Murder at Mondial Castle

by Issy Brooke

  “Absolutely. He’s an annoying distraction, nothing more.”

  “He’s a distraction that keeps turning up. He will try to bleed you dry for as long as he knows you have money. You can’t hide it from your husband for ever, you know.”

  “I rather think that I can. I’m going to try. Surely when Wilson’s old enough to earn his own living, Alfred will have no more excuses to come and beg for money.”

  “You don’t believe that. I don’t,” said Harriet. “He’ll dog you till you die unless you wash your hands of him completely.”

  “And that I cannot do. You know that and you can hardly be encouraging me to be so unchristian, surely?”

  “Oh no, of course not. I mean me, in your position, I’d be an absolute saint, of course. But we’re different people and I make concessions to people like you.”

  “Harriet!” Adelia gasped, not sure if she was even joking.

  Her friend burst out laughing. “Why are you so serious? You wouldn’t usually take that sort of thing to heart.” Then her face fell. “Forgive me. The matter of the murder is still a heavy burden on you. Tell me everything.”

  “There is much to tell and it’s not good.”

  “I am here for you. Go on.”

  Adelia spilled out her heart once more, and wondered at what point would a worry shared become a worry halved because so far, she wasn’t feeling any better at all.

  Twenty-three

  Once Adelia had left their rooms after unveiling her suspicions and speculations, Theodore had remained in silence and solitude for a few hours. He poked his head out of the room from time to time, aware of increasing numbers of people arriving for the garden party. It was happening the very next day. Once again he felt a surge of anger as he thought about Mondial’s pressing need to have everything carry on as normal.

  Nothing here was normal!

  He had no desire to join the growing crowds of people milling about the castle. He was aware that another of his daughters, the sweet Mary, was hoping to arrive and he had left instructions that he was to be informed the minute she crossed the threshold. However, the nature of her delicate constitution made last-minute changes to her plans often unavoidable and so far he had received no word.

  So there was little reason to join the others yet. He was also afraid that if he encountered Mondial, he would speak his mind and show his cards too soon. But Adelia had been wise to counsel caution. His best chance for justice and to ensure the safety of his daughter lay in using his intellect to gather compelling evidence to lay before the Judge.

  But he could not contain himself all day. By late afternoon, he was almost exhausted from simmering away in private. Eventually he ventured out and rather than descend to the lower floor and its public rooms, he went upstairs in search of familiar comfort.

  He found himself, by accident or by unconscious design, on the upper floor in a far wing of the castle. Who lives in a castle these days, he thought to himself as he went along the bare corridors. Even all the modern improvements in the world can’t make a chilly passageway like this into an inviting space. Yet this area was not unlived-in. In fact he could hear high voices up ahead, asking impatient questions, and then he recognised the answering speech of his own daughter, Dido. He hurried to the room and peeked through the half-open door.

  He was looking into a schoolroom, although the boys were not engaged in any educational activity. No one seemed to notice him as he peered in. Dido was sitting on the edge of a plain wooden chair, leaning forward. She had a book in her lap but she wasn’t looking at it. Instead, she was gazing at a spot on the floorboards, apparently lost in thought, mechanically answering the boys if they blurted out a random question. The two boys were romping around with wooden swords in their hands. Both were dressed as sailors.

  Theodore coughed and everyone stopped. The boys came to attention in a reflex action until they saw who it was, and then they dropped their swords to come thundering towards him in a great rush. Dido called out to stop them but they paid her no heed. He dropped to his knees and opened his arms to them.

  “Grandfather! Do you want to play pirates with us?”

  “Of course he doesn’t,” Dido snapped. He was concerned when she raised her head and he saw her face. She looked tired and pale. It didn’t take a doctor to see that she had been crying.

  He said to the boys, “I should love to play at pirates with you. Why, in my youth, I was a veritable scourge on the high seas!”

