Miss Crabbe nodded but was evidently too shaken by the news to say anything.
‘The person who was murdered was wearing your mistress’ costume.’
‘Miss Casters,’ croaked the lady’s maid. ‘Miss Casters was wearing it.’ There was a considerable pause while Miss Crabbe clutched at the edge of the washstand, as if for support, and lowered herself on to the edge of the bed. ‘Are you telling me, miss … your ladyship, that young lady is dead?’
‘Yes,’ said Rose, seating herself on a chair, much to her body’s relief. She leaned forward and touched Miss Crabbe’s arm. ‘I’m afraid Miss Casters has been murdered.’
‘And she was wearing the mistress’ costume?’ repeated the lady’s maid, more to herself than to anyone else.
‘Yes,’ said Rose, taking a moment before she probed any further, eager for the woman to digest this piece of information. ‘Do I take it you knew Miss Casters would be wearing Mrs Franklin’s costume?
Miss Crabbe nodded her head slowly.
‘I was against it from the start, so I was. I knew likely as not it would all end in disaster. Not murder, of course,’ she added hurriedly. ‘No one could have known that. But the mistress, there was no reasoning with her, not that I didn’t try, ’cause I did. But she had set her heart on it, so she had. The mistress, you see, she didn’t want to go to the ball. It were too much for her, what with her being delicate. Argued with the master about it, she did, and he said as how she must go if only to put a stop to all those awful columns what’s written about them in the press. Dreadful, that’s what I call it. It’s a damned cheek them writing about their marriage like that, if you’ll excuse my language, your ladyship, even if they don’t always use their names. I mean to say, everyone knows who they mean. Who else is cataloguing some fancy collection what’s the best in Europe? Of course,’ she added, lowering her voice to a confidential tone, ‘it weren’t so much what they were saying about the master and the mistress not having been seen out together in society. It was more all those insinuations they were making about the master and Miss Casters what were the problem. Disgusting, that’s what I call it. But they’ll write any old rubbish, the lot of them. Nowt better to do, I don’t wonder. Not that I think the master would have taken any notice of what was in the papers mind, if it hadn’t been for his aunt.’
‘His aunt?’
‘Mrs Burford, she as brought him up. Awful fond of her, he is. Well, she came to the house the other day all put out because one of her friends was talking about it. Least that was the gossip in the servants’ hall, not that I listen to it as a rule, because I don’t. Anyway, the master he decided as how he and the mistress should go to the ball together so as to put a stop to all the tattle. Fretted about it something rotten, my mistress did, and then she came up with this plan which, as I said, I didn’t think would work.’
‘That Miss Casters should go in her place?’
‘Yes. To my mind, it was only asking for trouble, I tried to say as much to my mistress, as I’ve said, but she wouldn’t listen. And of course Miss Casters jumped at the chance, never having been to one of them fancy balls before and never likely to get the chance to go to another neither. Not of course that she knew someone would do her in.’
Miss Crabbe paused significantly. It was perhaps on the tip of her tongue to say that the secretary would have taken any opportunity to stand close to the master and pretend to be his wife, but that would definitely be speaking out of turn whichever way you looked at it. As it was, it was probable that she was wondering if she had let her tongue run away with her and spoken too freely.
As she regarded the lady’s maid sitting on the bed, her hands clasped tightly together as she tried to stop them shaking, Rose felt a pang of guilt. She had let Miss Crabbe ramble with only the barest of interruptions, with little thought to the poor woman’s feelings.
‘I didn’t think it was right,’ the lady’s maid said miserably, speaking very quietly. ‘Of course,’ she added quickly, rallying a little, ‘we all knew how it was only temporary, what with the mistress having to wear her costume at the end of the ball. I mean because of the grand unveiling of the masks, or whatever you call it.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Rose. ‘There would have been no getting out of it because all the guests were required to gather in the ballroom for the ceremony; that was set out quite clearly on the invitations. Now, I gather,’ she said, ‘it had been arranged that Mrs Franklin and Miss Casters would meet in the gardener’s shed so that your mistress could change into her costume there?’
‘Yes. It seemed as good a place as any because, of course, it meant the mistress didn’t have to go into the house till she was in costume and she said not many people knew about the shed on account of it being behind the hedge and what with it being dark and all.’
