Mystery by the Sea: An utterly addictive English cozy mystery (A Lady Eleanor Swift Mystery Book 5)

by Verity Bright

  Eleanor threw Clifford a discreet look, which he acknowledged with a barely perceptible nod. She put a hand on the young girl’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Polly, I think there is a way we can make sure you can remember your visit. But you’ll have to wait until the last room, alright?’

  ‘Thank you, your ladyship.’ She bobbed a curtsey and went over to Mrs Butters, who gave the young girl’s cheeks a squeeze before straightening her hat and tidying her scarf.

  Eleanor turned to Clifford. ‘Please make sure you purchase the glossiest guidebook in the gift shop at the end. Whatever the price. The household accounts will survive that one tiny extravagance, even on top of the new pair of slippers we owe the ladies’ landlady.’

  ‘It was already on my to-do list, my lady,’ he said, pulling a small sheet covered in meticulous writing from his pocket.

  ‘So thoughtful, as always. Right, now we are sure this is the right place, let’s see what other clues the guide can give us.’

  But almost two hours later, having passed through the dramatic music room, the opulent red drawing room and myriad gold reception rooms, Clifford and Eleanor had found no more clues. As they entered the King’s Apartments, they shook their heads at each other. The guide was, to Eleanor’s mind, making a meal of finishing up his over-loquacious talk for the afternoon.

  ‘Although it is, of course, now the People’s Palace. It was sold by Queen Victoria to Brighton Council in 1850 for the princely sum of fifty-three thousand pounds.’ This drew a gasp from the crowd.

  ‘Fancy that, Trotters,’ Mrs Butters said, nudging the cook in the ribs.

  The guide finally appeared to be winding up. ‘Unfortunately, we have run out of time to explore the last snippet of the Pavilion’s history as the next tour party is assembling. What was that?’ The guide leaned in towards a tall angular man in tweeds standing next to Polly. He listened for a moment, replied in a similarly quiet tone and then nodded, before addressing the crowd again. ‘I hope you have enjoyed your visit to the Pavilion today. Please take time to stroll around the wonderful gardens before you leave.’

  As the crowd dispersed, Eleanor caught Polly’s whisperings to Mrs Butters.

  ‘That doesn’t sound right at all. It can’t be that the guide gentleman is wrong because he’s so clever, Mrs Butters, but he and the tall gentleman said that the Pavilion was borrowed. I thought you only borrowed favours, or flour, or such like?’

  Eleanor spun round, but Clifford was already heading towards the tall gentleman. He was soon in deep discussion, nodding and following the direction of the man’s earnest pointing and gesticulating. Clifford shook the man’s hand, who strode off in the direction of the exit.

  Eleanor hurried up to Clifford.

  ‘So?’ she said eagerly.

  ‘The gentleman has been of great assistance. He has provided further information relating to the rhyme on the photograph.’

  Before he could say any more, the three ladies joined them, chattering enthusiastically.

  ‘It was wonderful, wasn’t it?’ Eleanor said. ‘Shall we top it off with one more treat? I suggest ice cream.’ While Polly clapped in glee, Eleanor pointed through the exit to a candy-striped awning. ‘Mrs Butters, would you like to secure us five seats in the ice-cream parlour over there, please? Clifford and I will join you in a moment.’

  Once the ladies had gone, she rejoined Clifford, who was paying for a large, glossy guide to the Pavilion.

  ‘For Polly,’ he said.

  ‘Perfect. Now, please tell me what you were talking to that man about before I explode with curiosity. “Something borrowed” was it? That’s the third line of the rhyme!’

  He nodded. ‘The gentleman confirmed that the Pavilion was indeed, recently, “borrowed”.’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s a palace. Who borrows a palace for goodness’ sake?’

  ‘The army, my lady. Between 1914 and 1916, the Town Council loaned the building to be used for Indian soldiers who had been wounded on the battlefields of the Western Front. It was a suggestion of the king himself. He believed the orientally inspired architecture would make them feel at home and therefore convalesce more quickly.’ He glanced back at the mishmash of domes and towers. ‘I’m not sure it didn’t just confuse them, but you cannot disparage his majesty’s generous sentiment.’

