Death at Wentwater Court

by Carola Dunn

  Dreading Alec’s arrival, nonetheless she was beginning to worry about his continued absence. Constable Piper had left hours ago to find him. Surely the arrest of a presumed murderer must take precedence over the recovery of even the most valuable loot? He ought to be here by now. Sup pose he had caught up with the burglars, and they turned out to be a gang of violent ruffians, and he had been hurt?

  Ghastly images flitted through Daisy’s mind as she dropped onto a chair by the hall fire, drained of energy.

  Phillip wandered in, disconsolate. He brightened when he saw her. ‘What’s going on, old bean?’ he asked. ‘Hang it all, where has everyone disappeared to?’

  ‘As a matter of fact,’ said Daisy, ‘Geoffrey has disappeared to Brazil, but keep it under your hat, won’t you?’

  ‘You’re ragging me,’ he said without resentment.

  ‘No, Phil, I’m far too fagged to rag you.’

  ‘Brazil, eh? Plenty of good opportunities out there.’

  ‘I hope so, though that’s not quite why he’s gone.’

  ‘Oh, I see. I think. The poor prune left in a bit of a hurry, what? The busy’s not back yet?’

  ‘If you mean Detective Chief Inspector Fletcher,’ she said reprovingly, ‘no, he’s not. I can’t help wondering whether something dreadful has happened to him.’

  ‘Not to worry, old dear. Coppers have nine lives, like cats. I just hope he doesn’t turn up to bring a hornet’s nest about our ears until after lunch.’

  ‘Lunch!’ Daisy sat up straight. ‘Of course, that’s what’s wrong with me! I didn’t have any breakfast. I’m starving.’

  Fortunately she didn’t have to wait long before Drew came in to ring the gong for lunch. Despite her hunger, before dashing to the dining-room she remembered to entreat the butler, ‘I know it’s not correct, but please let me know the moment Chief Inspector Fletcher arrives. Before you tell his lordship or anyone else. I know what to say to him.’

  ‘Very good, miss,’ Drew promised, with what almost might have been an approving look.

  Throughout lunch, Phillip, Lady Josephine, Wilfred, and Marjorie kept up a flow of social chitchat, though now and then one of the latter pair would fall silent for a few abstracted minutes. Both Annabel and the earl were conspicuous by their absence.

  So was Alec when coffee in the drawing-room brought the meal to a conclusion. Daisy’s concern for him warred with the hope that he wouldn’t turn up until after the Orinoco had safely put out to sea. She was prepared to employ delaying tactics, but she’d much prefer not to have to try to mislead him. Remembering his piercing gaze, she wasn’t at all sure she’d succeed.

  Four of the five in the drawing-room kept glancing surreptitiously at the clock. When Daisy caught herself at it for the third time (five past two), she decided to go and see Annabel. However, when she left the room she met in the passage a footman sent by Lord Wentwater with a request for a few minutes of her time. She entered the study with some trepidation, afraid that he might have changed his mind and decided his son must face the music, regardless of the consequences to his wife.

  He was seated at the desk, writing. When he looked up, she was shocked by the deep lines in his drawn face. His hair and moustache seemed to have grown much greyer, aging him by ten years since she first met him just three days ago. He rose to his feet with a visible effort.

  ‘Miss Dalrymple, I just wanted a few words with you. I hope I haven’t interrupted your work.’

  ‘I haven’t even tried to work today. I’d never be able to concentrate. Actually, I was on my way to see Annabel.’

  Whatever he had intended to say was forgotten. He leaned heavily on the desk with both hands, staring down at the papers he had been writing on, though Daisy was sure he didn’t see them. ‘Annabel needs your friendship more than ever,’ he said painfully. ‘She still doesn’t trust me. There is still something she won’t confide to me.’

  ‘Do you want me to talk to her about it? I will, if you will come up and wait in your dressing-room. I can’t promise anything, but if she chooses to make a clean breast of it, I’ll fetch you.’

  They went upstairs together. Lord Wentwater retreated into his dressing-room and Daisy went on to Annabel’s boudoir. She found her pacing the floor, white-faced and distraught.

  ‘Daisy, I don’t know what to do. Perhaps I should go away. I’ve brought Henry nothing but disaster and I can’t bear it, waiting for the next blow.’

