by Mary Beeken
“Did you enjoy your shopping trip with Erica and Fiona?” he asked as he walked over to her and when she looked puzzled continued, “I called to see you but a young footman said you were out shopping. Did he not tell you I had called?”
“No he did not,” Dizzy replied, secretly relieved that he had not been avoiding her after all although it did not explain why he did not call again. Something of her thoughts must have been displayed in her face for he came up to her and pulled her into his arms.
“I am so sorry Gherkin. Did you think I had abandoned you? The truth is I had to leave town almost immediately to sort out this house party. I should have written to explain. Can you forgive me?”
If he had looked in the least bit contrite she would have happily forgiven him but he was smiling in such a way that it appeared he found the whole thing funny.
“We have no claims on each other, Glenmore that we must always be informing the other of our whereabouts. I have not been looking to see you.”
“So you have not missed me at all?” he asked; amusement lacing his voice.
“Not at all,” she informed him primly.
Before she could request that he release her, he raised her chin with his finger and lowered his lips to hers in a gentle but insistent kiss. She held firm against his coaxing; refusing to respond to his overtures but when his hand cupped her breast a bolt of desire ricocheted around her making her gasp and it gave him the opportunity he sought. He plunged his tongue between her lips; opening them so that he could taste her; devour her. As he deepened the kiss, he ran his thumb over her nipple, erect and hard at his caress. She moaned and gave in but barely had she begun to respond than he pulled away.
“Liar,” he murmured and laughed at her look of chagrin.
Reluctantly he released her and walked over to the desk, where he opened the drawer and removed a black leather case, embossed with gold.
“I have a gift for you,” he said holding it out to her but when she made no move to take it he opened it, revealing an exquisite diamond necklace fashioned to resemble a daisy chain. Each daisy had diamond petals and a golden sapphire in the middle. They were intricately joined by a metal Dizzy did not recognise.
“It is platinum. A very rare metal not often used in jewellery. Gold would not have been nearly as affective but what do you think?” Marcus explained.
Dizzy tentatively touched the necklace, unable to believe she was really seeing it. “Where did you get this?” she demanded.
“Garrards,” he told her hiding a smile at her obvious confusion. He then asked innocently, “Is there anything the matter? Do you not like it?”
She loved it! But then why wouldn’t she? She had designed it; every tiny detail described both in word and picture form although she had used silver and not platinum. It was a piece of jewellery at the centre of one of her crime novels.
“Here let me fasten it,” Marcus said lifting the necklace from is bed of black silk but Dizzy stepped away.
“Regardless of our actions the last time we met, I am not your mistress Glenmore,” she declared.
“But we are lovers!” he replied, his eyes following the movement of the necklace as it swung too and fro; balanced on his middle finger.
“No we are not. I have no intention of behaving in such a manner again,” she told him.
“If you think that then you are only fooling yourself, my girl,” he said.
“No I am not!” she clenched her hands and teeth in order to refrain from shouting and then marched off towards the door but he was quicker, blocking her exit by leaning against the door and folding his arms.
“Please let me pass!”
“Not yet. We need to come to an understanding,” he told her. “I have every intention of making love to you again sweetheart; to have you gasping out your pleasure when I am buried deep inside you and as you demonstrated not five minutes ago, you will not be able to resist. You want me as much as I want you!”
“What I want is for you to leave me alone. I do not want to play your games, Your Grace. I will not disgrace my family by becoming your whore!” she spoke vehemently and then grasped the handle of the door and tugged in a futile effort to dislodge him and make her escape before she broke down and cried.
“Perhaps we should start again,” Marcus exclaimed. “I am not giving you the necklace because I want you to be my mistress and neither is it a gift for services rendered,” then when she continued to try and get the door open. “Gherkin, stop trying to escape and for one moment will you listen to me!”
Whatever her response was not destined to be known for at that moment there was a knock on the door and the handle was rattled from the outside. “Your Grace?” the butler said through the wood panels, obviously puzzled that the door would not open.
With a sigh Marcus moved away from the door and allowed the butler access although he took the precaution of grabbing hold of Dizzy’s arm to stop her leaving. “Yes Flockton?”
The butler’s glance flicked between his employer and the young woman taking in his obvious annoyance at being disturbed and her brave effort to fight back the tears. With a significant look at her arm imprisoned in Glenmore’s hand, Flockton addressed her. “Lady Dizzy, Mrs Flockton awaits you in the hall and will accompany you to your room. She will ensure you have everything you need to freshen up after your journey. I will have a maid bring you some tea; always such a good restorative, I find.”
“Flockton!” Glenmore snapped. “You interfering old goat!”
“I take exception to the ‘old’ your grace,” he intoned with the ghost of a wink at Dizzy who could not help but laugh. Glenmore snorted but let her go and she took the opportunity to slip past the butler and out.
Marcus cursed. “That did not go well!”
“No, your Grace,” Flockton agreed.
“Go on! Spit it out! You are likely to do yourself an injury if you don’t!”
“It is an observation only your Grace, but kind words and respect go much further than scowls and high handedness especially when trying to attach the affections of a young lady.”
