Death at Thorburn Hall

by Julianna Deering

  Madeline reached across the table and took his hand. “You will be careful, won’t you?”

  “Me?” He laughed and brought her hand to his lips. “Of course I’ll be careful. When was I ever not careful?”

  “Do you want me to write you a list?”

  “Darling.” Again he kissed her hand, first the back and then, more tenderly, the palm. “Do you want me to abandon the case? I will, if you truly want me to.”

  Her anxious expression softened. “No, I suppose not. Not yet. The poor count can’t be left to languish in prison when a child of two could tell he’s not guilty. We can’t leave the Rainsbys not knowing what happened, either.” She tightened her grasp on his hand and then let him go, a faintly self-conscious smile on her full lips. “So how do you think Lisa fits into all of this?”

  “It’s early days yet, but I can’t help but go back to what Lord Rainsby said about Mac and about what Mac himself said to me the morning Rainsby died. He’d changed, according to his lordship, in the past little while, and I found out our Miss Shearer hasn’t lived in Gullane even a year yet. Let’s just suppose that in the execution of her duties delivering books for old Mrs. Dunst, she finds herself in excellent position to find out who in this area might be willing—at the proper price, needless to say—to give to Mr. Hitler and his people bits of choice information that might give them a particular advantage should a conflict arise between our two nations. Besides Rosyth and Port Edgar, who knows what other locations they may have targeted?”

  There was a touch of anger in Madeline’s expression now. “Why does it always have to be the nice ones? I like him. He seems just so . . . decent.”

  “That’s what bothered Lord Rainsby. He knew the man, and then again he didn’t.” Drew took a deep drink of his after-dinner coffee, not as soothed by its rich warmth as he had expected to be. “But we don’t really know yet. Maybe he’s just making his maps for the local town councils. Maybe Lisa just wants him left alone after the tragic and accidental death of his dear friend. Maybe this Tyler fellow’s just a caddie. And maybe Birdsong was right and I imagine sinister plots where there aren’t any.”

  She eyed him narrowly. “You don’t really believe that.”

  “No,” he admitted. “There is definitely something untoward going on here, yet I don’t want to rush off to tell MI5 when I’ve so little to go on. And don’t suggest Inspector Ranald, darling. He’d want more proof than MI5 would ask for.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” With a huff, she leaned her chin on one hand. “How are we going to prove anything, one way or the other? It’s not as though Mr. MacArthur and Miss Shearer are going to tell you the truth if you ask them what they’re up to.”

  “Ah, but that’s where my little experiment comes in. It may not prove anything. In fact, it’s more likely to be a bust than not, but it may be very telling. All we can do is try.”

  Before she could reply, Nick and Carrie came into the dining room of The Swan, still talking over the film they had just seen, a jolly romantic comedy with Fred MacMurray and Claudette Colbert. Carrie looked so happy just to have spent a pleasant evening with Nick, Drew thought it wise to comply with Madeline’s silent plea to say nothing about his plans for the next day. Instead, he ordered more coffee and some of Mrs. Drummond’s excellent trifle for everyone.

  Drew watched from the window of the greengrocer’s as MacArthur stood across and little ways down the street in front of the butcher shop. Every so often the older man glanced at his watch. But it was not quite time, and if Lisa Shearer was who Drew suspected she was, she wouldn’t be late.

  She was one minute early.

  Mac looked more wary than eager when he saw her walking toward him, but she showed no emotion at all. She merely came to his side and said something close to his ear. Then she smiled and took his arm, and they walked out of the shade of the shop’s awning and down the street.

  Drew waited until they were almost to the corner and then went barreling out of the grocer’s.

  “Pardon me,” MacArthur said, his eyes wide. “Farthering. Where’d you come from?”

  “Sorry about that.” Smiling, Drew caught hold of the man’s hand, pumping it up and down. “I thought you were going to be on the links today.”

  “That . . . well, er, one of the chaps had a headache,” Mac blustered, “so we made it for next week instead.”

  “That is a pity. Oh, I beg your pardon.” He swept off his hat and made a little bow toward the blonde. “Good afternoon, miss.” Drew looked expectantly at MacArthur.