  She frowned. ‘So what has that got to do with anything we’ve discovered so far? What was Hilary trying to tell me?’

  Clifford slipped the guide into his jacket pocket. ‘Hopefully, the answer will come to you as you devour, what was it, “scandalous amounts” of ice cream?’

  She laughed. ‘Hilary obviously didn’t know me as well as I imagined. There isn’t a single mention of food in any of his clues.’

  Thirty-Eight

  After having waved off the ladies, they both turned up their collars against the now raw March wind that yanked spitefully at Eleanor’s red curls like a petulant sibling.

  ‘At least it makes you feel alive,’ she said. ‘Unlike poor Hilary and Bert Blunt.’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, I need the restorative of a long walk, Clifford. And before you say anything, it is not on account of the amount of ice cream I’ve just eaten.’

  ‘Of course not, my lady,’ he said, falling in step slightly behind her. ‘Perhaps it was the three rounds of breakfast? Or the oysters and champagne? Or the hearty lunch and extra-large dessert? However, perhaps a hike across the South Downs might just counter the effects of all three? They are not as high as the Himalayas, but could suffice for a digestion soothing constitutional?’

  She tried to give him a withering look, but ruined the effect by laughing at the same time. ‘Shall we concentrate on our recent discoveries, rather than my overeating?’

  He coughed. ‘Apologies, my lady. Where shall we start?’

  ‘At the beginning. “Something old, something new”?’

  He shook his head. ‘Still a mystery.’

  ‘“Something borrowed, something blue”?’

  He nodded. ‘Easier. The Pavilion.’

  ‘“And sixpence in her hand”?’

  He nodded again. ‘Easier still. The price of admission to the Pavilion.’

  ‘Right. So all the clues we’ve deciphered so far point to the Pavilion.’ She frowned. ‘Which means?’

  ‘Assuming the clues are designed to lead us to the item everyone seeks, the Pavilion is undoubtedly not where Mr Eden hid it.’ He gave his customary half bow, leaving Eleanor frowning furiously. He then opened the scrollwork iron gate in front of them. ‘Victoria Gardens, my lady. The trees will provide a substantial windbreak.’ He gestured forwards along the wide, hard-formed path, neatly edged with low wire fencing to preserve the abundant beds and immaculate swathes of lawn beyond.

  They walked on in silence for a few minutes, Eleanor desperate to ask how he had come to the conclusion about the Pavilion, but equally desperate to work it out for herself. She therefore missed the gardens artistically shaped beds of early-flowering sea pinks, planted along low clipped box and cotoneaster hedges. She also missed the long lines of soft pink and purple hellebores woven between snake-thin maple saplings. At the expansive rockery covered in clusters of yellow cinquefoil and pale-green euphorbia, she stopped and turned to him.

  ‘Okay, I give up.’

  He coughed. ‘I cannot be certain, obviously, my lady, but it seems Mr Eden risked, and regrettably, lost his life for something we cannot as yet fathom. The clues on your wedding photograph must lead to the answer or Mr Eden, if you will forgive me for saying so, had a very inappropriate sense of humour.’

  Despite herself, she smiled. ‘Gallows humour, I’d call it.’

  ‘Exactly, my lady.’

  Understanding dawned in Eleanor’s eyes. ‘Ah! You’re right, of course. Hilary wouldn’t have risked it being that easy to figure out. The Pavilion is, what, a blind?’

  Clifford shook his head slowly. ‘I believe not, my lady. If a single clue pointed to it, perhaps. I guess, and it is a gu
ess, that it is no more than one link, if an important one, in the chain of clues that will lead to… ’ He spread his hands and shrugged.

  Eleanor resumed walking. ‘Well, the only way to find out is to get to the next “link”. So let’s tackle the first part we don’t know. “Something old.”’ She glanced around. ‘That could be anything. Almost all the buildings along the promenade, or… or a church? There must be heaps of old churches.’

  He nodded. ‘Heaps, as you put it, my lady.’

  ‘Let’s hope it’s not that then. That would take weeks, and we’ve got what feels like a rapidly shortening candle’s worth of time before the killer escapes with the item.’

  ‘Or kills again?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Her brow creased. ‘Have I got something on my face, Clifford? You are looking at me most oddly.’

