Murder at the Masquerade Ball

by Margaret Addison

  ‘You do talk the most awful rot, Hallam. Either that, or you’re imagining things.’

  There was an awkward silence, during which Hallam looked distinctly uncomfortable and Lavinia considerably put out. Rose sighed. As much to change the subject and put a stop to the bickering as anything else, she said:

  ‘Whose idea was it, Hallam, that Iris’ husband should look inside the shed?’

  ‘Franklin’s,’ said Hallam with a scowl. ‘I never asked him to help me search the garden, you know. He rather took it upon himself and he absolutely sought out the gardener’s shed. You may have gathered I didn’t take to the fellow and I doubt he thinks too highly of me.’

  ‘Hardly surprising, considering the way you’ve been mooning after his wife,’ Lavinia said, a trifle spitefully.

  ‘I have been doing nothing of the kind.’ This time it was Hallam’s turn to be outraged. ‘And as regards Franklin, the man’s an absolute beast. Iris is positively petrified of him, which is why,’ he said, returning to his favourite subject, ‘I am quite convinced that he’s the murderer. I can’t think what’s keeping the police from arresting him.’ He frowned. ‘Anyway,’ he said, standing up, ‘I’m afraid I can’t stay here chatting any longer as I am sure the commander has a list of things as long as his arm that he’d like me to do.’ He hesitated a moment before turning to his hostess. ‘I say, Rose, I do hope you don’t think I’ve been frightfully ill-mannered?’

  The apology was somewhat ruined by Hallam accompanying it with a scowl in Lavinia’s direction. Rose, however, was barely aware that she had been addressed by the young man. In fact, for a couple of minutes she had ceased to listen to the others’ conversation, her mind patently elsewhere. For her thoughts had been travelling back to the memory of a man in a felt tricorn hat, whom she had passed on the stairs. He had been going down to supper and, as he had drawn level to her, she recalled he had muttered ‘very fair pickings indeed’, in the manner of a man addressing someone in particular. Someone who had not actually been there.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Rose’s thoughts remained with the man in the tricorn hat and the odd remark that she had overheard him utter. That it had a bearing on the tragic events that had occurred at the masquerade ball, she did not doubt for one moment. The somewhat intriguing conversation between Lavinia and Hallam had also left her wondering, not least, whether the two things, while seemingly quite separate, were in fact connected.

  It was in this contemplative frame of mind that Edna, her lady’s maid, found her mistress as she bustled into the bedroom with a couple of frocks draped over one arm.

  ‘Oh, begging your pardon, miss,’ she said, halting abruptly in the middle of the room. ‘I thought as how you were still downstairs.’

  ‘That’s quite all right, Edna,’ murmured Rose, a trifle distracted. ‘I’ve been sitting here mulling things over in my mind, that’s all.’

  ‘About the murder, miss?’ Edna asked, making no attempt to hide her youthful inquisitiveness.

  ‘Yes,’ replied her mistress, though in truth her thoughts were more closely centred on the theft of the secret papers than on the death. Noting her servant’s curiosity, she made an effort to rouse herself. ‘Are the commander and the chief inspector still in The Retreat?’

  ‘Yes, m’lady, though they’ve instructed that many searches be carried out, we don’t know downstairs whether we’re coming or going. If you look out of the window, you’ll see that they’re taking the gardener’s shed apart piece by piece. Mr Milligan, the gardener here, he’s up in arms about it, I can tell you, particularly as he says as how they’ve trampled over the hedges and bushes something rotten. And there’s that many constables crawling around the house opening drawers and emptying their contents on to the floor that Mrs Farrier is fit to burst.’ She came a few steps forward and dropped her voice. ‘Mr Manning says as how they’re looking for papers which they think someone has gone and hidden somewhere in the house, though why they’d want to hide ’em here, of all places, I don’t know.’

  ‘I doubt very much whether the papers are here,’ murmured Rose, more to herself than to her lady’s maid.

  ‘I should think not. Anyway, I’d stay up here, if I were you, miss,’ said Edna, ‘so as to keep out of their way. That’s what I’m minded to do. I came in here to pick up a few bits of lace that need mending. I thought as how I’d go up to my room in the attic and work where it’ll be quiet.’

