Murder at the Masquerade Ball

by Margaret Addison

  ‘Lavinia –’

  He stopped abruptly, the word still caught in his throat for, in one sudden movement, the girl had lifted up her ample skirts, turned tail and fled.

  Rose happened to be in the small drawing room drinking a glass of lemonade when she spotted Lavinia appear from behind the leather folding screen. She had chanced to glance up at the mirror that hung above the fireplace and had caught a glimpse of Lavinia’s reflection. Even though she saw her image only fleetingly, Rose was struck by the girl’s agitated manner. For it was obvious, even from a cursory glance, that Lavinia was rattled. Her face seemed deathly pale beneath its thick layer of powder, the black satin beauty patch that adorned her right cheek stark and crude in contrast. It was not the girl’s physical appearance, however, which drew Rose’s attention, but rather the hurried manner in which she had emerged from behind the screen. Indeed she had almost upset it, so rushed had been her movements. For one moment the screen had tottered precariously. Someone, presumably Hallam, had taken the necessary steps to steady it, to ensure it did not fall.

  Rose passed a hand over her eyes and closed them. When she opened them again a few minutes’ later, the screen was stable and Lavinia had disappeared from view. She reproached herself sternly for having been fanciful. Hallam, no doubt, had given Lavinia something of a mild rebuke for returning to peer at him behind the screen. That was all it was, for really it was very difficult to determine someone’s manner from a mere reflection glanced briefly in a mirror. Rather than being agitated, it was far more likely that Lavinia had been eager to return to the ballroom; the lure of half a dozen suitors waiting for her would certainly have caused her to hasten her steps.

  Rose cast a look about her and concluded that she had been disproportionately affected by the sight of the quite outlandish and overstated wigs and costumes that surrounded her. It seemed hard to believe that the people beneath the disguises were real. It certainly gave a more ominous air to the atmosphere. Glancing around her it seemed quite remarkable that she should still have little idea as to the identity of the majority of the guests. She could hazard a guess, but it was quite likely she would be wrong. Unless the particular guest had been one of her few dance partners, or she had happened to overhear them conversing as they picked at the buffet, she was quite ignorant of their identities. Indeed, as she stood in her splendid isolation, it occurred to her that she might well be acquainted with many of the people in this room if only she could recognise their faces beneath the masks they wore.

  Her own outfit seemed a trifle dull and unadventurous in comparison, her hair simply and plainly decorated compared to the elaborate wigs worn by others. After a while her eyelids fluttered, the masks and costumes blurring to become one vast rainbow of dazzling colour. She put a hand out to the mantelpiece to steady herself, realising rather belatedly that she was feeling a little drowsy. Indeed, it is quite possible that for a few minutes she half dozed. On waking she was aware that her body was weary and her legs ached.

  Rose felt a tug at her sleeve and turning looked down into the face of Edna, her little lady’s maid, who was regarding her with an anxious look.

  ‘Mrs Farrier said as how you were looking tired, and no wonder, miss, what with you in your condition. It isn’t right you standing like you are and as to dancing … Giddy, that’s what you are. What you need is to have a nice lie down.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly, Edna, not with all the guests still here.’

  ‘That’s nonsense, m’lady, if you don’t mind my saying. No one will notice. That’s one good thing about you wearing them masks, you can’t tell one person from t’other. It’s a good job I know your outfit as well as I do otherwise I’d hardly know it was you, no, not even with your swollen stomach, because that dress hides it so well.’

  With that, she ushered her mistress out of the room and across the hall.

  ‘Now, you’re not to fret, miss,’ she continued. ‘All you need is a little sleep. It’s just gone half past one and this ball don’t finish till three. You can have a lie down till a quarter to three and then I’ll get you up and fix your hair and you can be down in time to take off your mask and no one will be any the wiser.’

  ‘Lord Belvedere,’ Rose said, halting abruptly. ‘Have you seen him, Edna? I ought to tell him what I shall be doing. He’ll be worried if he can’t find me.’

  ‘I shouldn’t bother if I was you, miss,’ replied the lady’s maid. ‘Not if you don’t want to be made to play a rubber of bridge. That’s what happened to the master. The old duchess fair twisted his arm, she did. He’s cooped up with her now in that little room as is used by the chaperones. And if you’re worrying about telling Lady Lavinia you’re going for a lie down, you needn’t. Waltzing around the ballroom, she is, with a string of admirers as long as your arm.’