  ‘No, my lady. I am merely trying to imagine what Mr Eden might have thought you would most likely think of in relation to the clues he provided.’

  She winced. ‘I thought we’d established he didn’t have the chance to get to know me very well, hence the lack of food references. We were only together for a matter of months in truth.’

  ‘It is not always a matter of time, my lady,’ he said gently. ‘Some people are more… transparent than others, if you will forgive my observation.’ He aligned the perfectly straight seam of his leather gloves. ‘Actually, I meant honest. And open.’

  She cocked her head. ‘You mean we’ve been looking at the rhyme the wrong way?’

  ‘Possibly.’ He cleared his throat. ‘From the day you arrived at Henley Hall, my lady, it has been fairly simple to glean a reasonable insight into your thoughts.’

  ‘Worrying as that fact is, good shout, Clifford. Let’s change tack and try to think like Hilary would have thought I would think.’ She shook her head. ‘Confusing as that is.’

  ‘Possibly doubly confusing as Mr Eden must have been under a lot of stress, likely knowing he did not have much time, or indeed leeway, to put together his coded message on the photograph.’

  The rest of the gardens passed in a blur as Eleanor tramped along, rattling off everything that sprung to mind that could be the ‘something old’. And then when they’d tired of that line of thought, anything that could be the ‘something new’.

  As they neared a low iron gate, Clifford stopped and looked around. ‘It seems we have both been distracted and have criss-crossed the park several times and arrived back at the Pavilion, albeit at a different point. One moment while I get my bearings… Ah! We are at the southern end, I believe, my lady.’

  ‘Excuse me, please,’ a man’s voice said. ‘I do beg your pardon for interrupting, but this is a works site.’

  Eleanor turned to see a slender Indian man, dressed in a smart blue suit, topped with a protective calico jacket.

  ‘What works, can I ask?’

  ‘For the new gateway, miss.’

  ‘New,’ she repeated, staring at Clifford, ‘gateway?’

  The man nodded and smiled broadly. ‘To honour the Indian soldiers who came to the hospitals in Brighton, including those who had the privilege of being treated in the Pavilion itself. His Highness the Maharaja of Patiala will perform the ceremony of unveiling and dedicating the new gateway and presenting it to the Corporation of Brighton for the use of its inhabitants.’

  Eleanor looked round at the initial diggings and piles of beautiful hand-cut cream stone.

  ‘When is the unveiling to be held?’

  ‘In October, miss, seven months away. But we have much work to do. I must complete my survey, if you will be so kind as to step on past the sign.’

  ‘Sign?’

  He pointed to a green board emblazoned with large white block-printed lettering. ‘The one that asks most politely if visitors to the gardens would not cross beyond this line.’ He grinned at her. ‘But perhaps we should have made it larger?’

  ‘Apologies, we were somewhat distracted,’ Clifford said.

  ‘Even more so now,’ Eleanor muttered as they moved away. ‘Do you think this could be the “something new”, Clifford?’

  ‘Perhaps. The gateway’s intended purpose is related to the “something borrowed” element of the Pavilion. As the gentleman said, it is to honour the Indian soldiers treated there, among others.’

  She peered past his shoulder. ‘Mind you, it’s so new it’s nothing but two holes in the ground and a few poles driven in as markers. I’m not convinced. The only place he could have hidden anything would be in one of those holes.’

  Clifford spoke to the man again and returned. ‘It seems the holes were only made this morning.’

  She sighed. ‘Then I think we’ll treat this as a red herring for the moment and keep on looking, but I feel we’re running out of options. And time.’

  Thirty-Nine

  Despite the cutting wind and failing light, they took one more tour of Victoria Gardens in the hope of inspiration striking, but to no avail. Back outside the Pavilion where they had started, they called it a day and headed towards the Grand.

  Before they had gone twenty paces, the sound of high-pitched giggling made Eleanor wince. Walking towards them were three young ladies accompanied by an older man, obviously their chaperone. Eleanor gauged they were not yet in their twenties, and they looked as if they had all stepped from the front cover of a society magazine. Toting rolled up pink-and-cream parasols, the young women were deep in conversation.