‘Yes,’ said Rose reflectively, ‘you are quite right. Not many people knew about the shed’s existence, though I suppose someone might have stumbled upon it by chance.’ She looked up sharply. ‘Did you accompany your mistress to this house?’
‘I did, your ladyship, though I remained out in the lane that lies at the back of these houses. What I mean is,’ she added, appearing a little flustered under Rose’s penetrating gaze, ‘I positioned myself right at the end of the lane. Of course I’d told the mistress that I’d wait in the lane for Miss Casters, but it was that dark after I’d given the mistress my torch and I didn’t like to linger there with no light. I hadn’t thought to bring two torches with me, which I daresay was rather amiss. Anyway, I thought there’d be no harm in it as likely as not the mistress would hand Miss Casters her torch, and anyway there was nowhere for her to walk other than to my end of the lane on account of the other being something of a dead-end, what with all those bushes and hedges.’
‘You are quite right!’ exclaimed Rose, finding it hard to conceal her growing excitement. ‘I had quite forgotten about that. That end of the lane is terribly overgrown. Tell me, Miss Crabbe, if you were standing at the other end of the lane, as you say, you would have seen anyone who came out of the garden into the lane, wouldn’t you? By that, I mean, they would have had to walk past you to get out into the street?’
‘Aye, they would,’ agreed the lady’s maid. ‘And If anyone had done such a thing I would have seen them.’
‘You didn’t see anyone?’
‘Not a soul. It fair gave me the creeps, it did, standing at the end of the lane all alone, like.’
‘How long did you remain there?’ demanded Rose.
‘Three quarters of an hour, give or take a few minutes I’d say, though it felt like a good sight longer, I can tell you, on account of it being so dark. But the mistress said as how she wanted to allow a good quarter of an hour or so to get changed even with Miss Casters helping her dress and fix her wig. And of course we got there a bit early on account of the mistress not wanting to be late. She thought we’d run into traffic, which of course we didn’t. And she wouldn’t have the car parked in front of the house in case we were noticed, so we had to allow for walking a little way and what with her with her face made up as it was something frightful with all that powder and paint, it’s a good job we didn’t meet anyone on our travels, is all I can say.’
‘And you didn’t see anyone come out of the garden into the lane?’ Rose said, her heart beating very fast.
‘Not a sausage, your ladyship,’ replied Miss Crabbe, looking a little puzzled, followed quickly on its heels by a look of sheer panic. ‘Here, are you saying, as how you think the murderer escaped that way?’ She paused to put a hand to her chest at such an appalling thought, before her reason returned. ‘But he couldn’t have done, your ladyship, because I didn’t see nobody.’
‘I wasn’t thinking so much of the murderer as a thief,’ muttered Rose quietly. The lady’s maid frowned. Rose added quickly: ‘You are quite right, Miss Crabbe, you have nothing to fear. The murderer would have returned to the house. In fact, I am quite certain he did. Now, tell me one more thing, if you
will. Why didn’t you wait for Miss Casters? Didn’t you think it rather strange when she did not appear in the lane?’
‘Well I did and I didn’t,’ said the lady’s maid. ‘I waited an age for her to come out and of course she didn’t,’ she said, not looking Rose in the eye. ‘Not that I knew that at the time she was dead, of course. But I don’t mind telling you I was getting impatient when she didn’t appear. I even gave way to cursing a bit, which I don’t do as a rule. But then I wondered if perhaps she hadn’t decided to stay at the ball after all. Make the most of it, like. By that, I mean stay in the shadows and watch the dancing and help herself to one or two more glasses of champagne. It didn’t occur to me at the time that anything was wrong. And then I got to thinking how it wasn’t my job to wait on the likes of her and if she would insist on dilly-dallying, well she could make her own way home. So I hailed a taxi, with the money my mistress had given me, and returned to Sycamore House and didn’t think no more about Miss Casters, God forgive me.’
‘You do see what that means?’ said Rose an hour or so later when she encountered Cedric in the hall and led him hurriedly into the dining room, shutting the door behind them.
