“No.”
Well, if he didn’t, I certainly did. “Maybe she planned to go alone to meet someone, someone secret?”
She shrugged again, looking for Ewe to come.
“She’s probably doing the cream,” I said. “She’s very proud of her scones.”
Lianne nodded and crossed her arms. I could see she found my questions and this subject distasteful. “What was Victoria like when she came back? Tired? Irritable? Happy?”
“Definitely not happy.” A light laugh left Lianne’s lips. “I suppose she was in a mood.”
“Did you speak to her?”
“No, but I gave her a look when she yelled at Annie and Betsy. Victoria glared at me and said, ‘Don’t judge me, child.’ ”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. I turned and left.”
I didn’t believe her. The scene spanned before me: the despised sister- in- law returning to the house, her nerves raw, her mood worsening from the look of censure from Lianne. “Do you think she went to meet someone in London? A man? A lover?”
“We have another visitor!”
The announcement arrived with Ewe, carrying napkins and cutlery, and Mr. Brown behind her, bearing the tea and scone tray, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. “Morning, ladies.”
He breezed over to us and, unused to this version of a smartly dressed Mr. Brown, reminiscent of the gentlemen who came for lunch or dinner at Cumberland Terrace or Cannon Hall, I gaped.
“Miss Daphne, what a fortunate thing to find you home.”
The wicked glimmer continued to spark, silently reminding me of my intention to give him the perfume puffer. What is your interest in the investigation? I wanted to ask, then retracted the thought. “How . . .” Words failed me.
“How what? How does a modest major like me own such attire, or how did I happen to catch you at home? The answer to the latter is a lucky guess, and what an ideal time for tea, too.”
“Ideal,” I echoed, hearing Ewe’s noisy chatter in my ear. “Have you met Miss Lianne? Miss Lianne of Padthaway?”
“No, I haven’t yet had that plea sure,” the major grinned, stepping past me to do so.
Sweeping a bow, he adopted the formal code of introduction.
“How nice to meet you, Major Browning,” Lianne murmured, her smitten gaze sending a lovely flush to her face.
I suppressed an inward groan. It appeared the major had made another conquest. He made them too easily for my liking, and perturbed, I resumed my seat, leaving Lianne to his care.
As I anticipated, the major charmed his way across the table while I poured the tea. Lianne talked more than I’d seen her talk to anyone, and I noticed a few attempts of the major here and there to gently pry into the current mood at Padthaway.
“Lianne says you often go for early- morning walks,” the major said, making a pretense of following me out to help wash the dishes. “Have you considered my advice for testing unknown substances?”
“I have,” I whipped under my breath. “You’ll have it soon.”
“Now is a good time. Do you still have it?”
“Of course I still have it.” And flinging an apron to him, went to my room to fetch it.
He slid it into the pocket of his coat hanging by the door. “Excellent.”
“What is your interest in the murder, anyhow? Were you one of her secret lovers?”
His silent smirk did little for my good humor.
“Oh, you were a failing hopeful suitor. How unpleasant for you.”
“How mistaken you are, Miss du Maurier.”
“You didn’t know her then?”
His eyes remained guarded. “As it happens, I’d seen her around town. A mysterious, beautiful woman . . . one could never tell what she was thinking.”
Of course he admired her. Who wouldn’t?
Lianne came into the kitchen then, trailing her fingers adoringly across the bench. “Oh, I do so love this place! We have a secret garden at Padthaway.”
We agreed we should take tea in the garden next time, but her chin suddenly drooped.
“It’s my brother’s project. It’s not finished yet.”
“I’d still love to see it,” I said after the major had left and I accompanied Lianne home.
Lianne paused to gaze back at the village. “The major’s so handsome, isn’t he? Do you think he’d ever look at a girl like me?”
Oh dear. If I had the beginnings of a niggling headache before, I certainly had one now.
“There’s something about him. He’s very charming and he’s a major. Even Mummy couldn’t say no to a major.”
I tried to give her a reassuring smile.
All of a sudden, she turned her attention to me and leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ve got a surprise for you but it’s a secret surprise, just for us.”
