Death at Wentwater Court

by Carola Dunn

  Lord Wentwater’s hand hesitated on the bellpull.

  ‘Listen!’ Daisy jumped up from her chair. Three faces harrowed by emotion turned to her. ‘Listen! I have the most utterly spiffing idea you’ve ever heard. Do go ahead and send to ask Sir Hugh to join us, please, Lord Wentwater. We shall need him, and we must hurry.’

  ‘Hurry?’ asked the earl with a frown, ringing the bell. ‘I fear a hasty and ill-conceived scheme can only lead to further disaster.’

  ‘At least let Daisy tell us her idea, Henry,’ Annabel proposed, a light dawning in her dark eyes.

  ‘I can’t see how things could possibly be any worse,’ said Geoffrey dully.

  ‘Let me explain,’ Daisy begged.

  ‘Of course, Miss Dalrymple.’ Lord Wentwater’s habitual courtliness prevailed over his mistrust. ‘I beg your pardon if I seemed to reject your assistance. We are in need of any help anyone can offer.’

  ‘Everything comes together so neatly it must be Fate,’ said Daisy. ‘Geoffrey must . . . ’

  She was interrupted by the arrival of Drew himself. The butler’s outward stateliness was unimpaired by the troubled times the household was passing through. Yet Daisy sensed a certain commiseration in the swift glance that swept over the gathering in the study.

  Nothing but deference was apparent in his tone. ‘Your lordship rang?’

  ‘Please tell Sir Hugh I should be glad of a word with him in here.’ The earl looked at Daisy and shrugged slightly. ‘At his earliest convenience. And, Drew, bring glasses.’

  ‘At once, my lord.’ Bowing, the butler withdrew.

  Reminded of the brandy his father had poured him, Geoffrey reached for the glass and finished it at a gulp. A tinge of colour crept into his pallid cheeks. ‘What must I do, Miss Dalrymple?’

  ‘Go abroad. I suppose you have a passport?’ she asked anxiously as the others gasped.

  ‘Yes, I went climbing in Austria last summer.’ He stared at her, hope restoring the vitality and resolution to his youthful features. ‘But . . . ’

  ‘You would have my son running from justice?’ said Lord Wentwater harshly, hauteur in every inch of his tall, stiff-necked figure. ‘He will stay and take his punishment like a gentleman.’

  ‘Henry, no!’ Annabel protested. ‘He didn’t mean to kill Stephen, and it was all for my sake, for your sake.’

  ‘It’s not only Geoffrey,’ Daisy reminded him. ‘Can you stand aside and let your private life be made public? Let James’s conduct become common knowledge?’

  ‘James!’ he groaned.

  Inexorable, she continued, ‘Let Annabel be pilloried in the papers?’ She was rather pleased with her rhetoric.

  His shoulders sagging in defeat, he returned to his chair, took Annabel’s hand, and said remorsefully, ‘Forgive me, my love.’

  ‘Never mind that,’ she soothed him. ‘Let’s just think of how to send Geoffrey abroad in a hurry.’

  ‘I’ll do whatever you say, Father,’ Geoffrey promised.

  ‘I’d say go, but it’s impossible. However fast we move, the police will have plenty of time to close the Channel ports, and I believe the French police work closely with ours these days. If you somehow escaped the net here, you would simply be arrested in France.’

  ‘Not France,’ said Daisy, impatient with his pessimism. ‘Not the Channel. Not Europe.’ She stopped with a frustrated sigh as Drew came in again.

  ‘I sent a footman to request Sir Hugh’s presence, my lord.’ He set a tray of glasses, bottles, and decanters on the desk. ‘Shall I pour the drinks, my lord?’

  ‘No, thank you, Drew.’

  ‘Does your lordship desire anything further?’

  ‘No!’ the earl snapped impatiently, then retrieved his calm courtesy with an effort. ‘No, thank you, that will be all for now.’

  ‘Very good, my lord.’ A hint of reproach in his bow, the butler once again departed with his ponderous tread.

  As the door clicked shut, three eager faces swung towards Daisy. ‘Where?’ they demanded as one.

  ‘Brazil.’ Daisy savoured their astonishment. ‘It just so happens that I know the S.S. Orinoco sails from Southampton this afternoon, for Rio, and there will be at least two empty berths aboard.’

  ‘This afternoon?’ Lord Wentwater pulled a gold hunter from his fob pocket.

  ‘At three.’

