The Affair of the Bloodstained Egg Cosy

by James Anderson

  The Baroness said: 'Perhaps I might use your telephone later to let them know that I have been delayed. Heaven knows when I shall arrive now.'

  'Well, certainly not tonight,' Lady Burford said firmly. 'Tonight you will stay here. Merryweather, have you prepared a room?'

  'Yes, my lady. The Spangled bedroom.'

  'And the Baroness's things have been taken up?'

  'Yes, your ladyship.'

  The Baroness said: 'Really, your kindness overwhelms me. I feel I am imposing on you shamelessly.'

  'Not at all. We are already entertaining a moderately large party. We will hardly notice one more - at least, not in any inconvenient way. Now, would you care for some more brandy?'

  'Oh, no thank you.'

  'Then I expect you would like to go to your room and freshen up?'

  'That would be nice.'

  'Very well, Merryweather will take you up. Or perhaps first to the telephone?'

  The Baroness got to her feet. Lady Burford said: 'Merryweather, after you have escorted the Baroness upstairs, send Celeste to her.' She turned back to the Baroness. 'My maid will attend you. I don't know whether you would like to rest in your room, or whether you feel up to joining us for dinner?'

  'Oh, I feel quite recovered now, Lady Burford. I should like very much to join you for dinner, if I may, but I have no wish to delay you.'

  'There'll be no question of that. We don't dine until eight-thirty. Take your time.'

  Merryweather and the Baroness went out. Before anyone could speak Gerry said, 'Oh, excuse me,' and hurried after them. When she got outside, Merryweather and the Baroness were approaching the stairs. 'Oh, Merryweather,' Gerry called.

  He turned and came back to her, with a murmured apology to the Baroness. Gerry spoke in a low voice. 'Merry, tell my father the chicks have hatched.'

  Merryweather's upper lip shifted about an eighth of an inch in acknowledgement of this remark. 'Very good, my lady.' He returned to the Baroness and led her upstairs.

  Gerry watched till they'd disappeared, then signalled to a nearby footman. He hurried across to her. 'William, find Hawkins and tell him I want to see him straight away, will you? I'll be in the library.'

  * * *

  By eight-thirty the rest of the party had joined the group in the drawing room - all agog to see the ravishing beauty spoken of by the others. Five more minutes passed. The Baroness still did not appear, and Lady Burford sent Gerry up to bring her down. A few minutes later there were voices outside, the door opened, and the Baroness entered the rotan, Gerry on her heels.

  Lord Burford muttered 'By jove!' under his breath, Algy screwed his monocle into his eye, and there was nobody in the room who did not stare shamelessly.

  The Baroness was wearing a backless evening gown of shimmering gold marocain, with the skirt very tight to the knees and flaring out round her feet. Her hair was ash blonde and worn in the ultra-modern shoulder length page-boy style. Her complexion was now ivory pale and her lips vivid scarlet. Around her neck she wore a sea-green emerald necklace.

  She paused inside the door, smiled, and said in her low voice: 'I do hope I have not kept you all waiting.'

  Lady Burford stepped forward. 'Not at all. My husband's only just down. He's been so looking forward to meeting you.'

  'I have indeed.' Lord Burford bustled forward. 'Charmed, Baroness, charmed.' They shook hands. The Earl said: 'May I present my brother—'

  He turned towards Richard, then broke off. 'Rich? What's the matter?'

  For Richard was standing as though turned to stone. His eyes were fixed on the Baroness in an expression of utter disbelief. He took no notice of his brother's words, but for a full five seconds just stood motionless. Then in a whisper he spoke one word. 'Anilese.'

  The Baroness took a step towards him. Her lovely eyes grew even larger. She started to raise her hand as if to reach out and touch him, but froze in mid-movement.

  'Richard. No - I don't - I don't—'

  She swayed and fell into a crumpled heap on the floor.

  * * *

  'I wonder - would you all mind going into dinner? Mademoiselle - the Baroness - and I will join you presently.'

