by Rhys Bowen
Belinda went to say something but then shrugged. “Oh well, I suppose a walk would do us good. Just as long as you don’t take us anywhere near the top of those cliffs. I don’t want to suffer Jonquil’s fate.”
Rose shook her head. “Oh no. Trust me. I don’t go anywhere near the top of the cliffs. You know me. I always was the timid one. Jonquil used to be so rude about it. So did Tony, for that matter.” She gave an embarrassed grin. “So let’s get coats and scarves on. There is a part of the grounds I am dying to show you. It’s quite unique.”
We were just buttoning outdoor coats when Mrs. Mannering appeared. “Surely not going out in this weather, Mrs. Summers?”
“I thought a walk would do us good,” Rose said, flushing as she always did when speaking to the housekeeper.
“You’ll come back with pneumonia if you’re not careful. It’s bitter out there.”
“We are bundled up and I’m anxious to show the ladies our grounds. We had to abandon our walk yesterday when it started to rain.”
Mrs. Mannering was frowning. “Then I had better tell Cook to have a good hot soup ready for luncheon. And I suggest you walk with caution. There are parts of this estate that can be dangerous.”
Rose opened the front door, and a cold dampness swirled in. It wasn’t the most inviting of days but Rose set out with determination and we had no choice but to follow. Rose led us across a lawn and into a copse of trees. “You wait until you see this,” she said. “It’s quite surprising.”
We could not see more than a few feet ahead of us but suddenly the path plunged downward between steep banks. We were entering a little dell. Bushes rose on either side, higher than our heads. A small stream ran gurgling beside us, dancing over stones as it made its way down the hill. Then we came to plants with giant leaves, two or three feet across, reaching out across the path. There was something unreal, otherworldly, about them and I shrank back when one brushed against me, as if they might well prove to be carnivorous.
“Isn’t this amazing?” Rose said and her voice had an odd, echoing quality. “It goes all the way down to the beach. It’s so sheltered that exotic plants grow here. A former Trefusis brought back tropical plants from the Caribbean. In the summer there are orchids and flowering vines. It’s a bit dreary at this time of year.”
“What are these awful-looking things?” I asked as we approached an even bigger plant with almost circular leaves at least three feet wide. It towered over our heads and reached out across the narrow path. I moved past it cautiously.
“I forget their name, but they grow well in Cornwall. It’s something like Gunnera?”
“Or ask Mrs. Mannering. I’m sure she knows,” Belinda said dryly. “She knows everything.”
“Doesn’t she just.” Rose snapped out the words. Then she turned to look back before drawing closer to us. “Look, I know it isn’t exactly the kind of weather to go exploring but I wanted to get you away from the house, where we can’t be overheard.” Again she glanced around nervously, before she said. “You’ve sensed it, haven’t you?”
“Sensed what?” Belinda asked.
“The house. The atmosphere. That feeling of danger. Of doom.”
“Oh, come on, Rose,” Belinda said. “I admit the house does feel a trifle gloomy, but . . .”
“I’ve felt it since the moment I moved in,” Rose said. “It’s as if I’ve been holding my breath, waiting for doom to strike.”
“From where? What are you afraid of?” I asked.
Rose’s voice lowered to a whisper. We could hardly hear her over the noise of the stream, spilling over a little waterfall. “Jonquil’s death was not an accident,” she said. “I believe she was pushed.”
“What on earth makes you suspect that?” Belinda said.
Rose leaned until she was only inches away from us. “I went to the spot where she fell. Those cliffs are granite. Solid granite. They don’t crumble like chalk or sandstone. And there were marks on the rock that made me think that someone had chipped some chunks away to give the impression that the cliff had crumbled.”
“But who would do such a thing?” I asked. “Did Jonquil have enemies?”
Rose grabbed at my sleeve. “I think it was Tony. Tony killed her.”
“Why on earth would he do that?”