  Annabel and Geoffrey turned to look at the clock on the mantelpiece. Though Daisy felt as if a century or so had passed since she stepped out of bed, it was not yet noon.

  ‘Southampton’s only about thirty-five miles,’ said Geoffrey, and added wonderingly, ‘Brazil! But what shall I do when I get there?’

  ‘That’s the beauty of my plan,’ said Daisy with pride. ‘Sir Hugh owns vast plantations of rubber and coffee in Brazil. I’m sure he’ll be able to give you a job.’

  ‘I will, will I?’ said Sir Hugh’s dry voice behind her. He entered the study, followed, to everyone’s dismay, by Lady Josephine.

  ‘What’s going on, Henry?’ she asked plaintively, her plump face alarmed.

  ‘It’s all right, Jo,’ said her brother as he and Geoffrey rose to their feet. ‘Nothing that need concern you. I’ll tell you about it later.’

  ‘You needn’t think you can hoodwink me.’ Not to be fobbed off, she settled in Lord Wentwater’s chair in a determined way and patted Annabel’s hand. ‘Maybe I can help.’

  While they argued, Daisy whispered to Geoffrey, ‘There’s no time to waste. You’d better go and find your passport and pack a few things.’

  Nodding assent, he whispered back, ‘Is it all right if I say good-bye to Marjie and Will?’

  She frowned. ‘I suppose so. Yes, of course you must, but for heaven’s sake try not to tell them anything. Don’t let them ask you questions.’

  ‘Right-oh.’ He slipped out, oddly enough no less unobtrusive for being the centre of the present storm.

  Lady Josephine had won the argument simply by refusing to budge. ‘So you might as well just tell me what’s going on,’ she reiterated.

  Lord Wentwater sighed. ‘Miss Dalrymple, will you be so good?’ Abandoning the floor to her, he moved to the desk to pour drinks.

  Daisy turned to Sir Hugh. The baronet had watched with mild amusement his wife’s quarrel with her brother. ‘Yes, do please explain, Miss Dalrymple,’ he invited, his tone affable but with an authoritative note.

  ‘First, Sir Hugh, let me ask if I’m right in thinking you can employ Geoffrey in one of your South American concerns. Because if not, there’s no need to trouble you further.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ he said cautiously.

  ‘Of course you can, Hugh,’ Lady Josephine insisted. ‘Only a few months ago you found a position for Mr. Barnstaple’s cousin, and Geoffrey is your own nephew. Or mine, which comes to the same thing.’

  ‘Very true, my love, but young Barnstaple was not fleeing the law, which, unless I’m greatly mistaken, is young Geoffrey’s problem.’

  Lady Josephine’s round, pink face crumpled. ‘Oh, Daisy, is that what it is?’

  Daisy decided candour was the best policy, though she had no intention of revealing the full story. If Annabel and Lord Wentwater wanted the Mentons to know all, they could tell them at a later date.

  ‘I’m afraid so, Lady Jo. He was responsible for Lord Stephen’s death, though it was entirely unintentional. He was just trying to protect Annabel.’

  ‘The dear boy! Breaking up the ice was a simply marvellous scheme. If only the rotten bounder hadn’t drowned, he’d certainly have left Wentwater with his tail between his legs after falling into the lake. Too too mortifying, like a careless schoolboy!’

  Daisy didn’t disillusion her. The fewer people who knew that Astwick had drowned in the bath, the better. ‘So, you see, if Geoffrey doesn’t go away, there will be a trial and the newspapers will make up the most frightful stories.’

  ‘As sure as night follows day,’ Lady Josephine agreed with a shudder.

  ‘And if he
does go away . . . ’ Sir Hugh began in an ominous voice.

  ‘I’m sure the police will decide to let the matter drop, to treat it as an accident,’ Daisy hastily interrupted, her fingers crossed behind her back and a prayer winging its way heavenward. So far she’d been too busy putting her plan into action to dwell on possible consequences. ‘But he must be gone before Chief Inspector Fletcher returns, which he may at any moment. Luckily there’s a ship sailing from Southampton at three.’

  Everyone turned to consult the clock. The hands stood at a quarter past twelve.

  ‘It could be done,’ said the baronet reluctantly.

  ‘It will be done,’ Lady Josephine declared. ‘Don’t be difficult, Hugh dear. Astwick was an absolute wretch and the world should be grateful to Geoffrey.’