  Daisy drew her to the chaise-longue by the fire and sat down beside her, an arm about her waist. ‘Henry loves you, and Astwick’s gone for good. There won’t be a next blow.’

  ‘There might be.’ Tears trickled down Annabel’s face. ‘That’s the awful thing. Other people know what he knew, and any one of them could take it into his head to tell Henry.’

  ‘Then why don’t you tell him? Your fear of confiding in him hurts him far more than anything you did in the past possibly could.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘I’m certain. He’s waiting in his dressing-room. Will you let me bring him to you?’

  Annabel clutched Daisy’s hand. ‘You’ll stay? You won’t desert me?’

  ‘If that’s truly what you want,’ she demurred though by now she was dying of curiosity.

  ‘It is, oh, it is.’

  She went to fetch the earl. His face brightened as she said, ‘Annabel has agreed to speak to you.’

  ‘Miss Dalrymple, how can I ever thank you?’ He was already past her and into the corridor.

  She scurried to keep up with his long strides. ‘She wants me to be there with her.’

  ‘Anything!’

  ‘She’s more afraid of giving you pain than anything else, but I think she’s also afraid you might cast her off.’

  ‘Never!’ He burst into the boudoir and went straight to sit down beside Annabel, pulling her to him with a possessive arm about her.

  Daisy retreated to a chair by the window as Annabel clung to her husband, sobbing into his shoulder. ‘Oh, Henry, it’s all my fault, all this misery . . . ’

  ‘What utter nonsense. Haven’t I already said that you’re in no way to blame for Astwick’s villainy and its consequences?’

  ‘But I am! If I’d been brave enough to tell you, then he couldn’t have blackmailed me . . . ’

  ‘Blackmail!’ thundered Lord Wentwater. ‘The devil was blackmailing you? If I’d known, I’d have cut his throat with the Queen Elizabeth dagger, without a qualm.’

  She raised an adoring face to him. ‘Then thank heaven you didn’t know. But if I’d never done anything to be ashamed of . . . ’

  ‘My darling, I doubt there are any in this world can truly say they have never done anything they regret. And I think I can guess . . . What a fool I’ve been!’

  ‘You can’t have guessed, Henry.’ Annabel once more buried her face in his shoulder. Daisy barely caught her words. ‘I wasn’t a widow when you met me. You see, Rupert and I were never married.’

  Daisy suppressed a gasp of shock. In all her wildest imaginings about Annabel’s secret, it had never crossed her mind that she and Rupert might have lived together for years without being husband and wife. Few misdeeds could have been calculated to offend more deeply against Lord Wentwater’s Victorian view of morality.

  But he was saying tenderly, ‘I know. I’ve known from the first, or very soon at least. As soon as I began to court you, some expatriate busybody made it her business to reveal the worst.’

  ‘You never said!’

  ‘And how I wish I had. I didn’t want to cause you any discomfort, but if I’d spoken, Astwick would have had no hold over you. Can you ever forgive me?’

  ‘Oh, Henry.’ Annabel sighed.

  Unnoticed, Daisy crept from the room.

  On her way down the stairs, she considered what Annabel had told her about Rupert. He had sounded likeable but far from practical. Add his poor health and the difficulty of finding a Protestant minister in southern Italy – Daisy could picture time
drifting by without a wedding until it was too late.

  Reprehensible, of course, but after all, artists were expected to lead a Bohemian life, as she and Lucy had discovered when they moved to Chelsea. Lord Wentwater had known, and had married Annabel anyway. He wasn’t as frightfully old-fashioned as Daisy had feared.

  Her thoughts elsewhere, she was stunned when, just as she reached the foot of the stairs, the front door opened and Alec walked in. And she’d forgotten to powder her nose in all the excitement!

  Her eyes flew to the grandfather clock. Ten to three.

  Alec’s grim face was decorated with a square of sticking plaster on the forehead. Behind him, Tring limped slightly and Piper’s arm was in a sling. Crossing the hall to meet them, Daisy saw that all three had damp overcoats and filthy turnups to their trousers.

  ‘I’ve been so worried about you,’ she exclaimed. ‘What happened? Did the burglars attack you?’