‘The man in the gold cravat couldn’t have left the house by way of the lane?’ her husband said, following his wife’s train of thought. ‘He must have disposed of his disguise and returned to the house wearing a less conspicuous outfit and mask. But, I say,’ he said, a thought having struck him, ‘that won’t do. I mean, couldn’t he have left before Mrs Franklin and her maid arrived at the lane? It would have been jolly tight, I know, but I daresay it could have been done.’
‘I thought of that,’ said Rose. ‘But there really wouldn’t have been time for him to make good his escape. You see, I made a particular point of pressing Miss Crabbe about the time. It appears that she waited with Mrs Franklin at the end of the lane a good quarter of an hour before they made their way along the lane to our garden gate. In addition Iris had wanted sufficient time to get changed once she met with Miss Casters in the shed. Besides, there is something else which, in my mind, removes any doubt that must have been what happened.’
‘Oh? What is that?’
‘When pressed, Miss Crabbe admitted that, while she and Mrs Franklin were waiting at the end of the lane, although she didn’t see anyone, she is tolerably certain that she heard a strange noise as if some objects were being thrown across the lane. It prompted them to delay making their way down along the lane for fear of discovery. She couldn’t make out anything in the dark but –’
‘The thief’s costume!’ exclaimed Cedric. ‘He didn’t come out into the lane and stow it into the hedge as we had supposed. He just threw it over the wall and it happened to land in the hedge, which is hardly surprising given how high and dense the hedges are in the lane.’
Chapter Twenty-two
Her interview with Miss Crabbe finished, Rose turned her attention to the task of speaking with Iris Franklin. In light of the lady’s maid’s testimony, and the fearful and terrible words uttered by Iris herself as she had staggered desperately towards the terrace, Rose could not help but approach this assignment with a keen sense of anticipation. Had Raymond Franklin been present in the house she would, however, have been quite at a loss as to which of the Franklins she should speak to first. It was perhaps fortunate, therefore, that the decision was made for her.
It had occurred to her that it was quite possible that Iris would still be asleep, in which case she was determined to wake her, so interested was she to hear the woman’s account. In the event, however, this proved unnecessary for Lavinia, bored at the prospect of having nothing to do but keep watch over a sleeping form, had apparently taken matters into her own hands. For the notion had come into her head to throw a glass of water in Iris’ face, quickly followed by two further glasses before she lost her nerve. Her victim, quite understandably indignant at such outrageous behaviour, was fully occupied in a fit of coughing and spluttering as Rose opened the door. Miss Crabbe, who was standing just behind Rose, quickly appraised the situation and, with a look of rebuke aimed in Lavinia’s direction, flew to her mistress’ side, and began dabbing at the poor woman’s face and clothes with a handkerchief. When the task was completed to her satisfaction, she saw to it that her mistress was propped up in her bed with the aid of a variety of pillows and cushions. Rose, meanwhile, was left with nothing else to do but frown at Lavinia. The girl herself was far from repentant.
‘You needn’t look at me like that, Rose. You know as well as I do that it was necessary that Iris should wake up, and as quickly as possible. Though I must say,’ she added with a mischievous grin, ‘I didn’t think it would take quite so much water to wake her. Three whole glasses full! It does rather make one wonder what the doctor gave her.’ She turned and smiled sweetly at the woman in the bed. ‘Iris, darling, I daresay you hate me like poison, but, really, you’ll forgive me in a moment when you hear what I have to tell you. You’ve met my sister-in-law, Lady Belvedere, haven’t you?’ She did not wait for Iris to reply but carried on gaily. ‘She’s Ceddie’s wife, you know, and she happens to be a frightfully good sleuth; Scotland Yard are simply crazy about her –’
‘Lavinia!’ said Rose, appalled by the girl’s frivolous and exaggerated chatter.
‘You can ‘Lavinia’ me all you like, Rose darling, but it happens to be true. Now, Iris, old thing, do buck up a bit and tell us what happened. We’re simply dying to hear all about it,’ she added, apparently quite oblivious to the pun.
‘Perhaps,’ said Rose firmly, ‘it would be better if you left, Lavinia. I think you have done quite enough.’
‘Nonsense! And I’ll do nothing of the sort; leave, I mean. You want me to stay, don’t you, Iris?’
The expression on Iris Franklin’s face suggested that she found Lavinia’s presence to be irksome in the extreme, but apparently she lacked the strength or ill-manners to demur and Lavinia, taking this as a sign of acquiescence, made herself comfortable on the bed, tucking her legs up underneath her, much in the manner of a child about to be told an entertaining story.
