Charles. Would you please get me a wrap from the closet?” The big man nodded and left.

            Andrea leaned over and said, “Mr. Thorne—David—we want to capture you for Gwennie’s and my benefit tonight. Down at the other end of the table, they’ll be talking about sport most of the evening. We want to hear all about America.”

            Gilbert Bada entered with two men, and as they sat, he came down the table to where Thorne, Andrea, and Gweneth were sitting. Thorne stood as he approached, and shook Bada’s hand.

            “Well, David,” said Bada, “it appears you’ve been captured by two of the more attractive members of our dinner party. My loss. Freddie tells me you and I are set to meet in the Library after dinner.” He bent and kissed Andrea and Gweneth respectively on their foreheads, and he returned to the other end of the table where he engaged in conversation with the two men he had come with.

            During the dinner of French onion soup, roast Grouse and Chateaubriand, Bada introduced Thorne and the two men who had arrived with him, who turned out to be wine collectors.

            Andrea whispered to Thorne, “Now, this is exciting. Gilbert tells me he’s bought two bottles of the 1868 Chateau Latour.“ She laughed and said, “I don’t know if it’s any good or not. All I know is it costs about five-thousand pounds a bottle. She nudged Gweneth and said, “I’m going to have to watch your brother. He’s going to send us to the poorhouse with his wine collecting. Me? I’d just as soon stay with my Dom Pérignon Rosé. It’s only a dinky little nine hundred pounds a bottle. Cheap.” Both tried but couldn’t suppress a laugh.

            Throughout dinner, when Andrea and Gweneth weren’t peppering Thorne with questions about architecture, American cinema and customs, they were gossiping and laughing about people they had known during their days as students at boarding school. They even made jokes about Moldar and the supposedly haunted castle.

            Gweneth said, “Andrea was always around, so naturally she and Gilbert got married. What else was he going to do, call a constable and have her removed?” She snickered and Andrea joined her. Thorne had the impression he was listening to two young schoolgirls being silly.

            He noticed Gwen laughed a lot, a natural, tinkling laugh that seemed to be an integral part of her personality. One would not have expected such an attitude from one cut down in the prime of her young life, and possibly handicapped for the remainder of it.

            When a glass of Bada’s vintage champagne was poured for him, Thorne took a perfunctory sip and set the glass down. He didn’t like champagne or wine no matter how special it was. It reminded him too much of the times back in Chicago when his former wife had tried to get him to conform to her weekend lifestyle of cheese and wine tasting.

            But as the evening passed, his attention was riveted on Andrea and Gweneth. He hadn’t spent much time with women for a long while and their laughter, friendly repartee and reminisces—as silly as they were— made for a pleasant evening. He couldn’t remember when he’d enjoyed himself, and the company, so much.

Chapter 19

After dinner, Bada took Thorne down a broad hallway lined with antique chairs and dark paintings of still lifes and landscapes set in ornate gilded frames. At the end of the hallway they entered through a large pair of wood paneled doors into a large two-story room half the size of a basketball court. A spiral staircase led up to a narrow balcony and bookshelves filled with old, leather-bound books, and secured behind glass-fronted doors. The shelves on the main floor were open, and included a trove of leather-bound books devoted to Shakespeare and de Vere, Bacon, Marlowe, Spenser, Milton, Descartes, Spinoza, Locke and other major and minor philosophers. A small section was reserved for contemporary books in colorful dust jackets.

            Thorne had seen libraries of this size and opulence, but most had been in museums in major cities. His mind drifted, thinking how many people it would require to keep it clean and in order.

            In an opposite corner of the room Bada’s high-backed, tufted black leather executive chair was ensconced behind an antique carved walnut desk. Behind the desk was a credenza of contemporary design with three monitors, a computer keyboard, papers, journals, and books in orderly stacks.

            Bada went to a sideboard and poured a snifter of brandy. Thorne declined the brandy, and Bada motioned for Thorne to take one of the leather chairs fronting the desk. “You would have seen the castle and adjacent buildings when you drove in today. I’m sure you noticed the new fifteen hundred square meter building south of the castle. During the demolition and construction stages the building will be used for storage.”