She refused to say more, her elusive smile persisting until we reached the drive. “You will come inside for a lemonade, won’t you? We can have pink lemonade in the secret garden.”
How could I refuse? Giddy as two little girls, we strode into the entry hall hand- in- hand, both shocked to hear the raised voice of Lady Hartley as we passed the drawing room.
“What is the meaning of this unearthly summons?”
Raising our eyebrows, we reached the door in time to see it close on the hem of Lady Hartley’s morning robe.
Lianne propelled me closer to listen. I wanted to pull her back, but curiosity overcame me and we both put our ears to the door.
“It’s time you start taking responsibility for your actions, Mother. I’ve been patient with you long enough,” Lord David said, his voice steady, low, but firm.
“My actions.” Lady Hartley’s chuckling scoff. “Which one in particular offends you?”
“Why did you not mention Mrs. Bastion’s call?”
“It just slipped my mind . . .”
“The devil it did.”
Silence, then a long sigh from David. “I spoke to her yesterday. She says you paid her off for the clothes.”
“Miserable creature. I suppose she wants them back now. Did she return the money? Kept it, no doubt. I wanted to keep the clothes for Lianne—”
“Send the clothes away,” David coolly directed.
Lianne and I stared at each other agog. Grabbing my hand, she pulled me away from the door to run into the gardens.
“It’s in here.”
“What’s in here?” I stopped to catch my breath, still thinking of the anger in Lord David’s voice regarding Victoria’s clothes. Why would she be so callous? “What is this, anyhow?” I peered at the small A-framed hut.
“It’s Jasper’s kennel.” Ducking inside, Lianne retrieved a small navy bag. “This is it. The diary. Victoria’s diary. I took it from her room . . . before the police found it. It was under her pillow.”
“Victoria’s diary,” I whispered, reluctant to receive it from Lianne’s hand. “Did you tell anybody about it?”
She shook her head. “You’re the first and you’ll see why we have to keep it a secret when you read it. I don’t want David to get in any trouble.”
“Trouble?” I echoed. “Why would he get into trouble?”
Lianne’s hands gripped my shoulders. “You must give me your promise. Even David doesn’t know about this. If they found it . . .” She shuddered.
“I’ll meet you back here in an hour,” Lianne whispered, looking around her.
Giving her my promise, I went out to the cliffs to read it. It seemed the most appropriate place, under the circumstances, to do so.
Finding the windless rock I had shared with Major Browning, I settled down to read, wishing I’d brought a hat to shield out the fierce sun.
Being the owner of countless diaries over the years, I was surprised at the feel of the quaint slim blue book, unadorned but for a tiny flower, a modest Scarlet Pimpernel, gracing the front cover. It was the kind of diary one expected a young girl to have, not a grown woman.
The first entry, t
en years ago, revealed the diary’s age:
Dear Diary,
I found out today I have a different father . . .
CHAPTER THIRTY- TWO
Victoria’s Diary
I hate this village. Can’t wait to get away. Sometimes, I sneak up to the Big House and watch the Hartleys. They’re so lucky. I wish I could be one of them.
Proving Lady Hartley’s theory of the commoners wanting to be one of them, Victoria’s fascination with the Hartley family continued over the next few pages and into her young womanhood:
I saw Lord David today. He went by in the motorcar with his school friends. He’s grown quite handsome. I waved to them and his friends whistled. But Lord David didn’t. There’s a coldness in his eyes I wonder about . . . I s’pose all that business about his father. How can I get him to see me?
A few months later:
I saw him today and he SAW me! Lord David. Or David, as I shall now think of him. I didn’t think much of his friends, ’specially that Mr. Cameron. He followed me out the back. Madebeastly suggestions to me. I told him to sail his ship in other waters. He didn’t like that but he smiled all the same.
April 7
I’ve a date with David today. He’s driving me home from the club.
Very kind of him.
June 21
Dinner with Davie, as I shall now call him, then dancing at the club . . . oh dear, I’ll need more lessons from Miss Perony if I am to keep my man. For how can I ever fit into their world?
