“Ah ha!” Clive stood up, document in hand. “I knew it! Diana did this. She tries to write like Nicky but she can’t.” He punched the pages with his finger. “I’ll tell the earl about this. He’ll be interested to hear what his son doesn’t do.”
Puck was trying not to look at Willa’s heartfelt letter in the trash. How could she get it out without Clive seeing? “Bertie probably won’t like hearing anything bad about Diana.”
Clive’s eyes shot fire at her. He was jealous that this scrawny girl was allowed to call the earl Bertie. And he was sickened that the earl genuinely loved Diana. But most of all, Clive didn’t like being instructed in diplomacy by someone he considered a kitchen maid.
He quickly signed the document. “I will keep the knowledge to myself. For now.” He thrust the papers out to her. “Put this on the earl’s desk. And this!” He held up a single piece of paper that had a lot of numbers on it.
Puck took the paper but didn’t look at it.
“Go on. Read it. I know you will. You read it all, listen to it all. I know what you do.”
Puck didn’t have to look at the paper to know it was the monthly budget. He always printed the totals—always a deficit—at the bottom in red.
“He’s buying another horse,” Clive said.
Puck wanted to defend a man who had always been good to her. “Diana said it’s—”
“Not the one that’s already here.” Clive’s voice was getting louder. “It’s another one. He thinks he’s a brilliant judge of horseflesh. He thinks breeders admire and respect him. But they laugh at him. They tell each other to buy nothing that Bertram Renlow likes as the animal is sure to lose any race. They say—”
Abruptly, he dropped down into the chair. “Maybe I should marry that dumpy little woman. I’d get her idiot father to buy us a country house and I’d do nothing for the rest of my life. Could I stand her enough to do that?”
Puck had no reply to what he was saying, but then she’d heard his self-pity many times before. While Clive was in his usual I-feel-sooo-sorry-for-myself collapse, she dropped the papers she was holding. When she knelt to pick them up, she slipped Willa’s letter out of the bin. Without another word, she fled the office.
Outside, Willa was just a few feet away, her face begging for news.
“He quoted parts of your poem,” Puck said. She knew how to pull truth from lies. “I think he was impressed.”
“Really?” Willa’s eyes were wide. Actually, they were kind of bugging out of her head. Not attractive.
“He spoke of you and marriage,” Puck said. “And where you’ll live on a country estate.” She couldn’t bear to break the woman’s heart with the truth. “I have to go.” She ran.
All Puck could think about was how much she wanted to see Sean. Whereas the others at Oxley Manor had rules about what she could and could not tell, there were no rules with Sean. He was apart from them. Separate. And he saw them all clearly. How they related to each other, how they needed one another.
She went to several places on the estate where he could usually be found, but he wasn’t anywhere. His truck was parked by the stables so he hadn’t gone into town.
Was he with someone? she thought. Some fat, stupid village girl?
Puck laughed at herself. She was getting as jealous as Clive. She was on her way back to the house when she saw him. He was on Lady Chance, one of the horses Bertie said would win races but never had. Sean was riding hard down the gravel road that went through the acreage. Puck didn’t think she’d ever seen him ride so fast.
Her first thought was that someone was hurt. Nicky? Byon? Nadine?
Puck started running. Over the years she’d developed some speed, and combined with her knowledge of the grounds, she was able to follow him. He was headed toward the old cemetery. But why would he want to go there? No one ever did.
When she got there, she saw the horse tied to a falling-down fence post. Sean was among the gravestones, talking to two men, neither of whom she’d ever seen before.
Had it been anyone else, she would have figured out a way to hide so she could hear what was going on. But this was Sean. Her friend. She wouldn’t intrude.
At the corner of the cemetery was the caretaker’s old brick house. It was tall, narrow and boarded up. No one had lived in it for many years—and no one wanted to. The private Renlow cemetery had a reputation for being haunted. People were always saying they heard noises and saw lights there. Besides, the house was in such bad condition that it would cost a lot to renovate. Bertie wasn’t going to waste money on it.
Cautiously, Puck went to the house. She didn’t want the men to see her, but at the same time she was curious as to what they were doing.
When one of the men looked in her direction, Puck stepped backward—and fell inside. An old board had given way. When her weight hit it, she’d fallen back and the board had landed on top of her. The only sound was of her “oof.”
She lay there for a moment, waiting for the dust to settle, and to see if anyone had heard and would come running. But there was silence. When she lifted the board off and set it aside, she saw the floor. It was inlaid tile in terracotta and white, with strips of blue. Very pretty, she thought.
For a moment she was torn between whether to go back outside and try to figure out what Sean was doing or to explore the house. The scary thought of Sean catching her spying made her choose the house.
It was three stories, with the ground floor little more than an entrance hall. Upstairs were half a dozen small rooms, with a couple of fireplaces. The top floor had two bedrooms and a bath.