  ‘Nothing so dramatic,’ Alec grunted sourly. ‘The lanes are knee-deep in mud. I skidded into a ditch and Ernie, who was following me, tried to dodge and went through a hedge.’

  ‘Thank heaven none of you was badly hurt.’

  ‘And both cars still running,’ Tom Tring informed her genially. ‘A couple of cart-horses put us back on the road.’

  ‘That’s good, but you look as if you got pretty wet in the meantime. Take off those coats and come and sit by the fire. Have you lunched? Yes? I’ll order something hot to drink, at least.’

  Alec shook his head, winced, and raised his hand to feel the plaster on his brow. ‘Not now.’ He watched the footman bear away their coats before he continued, ‘This has turned out to be a case of murder, as you know. I’ve a fair idea of what happened but it’s just guesswork so far. We’ll have to do a bit of investigating before I can make an arrest. Stay out of it, Daisy. I don’t expect things to get dangerous but I can’t be sure.’ He started towards the stairs.

  She caught his sleeve. ‘Wait, Chief. I simply must talk to you first. I can tell you exactly what happened.’

  He gave her a hard stare, then sighed wearily. ‘All right, Five minutes.’

  ‘Come to the Blue Salon, where we shan’t be disturbed.’ Leading the way, she asked, ‘Did you find the jewellery?’

  ‘Yes, we nabbed the lot,’ he said, cheering up, ‘and the two chummies who did the job. What’s more, Payne gave us leads on the previous burglaries. Astwick had him find local housebreakers in each case, as a way to vary the modus operandi and so that no one had a chance to learn too much about him. It was a clever racket. I suspect he’d be safely on his way to Rio if he hadn’t ended up dead.’

  ‘No, you’d have caught him once Sergeant Tring picked up the clue of the grey Lanchester.’ She glanced back to smile at Tom Tring and he winked at her.

  Daisy’s nerves caught up with her as she reached the Blue Salon. How on earth was she going to persuade Alec that Geoffrey had deserved the chance to make good in a distant country instead of going to prison? He was not going to be pleased.

  Her knees felt wobbly. She sat down on one of the blue-and-white brocade chairs, leaving places nearer the fireplace for the men. But Tring and Piper took straight chairs at a distance and Alec stood with his back to the fire, looking alarmingly formidable. He frowned down at her.

  ‘It was Geoffrey, wasn’t it? He left the drawing-room early; Tom says he shared a bathroom with Astwick; and he may well be the only one strong enough to have carried the body down to the lake.’

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘only . . . ’ She paused as somewhere in the distance a clock chimed three. Within her a tense spring began to uncoil.

  ‘I was afraid of it,’ Alec said. ‘I liked the boy. I can’t picture him murdering even that blackguard in cold blood. There was immediate provocation?’

  ‘Plenty. Only it didn’t happen in his bathroom. Astwick assaulted Annabel in her bathroom and Geoffrey heard her cries for help.’

  ‘Good Lord, provocation indeed. I’ll be sorry to take him in.’ He groaned. ‘And no doubt Lady Wentwater helped him dispose of the evidence.’

  ‘You can’t arrest him,’ said Daisy with more trepidation than triumph. ‘It’s too late. You see, I remembered that the S.S. Orinoco was leaving for Rio today, and Sir Hugh has plantations in Brazil where Geoffrey can work. He sailed from Southampton at three.’

  Alec stared at her with an expression of utter disbelief. ‘He what? And you . . . ’ His quiet voice was somehow more terrifying than any shout. ‘You little idiot, don’t you understand? That makes you an accessory to murder.’

  CHAPTER 17

  How the blazes was he going to save her from the consequences of her folly?

  As Alec glared down into Daisy’s face, frightened yet defiant, he realized that he was not about to play the part of a stern police officer with a misbehaving citizen. He was going to have a blazing row.

  Young Piper was gaping at him with fascinated dismay, while Tom’s eyes twinkled with sly amusement in an otherwise stolid mask.

  ‘You two,’ Alec snapped, ‘go and find yourselves a hot drink.’ He waited in grim silence until the door closed behind them, then turned on Daisy. ‘I must have been raving mad to trust you!’

  Guiltily she protested, ‘But I . . . ’

  ‘Or have you gone raving mad, to try to help a murderer go scot-free?’