  Their mouths dropped open in a most pleasing display of astonishment which was utterly punctured by Dido saying, “No, he was not and I don’t think it’s a very agreeable thing to be playing, anyway. Run along to your room and find your nurse. It is surely nearly time for your supper.”

  He wanted to let them stay. He winked at them both as they reluctantly left, trying to hint that he had really been a pirate, no matter what their mother said.

  He said, “They didn’t need to go so quickly. I’ve missed them. I thought we’d see them around a lot more.”

  Dido shook her head. “Oh, you know how it is. We’re so busy here that it’s better for them to be out of the way. My John prefers to take the more established approach to child-rearing.”

  “Out of sight, out of mind?”

  “He’s very traditional. You’d see them if you came to church or morning prayers.”

  “You know how I struggle with all that.”

  “Well, I find it to be of great comfort.”

  “And it seems that you are in need of comfort at the moment,” he said. He perched himself somewhat uncomfortably on the edge of a sloping desk.

  “Yes. I know why John wanted all these people here but part of me simply wants to run away and ... and mourn poor Philippa, quietly and in my own way.”

  “That’s a very understandable sentiment.”

  Dido looked sideways at her father. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Yes. No. I mean, well, that’s why I’m here. To ask you that question, you see?”

  She merely blinked at him. He knew it was unusual for him to speak to her like this and he felt very uncomfortable. But then he reminded himself of his purpose.

  “Dido, my dear, if your husband does anything to cause you a moment of unease, I need you to know that I shall always believe you and take your side, no matter what the world might say.”

  “What is the world saying?” she asked in horror.

  “Nothing. I only mean, if they ... I mean, if you ... if he ...”

  He stumbled to a halt as she bent her head. He hoped that he had not made her cry. He wasn’t sure what he ought to do or say if he had.

  She said, “Grandmamma came to speak to me a little while ago. That’s why I’m up here. I just needed some peace. She was asking me about John, too.” She suddenly looked up at her father. “He has never been unfaithful to me. And I don’t believe that he ever would be. But I know that I’m not enough for him and I’ve tried to be but I can’t. My boys are my life; it’s like a physical pain when I’m not with them and he can’t understand that. No one does!”

  He thought very deeply before he answered. What would Adelia say, he wondered. With great care, he said, “When I hear the pain in your voice, it is like a knife in my own heart. When I imagine harm coming to a single hair of your head, I am ready to take up arms on your behalf. No, these are not fashionable things to say. No, you will not hear them expressed in sophisticated drawing rooms. But it is what I feel and I know I am not alone. You are not alone. In truth, Dido, I think it is Mondial who is the abnormal one. I have been present in the moments of grief afflicting rich and poor, old and young, as a doctor; all people feel as you do. The difference is only that you are brave enough to say it.”

  She cried like her heart was breaking and he had to wipe away a secret tear of his own before she saw it. “Father,” she whispered at last, “I think he wishes to be rid of me. I have failed as a wife!”

  He grabbed her and held her as if he was
a mother with a new-born. She leaned into him as he stroked her shoulder. He had exhausted all his calm and soothing phrases.

  Now all he wanted to do was to rain vengeance down on Lord Mondial’s head.

  THEODORE DID NOT BELIEVE that his daughter was in any danger while the house was full of people, and he also did not think that Mondial would attempt a similar attack so soon after the first. That Mondial wanted to replace Dido with a more “suitable”, fresher, younger wife was now clear to Theodore, but he also would not risk underestimating Mondial’s intelligence. The Marquis was unlikely to act rashly now that he was under scrutiny. He’d lay low for some time. No wonder he was so insistent the attack had been the work of a passing robber! No wonder he had not wanted an investigation! And when he had realised that to leave it uninvestigated was more suspicious than not, of course he’d allow Theodore to do it – an untested, untried, unprofessional man of advancing years, close enough that Mondial could watch his every move. His every failure.

  It all made a perfect sense.