  The lady’s maid proceeded to hang up the dresses she was carrying in the wardrobe and moved to a tallboy, where she set about removing some lace garments that, from their appearance, required some delicate repairing. It was not until she had folded each item carefully, and wrapped them all up in a sheet of brown paper to form a parcel, that she turned to address her mistress, her manner suddenly awkward and timid, which did much to arouse Rose’s interest.

  ‘I’m not in the habit of listening at doors, or to other people’s conversations come to that, not if I can help it,’ Edna said very quickly and rather primly, shifting from one foot to the other, in obvious discomfort.

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Rose, somewhat taken aback by this statement. ‘I don’t believe there is anyone in this house who would think you guilty of doing such a thing. What has happened? Has someone upset you? Was it the chief inspector?’

  ‘No, miss. It were nothing like that. But I’m ever so sorry ’cause I didn’t mean to do it, really I didn’t, but I just couldn’t help it, what with her being there and me needing to pass the butler’s pantry to go and have my lunch. Mr Manning gets awful cross if anyone’s late and arrives just as he’s saying grace.’

  ‘Suppose,’ said Rose soothingly, ‘you start at the beginning and tell me exactly what is worrying you?’

  She indicated a chair and Edna sat down, grateful to take the weight off her feet. There was a strained look on her young face and when she spoke, her words came tumbling out on top of each other, as if she had no power to stop them, like a tap that had been turned on and would continue to pour until all its water was spent.

  ‘Not wanting to speak out of turn, I wouldn’t say anything if I didn’t think as how it might be important,’ she said timorously, taking a deep breath, ‘but seeing as how her ladyship don’t ever come down into the servants’ quarters, and given that she was acting all suspicious, begging your pardon, saying as how she didn’t want any of the policemen to overhear her conversation with her friend, we couldn’t help but think that something was a bit queer.’

  ‘Are you referring to Lady Lavinia?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. I said to Mr Manning and Mrs Farrier that I thought as it was only right that I should tell you, what with there having been a murder and you being a detective and all. But they said as how it was none of my business, nor my place to say anything, and if Lady Lavinia wanted to use the telephone in the butler’s pantry, instead of a perfectly good instrument in the hall, then it was nothing to do with the likes of me, nor them come to that, and I’d do well to remember it and not speculate, what with there being enough gossip going around the servants’ hall as there was, without me adding to it and making it a deal worse.’

  ‘Are you saying Lady Lavinia used the telephone in the butler’s pantry?’ asked Rose in disbelief, for the thought of her friend leaving the splendour of the main rooms, to descend into the depths of the house to the servants’ offices, was something she found hard to comprehend.

  ‘Yes, she did, miss,’ Edna said, beginning to enjoy herself. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. We all thought it a bit strange, even Mr Manning and Mrs Farrier, though they wouldn’t admit as much.’

  ‘You said you overheard something,’ Rose reminded her. ‘Was it something you heard Lady Lavinia say when she was speaking on the telephone?’

  ‘Yes, m’lady. I knew I shouldn’t have listened, and I didn’t mean to, but though her ladyship made sure to shut the door to Mr Manning’s pantry good and fast, she likely
as not didn’t notice there’s a bit of a gap at the top and the wood what the door’s made of is not as thick and solid as it might be. If Mr Manning’s giving one of the footmen a good dressing down, you can hear what he says in the corridor almost as good as if you were in the room itself. But as I say, I didn’t mean to overhear what her ladyship said, really I didn’t.’

  ‘Very well, Edna, what did Lady Lavinia say?’ asked Rose, thinking it best to get to the point.

  If she experienced any qualms about asking her servant to divulge what she had overheard, she gave no sign of it, the detective in her coming to the fore and quashing any reservations she might have harboured.

  ‘Well, her ladyship was speaking to Miss Belling and it wasn’t so much what she said, more that she didn’t want anyone to overhear what she said which got me to thinking. Though it did seem to me rather odd when she referred to a joke. I mean, what with there having been a murder and all.’