  ‘He’s not going scot-free. Besides he’s . . . ’

  ‘You’re damn right he’s not. I’ll wireless the ship before it reaches the three-mile limit and have him put ashore.’ His wits, scattered by outrage, returned to him. ‘In fact, the sooner the better.’ He started forward.

  ‘Wait!’ Aghast, she jumped up and put out her hand. ‘Let me . . . ’

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  ‘For pity’s sake, will you stop interrupting and listen to me?’ she demanded angrily. ‘Geoffrey’s not a murderer. Just let me explain what happened!’

  ‘All right.’ With a weary sigh he subsided into the nearest chair. His head ached where he had bashed it as the Austin slid into the ditch. ‘The Orinoco’s a British ship. I can always have her ordered to turn back.’

  Daisy sat down rather suddenly. ‘Can you really? I thought he’d be safe once the ship had sailed.’

  ‘We don’t let killers go unpunished so easily.’

  ‘He won’t be unpunished. He’s going into exile, leaving his family and friends and the woman he loves. And he’s not going to the French Riviera for a rest cure. He’s going to Brazil, which is full of beastly snakes and natives with poisoned blowpipes and those frightful fish that reduce you to a skeleton in less than a minute.’

  ‘I’m surprised he didn’t opt for Dartmoor,’ said Alec sardonically, ‘if, as you claim, he’s not a murderer in danger of hanging.’

  ‘He almost did, but a trial would have exposed Annabel to the worst excesses of the scandal sheets.’

  ‘His absence wouldn’t prevent a trial, you know. Lady Wentwater’s guilt as an accessory after the fact, if not before, is even clearer than yours.’

  ‘Oh, it all seemed so simple!’ she wailed.

  ‘Far from it. I’m surprised a canny old bird like Sir Hugh went along with your wild scheme.’

  ‘Is he an accessory too? He still believes Geoffrey only mucked about with the ice. We never told him the rest.’

  ‘It’s time you told me. How did you find out, by the way?’

  ‘When Constable piper left . . . You won’t blame him for telling me what the pathologist said?’

  ‘How can I, when he was only following my example?’

  ‘Good. It seemed as obvious to me as it did to you that Astwick had been drowned in his own bath. Though it seemed all too likely that Geoffrey had done it, I couldn’t be sure. I went up to the bathroom to try to work out if someone else could have got in.’

  Alec’s heart skipped a beat. ‘My dear girl, have you no common sense at all? Didn’t it occur to you that you were putting yourself in deadly danger?
’

  ‘I was just a bit scared when Geoffrey came in,’ she confessed, ‘but there wasn’t really the least chance of his hurting me. He was really quite keen to get it off his chest.’

  ‘And you believed every word,’ he said sceptically.

  ‘I might not have, I suppose, if it had been only Geoffrey’s word, but he and Annabel told the story together without the least disagreement. I refuse to believe they conspired to invent such a perfectly dreadful business.’

  ‘They conspired to dispose of the body.’

  ‘Just listen, will you? Astwick pinched the key from the corridor door to Annabel’s bathroom. It’s right opposite his bedroom door, you know. He went in and assaulted her as she stepped out of her bath. Geoffrey heard her cry out. He rushed in and biffed Astwick one on the chin, just as he did to James. Then he followed Annabel into her boudoir to promise her his protection. When he went back into the bathroom he found Astwick doubled over the edge of the bath with his head underwater, drowned. They decided he’d tripped when Geoffrey hit him, bashed his head on the taps, and been too dazed to help himself. So, you see,’ she said earnestly, ‘his death was completely unintentional.’

  ‘That’s the whole story?’

  ‘Apart from how they tried to make it look like a skating accident. I gave you the bare bones, not all the beastly details I’d rather forget.’

  He couldn’t resist. ‘“Corroborative detail intended to add verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative”?’

  She spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘I can’t force you to believe it wasn’t murder.’

  ‘I was teasing you. At an inappropriate moment, I admit. On the whole, I’m inclined to credit their account. However, manslaughter is still a felony, with serious penalties. The law is the law.’

  ‘Do you believe the law always serves justice?’ Her blue eyes demanded honesty.