Murder on the Cliffs

by Joanna Challis

  She probably knew a great deal about the house and its secrets. A good house keeper always did. However, discretion often played a part, and in this affair, it meant self- preservation. Mrs. Trehearn intended to preserve her illustrious position at Padthaway, as much as Lady Hartley meant to preserve her position as lady of the house.

  “She came back, all right,” Jenny said on seeing me. “Mrs. B. Demanding those clothes. Did ye hear of it?”

  Settling down to a nice cup of fresh tea, I confessed I had overheard Lady Hartley and Lord David talking in the drawing room.

  “Arguing, more like,” Jenny huffed. “Well, she failed this time, Lady Muck. Lord Davie put his foot down and the clothes were sent to Bastion cottage.”

  “All those beautiful clothes,” I whispered, a trifle disappointed. “They will be sold now, I suspect. And those furs . . .”

  “Lady H is none too happy, for Davie paid for the whole lot,” Jenny enthused, “but I s’pose the clothes should go back to the girl’s mother for Lady Muck won’t fit ’em, will she!”

  “You don’t think she wanted them for Lianne?”

  Jenny’s face took on a sad look. “I don’t think my Lee Lee will be havin’ a season. She’ll do well if some nice man comes along and looks after her.”

  “Because of her illness? The one she inherited from her father.”

  “A lie and a fib that is!”

  Not anticipating such intensity, I fumbled out an apology.

  “Is that what she said, Lady Muck?”

  “It’s just what everyone says. Jenny, if you don’t mind my asking, why do you stay here if you dislike Lady Hartley so much? I know there is David and Lianne—”

  “More my babies than hers. She never cared about them, so I stay. I’ve always stayed. And I’ll stay as long as my Lee Lee needs me. As long as I’m needed.”

  I glanced at my wristwatch. “Lianne doesn’t usually sleep late, does she?”

  “She had nightmares last night. She came here and I took her down to the kitchen, made her hot milk, then cuddled her till she slept again.”

  “She never mentioned her nightmares, poor thing. Are they . . . ?”

  Jenny nodded. “How’d ye be if ye saw your own dad shoot himself?”

  “Very disturbed,” I answered. Eager to prevent a new bout of Jenny’s morose reminiscing of the past, I asked if she knew where I could find the secret garden.

  Her face turned white. “What did you say?”

  “The secret garden. Lianne said it’s David’s project. Do you know where it is?”

  Jenny’s pallor deepened.

  “What ever is the matter, Jenny?”

  I watched her shuffle to the window, to stare out upon her own little garden, and the flowers below. “How could he? How could he think to open it? The old place?”

  I didn’t know whether to remain silent or speak. I decided on the latter, interrupting her talking to herself. “Why? Do you have an objection?”

  “I can’t believe it . . .”

  “Is the place cursed?”

  Shaking her head, Jenny returned to her normal nonchalance. “Ah, we used to go there in the old days. I just wish my Davie had told me. He shouldn’t keep secrets from Jenny.”

  Something in her eyes perturbed me, and I swept to my feet and to the door. “I’ll go now, Jenny.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he tell Jenny?”

  Her voice followed me outside as I tried to regain composure.

  “Miss! Are ye all right, miss? Ye look lost!” Annie called from across the hall.

  I made a conscious effort to remove Jenny’s disturbing reaction from my mind. “Oh, I’m looking for Lord David’s secret garden. I thought I’d wait there for Lianne. I heard she had a bad night last night.”

  “Aye, she did, poor thing, and I can show ye to the garden if ye like, miss. Oh dear.” Her face fell. “Oops. I’m not supposed to know. Betsy told me not to say anythin’.”

  “About the garden? Then I’m like you, in trouble, for I just mentioned it to Jenny Pollock and she didn’t look too happy to hear of it.”

  Annie, a kindred spirit, grinned. “Ye’re safe, miss, and Mrs. T’ll wallop me if she knew I took ye there. As for Jenny, don’t know why she should be upset.”

  “I think it’s because Lord David kept it a secret from her.”