  They had reached the grand staircase which was near to overflowing with a vast stream of guests who were all jostling for space. Edna gave it one look and wrinkled up her nose disdainfully.

  ‘Now, I know it ain’t really proper to suggest it,’ she said, ‘but I think as how you ought to use the servants’ staircase. It’s a bit narrow, so you’ll have to watch your step, but it ain’t crowded, not like this one.’

  Rose was too tired to make any objection and they advanced across the hall to a door half hidden in the far wall, of whose existence she was only vaguely aware. She turned with Edna to take one last look at the ball and the many sumptuous costumes and array of dazzling masks on display.

  ‘Look at that chap, miss,’ said Edna pointing, ‘that one with his face all covered. Creepy, that’s what I call it, and how he can take a drink or eat a bit of supper, I’m sure I don’t know, what with Lady Lavinia being that strict about people not removing their masks.’

  Rose followed Edna’s gaze. The man being pointed out to her was indeed of rather an odd appearance. He was wearing a waistcoat which was a rather bulky affair of scarlet crushed velvet and instead of the traditional white bow tie he had an elaborate Georgian cravat of raw gold silk and ruffles tied about his neck. A great deal of this rather peculiar outfit was obscured by the man wearing a most voluminous, long black cloak, with gold trim, which almost reached the floor and did its utmost to engulf him. The cloak included a hood which its wearer had pulled up over his head. Perched on top was a huge felt hat decorated with an ostrich feather. On his legs he wore a pair of long black boots.

  It was not the man’s clothes, however, that had occasioned Edna’s remarks, but rather the distinctive mask he wore. Unlike the others, it was a full-face mask in the Volto style, which covered the man’s face so entirely that not one of his features was revealed. The mask itself was quite plain and devoid of all expression, the lips cast in a straight line, giving the impression the wearer was neither happy nor sad. If anything, it implied an air of bland indifference. As for the colour, the mask was neither ivory nor white, but rather the shade of old bones, bestowing on it something of an ethereal quality.

  Had she not been so tired, it occurred to Rose later that she might have paid more attention to the man in the Volto mask. But as it was, she was weary and more interested in reaching her bed than on considering the bizarre costume worn by one of her guests. It was, therefore, with barely a second thought that she passed through the servants’ door and discovered that the stairs behind it were indeed narrow, as Edna had mentioned, and very steep. They were also without carpet and the two girls’ footsteps echoed noisily on the bare wood as they climbed the stairs, which were interrupted at regular intervals by tiny wooden landings where servants could pass one another as they went about their business. Rose took the opportunity to pause when she reached such places, in order to catch her breath. In addition to the waiting areas, doors led off the staircase to each floor of the house.

  ‘This staircase runs from the basement right up to the attics,’ Edna informed her. ‘It’s been as busy as anything all evening but there’s a bit of a lull now ’cause all the guests have had their
supper. There’s only clearing away as needs to be done now and they’ll do it a bit later when everyone is in the ballroom or sitting-out rooms, or else out on the terrace.’

  ‘Iris, where have you been?’ demanded Raymond Franklin, a note of anger in his voice. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’

  He was standing on the landing at the top of the staircase and had been in the act of craning his neck to look into the ballroom, when he had noticed his wife emerge from one of the rooms further down the landing.

  He received only a muttered answer, which was barely audible. It was not his wife’s words, however, that held his attention, but rather the furtive nature of her actions. For he had caught her in the act of hurriedly stuffing something into her evening bag. Aware that his eyes were on her, she had been careful to conceal what she was holding, curling her fingers around it so that it almost appeared as if there was nothing in her hand at all. Her nerves had seemed to get the better of her, however, for she had fumbled clumsily with the clasp.

  In one swift movement Raymond was beside her. He put a hand out as if to snatch the bag from her but, realising his intention, she instinctively pulled away, taking a step or two back and placing the bag behind her, her body acting as a shield.