‘Mrs Franklin, how do you do?’ said Rose, herself taking a chair and drawing it up to the bed in order that she might sit down with some semblance of dignity. ‘How are you feeling?’ She lowered her voice a fraction and spoke gently. ‘Do you remember we met last night? Or the early hours of this morning, I should say. You have had a great shock. I believe the doctor gave you something to help you sleep?’
‘Yes,’ murmured Iris, her eyes for a moment very bright and fearful, and also a little wary, as they searched Rose’s face with a vague sense of recognition. ‘Lady Belvedere? You … you were the woman on the terrace?’
‘I was,’ agreed Rose. ‘I daresay you can’t recall much. I had my lady’s maid put you to bed.’
Iris made no comment. Rose studied her with a great deal of curiosity, which she was at some pains to conceal. How pale the woman looked, which really was hardly surprising given the circumstances. To Rose’s trained eye, Iris Franklin appeared to possess a natural nervousness of character, as if her usual state were one of tense uneasiness. Indeed, she seemed to be holding herself in abject readiness, as if she were habitually worried and fearing the worst. As if to confirm this summing up, Rose’s eyes strayed to the woman’s fingers, which she noticed were pulling at the bedclothes in something of a desperate and restive fashion.
‘I … I was terribly afraid,’ said Iris at last, her voice sounding a little breathless, as if she were conjuring up events which had happened a long time ago.
‘Yes,’ Rose said gently. ‘It must have been frightful for you, but I should be very grateful if you would tell me exactly what occurred.’
‘Must I? I should much prefer not to do anything of the kind,’ said Iris, appearing agitated. ‘I … I don’t want to think about it, any of it. It’s … it’s too dreadful.’
‘I’m afraid you must, if not to me then to the chief inspector.’ She was aware that Iris s
tarted. ‘It is only natural that he will wish to speak with you. You may find it helpful to speak to me first. In my experience it gets easier to talk about things, even frightful things, the more times one speaks of them. And Lavinia is quite right,’ Rose added, feeling that a truthful explanation was required, ‘I am something of an amateur sleuth, though not nearly as esteemed or as clever as she would have you believe. But I have had some success in that field and, as the murder occurred here in our garden, I intend to undertake my own investigation into the matter.’
‘Then there was a murder?’ If Iris had looked fearful before, now she looked absolutely petrified. ‘I half wondered if it had all been some awful dream; I tried to convince myself that it had all been a figment of my imagination because I know on occasion I am rather fanciful.’
‘Iris, darling, it simply won’t do, you know,’ said Lavinia, a trifle impatiently. ‘You can’t go about pretending someone hasn’t been murdered when you know full well that they have. Why, you told Rose yourself that your husband had tried to kill you. Naturally we all took it to mean that you had seen him kill Hilary Casters in the mistaken belief that she was you.’
Rose frowned at the interruption, though in truth she was rather grateful to her sister-in-law for having put the matter so succinctly. The thought of having to beat about the bush had not been an entirely agreeable one, particularly when there was a risk that the chief inspector and the commander might descend upon them at any minute.
‘Oh,’ said Iris, sounding a little dazed, ‘I … I do remember.’ She passed a hand across her pallid brow. ‘It was very dark. I was making my way to the shed –’
‘You had a torch,’ said Rose quickly. ‘Where is it? Why didn’t you switch it on?’
‘A torch?’ muttered Iris. For a moment she appeared confused, as if she could not remember having held such an object in her hand. As her memory cleared, she said: ‘It’s in the pocket of my coat. I didn’t want to switch it on until I was in the shed. I was afraid I should be spotted.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But there was a light coming from the shed, which I thought was rather odd. I remember it was flickering and looked almost pretty.’ She gave a mirthless little laugh. ‘I peered through the window. I could hardly believe my eyes because the shed was full of people. I remember thinking that they shouldn’t have been there. And then I spotted Raymond. I knew it was him at once. I didn’t recognise anyone else because of their costumes and masks but I recognised Raymond because I was familiar with his outfit. Someone was holding him very tightly by the collar and the other two figures were bending over something on the ground.’
Murder at the Masquerade Ball Page 20