“I shall bear that in mind for next time!” Glenmore said.
“Did you propose in the traditional manner, your Grace?”
“Propose? No definitely not! If I were to propose she would just flay me with it. I am not prepared to give her the chance to refuse me!”
“So you are going ahead as intended with your scheme?”
“Absolutely! It is a full proof plan.”
“Let us hope so, your Grace!” said Flockton dubiously.
“Now is there anything else or did you just come to rescue Lady Dizzy from my evil clutches?” Glenmore asked.
“The Earl and Countess of Elveston have called and are waiting for you in the blue drawing room. I have taken the liberty of asking Mrs. Flockton of having their rooms prepared, your Grace.”
“They must have travelled like the wind to get here,” he exclaimed. “A good thing we kept the best guest suite on the off chance they arrived. Could you see that all the relatives are informed of their arrival and let it be known that they are welcome to use the drawing room for a family reunion prior to everyone meeting for tea? Thank you Flockton.”
Mr and Mrs Flockton had taken up employment at Brynston Hall when Glenmore had come into the title a few years before and had quickly established themselves as loyal and trustworthy upper servants who managed the house efficiently. To the rest of the staff they were seen as strict but fair. They were very much of the opinion that people happy in their work provided the best service and remained steadfast. Therefore, providing the staff were diligent workers they were considerate and accommodating managers who took the welfare of all very seriously. Thus they had very quickly earned the respect and loyalty of everyone; from the lowliest kitchen maid to his Grace’s valet.
Mrs Flockton, not being blessed with children of her own tended to mother the younger ones and in Lady Dizzy she saw a girl in need of cosseting.
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br /> “You come on up with me, my Lady and we shall soon have you settled in. The master was keen to see you I know but he should have let you freshen up after your journey but there you are; men can be so impatient at times.”
Upon reaching the top of the main staircase she led her along the corridor and showed her into a large room tastefully decorated in cream and pale greens. The modern furniture was light and complimented the decor beautifully; the effect being both feminine and comfortable.
“What a beautiful room!” Dizzy exclaimed, taking in the small escritoire, the armchairs before the fire, and the bedspread embroidered with delicate flowers; a pattern repeated on the cushions and curtains.
“Through here you have the dressing room with a bath and wash facilities.” Mrs Flockton said opening a door and showing her a small side room decorated in the same cream and green. “Beyond is your personal sitting room, should you wish for some quiet time.”
Dizzy coming back into the bedroom walked over to the door in the opposite wall and asked “Where does this lead?”
“That leads to another bedroom but the door is locked and will remain so for the time being as I have the key,” said the housekeeper holding up her heavily laden key-ring and then when there was a knock on the door she continued, “Ah that will be the maid with your tea.”
After an hour and Glenmore had not approached her, Dizzy began to relax and enjoy herself. Tea had been served with sandwiches and cake at four to all the guests and now everyone was mingling. Dizzy knew most of the people present and those she did not were soon introduced to her by Erica who had been asked to fulfil the role of hostess for the evening. Several gentlemen had been comrades of Glenmore and Ross during their army days and Dizzy was just conversing with one of them when there was a commotion at the door and turning she saw Fiona and Stephen enter.
“We are not too late for tea and cake are we?” Fiona asked “I am spitting feathers as my old nanny would say!”
“Sorry we are so late but we got lost! Our new coach driver took the wrong turn and had to stop several times to ask for directions,” Stephen explained. “You have saved us some cake haven’t you?” he continued, staring at the near empty plates.
“Do not worry for Flockton has already sent for more and is bringing fresh tea,” Glenmore assured him.
Once the latecomers had been served with refreshments, Glenmore stood in by the fireplace and called for everyone’s attention. “Now we are all here, I can tell you that we are embarking on a murder mystery which has been written by a promising new author. I predict murder mystery parties will become all the rage! Everyone will be given a notebook in which they can record any clues they may come across and make predictions as to the identity of the killer. Some of you will be given specific characters though for the sake of convenience I have decided that it is best if you keep your own names rather than adopt the one given to your character in the original book. Are there any questions so far?”
Of course there were no end of questions and a great deal of excitement. “But for the person who is murdered isn’t it going to be a trifle boring; just lying there dead for the duration?” asked Stephen, just before popping another piece of cake.
“Do not worry it has all been arranged so nobody will be getting bored whilst lying around dead!” Glenmore assured him with a grin.
Dizzy remained quiet whilst their host was outlining his plans and fielding questions; that Glenmore had gotten hold of one of her novels could not be in doubt but she was completely dumbfounded as to how he had not only managed to obtain it but also to read it. The necklace that he had tried to give her that afternoon made sense now as it was pivotal to the plot and he must have had it made specially. She began to run through the story in her head but did not get very far when she recalled the opening chapter and gasped; gripping the arm of the chair in which she sat and praying for a superpower which would render her invisible.
“Lady Dizzy perhaps you could join me here,” Glenmore said and smiled triumphantly as she reluctantly left her seat near the back and made her way to where he was standing. He knew she could not possibly refuse with such an excited audience looking on; all eager to get the event under way.
