by Rhys Bowen
“I gather you had a nasty tumble,” Whiffy said. “The lighting is so poor in the corridors, isn’t it? Old Tris tripped over a suit of armor on our floor. That’s par for the course for him. Clumsy as an ox. Have you seen him, by the way?”
At that moment he appeared, in animated conversation with Prince Siegfried. They were both heading in my direction. I couldn’t stand it a minute longer. I excused myself as soon as I was able, and went to my room. I went up the little staircase, looking carefully for clues. It was too dark to see much, but I knelt down and examined the third step, which was where I had taken the tumble. There was no sign of a nail from which a string could be tied, but there were telltale holes in the walls. My adversary thought he or she had removed the evidence, but one can’t remove holes.
I went into my room and locked the door, but I couldn’t sleep. Every house has a set of skeleton keys that my killer could acquire, but at least I’d be ready for him. I looked around for a suitable weapon, then took a warming pan off the wall and laid it beside me. At the first hint of anyone near my door, I’d be waiting, armed and ready to bash him over the head and scream the place down.
The hours ticked on. An owl hooted and somewhere in the park there was a scream, probably a fox taking a rabbit. Then I heard the floorboards outside my door creak. It was the slightest of sounds but I was up in an instant, warming pan in my hands, standing beside the door. I held my breath, waiting, but nothing happened. At last I could stand it no longer. I unlocked the door as quietly as possible, and looked out. A figure in a dark robe was creeping down the hall as if he or she didn’t want to wake anyone. My first thought was the Prince of Wales, returning from a visit to Mrs. Simpson, or vice versa. But I could see that the person was taller than either the prince or the American woman. The form passed the prince’s suite and kept on going. At last it paused outside a door, tapped very gently, then entered.
I crept down the hall, counting doors, trying to make sense of what I’d just seen. I passed the Prince of Wales’s suite. The room had to be Prince Siegfried’s. And from the outline of the figure against the light on the landing, it could be none other than Tristram. I hadn’t even realized that Tristram knew the prince. So why was he visiting him in the middle of the night? Naïve as I was, I could only come to one conclusion. And this was someone who only yesterday had proposed marriage to me. Like everything else at the moment, it didn’t add up.
Chapter 27
Farlows
Saturday, May 7, 1932
I finally managed to sleep after placing a chair back under my doorknob and awoke to hear that doorknob being rattled fiercely and then a loud tapping on my door. It was broad daylight. I opened the door to find the maid with my morning tea. It was a lovely day, she said, and the gentlemen were off to play golf. The American ladies were joining them. If I also wanted to, I’d have to hurry.
I had no intention of straying from my mother, Lady Mountjoy, and Marisa. There had to be safety in numbers. I dressed and came down to breakfast to find Belinda busy attacking the kidneys. “Lovely spread,” she said. “One forgets how much one misses this sort of thing.”
I smiled at her and went to the sideboard to help myself.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” she said. “Are you worrying about your brother?”
“No, I’m worrying about me.” I looked her straight in the eye. “Someone’s trying to kill me.”
“Oh, Georgie, surely you’re imagining things. You’re the type of person who has accidents, you know that.”
“But several accidents in one week? Even I am not that clumsy.”
“Horrible, I agree, but accidents nonetheless.”
“Only not last night,” I said. “Someone strung black thread across the top of those stairs. I found a piece on my skirt.”
“And nails in the wall?”
“No, but there were holes where nails could have been. My attacker must have removed them. He or she is obviously very sharp.”
“He or she? Who do you think it could be, then?”
“I have no idea,” I said, still staring at her. “Someone who is somehow linked to the death of de Mauxville. Tell me, was Tristram Hautbois on that boat on Sunday?”
“Tristram? No, he wasn’t.”
“Well, that shoots that theory, then.”
Belinda got to her feet. “I really do think you’re letting your imagination run riot,” she said. “We’re all your friends. We’ve known you for years.”
“And haven’t been quite straight with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“That you didn’t tell me you frequented Crockford’s. You were well known to the staff there.”
She looked at me and laughed. “You didn’t ask. All right, I confess I do adore gambling. I’m actually rather good at it. It’s what keeps my head above water, financially. And I rarely have to come up with the money for my own stake. Older men love to befriend a helpless and charming young woman.” She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Did you find out anything there?”
“Only that several people I know gamble more than they should.”
“One needs some excitement in life, doesn’t one?” Belinda said. She got up and left me alone at the breakfast table, still not knowing if she was a suspect or not.