“Jonquil wasn’t exactly the faithful type. She had lovers, you know. And I think she’d fallen out of love with Tony. She probably found he was a bit boring for her taste. You know how she loved excitement. You’d already moved away, Belinda, but the moment she could drive, her parents bought her a fast sports car and she was a menace on the road. She actually killed a child, you know. She claimed the boy darted out after a ball, and that may have been true, but she always drove so fast she couldn’t have stopped.”
“Where did this happen?” I asked.
“In the village of Rock,” Rose said.
“So if you are right that Jonquil was pushed off a cliff, why don’t you think it was one of the child’s relatives, getting revenge?” I asked. “Why are you so sure it was Tony?”
“This is what I have gleaned from asking people,” Rose said. “I think Jonquil wanted a divorce. If that happened, Tony would lose Trewoma. And all the lovely Trefusis money too.”
Belinda shook her head. “I can’t believe it, Rose. Tony would never do a thing like that, surely?”
“I wouldn’t have believed it before, but now I do. I often wondered why he got rid of all the staff after her death. Only Mrs. Mannering stayed on and I think that was because she knew too much. He’s afraid of her, just like I am.” She walked on a few steps, then turned back to us. “The worst thing is, I think that now he’s trying to kill me,” she said in a lowered voice.
“Kill you?” I was so shocked that I blurted out the words. “But why?”
Rose turned away, unable to look at us. “Because he never really wanted me.”
“Oh, Rose, what an awful thing to say,” Belinda said.
“He must have loved you or he wouldn’t have married you,” I said gently because I could see how distressed she looked.
Her face was a picture of embarrassment. “He only married me because I was going to have a baby,” she said. “One stupid night together and that happened. At least he did the right thing at the time. But I’m sure he never loved me. For me, it was a dream come true. I couldn’t believe my luck. I mean, Tony Summers—the most eligible, gorgeous man I’d ever met and me as mistress of Trewoma.”
“What happened?” Belinda asked. “About the baby?”
“I lost it,” she said. “I had a miscarriage at three months. Tony was furious. I’m clearly not the sort of wife he wants. I have no social graces, I’m not good at the sort of things the upper crust do. So I think he’s trying to get rid of me.”
“What makes you think that?” Belinda asked.
“He’s tried to trick me into things.”
“What sort of things?” Belinda asked, giving me a worried, questioning look.
There was a rustling in the bushes above us. Rose glanced around nervously again, but it was just a bird. “We have a boat, you know,” she said. “A small sailing boat. He keeps trying to persuade me to come out in it. He knows I’m a bad sailor. I could just picture what he had in mind. He’d get far enough out to sea and then he’d throw me over the side. He’d say, ‘Poor Rose. She leaned over to throw up and a great wave came and she fell out. I tried to save her but the waves swept her away.’”
She put a hand up to her mouth. “It has to be an accident, you see. He’s tried to get me to take up riding, knowing I’d fall off. And then there’s the coffee.”
“What coffee?” I asked.
“Remember last night I said it didn’t taste bitter? It usually does, and I hate to admit I don’t like it, so I pour it into one of the plants. Well, Tony usually stays on in the dining room to hav
e brandy and a cigar while I go through to the drawing room for my coffee. Last night you were here so Tony came with us. And the coffee didn’t taste bitter. Which made me wonder: does he usually put something in my coffee? Something that is slowly poisoning me?”
“But how could he do that if he stays in the dining room?” I asked.
“The coffee is left in thermos jugs on the table,” she said. “He could have tampered with it before dinner. He sometimes goes for a call of nature. He’d have plenty of chances.”
Belinda put a hand on Rose’s shoulder. “Rose, I think you’re imagining all this. Living alone in that big house, living the sort of life you are not used to, as well as the shock of losing the baby . . . well, maybe it’s been playing on your nerves.”
Rose shook her head. “No. I’m not imagining. I’m afraid, Belinda.”
“You’ll have another child soon, I’m sure, and then everything will be all right and Tony will be happy,” Belinda said.