  “Oh.” Annie’s mouth quivered. “Well, he’s a grown man now, not a boy.”

  “Indeed, he is a grown man.” I blushed, remembering our kiss in the library.

  “And I hear he’s taken with you, miss! Not that I should be sayin’ such, so recent after . . .”

  “Victoria.” I said the name. “Annie, I have to ask you something. You know when you heard that argument between Lord David and Victoria, did you hear any man’s name mentioned at all?”

  Annie thought hard. “Lord Davie were so angry, maybe, for he didn’t like her London visits and where she was goin’ and she wouldn’t say where she was goin’ either. Two stubborn mules together, if ye ask me.”

  “You don’t really think Victoria had an affair with another man and planned to plant the child on Lord David?”

  “Oh, no, miss! It’s true she had her pick of ’em males, even Mr. Soames got very cranky when she started to see Lord David, and I s’pose she liked to flaunt it a bit, but nope, miss, I think the babe were Lord David’s and it’s sad what happened to her.”

  “Who do you think murdered Victoria, Annie?”

  Leaning across to whisper in my ear, she said, “If anyone wanted her out of the way, I’d say Lady H. But like Betsy keeps sayin’, we’re best not to talk of it.”

  I followed her lithe steps to the gardens outside, now more curious than ever as to Victoria’s mysterious London journeys. Who did she meet there, especially on that final trip? Went to London. Saw him. Went better than expected.

  Sunshine bathed my face, leading me to the peaceful serenity I loved here at Padthaway. How beautiful it looked outside, a lovely, still summer’s afternoon, the green lawns a perfect setting for the stone mansion, the creeping wild roses climbing up the ancient walls. “This is the house,” I said to myself, glancing over to hear the roar of the sea in the distance. “This is the house.”

  Intensely inspired, I nearly forgot Annie standing there, pointing to the place in the wall to the secret garden. “I think . . . I think I’ll just sit here for a minute, Annie. Thank you.”

  “I’ll let Miss Lianne know ye here, miss.”

  I nodded for I could not speak. A whole story forming inside my head, I sank onto the weathered stone seat to gaze up at the house. I imagined the hero, a tortured one worthy of the Brontës, an older man with a house and a dead wife. I pictured him brooding, accused of murder, even by his own silent servants.

  He strolled into my sunshine, in a strangely pensive mood. Seeing me sitting there along the wall in the gardens, he made an obligatory effort to smile. “Making use of the morning light?”

  “Lord David!”

  “You sound surprised. This is my home, you know.”

  “Forgive me.” I shook my head. “I must have been daydreaming.”

  “Dreaming up a future novel?”

  “Your gardens are so beautiful,” I said, motioning to the roses along the wall. “Look how they cling there, spiraling down amongst the wisteria with those alliums down the bottom. Ben certainly does a fine job. . . . I’m surprised he manages to do it all alone.”

  “Oh, he has his helpers.” His face brightening at this compliment to his house, Lord David paused to smile. “We have a name for them. Ben and his merry weeders.”

  I laughed. “Weeding is an awful occupation, but I do envy you . . . owning a house as magnificent as this.”

  “You shouldn’t envy us.”

  Standing there on the path, now relaxed and graceful, he viewed his house with new eyes. Boyish excitement replaced the former dark mood. “Ben and I are working on a secret garden. Would you like to see it?”
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  I glanced around for Lianne.

  “If you’ve come to see my sister, she’s not up yet.”

  “You heard about her nightmares last night? Is it to do with seeing her father die?”

  Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything, for his face darkened and the brooding hero resumed.

  “It’s been hard for her,” he said, “exposed to terrors at such a young age.”

  We spoke a little about his father’s suicide.

  “I didn’t see the signs; I was shocked, like the rest of the world. He always appeared happy in his way . . . and then, suddenly . . .”

  Observing his bewildered face, I wondered if he felt the same way about Victoria.

  “Lianne’s been under the care of a few doctors— some disastrous; she relates better to Jenny. Jenny keeps her steady, but one day she’ll have to let go and let her find her own way.”