  ‘But I missed his visit,’ the tallest of the three wailed as they came to a stop only a few steps from Eleanor and Clifford. ‘How often does one have such a distinguished visitor in one’s home town, not to mention a royal one? Oh, I can’t believe Hubert had booked a trip for us to see Aunt Matilda over those two days. Brothers! I could scream!’

  Eleanor hid a smile.

  ‘Esme dear,’ the shortest of the three said, ‘you missed out “handsome, witty, charming and next in line to the throne”. To say nothing of utterly delicious.’ This brought on more high-pitched giggles from the other two.

  The third girl spoke. ‘Do you know, though, I still don’t know why he was here.’

  ‘Apparently to unveil some dreadfully dull new memorial,’ Esme said. ‘Something to do with the war, they always are.’

  Eleanor’s ears had pricked up. There’s that word ‘new’ again, Ellie! She thought fast and stepped in front of them. ‘Forgive my disgraceful eavesdropping, ladies, but I heard the words “handsome” and “charming” and my stomach filled with butterflies. Are you talking about who I think you are?’

  ‘Oh yes, he was here,’ the taller of the young women answered. She twirled in a circle. ‘Edward, Prince of Wales, no less! And Ophelia and I managed to get into the evening ball, while Esme was stuck drinking warm milk with her aged aunt.’

  ‘Poor thing. She’ll probably never recover.’ They turned to Esme, who was still pouting.

  Eleanor threw the young woman her best sympathetic look. ‘You must be most sore you missed the chance to dance with him.’

  ‘Oh no more than my friends,’ Esme replied, brightening. ‘These two may have wheedled their way into the ball, but they were relegated to the upper balcony. Lucky no one noticed how much they were dribbling down onto the dance floor.’

  The others stared at her for a split second before all three clutched each other and walked on, still shrieking and giggling. Their chaperone gave Eleanor a long-suffering look, tipped his hat, and followed them.

  ‘His royal highness had a most honourable reason for visiting,’ a familiar voice said.

  Eleanor started, but then smiled at the surveyor they had spoken to earlier. ‘You heard their conversation too then?’

  ‘It is my humble estimation, miss, that most of the occupants of the park may have done so.’ He bobbed his head. ‘No disrespect intended.’

  She laughed. ‘None supposed. Well, assuming my ears can still function, would you mind telling us why exactly the Prince of Wales was in Brighton?’

  ‘It wo
uld be my pleasure. His highness is a most honourable gentleman who wishes to continue the good relations between our countries and our citizens. As do the people of Brighton who have raised a considerable sum. Not only for the Pavilion Gate we are building but also for another new memorial called the “Chattri”. It is the memorial one of the young ladies mentioned. It’s English translation is “umbrella” or “canopy”.’

  Her heart skipped. ‘And this memorial, it’s built? I mean finished?’

  ‘Yes, indeed.’

  ‘And is it connected to the Pavilion?’ Clifford asked tentatively.

  ‘Oh very much so, sir. It is a most gratifying memorial to the brave soldiers from my country who did not recover, despite the generous medical care afforded at the Pavilion while it was a hospital.’

  ‘That is truly wonderful,’ Eleanor said genuinely. ‘And is it… really new?’

  The surveyor nodded enthusiastically. ‘So new, it is not yet appearing on any maps. There has not even been time to build a proper path to it.’

  You can’t get much newer than that, Ellie!

  ‘And where is it located?’ Clifford asked. ‘And how do we find it, if it is not on any map?’

  The surveyor pointed over the town towards the South Downs. ‘It is situated up on the hills, overlooking the town and sea on the spot where the soldiers were cremated. It is a beautifully, peaceful setting, five and a half miles north from this very spot. But you will have to get directions from the tourist office as there is only a footpath from the town and it is hard to find if you do not know it.’

  Once out of earshot, Eleanor turned to Clifford.

  ‘Could the Chattri be the “something new” do you think?’

  Clifford thought for a moment. ‘Might I ask, if it is not prying, if you ever mentioned your late uncle’s military service abroad to Mr Eden?’

  She shrugged. ‘I didn’t know that much about it before I came to live at the Hall. I told Hilary all I knew about Uncle Byron spending a lot of time in India, though. And that I had been there on my travels as well.’