Rose shook her head. “The doctor says it’s unlikely I’ll have another. This one was in the tubes and something ruptured. That’s another reason he wants to get rid of me.”
“Oh, Rose,” Belinda said gently. “Please don’t get so upset.”
Rose shrugged her off. “I don’t know if he ever fancied me in the first place. I was just a friendly shoulder to cry on. And he’s certainly lost interest now. I saw the way he looked at you yesterday.”
“Men always look at me like that,” Belinda said carelessly. “I’m just that sort of girl.”
“You’re the sort of girl he wishes he had married.” Rose sounded as if she was close to tears. “Tony doesn’t want me anymore and the most convenient way to get rid of me is to make sure I have an accident.”
She started walking ahead of us, moving quickly between the giant leaves and the overhanging vines until a series of steps led us down to a little beach. We came out into a small cove with black water lapping a few yards from us. Cliffs rose on all sides, disappearing into the mist, and that little stream fanned out into rivulets through the sand to be swallowed up into the estuary. Somewhere above us we could hear seagulls mewing.
“So what do you plan to do about it?” Belinda asked.
“I don’t know,” Rose said. “That’s the problem. I just don’t know. Should I just admit defeat, tell him he can have a divorce and go quietly back to my old life, or should I wait around for the ax to fall?”
I didn’t know what to say, but Belinda said, “Rose, I’m sure it’s all in your head. Jonquil had a tragic accident and nothing you’ve said makes me think you are really in danger.”
“The problem is that I have nobody to turn to here,” Rose said. “My mum is far away in Bath. I never lived here, of course. I just came in during the holidays to stay with Mum at your granny’s house. So I was a summer visitor like you. So there is nobody . . . that’s why it seemed like such a miracle when I spotted you yesterday. Now I’ve got allies. Now I’ll have proof.”
No sooner had she finished the words than a pebble bounced down from unseen heights, landing with a thud on the beach beside us. It was followed by another, then another.
Rose grabbed at my arm. “You see,” she whispered. “Someone has followed us. Someone is up there and any minute now a rock will fall on our heads.”
“I’m sure it was just a bird landing on the cliff, dislodging some loose stones. You can hear them calling up there, can’t you?”
“We must go back,” Rose said. “We shouldn’t stay down here any longer.”
And she started toward the steps.
Belinda glanced at me again, then set off after Rose. I followed up in the rear, and found myself peering up into the mist above the cliffs. Like Belinda, I had thought that Rose was imagining things, but when the rocks started to rain onto us, I was not so sure.
Chapter 13
OCTOBER 17
TREWOMA, CORNWALL
Are we really living in a house of horrors? When Tony came home for lunch he seemed jovial and relaxed and I couldn’t believe any of the things Rose was suggesting. But down on that beach—for a moment I wasn’t so sure.
It wasn’t until much later that I had a chance to be alone with Belinda. Rose had stuck to us like glue all morning until Tony arrived with the names of a couple of reputable local builders who would be willing to come out to the cottage. Belinda suggested we could go and see them after luncheon. The meal was excellent again: a leek and potato soup, local John Dory—a kind of delicious flat fish—grilled and a steamed sponge pudding with custard. When Belinda said we were off to see the builders, Rose invited herself along. “I’d love to see the cottage for myself,” she said. “And I actually know one of the men Tony has mentioned. He did some work in our bathroom. So it would be useful to have me along.”
What could we say to that? We put on outdoor clothes and then drove out to the cottage. Rose pronounced it to be charming—or it could be charming if Belinda put in a proper bathroom and maybe a conservatory like the one they had at Trewoma. “But you wouldn’t want to live out here, would you? It’s so remote. Wouldn’t you be scared to be on your own?”
“I’ve lived alone for years, Rose,” Belinda said. “And I’d probably only come for short visits. I’d bring Georgie with me.”
“I would be nice to have a friend nearby,” Rose said and I heard the longing in her voice. I felt heartily sorry for her. I too had seen how Tony had looked at Belinda, how he had tried to flirt with her. I could, unfortunately, see why he might have tired of Rose and want to move on to pastures new. But as for trying to kill her? Well, that was hard to believe.