  Five minutes had passed since the Baroness's dramatic swoon. Richard and Lord Burford had lifted her onto the settee, water had been fetched, and Mrs. Peabody, saying briskly: 'I've had some nursing experience,' had bathed the Baroness's face and wrists.

  Within a minute she had opened her eyes and murmured weakly: 'Where am I?' Then she had looked round in bewilderment, until her gaze alighted on Richard again. She had shaken her head, as if to clear it. 'Richard. It is you. I thought it was a dream.' She had taken his hand. 'It is like a miracle.'

  Carrie Peabody had said: 'Do you feel all right, my dear?'

  'What? Oh yes. Quite all right, thank you. I'm very sorry. I'm afraid I have been a fool.' She looked and sounded embarrassed.

  She sat up, and then Richard made his request for dinner to be started.

  Lord Burford nodded. 'Splendid idea. I'm famished. Come along, everybody.'

  Slowly they trooped out. While the room emptied, Richard simply stood, staring down at the Baroness, unable to tear his eyes away from her face. Then as a footman closed the doors behind the end of the procession, leaving the two of them alone, he dropped on his knees beside her and took her hand.

  'Anilese - I can't believe it. Is it really you - after so long? I thought you were dead.'

  'Oui, Richard, chéri. C'est moi.'

  'But what happened to you? You were never seen after that bomb fell.'

  'It is a long story, Richard. You know how things were then.'

  'But surely you could have got in touch with me after the war - just to let me know you were alive? You knew how I felt. You must have realised what I thought had happened. Why didn't you?'

  'There were reasons - good reasons. I will tell you, I promise. Only later.'

  'But why did you seek me out now - after all this time?'

  Her eyes widened. 'I did not seek you out, Richard. I had no idea you were here. Would I have fainted if I had been expecting to see you?'

  He stared at her. 'But you knew this was my brother's house.'

  'No. I was told by the lodge-keeper that it was the house of the Earl of Burford. But that meant nothing to me. I knew you as Captain Richard Saunders. I was aware you came from an aristocratic family, that your brother had a title; I did not remember what that title was.'

  Richard shook his head in amazement. 'Then you're really here just by chance?'

  'My car crashed outside the gates, Richard. That is why I am here.'

  'It's incredible.'

  'I prefer to think of it as - destiny.'

  'Destiny - chance - what does it matter? You're here, that's the important thing. And to think that when they told me the Baroness de la Roche—' He stopped short. 'Of course - you're married.'

  She shook her head. 'I am a widow. I married in 1923. The Baron died in 1928 - nearly penniless.'

  'Oh, my dear. And - what since then?'

  She looked away from him. 'Since then many things, Richard. Many places. Many experiences I would prefer not to remember. Many ways of making a living. Much heartbreak.'

  'And - many men?'

  'No one who mattered.'

  'No one now?'

  'No one.'

  Then I - do you mean I've got—'

  She put her fingers on his lips. 'We cannot talk now. We must go in to dinner. We will have plenty of time later.'

  'You're staying?'

  'Overnight, at least. I shall have to go on when my motor is ended. But, never fear - I shall come back.'

  She took a powder compact from her bag, examined her face, and made some minor repairs. As she did so she said: 'Richard, you will, of course, tell them you believed me dead. Will you also tell them I thought the same about you? I can tell you the truth, but not strangers.'

  'Whatever you wish.'

  She put her make-up away and smiled
at him. 'I'm ready. Shall we go in?'

  * * *

  The soup course was finishing when they entered the dining-room. The conversation stopped as they went in, and all eyes were on them.

  After they'd sat down, Richard said: 'We obviously owe you all an explanation. As will have been plain, Baroness de la Roche and I are acquainted. We knew each other in France during the war. Our surprise just now arose from the fact that we had each thought the other was dead. The Baroness has been married - and widowed - since I knew her, so the name de la Roche meant nothing to me. She likewise knew me only as Saunders, and was not aware the Earl of Burford was my brother. You can imagine how astonished we both were.'

  Carrie Peabody said: 'My, isn't that too romantic.'