  ‘Very well.’ His decision made, Sir Hugh was all business. ‘I’ll take the boy to Southampton in my motor. Henry, would you send a message to Hammond to bring the Hispano-Suiza round at once, please? I must telephone my agent in Southampton to arrange passage, and write a letter of credit for Geoffrey. He’d better carry a recommendation to my Rio agent with him, too, though I’ll send full instructions by wireless later. May I use your desk?’ He was already moving towards it, taking his fountain pen from his pocket.

  ‘There’s notepaper in the second drawer on the left.’ Lord Wentwater had rung the bell. Now he cleared the desk of the tray of drinks and stood holding it, looking rather helpless. ‘Miss Dalrymple, where did Geoffrey go?’

  ‘I thought he ought to go and pack.’ She took the tray from him and in turn deposited it in the hands of the butler as he entered. ‘Please get rid of this, Drew.’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  She glanced back. The earl had turned away to listen anxiously as his brother-in-law asked the telephone operator to look up his agent’s number and connect him.

  ‘And, Drew,’ Daisy continued, ‘tell Sir Hugh’s chauffeur to bring the Hispano-Suiza to the front door. At once.’

  ‘At once, miss.’

  ‘There’s no sign of the Chief Inspector, is there?’

  ‘No, miss.’

  ‘Thank heaven.’

  The imperturbable butler’s eyebrows twitched. ‘Will there be anything else, miss?’

  ‘No, thank you. But tell Hammond to hurry.’

  As Annabel and Lady Jo were talking quietly together, Daisy followed Drew out of the study and sped off upstairs to find Geoffrey.

  She knocked on his bedroom door and entered in response to his subdued invitation. The room was sparsely furnished, its most notable feature a shelf displaying gymkhana trophies: blue, red, and white rosettes and engraved silver cups. A Stubbs horse and groom hung on the wall opposite the bed, and several lesser paintings, drawings, and photographs of equine beauties completed the décor.

  Geoffrey had retrieved two large, brass-studded, leather portmanteaux from the boxroom. They lay open on the bed, half filled with coats and trousers. Tactfully ignoring his reddened eyes, Daisy helped him stow away the contents of his chest-of-drawers.

  ‘You needn’t worry about when you arrive in Rio. Sir Hugh is writing a letter to his agent, and he’ll wireless him, too. You’ll have a job to go to.’

  In a strangled voice, Geoffrey blurted out the thought that tormented him. ‘I’ll never see her again.’

  ‘No.’ She had no comfort to offer.

  ‘I’d almost rather go to prison, if it weren’t for dragging her through the courts.’

  ‘You couldn’t do that,’ said Daisy urgently. ‘You absolutely must go.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ He blinked hard. ‘It’s best, really, that we don’t meet again, isn’t it? I put her in an impossible situation.’

  Her throat tight, Daisy nodded. She had been no older than Geoffrey when she fell in love with Michael, not much older when the telegram came announcing his death. Though he now existed only in her memory, the memories still hurt. How would Geoffrey ever begin to heal when the woman he worshipped still lived, so far away? She couldn’t dismiss his pain as a youthful infatuation he’d soon get over.

  In silence they continued the hasty packing. Daisy had just folded a warm pullover – he’d need it on board if not in Brazil – when she heard a sound.

  ‘Listen!’

  Footsteps in the distance rapidly approached along the corridor. Just outside the bedroom door they halted. Geoffrey froze, his hands full of balled socks, and Daisy sank onto the bed, her heart in her mouth. Too late! The police had come back.

  The bedroom door edged open. Marjorie’s face peeked around it. In her relief, Daisy felt positively light-headed – and increasingly aware of a sense of desperate urgency.

  CHAPTER 16

  Marjorie came into the bedroom. ‘Geoff! It’s true, then. You’re leaving?’

  Wilfred was close behind her. ‘So it was you who bumped him off, old fellow. A spiffing piece of work. Congratulations!’

  Marjorie tearfully hugged her brother and Wilfred shook his hand with a vigour astonishing in so languid a young man. Daisy regarded them with exasperated resignation.

  ‘I hope you two can keep your mouths closed,’ she said crossly, dumping a last load of shirts into one of the portmanteaux and closing it. ‘Come on, quick, we must get these down to your uncle’s car.’

  Geoffrey fastened the other and effortlessly set both on the floor.

  ‘I’ll carry one,’ offered Wilfred, and attempted to lift the smaller of the two. With an effort, he raised it an inch or so. ‘Too many late nights,’ he said with an uneasy laugh. ‘Well, boxing’s not for me but perhaps I’ll take up riding.’