Three weeks later:
I’m working at Padthaway now.
The fact amuses me, somewhat, but Soames doesn’t like it. I think he’s jealous. Jealous, jealous, jealous for Davie and I are so in love!
I’m terribly happy. But Lady Hartley frightens me. Sometimes, I don’t feel very safe here . . . the maids whisper, Mrs. Trehearn watches my every move. Something’s not right and I don’t trust Davie’s mother. She has no heart and I swear Soames and she have some special plan to ruin our engagement for I caught him spying on me in London. Why can’t he take no for an answer?
July 22
I told David today . . . about the child. It was a shock to me, too, but I needn’t have worried. My Davie is honorable and he’s proposed!
Lady Hartley is outraged.
Soames . . . I can’t read. I think he knew it would happen. Best they both adjust to the idea. We’re to marry as soon as possible, to avoid scandal.
I came to the week of the wedding. Holding the diary on my lap, I noticed the change of handwriting, the scratchy, indefinable letters and read the reasons behind it:
Had a shocking row with Davie today. Those dreadful rumors! Spun by all those who don’t wish us to be together . . . Lady Hartley, Soames, and even Davie’s friends. Cowards. They think that I, because I worked at the club, am a loose woman. I am not, I tell you, dear diary. I kept myself for Lord David and he knows it. The worst thing is that I saw doubt in my Davie’s eyes today. He can’t believe them truly, can he?
About the child? How could he?
I’ve written him a letter. I hope it works.
Then came the last page, the last few entries before her death, unspecified dates, tear- blotted paper, and odd entries here and there.
Went to London. Saw him. Went better than expected. Soames still jealous as a cat. Lady Hartley suspiciously kind. She gave me a beautiful perfume puffer and apologized for her earlier treatment of me. Dare I believe it? I don’t trust her.
I’m so frightfully tired. Snapped at the maids and Lianne again. Didn’t mean to . . . but the nerves, you know. Davie heard about it; Lianne must have told him. He came to my room. We had another row. His doubts disturb me. He’s of the old school, proud, hates to be thought the cuckold. When there is no ground for him to do so! Oh, what am I to do? I can’t tell him the reason I go to London. I can’t allow anything to disrupt our marriage, not anyone, not even Connan. Dear Connan, he’s always in need of money and thinks now my rich boyfriend will pay for everything. If only our dad had turned out to be whom we thought! I’ll never forgive Mother for that.
As if my day could get any worse! I drank too much at dinner but I was angry . . . and ill. Feverish almost . . .
No . . . I can’t rest. I feel very strange . . .
I don’t know what I’ll do. Can’t trust David. I’m so scared . . .
I closed the diary and shut my eyes, letting her private testimony, her life, rest on my lap in perfect security. Victoria, the girl I’d seen lying there dead on the beach, sprang to life in my mind. I felt close to her, as close as I might be to a future heroine and her tragic end.
Walking back to Padthaway, I encountered Lianne.
“Did you read it? Do you see?”
I handed her the bag with the diary. “It should really go to Sir Edward, Lianne. I know you wish to protect your brother—”
“I’m going to destroy it,” Lianne declared. “Now.”
She started running for the cliffs. Charging after her, I managed to grab her skirt. Losing the diary to a whim terrified me despite my desire to dismiss its contents for David’s sake. “Let’s wait,” I pleaded, between breaths. “I didn’t tell you before but I found a letter Victoria had written to your brother hiding inside a book in the library. He knew I’d found it and read it, and when we went to Stall’s that day, he asked what he should do with it. I told him he’d have to hand it to Sir Edward. Don’t you see, darling? Your brother’s not afraid because he’s innocent.”
She looked at me as if I were mad. “Why keep the diary? There’s no need for it now.”
“One shouldn’t destroy an item belonging to the deceased, Lianne.”
Considering the wisdom, she eventually handed the diary over to me. “You do what you think best with it, then. Just don’t hurt Davie. Promise?”