We left the cottage and went in search of Tony’s builder. His office was in Wadebridge, which was the nearest town of any size.
“I’m sorry. Mr. Harris is with a customer at the moment,” the receptionist said. “He shouldn’t be long.”
We had just taken a seat and had a cup of tea produced for us when two men came in, deep in conversation. The older man, with the weathered face of the outdoor life, clapped the younger one on the back. “Don’t you worry about it then, Mr. Jago. We’ll do a lovely job for you. Like one of those Paris boudoirs it will be.” And he gave a hearty laugh that turned into a cough.
That’s when I noticed that the younger man was Jago. He recognized us at the same time.
“Well, hello again,” he said. “We seem to keep bumping into each other.” His gaze lingered on Belinda. “Come about the cottage, have you? Old Harris here knows his stuff, but you can’t have him for a while. I’ve got him working on a big project at Trengilly first.”
“That’s right, Mr. Jago,” Mr. Harris said. “Now if you’d just like to step through so we can complete the paperwork, and I’ll be with you ladies in a jiffy.”
“Nice seeing you, Rose,” Jago said. “How are you enjoying being lady of the manor, then?” He chuckled. “Do I have to touch my forelock when you approach these days?”
“None of your cheek, Jago,” Rose replied, blushing scarlet. “Just because you’ve come up in the world yourself.”
“I’m just a humble employee, not a landowner,” Jago said. “Got to run. Bye, ladies.”
“He’s as cheeky as ever,” Rose said as the inner door closed behind the men.
“What did you mean about coming up in the world?” Belinda said. “I told you I saw him on the grounds at Trengilly. He wasn’t very friendly either. Is he the groundsman there now?”
“No, he works for that foreign man Tony was talking about. What’s his name again? Panopolis? Something like that. Tony would know. I mentioned that he thinks this man is a bit dodgy, if you get my meaning. Not sure how he acquired his wealth or why he’s bought an estate in the wilds of Cornwall. Anyway, Jago is his estate manager here but I understand that he also looks after his properties all over the place. Big vineyard in France, so I hear. Cattle ranch in Argentina.
Oil tankers.”
“Jago is his manager?” Belinda sounded horrified. “And I thought . . .”
“You thought he was a smuggler,” I said, giving her a grin.
“Well, what was he doing at my cottage if he wasn’t smuggling, then?” Belinda demanded.
At that moment the door opened and Jago came out. He nodded to us as he left the building. I wondered if he had overheard Belinda’s last words because he had an amused look on his face.
“He and Tony don’t exactly see eye to eye,” Rose muttered as soon as Jago had closed the door behind him. “They had quite a run-in the other day.”
“About what?” Belinda asked.
“Something to do with lobster rights, I believe. Anyway Tony told him in no uncertain terms he was getting above himself. It didn’t go down very well.”
She broke off as Mr. Harris came to join us. He promised to come out and take a look at the cottage as soon as he could find the time. “But I have to put in two more bathrooms at Trengilly first,” he said. “The sort of guests that the foreign bloke brings down all like their own bathrooms, so it seems. And not just bathtubs either. They all want showers as well, if you can believe it. Not to mention them foreign bidet contraptions. And don’t ask me what they are.”
* * *
“YOU’RE RATHER QUIET,” I said to Belinda as we drove home. “Are you trying to decide whether it’s worth going to a lot of trouble with your cottage?”
“No, I was thinking about Jago. I mean, he was a local boy. Surely he would have had very little schooling. How did he wind up in a position like that?”
“He got a scholarship to Oxford,” Rose said. “I remember my mother telling me. I couldn’t believe it because he was always—well, shy like me around you upper-class children. He hung around with us but I don’t remember him ever saying much, do you?”
“I remember he was one who tried to save Colin,” Belinda said. “He was a good swimmer, wasn’t he?”