  Theodore assured Dido of her safety and that he would “make everything all right” although he could see that she doubted him. He refused to tell her what he truly suspected had happened though he wondered if she herself already knew. He walked with her to her rooms where her closest maid took her from his hands. He then found himself standing in the corridor, feeling a little lost.

  It was nearly time to dress for dinner. It would be a large and formal affair with so many guests. There would be card games and drinking late into the night. Anyone with any sense had spent the afternoon resting. With a sigh, for he was absolutely not in the mood for socialising, he headed for his own suite of rooms to get changed.

  On the way, he bumped into Sir Henry Locksley. Theodore stopped and stared so intently at him, taking his time in working out what to say, that Sir Henry grew uncomfortable. “I say, Calaway, are you feeling all right?”

  “No. Something’s rotten in this house. Do you know what it is?”

  “Er, is that a rhetorical question? Only I was awfully bad at that sort of thing at school. Riddles and so on. More of an outdoor man, you know –”

  “Yes, yes. So you’ve mentioned. No. I do not waste time with meaningless questions. Do you know what’s wrong in this household?”

  “It’s your daughter’s household. I am sure that she manages everything exceedingly well.”

  “Mealy-mouthed answer, man. Have the guts to speak the truth to me.”

  “I fear causing offence. I am already so close to being thrown out...”

  “What?”

  “Sir, forgive me. I must go!” And with that, Sir Henry fled.

  Sir Henry’s refusal to speak, on top of the stress that Theodore was feeling about his daughter’s situation, made him irritable and quite unable to face Mondial himself with any degree of civility. The Marquis appeared at the far end of the corridor and rather than continue on his way, he stopped and waited for Theodore to catch up. Theodore increased his pace, therefore, in an attempt to look as if he were in a hurry.

  Mondial smiled politely. Now that Theodore was brimming with suspicions, he wanted to punch that smile clean off the other man’s face. Mondial opened his mouth to speak and Theodore simply couldn’t gather his wits fast enough. Unable to trust himself to be calm and decent, instead he simply pushed right past his host in total silence and stamped off on this way.

  Mondial gasped.

  Theodore didn’t even turn around. And he cursed himself as he went. His irrational snub of Mondial would surely now have suggested to the Marquis that Theodore suspected him.

  If Theodore really was close to the truth, then perhaps this would force Mondial’s hand.

  Perhaps Mondial would react.

  Theodore was angry with himself in case he had now precipitated an over-reaction – but a part of him was icily determined to face whatever happened next. Perhaps bringing things to a head as soon as possible was the very best way forward. Force a reaction now – before the clever Marquis had time to conjure up yet another plot.

  For he would have certainly learned from his past mistakes, and Theodore didn’t think his daughter would be so lucky as to escape a catastrophe for a second time.

  Twenty-four

  Adelia was dressing for dinner when word came that her eldest daughter Mary had arrived with her husband Cecil Parker-Grey. Adelia could barely contain her delight and even Theodore, who had been consumed by an introspective grumpiness, finally raised a smile. Smith made the finishing touches to her hair, fixing a pin of glittering jewels into place. As soon as she could free herself from her servant’s clutches, she hurried through the upstairs corridors to the rooms that had been assigned to Mary and Cecil. Theodore was at her side.

  Mary was in a complete flap. She was in a sideroom, attended to by her constant companion, lady’s maid and nurse all wrapped up in one capable package, the indomitable figure of Sophia Cobbett. Cecil, who was considerably older than his wife, was already dressed for dinner and rose from his armchair to greet his parents-in-law with warmth. Adelia could not see Mary but they conversed through the door while Cobbett performed the same duties for the daughter that Smith had been doing for the mother a few moments earlier.

  “Do tell Cecil he’s the most monstrous worry-wort and I shouldn’t have missed this party for the world!” Mary warbled through the door.

  Cecil shrugged. Theodore leaned in and whispered, “Is she unwell?”

  Cecil shook his head but shot a glance towards the door, and Mary called out, “I know you’re whispering about me because it’s all gone quiet!”