I promised and we parted, she to Padthaway, and me to Ewe’s cottage with Victoria’s diary pressing against me. It felt almost toxic against my skin and I knew I had to be rid of it. So I abandoned my track in favor of the one leading up to Castle Mor, and to Sir Edward.
Sir Edward accepted the diary with a solemn face.
“Thank you, Miss du Maurier. I couldn’t have expected such honor from the Hartleys.”
“Miss Lianne only meant to protect her brother,” I said. “Do be kind to her.”
“I shall,” Sir Edward nodded, “but I have my duty. A duty that overrides friendship and landlords.”
I watched his great eyebrows droop, then spring up again. “I have a duty, a power invested upon me by law, to uphold justice in this county and that includes justice for Victoria Bastion, however much her death is troublesome to the Hartleys.”
Rubbing the diary across his robust stomach, Sir Edward groaned. “ ’Tis no accident in my opinion, Miss du Maurier. Ricin is poison and I cannot believe Victoria administered such a substance to herself, can you?”
“No. I knew that she wanted to live,” I said, thinking of her diary.
Sir Edward shook his head, grievous concern wavering in the orbs of his eyes. We stood on the landing by the door to his castle, or I should say, the Hartleys’ castle.
“Would you like to see inside?”
Sir Edward must have noticed my wide- eyed and yearning look, for I’d glimpsed a huge candelabra and heavy tapestries adorning the thick stone walls. “It must be difficult,” said I, never more at home than in a castle or historical landmark of some description, “to investigate your own landlord.”
Ignoring my comment, Sir Edward pointed out the drawing room, the fireplace, and the other rooms of the restored medieval keep.
It was precisely what I’d expect of a proper detective, to reserve details of the case only for the purpose of catching the killer. Without him breathing a word, I understood the case had reached an impasse.
“Have you read the diary, Miss Daphne?”
“I have.”
“May I ask your impressions?”
“My impressions . . . before I ans
wer, may I ask you if Lord David showed you a letter Victoria had written him before she died?”
“I do have such a letter in my possession.”
I nodded, elated that David proved a man of his word. He’d turned in the letter as duty dictated, just as I had my duty to submit her private journal. “My impressions are that Victoria had a secret of some kind. The entries with Soames you will find interesting, Soames and his jealousy.”
“Ridgeway Soames, the cook?” Sir Edward seemed surprised. “But er, he and Lady Hartley—”
“May be lovers, but I believe Victoria and Soames knew each other quite well and in hiring her at Padthaway, he thought he’d have a chance with her.”
“You’re a woman. You understand girls better than an old man like me . . . do you think she and Soames were lovers? Carried on their affair at Padthaway until she swapped him for Lord David?”
Taking the diary from him, I showed him the relevant entry. “See, she says she ‘kept’ herself for Lord David.”
“But any girl would say that,” Sir Edward argued.
“I believe her. She was beautiful, yes, but that doesn’t mean she was a wanton. Perhaps many have judged her cruelly, wrongly.”
Sir Edward considered this, his hooded eyes revealing little. “Any other reflections? Does she mention Lord David and Lady Hartley?”
“Both, naturally. Lady Hartley terrified her, and there is the mention of bride gifts.”
“Bride gifts?” Incredulous, Sir Edward’s great eyebrows lifted. “I confess I am impatient to study this new evidence— thank you, Miss Daphne.”
“It was simply the right thing to do,” I said, and left Sir Edward to his deliberations, knowing this new evidence spelled doom for the entire Hartley family.
CHAPTER THIRTY- THREE
Partly out of guilt, I found myself at Padthaway the next morning.
“Miss Lianne and her ladyship are still abed,” Mrs. Trehearn informed me, blank and expressionless as usual.
“Jenny Pollock?” I inquired.
“Miss Pollock should be awake at this hour. You will find her at the—”
“Yes, I know where to find her,” I smiled, and strolled in the right direction, aware Mrs. Trehearn monitored my every move. I suddenly understood why Victoria felt so uncomfortable. Mrs. Trehearn watches my every move. If she watched every move, I thought, walking along the sleepy corridors, why did she choose to remain silent? Did she fear the loss of her job if she spoke against her employers?
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