  ‘Iris, give me your bag,’ snapped Raymond, albeit quietly, for he had no wish to cause a scene, mindful of the presence of the other guests who were already eyeing the two of them with a degree of curiosity. Indeed, unless he was letting his imagination get the better of him, he had seen one or two nudge their companions and point in their direction as they passed.

  ‘Iris –’

  ‘Ah, Franklin, just the chap I was looking for,’ said Cedric, emerging from the chaperones’ room. ‘I thought now would be as good a time as any to show you those relics I was talking about.’

  ‘Indeed, my lord.’

  ‘And Mrs Franklin, of course,’ Cedric added, nodding at Iris, whom he had just noticed. ‘I do hope you are enjoying the ball?’ He smiled and then turned to address her husband. ‘Would you mind walking with me, Franklin? I’m eager to get downstairs before the dear old duchess wakes up and notices I’ve gone. I left her dozing but I’m awfully afraid she’ll wake up any minute and demand that I make up another four at bridge. Of course, I’d quite understand if you’d prefer to dance with your wife. I’d rather like to have another dance with my own myself, but I understand she’s resting. Still, if you’d prefer to look at the artefacts some other time …?’

  ‘No, not at all, my lord,’ said Raymond. ’We’d be delighted to see them now, wouldn’t we, Iris?’

  He took his wife firmly by the elbow and they followed the earl as he made his way down the stairs. Iris, he was pleased to note, made no objection to accompanying them, if anything, she seemed as eager to do so as himself.

  ‘I do hope you won’t find them too dull, Mrs Franklin,’ Cedric said over his shoulder. ‘I’m afraid they are not a patch on the Smithingham Collection, but I thought your husband might be interested to see them all the same. And as I mentioned before, I should appreciate his opinion on one or two of the statuettes.’

  They proceeded to the small drawing room where there was the remnants of the buffet. Cedric consulted his pocket watch.

  ‘It’s just approaching two o’clock; plenty of time for you to see my gewgaws and have another dance before the grand unveiling. Now, they’re just in here. If you’d care to go behind this folding screen … yes, that’s the one, Franklin. A trifle odd, I know, but it hides the entrance to what I call The Retreat which, as it happens, has a concealed door of its own. Hello? What’s that? There’s someone there?’

  The earl joined Raymond behind the screen and found himself face to face with a man in evening dress and cape, wearing a black mask of the highwayman variety.

  ‘Cedric –’

  ‘Good heavens, is that you, Hallam? What are you doing here lurking behind this screen?’ He did not wait for the young man to answer. ‘I’m going to show Mr Franklin my relics. Step aside from the door, there’s a good chap.’

  ‘No … I … Oh, Iris!’ muttered Hallam desperately

  ‘Yes, Mrs Franklin would like to see them, too. You can also, if you have a mind to. Now, if you’ll kindly get out of the way, Hallam –’

  ‘I’m awfully sorry, Cedric, but I can’t. I’m afraid that I can’t permit you to go into that room,’ muttered Hallam, sounding wretched.

  ‘Nonsense!’ said Cedric, sounding indignant. ‘What the devil do you mean by that? This is my house and therefore I really think I am quite entitled to enter any room I choose.’

  ‘Please –’ said Hallam desperately.

  He was interrupted by the noise of chairs scrapping across the floor within the hidden room. For a few dreadful seconds no one spoke. The next moment and Cedric had pushed the young man roughly aside and was scouring the wall for the hidden latch.

  ‘Who the devil’s in there, Hallam?’ he demanded, but his friend remained resolutely silent.

  A moment later and Cedric had wrestled the door open. He was greeted by the sight of two men in evening dress and masks who had evidently sprung up from their seats on hearing the commotion going on outside the door. They had been using an occasional table and in their surprise at being so unceremoniously disturbed had inadvertently sent it flying. Scattered on the ground where they had fallen, was a pack of playing cards.

  Chapter Eleven

  There was a brief silence as each took in the scene that confronted him. No one stirred. One might have been forgiven for supposing the intention of those present was to form a strange tableau. Cedric was the first to recover his senses.

  ‘This is a ball, gentlemen,’ he said coolly, ‘not a gambling den. If you wish to have a flutter I suggest you join the chaperones upstairs for a game of bridge. Now, if you’ll kindly gather up your cards and leave us, I should be much obliged.’