  ‘A joke?’ Rose raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  ‘Her ladyship said she’d be awfully grateful if she, meaning Miss Belling, didn’t tell the police, or his lordship come to that, about their little joke, hers and Miss Belling’s.’

  ‘I see. Well, thank you for telling me, Edna, you were quite right to do so, though I doubt very much whether it has any bearing on this case.’

  ‘Well, I thought I should, m’lady,’ said the lady’s maid with a deep sense of relief before, with youthful impetuousness, dismissing the matter from her mind.

  Had she looked up and glimpsed the meditative expression on her mistress’ face her thoughts might well have lingered a moment or two longer on the subject, before racing ahead to contemplate the next item on her list.

  ‘Oh, m’lady, it almost slipped my mind. Miss Crabbe, Mrs Franklin’s lady’s maid is after having another word with you before she and her mistress return to Sycamore House. Two things, she says, she thought as you ought to know. Awful odd she were about it. Acted almost as if she didn’t really want to say anything, but felt she ought to. Said as how her conscience wouldn’t let her rest if she said nothing. She didn’t want to tell the police, seeing as how it was likely to reflect badly on her employer, but she thought she ought to tell someone who had a bit of sense to ’em, and she thought of you.’

  ‘I see,’ said Rose, taking this in the spirit it was meant, as a compliment of sorts.

  Inwardly she was considerably intrigued by this piece of news, for it occurred to her that Iris’ lady’s maid might have recollected something she had seen in the lane while she was waiting for Miss Casters to appear.

  ‘When are Mrs Franklin and Miss Crabbe leaving?’ she said aloud.

  ‘Mrs Franklin is having tea with Lady Lavinia,’ said Edna, ‘and then her chauffeur’s to drive her home, so I’d say now is as good a time as any, miss, to have your talk with her lady’s maid.’

  ‘Very well. Will you ask her to come here?’

  When Miss Crabbe appeared, Rose was struck by the fact the woman seemed agitated. Though the lady’s maid herself had requested the interview, she gave every appearance of having answered the summons reluctantly. Indeed, she stood in the middle of the room, fidgeting with the fabric of the cuff of her sleeve, glancing furtively at the door as if she were half expecting someone to appear. Edna threw her the odd exasperated look.

  ‘The mistress won’t bite,’ she said kindly. ‘She’s used to taking statements from people from all walks of life. She won’t view you as anyone different, and she’s used to people saying things that are shocking. You’d best take a seat and stop your dithering and tell her what’s bothering you.’

  ‘I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind, m’lady,’ said Miss Crabbe, as before, pointedly directing her remarks to Rose rather than to her lady’s maid. ‘It don’t seem right to sit, not here in this room. And I daresay what I have to tell you won’t take long in the telling, though there’s a part of me, I’ll admit, that would prefer to stay silent on the matter.’

  ‘It would be much better if you tell me what’s bothering you, Miss Crabbe,’ Rose said, encouragingly. ‘In my experience, the truth always comes out in the end, no matter what measures are taken to try to prevent it from doing so.’

  ‘Well, that’s as maybe,’ answered the lady’s maid, drawing herself up to her full height, ‘but before I begin, I’d like you to know that I was never one to speak ill of my employers. I don’t hold with it, not when they pay my wages for one thing, and for another, my father always taught me that loyalty is one of the greatest of the virtues.’

  ‘Your father was quite right,’ said Rose, ‘but I’m afraid that this is a murder investigation and it is of the utmost importance that we get to the truth, however unpalatable that might be.’

  ‘Well, of course I understand that, your ladyship, otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here now about to tell you what I ought, in all that is right and proper, keep to myself.’

  It is possible that unconsciously Rose sighed. For in truth she felt they were going around in circles and that any minute the lady’s maid was likely to be summoned to accompany her mistress back to Sycamore House before she’d had an opportunity to disclose the information which she was so reluctant to relinquish. Miss Crabbe, perhaps sensing her frustration, took a deep breath and began, but not before first enquiring, rather tentatively, whether it was true that the police viewed her master as the main suspect in the murder investigation.