  Algy spoke loudly. 'I say, Saunders, how come you both thought the other was dead? Sounds as though there might be a dashed exciting story behind that. Why don't you blow the gaff, what?'

  'It's an exceedingly dull story, Fotheringay, and would bore you immensely. I'm sure we'd all much rather hear about your visit to Lady Masters.'

  Algy beamed. 'Oh, really? Righty-ho.'

  Jane paid silent tribute to Richard's skill. There'd certainly be no more discussion about Anilese de la Roche during this meal.

  * * *

  When the ladies entered the drawing room after dinner, Gerry waited some minutes for a good opportunity, then said to the Baroness: 'You know, I'm intrigued by this accident of yours.'

  Anilese looked at her coolly. 'Really? I assure you, intriguing is not what I found it. I doubt, too, that you would have found it so had you been in the car.'

  Gerry flushed slightly. 'Perhaps "intrigued" is the wrong word. "Puzzled" would be better. What puzzles me is the cause of it. That's a long straight stretch of road outside the gates. The light was good, the sun was behind you, the road was dry and the surface is in first class order. No other vehicle was involved. Yet your car suddenly swerved off the road and into the ditch, being so badly damaged that your chauffeur thinks it'll take a long time to repair it. Can you enlighten me?'

  Anilese shook her head and gave a sweet smile. 'I'm afraid not, Lady Geraldine. I have no knowledge of motor cars. But perhaps it was some sudden mechanical failure in the vehicle itself which caused us to crash. That is possible, is it not? You seem to be an expert on these matters.'

  'Oh, yes, that's quite possible. You could have burst a tyre, or a wheel could have come off. Except that I've been talking to our chauffeur, who drove you up here. He had a good look al your car while you were supervising Roberts as he transferred your luggage to the Rolls, and he tells me all the wheels of your car are in place and the tyres fully inflated. Your steering could have suddenly failed, I suppose. But it's a very rare thing to happen.'

  'I am very unfortunate then, am I not?'

  'Not really. I would say you are exceptionally fortunate.'

  'Oh?' The Baroness raised her finely-plucked eyebrows.

  'Yes. Hawkins tells me the car is at right angles to the road, facing straight into the bank, and the front is very badly smashed in - as though you'd been travelling at a pretty high speed. And that means you were both very lucky to walk away unhurt; quite apart from the fact that, having turned at right angles like that when moving at such a rate, it's almost miraculous your car didn't overturn.'

  The Baroness laughed, a delightful tinkling laugh. 'Why, Lady Geraldine, this is fascinating. Quite like your English Sherlock Holmes stories. You really must talk with my chauffeur about it. I'm sure you'd get on famously with him. Unfortunately, nearly all you've said is completely above my head.'

  'I may talk to your chauffeur,' Gerry said, 'though I think it would be better if you were to talk to him yourself - for your own safety. However, I shall be more interested in talking to Harry Jenkins at the village garage, to ask exactly what he found wrong with your car.'

  The entry of the men at that moment put an end to the conversation before Anilese could reply.

  That night the party broke up early, as for many of them it had been in one way or another a wearing day. Only Algy, who had slept most of the afternoon, was fresh and tried to get some dancing going. But he found no takers, and, rather disgruntled, was forced to retire early to bed with a new Ethel M. Dell novel.

  After undressing, Jane slipped on a négligée and went along to Gerry's room. She found her having her hair brushed by Marie, and waited a few minutes, making conversation, until the maid was dismissed. Then she said: 'You think Anilese's crash was faked.'

  'Precisely.'

  'For what reason? Just to provide an excuse to gatecrash this party?'

  'I can't think of any other reason.'

  'And you think she knew Richard was here - never thought he was dead? But why go through all that? If she did know, why not just turn up, announce herself by her maiden name and ask to see him?'

  'Perhaps she wasn't sure of the reception she'd get.'

  'Maybe, but that faint looked awfully real - as though she really was staggered to see him. Couldn't the accident have been faked for another reason?'

  'Such as?'