“I tried unsuccessfully to present this beautiful necklace to Dizzy earlier this afternoon but she declined to accept but now that she is my affianced bride; for the sake of the story of-course, I am hoping she will accept it as a token of my esteem and as a wedding gift.” He held it up and raised an eyebrow at her and although she scowled she did turn so that he could fasten it around her neck.
“Thank you, your Grace,” Dizzy uttered demurely as if accepting the inevitable but when he told her she was welcome she shattered the illusion by saying, “but I still cannot accept it!”
“Why ever not?” he demanded and was joined by a host of other voices.
“Go on Dizzy it is all part of the fun!” Gideon said
“You have to get into character, my dear!” Mrs Honey Dew told her.
“I am getting into character!” Dizzy proclaimed. “There is no way she would accept the necklace.” Here she paused for a moment “Not without the bracelet and the earrings to match!”
Everyone laughed and Glenmore sighed with relief. “Then it is a good thing I had those made too, my darling Gherkin. I thought I was marrying a sweet girl but it turns out she is an avarice gold digger only interested in the riches I can provide!”
“The wedding is to take place tomorrow morning in the village church and everyone is welcome,” Glenmore announced to the room at large. “Erica will hand you an envelope in which there is a brief outline of your character and over dinner tonight you will all have the opportunity to find out about your fellow guests and to present your own person; be they good or bad. There may also be additional information needed by you for the smooth running of the murder mystery. Please can I ask you not to share any of it with others as it will ruin the fun? ”
When everyone had collected their envelopes they began to disperse; heading off to their rooms to assimilate the particulars of their role prior to dressing for dinner. Dizzy was vaguely disappointed when Glenmore did not attempt to speak to her again but berated herself for being so idiotic; the more he kept his distance the better, is how she should have been feeling.
“I do so hope I am the murderer!” Fiona exclaimed, clutching her envelope as they made their way upstairs.
“I would love it to be me!” Genevieve said “Then I could stick a knife into Robert Prentiss; right through his blackened heart.”
“Have you argued with him again? What if he is the murderer? He might strangle you with his cravat!” Dizzy said pretending she was being strangled by placing her hands at her throat and pulling a gruesome face.
“You cannot go around killing indiscriminately no matter what the provocation!” Stephen told them. “Let us hope none of you are the killer because I shudder to think of the consequences if you are!”
“I second that!” Robert Prentiss said coming up behind them. “For reference purposes Lady Genevieve, no shrew is capable of making my blackened heart bleed no matter how sharp their weapon.”
“You mean it has shrivelled to dust!” she retorted.
“I expect you already know who the killer is, don’t you Dizzy as you wrote the play? Tell us is it going to be a gruesome murder?” Fiona jumped in; hoping to distract the two protagonists.
“I know who the murderer is in my book but Glenmore may have changed it!” she told them with a shrug “And besides, you wouldn’t really want me to tell you as it would ruin the surprise!”
“You are right there,” Stephen agreed “So I suggest we pester no more!”
By this time they had reached the top of the stairs and as Dizzy’s room was the opposite way to the others she bade them farewell and continued on her own. She wondered if she had time for a leisurely soak in the bath but decided it would be unfair to ask for enough hot water to fill a tub when everyone would be calling for it as
they prepared for dinner. She settled for half an hour reading and was soon ensconced in the armchair with her legs tucked up and was deeply engrossed in a grisly murder.
Glenmore only stopped long enough to collect a key from the box that housed his fobs and tie pins before going to the connecting door which he quickly opened and stepped inside. He heard a gasp and turned to see Dizzy curled up with a book; totally absorbed in the story and oblivious to his presence. He watched her for a while and smiled at her expression of fascinated horror and noises of distress. It was only when she turned a page that she realised she was not alone and uttered a little shriek. “Do you have to creep around all the time? You scared me witless! I did not hear you knock!”
“I let myself in,” he informed her, indicating the door which stood open “My room is just through there.”
Dizzy glanced from him to the connecting door and back again totally bewildered. “Two things,” she said when she found her voice. “That door was locked and Mrs Flockton has the key so what did you do; wrest it away from her? And what in heaven’s name do you think you are doing putting me in the Duchess’ suite? Everyone is bound to find out and my reputation will be ruined! I thought it was another female guest in there!”
“Obviously I have my own key!” he smiled. “As to your other question; unless you tell them, no one will know. This is the family wing so there are no guests along here. Nobody will be walking down the corridor and chance to see you coming out of the Duke’s apartments. Stop worrying, Gherkin.”
“Of course they will find out! I need to move rooms.”
“There is none other available. Moving now would only draw attention so it is best to stay here. Trust me it will be fine,” he told her; unconcerned. “May I sit down?”
She sighed but nodded and he took the armchair across the hearth from hers, and crossed one long, muscled thigh over the other.
“This idea of yours for a murder mystery house party has certainly been well received by your guests but I am intrigued; how did you get hold of one of my novels?”