The bathroom had a tub so big that it must have been installed before the walls were built. The room was dark, with the windows boarded up. She was about to leave when she saw something in the tub. Leaning over, she picked up a white mask. It was full face, with long holes for the eyes. The mouth was open and turned down. The bottom of the tub held yards of soft white cloth. Under it all was an old tape recorder. Before she thought, she pushed the play button. Out came eerie sounds of clanging and moaning. Quickly, Puck turned it off.
It looked like she’d found the source of the haunting. Masks, white drapery and recorded sounds.
Her question was why? And who was going through so much trouble to keep people away from the cemetery?
Puck peeked through the boards nailed over a window to look out at the old cemetery. It held over a hundred years of the Renlow family, plus valued friends and retainers. There was a Victorian marble mausoleum that looked like a military tent. Not that any Renlow had ever been a soldier, but one of them had kept the accounts for a British general who’d served in India. It was enough to lay claim to military service.
Sean wasn’t far away from the structure. She saw him hand a small canvas bag to one of the men. In return, Sean took a paper bag.
Puck leaned back against the wall. Was the bag full of money? Was this about drugs? Was Sean buying them? Selling them?
This was a secret she did not want to have to keep. But she knew that this was one she was going to have to guard closely. If anyone found out...
When she looked out again, Sean was gone. She needed to find him but he mustn’t know that she’d seen... Whatever he’d been doing.
She ran down the stairs. As soon as she was outside, she saw that her clothes were covered in dust. Sean would take one look at her and know where she’d been. With energy, she dusted herself off.
She caught up with him as he was walking Lady Chance back to the stables. Like always, she started walking beside him.
“What have you been up to this morning?” he asked.
“Listening to everyone.”
“Oh?”
It was an invitation to tell all. And besides, Puck wanted to fill the air with words so she wouldn’t have to think about what she’d seen. She told about the errands—including about Willa.<
br />
“Poor girl,” Sean said. “If he marries her, he’ll make her miserable.” He looked at Puck. “And what’s this about Nadine?”
There was a sneer in his voice, but it was understandable. Nadine arrived with fabulous cars from her father and they scared the horses.
“You’re to give her riding lessons.” Puck pulled the money out of her pocket and held it out to him. “She wants her first lesson tomorrow.”
“No,” he said. “Get somebody else.”
“Nadine is a nice person.” Puck sounded desperate, but then she was. If Sean didn’t give Nadine lessons, her father would be angry, then Nadine wouldn’t be allowed to come and she was good at keeping peace and—“Nadine is funny and interesting and she cares about people.”
“You mean she cares about that group of misfits that hangs around here. Does she know it’s her money they love the most?”
“I’m afraid she does.” Puck was being honest. “But she has to do whatever her father tells her to do.”
“And he wants her to marry the future earl.” It wasn’t a question.
“Sean, please. Nadine will get in trouble if you don’t teach her.”
With a grimace, he took the money. “All right. Tomorrow at 8:00 a.m.”
“I don’t think—” She’d been about to say that Nadine wasn’t up that early but she didn’t. “Fine. Eight in the morning.”
“If she shows up wearing some riding costume from a BBC drama, I’ll send her back.”
“Jeans and T-shirt,” Puck said.
Sean frowned but he nodded. “You’re nervous about something. What is it?”
Puck could feel her heart pounding. “It’s just Mum. Trying to escape her. And Clive’s bad temper and...” She trailed off. Sean’s face showed he wasn’t believing any of it.
He stopped walking, then reached out and pulled something from her hair. It was a ball of dust. “You look like crap.”
She started to make up an explanation, but she knew Sean would know she was lying. She was silent.
“So don’t tell me.”
He started walking but Puck didn’t move. Somehow, she was giving away too much about what she’d seen. “I’ll see you later,” she said. When he didn’t answer, she headed toward the house. She’d gone only a few feet when she began running.
By the time she reached the house, she was out of breath. She went to Bertie’s office. Sean joked that it was actually the drinking room as that’s where the earl got drunk every night.
Puck put the document Clive had given her on the desk—which wasn’t nearly as big or elaborate as Clive’s. On the top was an open checkbook. She saw that Bertie had made out a check for fifty thousand pounds to Longbow Stables. The page of the monthly expenses Clive had given her showed that there wasn’t that much in any account. The check would bounce.
Puck left the office and made a dash up to her room at the top of the house. She changed her shirt and ran a comb through her hair, then ran down the stairs to the kitchen.
“Where have you been?” her mother demanded angrily. “I’ve had this whole meal to do by myself, all while you’ve been outside daydreaming. You flit around like some butterfly, getting no exercise at all.” She gritted her teeth. “It’s time you started to grow up. If we’re going to continue to live here, we all need to be useful. Indispensable, even.”
Mrs. Aiken put half a pound of chopped up butter in a deep skillet. “What are they all doing?”
Puck ate a cherry. “Nicky and Byon are working on a play. Diana is mucking out the stables, and Nadine is going to take riding lessons from Sean. Clive is doing the accounts and Willa is writing letters.”
Mrs. Aiken frowned at her daughter. “You’re telling too much about these people. You’re too young to know that there are secrets in this house. You need to learn how to keep what you hear and see to yourself.” She glared at her daughter. “But you must tell me everything.”