  I stopped him. “Before we go into the garden, I have a confession to make: Jenny knows about the garden.”

  I saw the flicker of concern in his eyes.

  “Why were you keeping it secret from her? She seemed upset you hadn’t told her.”

  “I wanted to surprise her. I wanted her to see it as it used to be— before my father died. We used to play inside as children. Jenny was always there, too.”

  I nodded, suppressing the desire to hug him. “Sometimes returning to a certain place is difficult. You should speak to her, though. Especially as I’ve blundered. I’m amazed Lianne didn’t tell her. She seems to tell Jenny everything.”

  Again, his face shadowed and he asked that we not discuss Lianne any further. Oh no, I thought, he suspects his own sister.

  My heart pounded. Lianne . . . had she found the poison hidden somewhere in the green house and placed it in the perfume puffer? Lianne . . . had she followed Victoria, stumbling out to the cliffs, to make sure she died, to make sure she fell over the cliffs? Lianne . . . had she returned early the next day to look for the shoes? She was the first to see the body and I shivered, thinking back to that first day, back to Lianne’s frightful eyes.

  “This is my little project,” Lord David murmured, his hand slipping through the hedges to unlatch a lever. “The door is this way.”

  I did not say Annie had shown me the way already. Weaving through the heavy satin- leafed bushes, we ducked under the tiny hidden dome- shaped oak door.

  Once inside, I let out a shrill sigh of awe and amazement. Walls laden with all kinds of creeping plants served to enclose a tiny bridge as the center feature, spanning a man- made pond, leading to a circular thatched cottage in the far back corner. “It’s gorgeous!” I cried.

  “Worthy of restoration,” David echoed. “My father created it, but it was left to ruin after his death. He loved his place . . . and so do I.”

  And like a child, Lord David seized my hand to run across the pond bridge.

  “There’re fish down there, hiding under the lilies.”

  I squinted hard to find them, and yes, a big orange goldfish slithered between two lily pads. “You feed the fish?”

  He nodded, drawing me away to point out the various shrubs and flowers. “My father collected all of these. This was his private little retreat. He was often here . . . alone.”

  Gazing at his face, warmed by the sunshine, I asked if he intended to keep it private.

  “I am tempted, but that would be selfish of me. No, once it’s finished, I want to open the whole house to the public.”

  “To the public? How does your mother feel about this?”

  “She doesn’t like it, but she’ll like the money it will bring to the place.”

  I nodded, even though I couldn’t see Lady Hartley warming to the idea of people roaming over her domain, despite the financial benefits.

  “The cottage is still a ruin, but someday, I’ll fix it.”

  We stepped inside, over the fallen beams amongst the wildness that grew there. I touched part of an old beam. “Would it cost much to renovate it?”

  “Yes, and it’s something that is not a priority at the moment.”

  His hand briefly spanned mine as it rested on the beam.

  “Daphne, I know I shouldn’t say this, but I can’t stop thinking about you . . . after that kiss . . .”

  He looked away, horrified and guilty that he could form an attachment so soon.

  “It’s just . . .”

  “No, it’s not just a kiss. You have to believe me, Daphne. I didn’t kill her.”

  “No, but did your mother?”

  Staring at the garden, he scratched his arm. “Oh, hell, I don’t know. I don’t know where the poison came from—”

  “Mrs. Trehearn?”

  “I’ve asked her. She swears she didn’t have it.”

  “She may have told you and Sir Edward that, but do you believe her? Does her loyalty to you override her loyalty to your mother?”

  He’d thought of all of this; I saw it edged in every line of his face. “I don’t know. I just don’t want you to think that I—”

  “Could poison your bride?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY- FOUR

  I wanted to tell him then; I wanted to tell him about the diary.

  His head hovered dangerously close to mine. “Do you believe me, Daphne? I have to know.”

  “Yes, I believe you,” I murmured, closing my eyes as his hand reached out to cup my face.

  I should have stopped him. I knew I should, but I let him explore my face, I let his fingers caress the length of my arm. Keeping my eyes shut, I let him kiss me again, a kiss so sweet and full of longing, I wanted it to go on forever.