My mother came in before I had finished and I latched on to her. Max was off golfing so she wasn’t averse to some time with her daughter. She whisked me up to her room for some “girl time,” as she called it, and made me try endless jars of cosmetics and various perfumes. I feigned interest while trying to think how to tell her that my life was in danger. Knowing her, she’d just tell me not to be silly and go on as if nothing had happened.
“What are you doing with yourself?” she asked. “Not still working at Harrods in that awful pink smock?”
“No, I got the sack, thanks to you.”
“I got you the sack? Little moi?”
“They told me I was rude to a customer and I couldn’t very well tell them that you were my mother.”
She gave a great peal of laughter. “It’s too, too funny, darling.”
“Not if you need money to buy food, it’s not. I’m not getting anything from Binky, you know.”
“Poor Binky. He may not be in a position to give anyone anything again. Such an awful thing to have happened. How did that terrible de Mauxville man come to be in your house in the first place?”
“You know him, do you?”
“Of course. Everyone on the Riviera knows him. Odious man. Whoever drowned him did the world a service.”
“Except that Binky is likely to be hanged for a crime he didn’t commit unless I can find out who did it.”
“Leave that kind of thing to the police, darling. I’m sure they’ll sort it all out nicely. Don’t worry about it. I want you to enjoy yourself—come out of your shell, start flirting a little more. It’s time you snagged yourself a husband.”
“Mother, I’ll find myself a husband when the time is right.”
“What about the Student Prince at dinner last night? You’d never find a man with more orders or medals.”
“Or flabbier lips,” I said. “He looks like a cod, Mother.”
She laughed. “Yes, he does, rather. And deadly dull, I should imagine. Still, future queen isn’t to be sniffed at.”
“You tried duchess and you didn’t stick with it for long.”
“True enough.” She looked at me critically. “You do need better clothes, now that you’re out in society, that’s obvious. I’ll see if I can worm a little something out of Max. What a pity you’re not my size. I’m always throwing away absolutely scrumptuous things that I can’t wear because they are last year’s. Of course, if poor Hubie actually dies, I’d imagine you’d be able to buy yourself a decent wardrobe, and a house to go with it.”
I stared at her. “You said I was mentioned in his will, but—”
“Hubie is rich as Croesus, darling, and who else does he have to leave it to?
Poor little Tristram will probably get his share, but I got the impression that Hubie wanted to make sure you were provided for.”
“Really?”
“He was so fond of you. I probably should have stayed with him for your sake, but you know I couldn’t take all those months with no sex while he was rafting up the Amazon or scaling some mountain.” She pulled me to my feet. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we? I haven’t had a chance to explore the grounds yet.”
“All right.” A walk would be a good chance to tell her about my “accidents.”
We went down the stairs, arm in arm. The house was remarkably quiet. It seemed that most of our party had gone to play golf. A blustery wind was blowing outside and my mother decided she had to return to the house to find a scarf for her hair or she’d look a fright. I waited outside the house, wondering about a lot of things. If I was going to inherit money from Sir Hubert’s will, then Tristram did have a motive to want to marry me. But to kill me? That didn’t make sense. He was due to receive his own share of the inheritance. Besides, he hadn’t been on the boat, and I hadn’t spotted him at that tube platform either. What’s more, he seemed like the kind of person who would faint at the sight of blood. He had certainly looked as if he was about to faint when that woman choked to death beside us.
There was a sound above me. I started to look up. At the same time my mother’s voice screamed, “Look out!” I jumped and one of the marble statues from the balustrade crashed to the ground beside me. Mother rushed down the steps to me, her face deathly white.
“Are you all right? What an awful thing to have happened! Of course, it’s so windy today. That thing had probably been unstable for years. Thank God you’re all right. Thank God I wasn’t still standing beside you.”
Servants ran out. Everyone was trying to comfort me. But I shook myself loose of them and ran into the house. I was tired of being a victim. I wasn’t going to take it any longer. I rushed upstairs, one flight then the next. And bumped into Whiffy Featherstonehaugh, running down.
“You!” I shouted, blocking his way. “I should have known when you didn’t jump in to try and save me on the boat. I can understand killing de Mauxville, but what have you got against Binky and me, eh? Come on, out with it!”
Whiffy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple jumping up and down, eyes darting nervously. “I’m afraid I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve just been up on the roof, haven’t you? Come on, don’t deny it.”
“The roof? Good Lord, no. What would I have been doing on the roof? The other fellows snapped up the good fancy dress costumes. Lady Mountjoy said there was another trunk of costumes up in the attic, but I couldn’t find them.”
“Good excuse,” I said. “Quick thinking. You’re obviously brighter than you make out. You must be, to have lured de Mauxville to our house and killed him. But why pick us?—that’s what I want to know.”