“I will try,” Puck said. Her mind was on that house by the cemetery and what Nicky had said. A place to have some peace.
She watched her mother drop scallops into the puddle of butter. As Byon had said, the butter wasn’t browned, or clarified, or sauced in any way. She tried not to laugh.
Eight
When Puck finished, Kate and Jack said nothing.
Sara broke the silence. “Interesting. They’re different than I thought they would be.”
“Frenemies,” Kate said. “Nobody did what had been planned for them.”
“Right,” Sara agreed. “Nicky didn’t marry Diana as Bertie wanted. Clive didn’t marry poor, sad Willa.”
“After that night they disappeared,” Puck said, “everyone separated.”
“Forever,” Sara said. “I wonder...”
“What?” Jack asked.
“If they knew what had happened. I mean the truth. Did they know it was a murder?”
“Or murders,” Jack said.
“Yes. They knew that two murders had been committed and that’s why they separated so completely. A conspiracy of silence.”
Sara looked at Puck. “We need to know what happened after Diana and Sean disappeared.”
“Byon sold his play, If Only,” Puck said.
“His first big success,” Sara said. “It was on stage in London for over a year and played in six countries. Schools perform it now.”
They looked at her.
“I did a Wikipedia search.”
“And Clive went to London and became a banker,” Kate said. “I kind of feel sorry for him. He was trying to save the place but was hated for it.”
Puck’s face showed that she disagreed with that. “Nicky did ask Diana to marry him and she accepted. She said...” Puck hesitated.
“Said what?” Sara asked.
“That her ring was actually Oxley Manor.”
“I understand that,” Sara said. “At least Diana knew the truth of what she was taking on.”
“And Willa?” Kate asked.
“Clive asked Willa to marry him.” For a moment, Puck put her hands over her face. “We all knew that Bertie had bullied Clive into asking her. But Willa was ecstatic. She could hardly walk. She floated.”
“What did Byon and Nicky say about that engagement?” Sara asked.
“They were kind,” Puck said. “Byon said it was all so awful that he couldn’t think of worse than the truth.”
“Bad for which one?” Jack asked.
“Willa. Byon said she was going to find out that Clive had nothing but contempt for her.”
“How soon after the disappearance did he break their engagement?”
“Forty-eight hours,” Puck said. “She came apart. We thought she was going to kill herself.”
“Yeow,” Kate said.
“Wonder what she did to him after they broke up?” Sara said.
“For something that big, I would think it was more than nettles and ants,” Kate said.
They looked at Puck for an answer but she shrugged. She didn’t know.
“Did you ever find out what Sean was doing in the cemetery with the men?” Sara asked.
“No.” Puck’s voice was a whisper. “The next day everything in the house was gone.”
“You mean the mask and the recorder?” Kate asked, and Puck nodded.
“Did you see him with the men again?” Sara asked. “Maybe somewhere else?”
“No.” When Puck stood up, she swayed on her feet. “I...” The reliving of the past had exhausted her.
Sara stood. “We need to go. Bella will be wondering what happened to us.”
Jack picked up Sara’s camera. “We’ll say we went exploring to take photos.” He was reminding Sara that she wasn’t to tell Bella anything about what they’d heard.
Sara opened her camera bag and took out two clean SD c
ards. She put the ones with the photos of the skeleton on them into her pocket. “Let’s go take some pictures. I’d like to have something to show for our hours out.” She looked at Puck. “Is it all right to say that you invited us to breakfast?”
“I doubt if anyone will believe that.”
Sara frowned. As a writer, she knew all about isolation and being an introvert and how people criticized. “You should get out more. You should meet people. You should—” Fill in the blank. Everyone knew what she should do.
“Okay,” Jack said over Sara’s silence. “Let’s give Puck time to recover.”
Puck looked at Jack with smiling eyes.
They went downstairs to the ground floor, then outside, and stood for a moment in the cool air.
“Is it still morning?” Jack asked. “It feels like we left the house days ago.”
“Discovering a murder does that to you,” Kate said.
“Could have been an accident and a cover-up,” Sara said. “We have no proof of murder.”
Jack and Kate gave her skeptical looks.
“I agree,” Sara said. She didn’t take her camera when Jack held it out to her. “Why don’t you photograph Puck’s garden? Your love will show in the photos.”
“Love? What does that mean? Love for the plants? The flowers are nice, but...”
Kate and Sara were looking at him. They knew that he had taken on Puck as his latest cause. In the past, they’d seen him risk himself for what he believed in.
“Yeah, okay, so I like her,” he said. “That story of hers! She practically kept this place going. And they all used her.”
“Except Sean,” Sara said. “Anybody have any ideas about what he was doing in the cemetery? And no drugs. I am sick of drugs being given as the cause of everything bad. They’re used in movies, TV, books. In life! Drugs were great as shock value back in the sixties, but now they’re all anyone can think of. Parents dealing with drugs, masses of money being made, gangs. Drugs, drugs, drugs. We need to look for something else that could be the reason for Sean’s secrecy. Just no drugs!”
A Forgotten Murder Page 9