  'Well, there are two European diplomats and an American millionaire here - due to return to their own countries almost as soon as they leave Alderley. If she wanted to make contact with one of them, this might be her last chance. You know, I was joking with Richard yesterday about my becoming an adventuress. I didn't know a real one was going to turn up.'

  'Her title's genuine, by the way. I looked her up in the Almanac de Gotha. Baron de la Roche was French. He married a Mademoiselle Anilese Periot in 1923. He died five years later. So she fits the bill all right.'

  'That only tells us there is a Baroness of that name, a widow, somewhere in the world; it doesn't prove the woman who arrived here tonight is she - only that she's got the same Christian name as her. There's no doubt she's the girl, is there - the one you were telling me about?'

  'None at all. I asked Mummy. They got engaged in France in 1917.'

  'You couldn't get the whole story, I suppose?'

  'Not tonight. I'll worm it out of somebody sooner or later, though.'

  'Of course,' Jane said, 'we don't know he's still in love with her now. There was nothing in his behaviour tonight to suggest it.'

  'Not publicly, anyway.'

  'Still.' Jane went to the door. 'It's immaterial to me either way. As I told you, there can never be anything between Richard and me.'

  'Of course not. All the same, you are concerned for his happiness, aren't you - purely as a platonic friend? You don't want him deceived by a beautiful femme fatale?'

  'I think he can take care of himself.'

  'I'm going to watch her like a hawk, all the same.'

  'You won't be the only one, Gerry. Good night.'

  Jane returned to her room and went to bed. She turned the light out immediately, but it was a long time before she got to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Double Deadlock

  On Saturday morning it was hotter than ever. But now the heat was sultry and there was a threat of thunder in the air; it was not weather for outdoor exercise and the tennis courts remained unoccupied and the horses unsaddled.

  Anilese de la Roche slept late. After a light breakfast of coffee and rolls in her bedroom, she came down at ten o'clock. She then made a telephone call, after which she sought out Lady Burford.

  'I am told my motor car will not be ready until Monday or Tuesday,' she said.

  Lady Burford brightened. An unescorted titled lady, vouched for not only by her brother-in-law, but also by the Darnleys, was a godsend and just what she needed to balance the house party and eliminate the Thirteen to Dinner problem. 'Then of course you will stay here,' she said decidedly.

  'You are too kind. But I can easily hire a car. Or go on by train.'

  Lady Burford brushed aside these suggestions and it was arranged that the Baroness should remain until Monday at least. She went to telephone Lady Darnley.

  * * *

>   'Peabody,' said Lord Burford, 'you mentioned in your last letter that you'd picked up something rather special in Rome, and you were looking forward to showing it to me.'

  'That's right, Earl. I sure did.'

  'Well, how about it? Or have you decided it's not quite as special as you first thought?'

  'Not at all, sir. I consider it to be one of the most important purchases I have made for a long time.'

  'Well, don't sit on it, man. Let's have a look.'

  'Very well, I'll get it now.'

  'Take it along to the collection room, will you? You haven't quite seen all my stuff yet. I've got one more piece, actually, that I think you'll appreciate.'

  Peabody cast him a surprised glance. 'Oh, have you? OK, then. I'll see you up there in a few minutes.'

  He bustled off. Lord Burford chuckled and rubbed his hands. Gerry, who had recently finished a session on the telephone, was sitting nearby, rather a faraway expression in her eyes. Lord Burford got to his feet, bent down near her and said: 'I knew what the blighter was up to: trying to keep his own piece till last - wait till he'd seen everything of mine, then produce this new thing of his and trump me. I was up to him, though. He'll have a job to outshine my piece de résistance.' He toddled off.

  But Gerry was miles away.

  * * *

  Peabody entered the sitting-room of the Royal Suite, where his wife was writing a letter. 'Do you know what that old sooner's done, honey? He deliberately didn't let me see everything yesterday. He kept one really good piece back, just |o as to have something to top me. I'll show the shyster, though. He'll have a job to cap what I've got in here.'

  * * *

  He went through the connecting door to the dressing room, opened a large innovation trunk, took out a flat, hard case about eighteen inches by twelve and four inches deep, tucked it under his arm, and strode out.