He was looking at me as if I were a new and dangerous species of animal.
“Look here, Georgie. I don’t know what you’re on about. I—I didn’t kill de Mauxville. I had nothing to do with his death.”
“You mean he wasn’t blackmailing you?”
His jaw dropped. “How the devil did you know about that?”
I didn’t like to say “lucky guess.” It had suddenly come to me in a flash of inspiration as I noticed how tall and dark-haired and distinguished-looking he was. “They described you as visiting him at Claridge’s, and I saw your name in the book at Crockford’s, and de Mauxville had scribbled something about meeting ‘R’ on a pad.”
“Oh, cripes. Then the police also know.”
I was probably standing on a staircase with a killer. I wasn’t stupid enough to admit that the police knew nothing. “I’m sure they do,” I said. “Did you decide to kill him to end the blackmailing?”
“But I didn’t kill him.” He looked desperate now. “I can’t say I’m not glad he’s dead, but I swear I didn’t do it.”
“Was it gambling debts? Did you owe him money?”
“Not exactly.” He looked away. “He found out about my visits to a certain club.”
“Crockford’s?”
“Oh, good Lord, no. Crockford’s is acceptable. Half the Guards gamble.”
“Then what?”
He was looking around him like a trapped animal. “I’d rather not say.”
“A strip club, you mean?”
“Not exactly.” He was looking at me as if I were rather dense. “Look, Georgie, it’s really none of your business.”
“It damned well is my business. My brother has been arrested for a murder he didn’t commit. I’m in danger and so far you are the only one with a motive to want de Mauxville dead. I’m going straight downstairs to telephone the police. They’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“No, don’t do that. For God’s sake. I swear I didn’t kill him, Georgie, but I can’t let my family find out.”
Suddenly light dawned. The conversation I had overheard at Whiffy’s house . . . and last night Tristram tiptoeing down the hall to Prince Siegfried’s room. “You’re talking about clubs where boys go to meet boys, aren’t you?” I said. “You and Tristram, you’re both that way inclined.”
He flushed bright scarlet. “So you see what it would be like if anyone found out. I’d be out of the Guards on my ear, and my family—well, my family would never forgive me. Military since Wellington, you know.”
Another idea was forming in my head. “So how did you manage to pay off de Mauxville? Not on a Guards officer’s pay.”
“That was the problem. Where to get the money.”
“So you took things from your family’s London house?”
“Good God, Georgie—are you a blinking mind reader or something? Yes, I took the odd item, here and there. Pawned them, you know, outside of London. Always planned to get them back.”
“And you don’t know who killed de Mauxville?”
“No, but I’m bally glad they did. God bless them.”
“And did you see anybody upstairs, when you were heading for the attic?”
“No. Can’t say I did. But I’ll come and look with you, if you like.”
I hesitated. A strong Guards officer might not be a bad idea if I was to tackle a murderer, but I could also find myself trapped on the roof alone with him.
“We’ll get the servants to search,” I said and walked down the stairs with him.
The search revealed nobody hiding on the roof, but my attacker would have had plenty of time to sneak down while I was questioning Whiffy. Everyone but me seemed to think it was a horrible accident. I no longer felt safe anywhere and there was something I had to know. I slipped out of the house when no one was looking and walked the length of the driveway. Then, after half a mile or so, I followed the long drive to Sir Hubert’s sprawling Tudor mansion.
The door was opened by a maid and the butler was summoned.
“I’m sorry but the master is not in residence,” he said as he came to meet me. “I am Rogers, Sir Hubert’s butler.”
“I remember you, Rogers. I am Lady Georgiana and at one time I knew this house very well.”
His face lit up. “Little Lady Georgiana. Well, I never. What a young lady you’ve grown into. Of course we’ve followed your progress in the newspapers. Cook cut out the pictures when you were presented at court. How kind of you to come and visit at such a sad time.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about Sir Hubert,” I said. “But I’m actually here on a very delicate matter and I hope you’ll be able to help me.”
“Please, come into the drawing room. Can I bring you a cup of coffee or a sherry, perhaps?”
“Nothing, thank you. It’s about Sir Hubert’s will. Something my mother said gave me to understand that I am mentioned in it. Now, I’m not after his money, I can assure you I’d much rather he lived, but strange things have been happening to my family, and it just occurred to me they may have something to do with this will. So
I wondered if it was possible he kept a copy of his will on the premises?”
“I believe there is a copy in the safe,” he said.
“Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t dream of asking to see it, but I have reason to believe my life is in danger. Do you happen to know the combination?”
“I’m afraid I don’t, my lady. That was the sort of thing that only the master knew.”