  When she finally emerged, Adelia was relieved to see that Mary looked relatively healthy. She was not too pale and there was a decent amount of flesh on her bones. Adelia wanted to embrace Mary but they were both too finely dressed and anyway, they were very nearly late for dinner.

  “How is Dido?” Mary asked with concern as they made their way downstairs. Other guests were appearing from doors and corridors and the castle was alive with bustle.

  “She is well – though we ought not to speak of the more eventful things that have been happening, at least, not tonight,” Adelia said. They had just reached the top of the main staircase when she spotted the very object of their conversation further along the corridor. “But there she is now!”

  Mary squealed, “Dido!” and rushed along the passage, breaking free of her husband’s arms. Dido turned and her face broke into a wide smile as soon as she saw her sister. She was just opening a door that led to another staircase, and the two boys were at the top.

  “Mary! You made it. I am so pleased. I was just about to say goodnight to the boys.”

  “Oh, may I come with you?”

  Adelia felt Theodore lightly touch her hand and she glanced towards him. She knew what he was thinking. Mary had not had children and was unlikely to do so but she adored them with her whole heart. Mary was just about to follow Dido up the smaller set of stairs when Lord Mondial appeared alongside Adelia and Theodore. He barked out, rather crossly, “My lady, our guests are waiting.” He put out his arm and clearly expected Dido to rush to his side.

  Mary turned and said, “Oh, my dear Lord Mondial! How lovely to see you! We shall be down directly – do indulge a doting aunt such as myself.”

  Any other man would have crumbled at the sight of her innocent face clouded by a pile of blonde hair. But Lord Mondial had his duties as a host and they came far above mere family matters. “With my deepest apologies, there is time for that later. My lady!” he said again, sternly. And this time, Dido did rush to his side, leaving a flurry of apologies in her wake, and the door was closed on her children. Dido and her husband descended the stairs. After a moment, they were followed by Adelia and Theodore. Mary and Cecil brought up the rear and were soon absorbed into the throng of other guests.

  THE LOUD, BUSY DINNER party which took place that evening turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Intimate conversation was utterly impossib
le and everyone took care to be on their best behaviour, even Lady Montsalle. After all, the company of the Marquis was highly sought-after and no one wanted to anger him by referring to the “unfortunate incident that happened outside”, at least, not too early in proceedings. In fact it almost became a competition in who could show the very highest breeding and good taste as they all tried to outdo one another in their politeness and restraint. Wine and brandy didn’t exactly flow, though there was plenty of the very highest quality on offer. Mary added a high point of light, Adelia thought, though she knew she was biased. But she couldn’t help the special place in her heart for Mary as her firstborn and as the one who had spent her childhood continually teetering on the edge of death.

  Theodore stayed silent but it didn’t matter too much as there were so many others present to pick up the conversation. He remained with the men after the ladies withdrew and then they all joined together once more, but after the barest minimum of time to be polite, he begged everyone’s indulgence for an “old man” – to some hoots of laughter – and retired to bed. Mary and Cecil left, with Cecil fussing around his wife as usual. Dido remained up, staying until the last of the guests wished to go to bed, though they were looking to their hostess to give them a cue.

  Adelia accompanied Theodore, glad of the excuse to flee the gathering.

  She looked at him anxiously but could see that he was in no mood for speaking. What was there left to say, anyway? And Adelia herself was disinclined to chatter. They withdrew to bed in silence.

  THEODORE ROSE EARLIER than most of the rest of the household and guests the next day. He already felt exhausted by the social whirl and the real party had not yet begun. He felt the urge to get out and clear his head. Mondial had offered Theodore the use of a splendid hunter for the duration of his visit. So far Theodore had been content merely to admire the muscular, prancing stallion, recognising that Mondial had chosen this particular horse to demonstrate what fine animals he had in his stables. It was not the most suitable mount for a desk-bound bookish man past his prime, like Theodore.