  “Oh, ah, yes, forgive me. Lisa, allow me to introduce Mr. Drew Farthering. He and his wife are staying at Thorburn Hall. Farthering, this is Miss Lisa Shearer, a, uh, friend of mine.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Shearer. I believe you met my wife and her friend yesterday. And we saw you out at Muirfield last week during the Open.”

  She smiled, displaying perfect teeth. “I’m sorry Mac didn’t introduce us then. I always enjoy meeting his friends. And, yes, I did meet Mrs. Farthering and Miss Holland yesterday. We had a nice little chat, though surely your wife didn’t bore you with our girl talk.”

  “In point of fact, she did, Miss Shearer. Not that I was bored, to be sure. It’s very kind of you to be concerned about us, and I hope if you wish to send me any other messages, you’ll address them to me directly. I’d hate for my wife to be bothered with my petty affairs.”

  Before she could reply, one of the passersby, an elderly gentleman leaning heavily on his cane, stopped next to her and offered whatever was wadded into his gnarled hand. “Entschuldigen Sie bitte, das ist aus ihrer Tasche gefallen.”

  The girl’s hand twitched toward the bag over her shoulder, and then she stopped herself and turned to the old man with a puzzled expression. “I’m sorry?”

  Drew forced himself not to look smug. She was a cool one, after all, but not quite cool enough.

  The old man blinked at her and cleared his throat. “Do pardon me, miss. I thought you were one of the young German ladies who lives in the flat next to mine.”

  Lisa smiled, coolly polite. “No. Sorry.”

  “I hope I have not annoyed you.” He made a courtly bow and opened his fist, displaying a lady’s lace handkerchief. “I thought perhaps this was yours.”

  “I’m very sorry, but no, it isn’t.”

  “I beg your pardon.” The man lifted his dark Homburg hat in a brief display of snow-white curls under a dark, brimless cap. “Gentlemen. Good afternoon.” Using his cane, he turned and made his way slowly past the grocer’s and around the corner.

  Lisa watched him until he was out of sight. “Mine indeed,” she said. “As if I’d carry such a pitiful-looking scrap of a handkerchief. I expect he thought I’d pay him for it.”

  “He was just being polite,” MacArthur told her with a glance at Drew. “There was no harm done.”

  She merely shrugged, and then smiled once more and clung to his arm. “Now, Mackie, don’t let’s quarrel over something so silly on my afternoon out. I thought you were going to take me to Edinburgh to that tea shop I’ve been just perishing to try.”

  “Well, naturally. I’m sure Mr. Farthering will excuse us.”

  Drew raised an eyebrow. “You must have quite a generous employer, Miss Shearer, to have a holiday on a Thursday afternoon.”

  “Mrs. Dunst is a dear,” Lisa said. “I’ve had to work late several nights this week, bringing in new inventory, and she gave me this afternoon to make it up to me. Poor thing, she struggles as it is to keep me and herself on what the shop makes, but she tries to show her appreciation how she can.”

  “I suppose she has no family.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Ah. Then you’re the one who looks after her.” Drew gave her the mildest of smiles. “That’s good. I’d hate for anyone to take advantage of her kindness and trust.”

  “You needn’t worry, Mr. Farthering. I’ll see to her.”

  “Excellent. Please tell he
r that if she needs anything while I’m here in Gullane, she need only call on me. We can’t have too many bookshops, if I’m any judge, and I’m only too happy to give her any assistance I’m able.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Lisa said, a knowing glint of humor in her blue eyes. “Though, really, Mr. Farthering, perhaps we both should carry our own messages.”

  “Very true, Miss Shearer. Very true.” Drew bowed again and tipped his hat. “Well, don’t let me keep you two. I’m glad we’ve met at last. I suppose I’ll see you about the Hall now and again, Mac. Enjoy your tea.”

  Drew waited until they were gone and then strolled into the grocer’s once more. The old man with the cane was watching from the window Drew had been at when Lisa first arrived.

  “Not only does the young lady not speak German,” he said, “she doesn’t care to hear it spoken.”