  Rather to his surprise, neither of the men showed the least sign of complying with his request. For a fleeting moment it occurred to him that both might be deaf. They certainly looked as if they intended to stand their ground. At least the taller of the two men did, a thickset man with something of the physique of a rugger player. His companion, in comparison, a much shorter fellow of thinner and more meagre proportions, appeared distinctly apprehensive by the unexpected intrusion. He glanced up nervously at the larger man’s masked face, evidently seeking some form of reassurance or guidance.

  ‘I regret, my lord,’ said the larger man, taking a step forward, ‘it is I who must ask you to leave.’

  ‘I beg your pardon!’ said Cedric, his temper wearing rather thin.

  ‘Lord Belvedere, if I might be permitted to explain –’

  ‘Leave this room, please, gentlemen,’ said Cedric testily, ‘and we’ll say no more about it.’ He turned to address Hallam, who was hovering somewhat sheepishly at his shoulder, and said in a lowered voice: ‘I must say, I’m rather surprised at you.’

  ‘I tried …’ began Hallam miserably, his sentence faltering. It was clear, however, that his words were not intended for the earl, but rather for the two men in the concealed room.

  ‘Lord Belvedere –’ began the large man again.

  ‘Good God, man. How many times do I have to ask?’ snapped Cedric. ‘And if you must insist on arguing, take off that ridiculous mask of yours so that I can at least see to whom I’m speaking.’

  This speech prompted the shorter man to become exceedingly agitated. He tugged in a wild, desperate gesture at the sleeve of the taller man, pulling him towards him so that he might whisper something hurriedly in his ear. His companion responded by nodding his head sagely and muttering something in return.

  Cedric, who was becoming somewhat impatient by this strange impasse said again: ‘Kindly remove your mask so that I may know to whom I’m speaking.’

  Though dull gold in colour, the mask in question reminded Cedric of the helmet of a suit of armour. It was of a simple Bauta design made up of harsh,
straight lines. The square jawline projected well over the mouth which, while permitting the wearer to eat and drink without hindrance, proved equally effective in disguising his appearance and distorting his voice.

  ‘I’m afraid, my lord,’ said the larger man, disentangling himself from his companion, who was wearing a similar mask though his was an ivory colour, ‘that is quite out of the question.’ He accompanied the last bit of his sentence with a slight bow, which was more dismissive than deferential.

  ‘Very well, gentlemen, have it your own way,’ said Cedric exasperated. ‘I shall instruct my servants to escort you out of this house.’ He turned again to address Hallam. ‘I don’t know what game you’re involved in, but I should disentangle yourself from it as quickly as possible, if I were you. Now, Franklin, do come in.’

  ‘Perhaps it might –’ began Raymond, speaking for the first time since the discovery of the interlopers in the room. It was evident from his demeanour that he was somewhat disquieted by the odd turn of events.

  How he might have finished his sentence, however, was to be known by no one but himself. For the deadlock was abruptly broken by the unexpected intervention of others. So engrossed had they all been in what was happening in the concealed room, it had occurred to none of them that their voices might have carried out into the small drawing room. All of a sudden they seemed to be overrun by a horde of guests who descended on them like a swarm of bees, drawn by the sound of the muffled voices coming from the other side of the screen which had aroused their collective curiosity.

  As some of the guests were far from sober, having taken advantage of their disguises to indulge freely in the glasses of champagne and whisky on offer, they descended with cries of delight and exclamation, spilling into the concealed room. They proceeded to marvel at the artefacts and objects on display, and trampled the scattered playing cards underneath their feet.

  While the man in the dull gold mask seemed to take the changed situation in his stride, his companion showed less presence of mind and began to shriek and wail in a most alarming fashion. As the two men became all but engulfed by the sea of guests, Hallam waded into the fray and grabbed the arms of those guests nearest him, none too gently, by the elbows and effectively frogmarched them out of the room. He was joined in his endeavours by both Cedric and Raymond, who were somewhat more courteous in their attempts to persuade the guests to vacate the room. It was not more than five minutes before they were joined by a number of footmen who, having come to clear away the buffet, had been alerted to the fracas going on behind the screen. With professional skill that came from experience, they soon had the matter in hand and the room restored to some semblance of order.