  ‘Mr Franklin is certainly of considerable interest to them,’ Rose said, choosing her words with care, ‘if only because Miss Casters accompanied him to the ball. And,’ she added on reflection, ‘because your mistress seems to be of the view that her husband had a motive for wishing her dead.’

  She had the grace to blush, for she knew that her words were somewhat misleading and might be interpreted in a variety of ways. Miss Crabbe immediately took the bait and waded into the discussion with righteous indignation.

  ‘I’m not one to speak ill of the dead,’ she began, before proceeding to do exactly that. ‘But Miss Casters, for all the fine airs and graces she gave herself, looking down her nose at the likes of me who is good and God fearing, was no better than she ought to be. Acting as if she were a cut above us and that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth when all the time she was carrying on with the master under the very nose of his wife, something shocking. Wicked, that’s what I call it.’

  ‘You are quite certain Miss Casters and Mr Franklin were having an affair?’

  Miss Crabbe started at the abruptness of the question.

  ‘I am, your ladyship, more’s the pity. Not that I was like some of the others in the servants’ hall who have such vicious tongues, you wouldn’t believe. No, I was minded at first to give the young lady the benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t her fault after all, if she happened to be pretty. No one can choose what looks they’re born with,’ she said rather meditatively, pausing a moment to touch her own rather plain face, ‘but after I’d seen her coming out of the master’s study and standing in the hall, trying to catch her breath and not sob in the process, her hair all unfastened and falling over her face, I knew it was right what they’d said about her. Awful upset she were, her cheeks the colour of beetroot and her breathing fit to burst. Well, of course I knew what had happened.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘They’d had a falling out, she and the master, and the little minx had come a cropper as that sort are wont to do. I daresay you’ll think me uncharitable, but when I saw her in that state all I could think was how it served her right. Not that I’d go as far as to say she deserved to get murdered, because she didn’t, but she certainly got her comeuppance.’ She gave a grim smile. ‘You’ll be asking me next, your ladyship, when it happened. Well, it were a few days before the ball. And after that little scene Miss Casters kept to her rooms claiming a headache. Of course, I knew it were all pretend like, that she just didn’t want to lay eyes on the master until the storm had blown over. Afraid for her position, I daresay. And fo
r someone who was supposedly ill, she had quite an appetite for her food. Taken up to her on a tray, it was.’

  ‘I see. Well, thank you very much for telling me, Miss Crabbe. Edna mentioned that you had two things to tell me,’ she said, her lady’s maid having left the room during the course of Miss Crabbe’s rather verbose speech. ‘I take it that was the first?’ Miss Crabbe nodded. ‘What was the second?’

  If Miss Crabbe had been agitated before, now she was positively flustered. Certainly she did her best to avoid catching the other woman’s eye, looking first in one direction and then another, staring up at the ceiling and then down at the floor, all the while her fingers tugging at the stiff silk fabric of her sleeve.

  ‘Come,’ said Rose gently, ‘whatever you have to tell me cannot be as bad as all that?’

  Miss Crabbe shook her head miserably.

  ‘I’ve been told a great many dreadful things, you know,’ said Rose doggedly. ‘I believe you would feel much better if you told me what’s worrying you.’

  ‘Very well, your ladyship. I know I ought to tell you, though it don’t seem proper that I do. But I always said to myself that I would never stay in a house where the master was cruel to his wife. No, to my way of thinking it ain’t right when a man lays a hand on a woman, though he might think her his bit of property. Mrs Franklin is so weak and sickly, and Mr Franklin is a fine figure of a man to look at, though whether those who admire him would hold him so high if they knew how he treated his wife, I –’

  ‘Are you saying Mr Franklin beats his wife?’ asked Rose, clearly appalled.

  ‘It’s awful to say such a thing,’ said the lady’s maid, looking wretched, ‘but if you could see how frightened my mistress is of him, pleading with him not to hurt her, to say nothing of her poor arms. Covered in bruises, they are, where he’s held her roughly. Shocking, that’s what it is. Oh, but m’lady, you’ll help the poor mite, won’t you? You’ll never let him lay another finger on her, will you?’

  ‘I give you my word I shall do my very best to keep Mrs Franklin from harm,’ Rose said, a grim expression on her face.