  Drew took back the handkerchief, exchanging it for a five-pound note. “You’ve done wonderfully. Thank you.”

  The old man looked a trifle bewildered. “This seems much too generous for such a small bit of work, young man. I’m not even certain what I have done.”

  “Worth every penny, sir, I promise you. Now mum’s the word, eh?”

  There was something delightfully old-fashioned about the old man’s bow. “You have my assurance. And God make your way a successful one.”

  “And yours, sir.”

  “Oh,” Drew added before the other man could leave, “give my best to Sergeant Shaw.”

  The man’s rheumy eyes lit. “Next time I see him going into his flat, I will tell him. We nearly always meet each other on the stairs. But I fear he will tell me no more of this affair than you have.”

  “Some things are best kept in the dark,” Drew said. “Perhaps someday the good sergeant will explain it all to you.”

  “Perhaps he will.”

  They shook hands and parted.

  “I’m back,” Drew announced once he had returned to The Swan later that afternoon, setting down the package he carried under one arm. “Anything new to report?”

  Madeline put her arms around him, pressing close. “Only that Nick and Carrie have been out all day, and I’ve missed you terribly.”

  He laid his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in the lilac scent of her hair. “I can’t say I much care for this living apart, but I suppose it can’t be helped for now.”

  He felt her giggle against his chest. “We’ll have some lovely catching up to do when this is all over, won’t we?”

  She looked up at him, and he smiled. “We most certainly shall. For now, though, would you like me to tell you what I uncovered during my travels?”

  “Yes, please. But first let me see what you’ve brought me.”

  He laughed, watching her tugging at the strings on the package. “You’re an acquisitive little creature and a presumptuous one. Those are mine.”

  She was undeterred, and he finally cut the knot with his pocketknife. She pulled the paper and strings away.

  “Oooh.” She beamed at him, opening the first of the two books, a heavily illustrated volume of patterns for crewel embroidery. “Isn’t it delicious? Look how pretty that one is.”

  He didn’t much care one way or another for embroidery, but the look on her face when she showed him a photograph of thread-painted birds and flowers made the book worth every penny.

  “I told you, that’s mine.” He tried taking the book from her, but that only earned him a swat on the hand.

  “What’s this one?” She picked up the novel, which had on its dust jacket a portrait of a girl in a powdered wig and Georgian dress. “The Convenient Marriage.”

  “It’s a romance, according to Mrs. Dunst at the bookshop. She says it’s a delight and I ought to have it.” He held out his hand. “Come along now. Don’t keep me waiting.”

  “I ought to make you read it, just for telling such outrageous lies.”

  He kissed her cheek. “All right. I got them both for you, because you got nothing for yourself when you were there yesterday.”

  “Nonsense. I got that new mystery by that woman whose name I can’t pronounce. Actually, I got it for us. But thank you, darling.” She grinned. “How like my ducky husband to bring me these. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy Mrs. Heyer’s novels, and I haven’t had a new one in ages. But I thought you went out to track down Mac and Lisa, not go shopping for more books.”

  “I did, but then I was a bit worried about old Mrs. Dunst. If Lisa’s got something going on, the poor woman is right in harm’s way.”

  “What did you think of her?”

  He shrugged. “She’s just as you described her: shy and silver-haired, perhaps a bit too fond of her own cooking, looks more at home in the last century than the present one. Lisa says she’s got no family, so I made sure she knew we’d be keeping an eye on the lady, at least from a distance.”

  Madeline drew him down beside her on the floral sofa, eyes eager. “What about Lisa? Do you really think she’s a Nazi spy?”

  “I can’t say that for certain quite yet,” he admitted, “but she does speak German, or at least understands it, no matter how much she pretends she doesn’t.”

  He told Madeline about the little experiment he had conducted, repeating the German phrase the old man had been told to say.

  “What does it mean?” Madeline asked.

  “Just that something had fallen out of her handbag. He had a handkerchief in his hand, but he was careful not to let her see what it was. If she didn’t speak German, there was no reason for her to reach for her bag.”

  “So she did reach for it?”