  ‘Take care of Galahad for me,’ said Geoffrey abruptly, his head down as he picked up the portmanteaux and made for the door.

  ‘I will, old man, I will.’ Wilfred’s eyes were suspiciously bright. ‘I expect I’ll be spending more time down here, don’t you know. Town palls on one after a while.’

  ‘Now I know Annabel better,’ said Marjorie, ‘I’ll come home more often, too.’

  Daisy followed Geoffrey and Marjorie out into the corridor. Behind her, Wilfred drew in a sharp breath and groaned. ‘Oh Lord, what now!’

  He was looking ahead down the corridor. Daisy peered past Geoffrey’s bulk. James stood in the doorway of his bedroom, watching them, his heavy jaw set, his face stony.

  Coming abreast of him, Geoffrey hesitated. Then he put down a portmanteaux and offered his hand. James simply stared for a moment before, with obvious reluctance, he gave his brother’s hand a brief shake. Without further ado, he stepped back into his room and closed the door.

  However unsatisfactory, Daisy was glad for Geoffrey’s sake that he had made the gesture of reconciliation. Among the regrets that would haunt him, he’d not have to remember parting from James in anger.

  ‘I’ll jolly well have to spend more time at Wentwater,’ said Wilfred quietly as they turned into the cross-passage. Thoughtful and rather pale, he looked daunted by the prospect of trying to compensate his father for the loss of two sons.

  ‘Lord Wentwater told me he believes you are not with out redeeming traits,’ Daisy informed him. She knew what it was like to be compared with a sibling and found inadequate.

  ‘High praise,’ he snorted, but he seemed relieved.

  As they descended the stairs to the Great Hall, a footman rushed to relieve Geoffrey of the portmanteaux . ‘The motor’s out front, Mr. Geoffrey. Mr. Drew just went to tell his lordship.’ With a quick glance behind him, he leaned forward and hissed, ‘Us in the servants’ hall all wants to wish you Godspeed, sir.’ Straightening, his nose in the air in proper footmanly fashion, he lugged the portmanteaux across to the front door.

  The Wentwaters and the Mentons came into the hall from the east wing. With a cry of distress, Lady Jo swooped on her erring nephew and enveloped him in her substantial embrace, to his uneasy embarrassment. Daisy moved back, out of the way of the family’s farewells. She had intruded enough – more than enough – on their troubles.

>   Kissing Geoffrey’s cheek, Lady Josephine allowed her husband to tear her away. Geoffrey turned to Annabel.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, head hanging.

  She took his hand in both hers and whispered something in his ear that made him raise his chin and stand tall and proud as he faced his father.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

  ‘My dear boy, if you hadn’t . . . ’ Lord Wentwater left his sentence unfinished. He shook his son’s hand with the grave propriety of a gentleman parting from an acquaintance he expects to meet again at no distant date. But then he turned away from the others and Daisy caught a glimpse of the deep sorrow he couldn’t quite conceal.

  Geoffrey distracted her, coming up to thank her heartily for her help.

  ‘I do hope all goes simply swimmingly from now on,’ she said, reassured that her interference was valued. He was not yet out of the woods, though. ‘You really must buzz off before it’s too late,’ she urged.

  Behind him, she saw Hammond in his chauffeur’s uniform, peaked cap in hand, consulting with Sir Hugh. A sudden alarm sent her hurrying to join them.

  ‘We are ready to leave, Miss Dalrymple,’ said the baronet dryly. ‘Have you any further instructions for carrying out your enterprise?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, unabashed. ‘For heaven’s sake avoid the Winchester road.’ Not wanting to explain before the chauffeur, she was relieved when Sir Hugh nodded his understanding, with a wry smile.

  It would be altogether too frightful if, on their way to Southampton, they met Alec on his way back to Wentwater.

  Everyone went out to the front steps to wave good-bye. Sir Hugh and Geoffrey stepped into the long, sleek, midnight blue Hispano-Suiza with the silver crane in flight on its bonnet. Hammond took the wheel. Smoothly swift, the motor-car swept down the drive, over the bridge across the lake, and away.

  He was gone. Daisy breathed a deep sigh as the silent group returned into the house. She had got him safely away and his fate was out of her hands now. Thank heaven Alec had not come back too soon!

  But now she had all too much leisure to wonder how on earth she was going to face Alec after thwarting him of his prey. However justified she felt herself, he was bound to be absolutely livid. The whole scheme had been hers; she couldn’t leave it to someone else to tell him that Geoffrey was well on his way to Brazil.