  Pulling away, I endeavored to find sanctuary in another part of the garden. My face still hot and flushed, I prayed for cool air to cool my emotions and my head. Perhaps to assist my plight and realizing he’d overstepped his own boundary, he began speaking of the next renovations to take place at the house. Leaving the garden, I nodded, scarcely listening to his plans for the tower.

  “Did you show her? Did you show her the secret garden, Davie?”

  I breathed a long sigh of inward relief as I watched Lianne chasing Jasper up the terrace steps.

  “What did you think of it?”

  Swirling around us both, Lianne’s faith in me as her confidante and friend caused a sickness in my stomach. I felt sick, sick that I suspected her. How did she get the poison, though? Did she do it at her mother’s direction?

  The puffer. The puffer had all the answers. Oh, why, oh, why had I entrusted the perfume puffer to the major?

  “I’m hungry.” Lianne still skipped around us, merrily playing with Jasper. “Daphne can stay for lunch, can’t she, Davie?”

  Lord David cleared his throat. “Of course she may, if she wants to.” Catching his sister by her waist, he smiled as she giggled. “How are you feeling now, Lee?” He pinched her nose. “No more nightmares?”

  “No more nightmares,” she replied, giving him a fierce hug before skipping off to lunch.

  “I really should go,” I began, “Ewe might be expecting me, and I don’t want to impose.”

  “Nonsense,” Lord David dismissed, frowning down at his riding coat. “I might change for luncheon. You know your way to the Green Salon, don’t you?”

  “That’s unfair,” I smiled. “You get to change whereas I do not. My mother would be horrified at my showing up at a grand house dressed like this.”

  He observed me with admiring eyes, looking over the full length of me. “I think you look fine.”

  But not beautiful like Victoria, I quibbled as we parted ways. How did he feel now that her room had been cleared out? Did he feel pain? Or relief?

  “Thank goodness,” Lady Hartley breathed upon seeing me arrive at the Green Salon. “My son has been rather testy of late. I didn’t want to endure another lecture. . . . What is it, Trehearn?”

  “You have a visitor, your ladyship.”

  I turned around to view her face, searching for clues. Mrs. Trehearn would have organized the clea
ring out of Victoria’s room. Did she know I’d taken the perfume puffer, and the beads? How good a house keeper was she? A bad one, I hoped, swallowing uneasily.

  “A visitor!” Lady Hartley cried, inspecting the card. “Major Thomas Browning . . . don’t believe I know him.”

  “Oh, I do!” Lianne snapped up the card. “Bid him entry, Trehearn, and if he hasn’t lunched, set another place, please.”

  Astounded by her behavior, evidence of her infatuation for him, I answered all of Lady Hartley’s questions. When and where we had met this Major Browning and what we knew of him. Exhibiting an interest in his possible connections, she stood when he arrived.

  “Major Browning. You are very welcome.”

  Mrs. Trehearn, the efficient shadow, set another place for our guest and he joined us at the table. I lowered my head, my face blazing at his impudence. Why call at the house so early after an acquaintance, especially when it was to visit the family he warned me about?

  “I just had to see your home.” He charmed Lady Hartley with a smile. “Your daughter’s description of its interior left me unable to put it off for another moment.”

  “I’m glad you came,” Lady Hartley sprang to attention, examining his handsome face and correct attire. “We have so few visitors here. You’ve met Miss du Maurier, of course? Her father is very famous.”

  “Yes.” The major’s gaze sought mine. “And I had hoped to meet Lord David.”

  “My son will be along shortly.”

  “Then I am fortunate to have you three ladies to myself for a while.”

  I coughed, and the major leapt up to pour me a glass of water. Seeing him relax there on the settee opposite Lady Hartley, sipping his cider and chatting about this and that, I could have killed him. How dare he? What were his intentions? To befriend the family or to convict them? He certainly hadn’t come here to see me, but at the first opportunity to whisper to me, he did so.

  “I have news.” His coarse whisper scathed my ear. “News . . . on our little experiment.”