  “Just the slightest bit, yes. She nearly carried off not knowing what he’d said. If I hadn’t been watching for it, I would never have noticed. It was only a tiny slip, but it was a slip nonetheless. She knew exactly what he was saying. So, if she is not involved in something at least somewhat dodgy, why would she pretend otherwise?”

  “That makes it look bad for Mac,” Madeline said. “Unless we’re to believe she’s no more than a romantic interest.”

  “That’s seeming less and less likely all the time, though we still don’t know enough to be certain yet.” He thought for a moment. “Tell me again about the time you saw her in the clubhouse at Muirfield. When she was talking to that caddie, Tyler.”

  Madeline’s forehead puckered. “There wasn’t all that much to it. He went over to her, they exchanged a few words, and then they went their separate ways. I don’t have a clue what they talked about, though she seemed a little brusque. Do you think it means something?”

  “I don’t know. Did he give her anything? Or take anything from her?”

  “I don’t think so. At least I didn’t see anything.”

  “Did he touch her at all? Her hand or her sleeve? Or maybe he picked up something from the floor?”

  Madeline shook her head, and then she stopped. “He did. He took her hand. It was just for an instant, but I remember it now. She pulled away from him, but he definitely held her hand. Do you think she gave him a note or something?”

  “Could well be. Now I’m wondering if Lord Rainsby suspected him and Mac both. He may have had more than one reason for wanting Joan to steer clear of him. If he had, I wish he’d told me about it before it was too late.”

  He sighed and then saw that had brought a look of concern to her face. Without warning, he pulled her into his arms. “Very well, Mrs. Farthering, tell me your deepest, darkest secrets or I’ll never let you go.”

  She pressed her lips together and turned her face dramatically away.

  “Oh, it’s that way, is it?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Very well, me proud beauty, tell me your deepest, darkest secrets or I will let you go.”

  “No, no!” she pled, turning to him with the back of one hand pressed to her forehead. “Not that! Anything but that. I’ll tell you anything.” Then she gave him a pert kiss on the nose. “But over dinner. I’m famished.”

  Drew and Madeline went into Edinb
urgh to the little French restaurant the Pikes had recommended. He tried his best to leave the investigation behind him for the evening, and for the most part he did. Still, he couldn’t help but think about it now and again. But once he’d left Madeline at her room back at The Swan with no more than a longing good-night kiss, he decided he’d see if Lady Louisa was still up.

  If Mac was involved with Lisa, and Lisa had connections to Tyler, that brought everything round to Lord Rainsby’s unspoken suspicions. The only thing Drew knew to do was to see if Louisa knew more about it than she had already told him. He found her reading in the library.

  “Good evening,” he said, coming only partway into the room. “I didn’t know whether you would have already retired.”

  “Oh, Drew, do come in. What time is it?” She glanced up at the crystal clock on the mantel. “I was so engrossed in my book, I didn’t realize it had grown so late.”

  “Has everyone else gone to bed?”

  “Yes. It’s been very quiet. Poor Elspeth is distraught about Count Kuznetsov, of course, and Mr. Pike doesn’t quite know what to do with her. And Joanie is so unhappy. She tries to pretend she isn’t, but I don’t think she always can. It’s been an awful time for everyone.”

  “Forgive my bringing this up,” he said after a moment’s silence, “but I understand Lord Rainsby and your daughter had a quarrel before his death.”

  Lady Louisa’s mouth tightened. “What has that to do with anything?”

  “I was told they had words before she went to Cannes.”

  “I don’t know what you call ‘words.’ Girls her age always squabble with their parents, don’t they?”

  “I was just wondering if you knew what they had discussed.”

  Looking faintly annoyed, Lady Louisa thought for a minute. “It was hardly anything, really. Joan hasn’t been much out in the world yet. We’ve tried to make it plain to her that there are men who might . . . show interest in her because of her money and position rather than out of any genuine feeling. She claims she would know if someone like that was pursuing her, but she’s such a child yet. An attractive man, a man of experience, a man of the world, well, he could turn the head of a girl who didn’t know any better. We merely wanted her not to be deceived.”