‘Thank you, Major Aubrey. I don’t think I need detain you any longer.’
Aubrey pushed back his stool and stood up. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.’ He turned to William Petrie. ‘I suppose you’ll be calling a halt to the expedition now, sir?’
Petrie nodded. ‘In the circumstances, it would be inappropriate to continue.’
‘I understand.’
‘When Inspector de Silva has completed his inquiries, I’ll make the arrangements for departure and you’ll be informed.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Decent enough fellow,’ Petrie remarked quietly as Aubrey returned to his tent. ‘Even if he does seem a little too fond of the bottle. Still, today he has some excuse.’
‘Do you know much about his history?’
‘Very little. He mentioned to my wife that he grew up in Devon. He also told her his regiment has been stationed in India for several years, but he and I talked mainly about shooting, and not a great deal about that. I didn’t want to spare him too much time. In effect, Aubrey invited himself on this expedition and it was up to him to make himself agreeable. My brief was to see to it that the Ranescus had a good time.’
He scowled. ‘One shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but Helen Wynne-Talbot turned out to be a most unfortunate addition to the party. Of course, I won’t say that in my wife’s hearing.’
A twig cracked and he looked up. ‘Ah, here comes Countess Ranescu. By the way, she’s Italian, originally from Rome I believe, but her English is flawless.’
De Silva was transfixed. The first sight of the countess was enough to take any man’s breath away. Whereas the tragic Mrs Wynne-Talbot’s beauty had been remote and ethereal, the countess was utterly beguiling. A pair of immaculately tailored khaki trousers and a cream silk shirt set off her lissom figure to perfection. An abundance of dark, wavy hair framed a vivacious face with eyes of such a dark blue that they were almost black. At the moment, their expression was solemn, but it was easy to imagine how they would sparkle when a less sombre occasion did not forbid merriment.
Petrie and Clutterbuck scraped back their chairs in the dust and jumped to their feet; de Silva followed suit.
‘I hope I am not interrupting your talk, gentlemen.’ The countess’s seductively accented voice lingered over the words.
‘Not at all, Countess.’ William Petrie hurried to greet her and she held out her hand for him to kiss. Archie Clutterbuck straightened his tie and bowed. She rewarded him with a charming smile that revealed neat, flawlessly white teeth, then turned her attention to de Silva.
‘Ah, the famous Inspector de Silva.’
To his surprise, de Silva felt a flush creep up his neck in a way that he had not experienced since his youth. He bowed. ‘You do me too much credit, Countess Ranescu.’
‘I’m sure I do not, Inspector. Everyone speaks very highly of you and your skill in solving mysteries and unmasking villainy. But how sad we must meet in such tragic circumstances. If there is anything I can do to help, I shall be delighted, but I fear I only know what Major Aubrey has to tell.’
‘But a woman’s intuition is a powerful tool,’ said Petrie. ‘The inspector has been asking whether we noticed anything strange about Mrs Wynne-Talbot’s behaviour yesterday. Can you help us?’
The countess tilted her lovely head to one side and pondered for a moment before speaking quietly.
‘We had only just met so she was unlikely to confide in me, but she did seem very sad. I wondered if she and her husband had had a disagreement, or perhaps she was not as fond of hunting as he was.’
De Silva glanced at the tents scattered around the clearing. ‘Which one did Mrs Wynne-Talbot sleep in?’
Petrie pointed. ‘That one, and my wife’s nephew has the one next to it. The tents are fairly small – it’s always a problem carrying equipment all this way – so it made sense to have one person to a tent.’
‘My tent is there,’ said the countess, pointing with a perfectly manicured finger. ‘And the count’s is on the far side. The distance to poor Signora Wynne-Talbot’s tent is not far, but he and I slept soundly and heard nothing.’ She made a sweeping gesture with her elegant hand. ‘So much fresh air, but so damp and chilly. The count suffers from a cold since we arrived here. His medicine is brandy.’
The man who just then emerged from one of the tents she had pointed to was, de Silva assumed, the count. He was as stocky as his wife was slender, with a coarse moustache tweaked into handlebars on either side of his pink, fleshy lips. With his small, fierce eyes, he reminded de Silva of a bird of prey skulking on its perch. His very evident cold had probably ruffled his feathers even more than usual.
Petrie hurried forward. ‘Please come and join us, Count Ranescu. Once again, I’m so sorry about all this, especially when you’re unwell.’
Ranescu acknowledged Petrie’s remarks with a churlish nod. No doubt to him the death of a being with two legs instead of four was an inexcusable inconvenience. He stared at de Silva rudely. ‘Who is this?’
De Silva resolved not to give the man the satisfaction of responding with anything but courtesy. ‘Good morning, Count Ranescu. I am Inspector de Silva of the Nuala police, at your service.’
The count grunted. ‘I suppose Petrie had to call you in, but to me the answer is obvious. The lady wished to kill herself and she succeeded.’
An awkward silence descended and de Silva hoped this wouldn’t be the moment that Lady Caroline or, worse still, Ralph Wynne-Talbot chose to come out of their tents.
‘I’m sure you are hungry, dearest,’ the countess said quickly. ‘Perhaps something can be arranged?’ She smiled at William Petrie.
‘Of course, of course. I should have thought of it sooner.’
Orders were barked and servants scuttled to bring up another table and more chairs. Soon the count was tucking into a large plate of eggs, which improved his mood a little but de Silva still learnt nothing from him or the countess that might throw new light on Mrs Wynne-Talbot’s death.
When the count had eaten his fill, he and the countess retired to their tents.
‘Count or no count,’ Archie Clutterbuck muttered under his breath, ‘what a beautiful woman like the countess sees in that appalling fellow I find it impossible to imagine.’
Petrie chuckled dryly. ‘Oh, I’m told he has redeeming features. Several million of them. I expect they go quite some way to providing compensation for the count’s lack of charm.’ He shrugged. ‘Otherwise, I agree with your assessment. To be perfectly honest, even if it weren’t for today’s unfortunate events, I’m not convinced we’d have built up any trust or respect with the count. I suppose I’ll have to put up with some flak from the Powers that Be in Colombo, but I can’t say I’ll be sorry to see the last of him. Two consecutive days in his company are more than any sane man should be obliged to endure; one doesn’t so much converse with him as get mown down by a juggernaut of tedious self-congratulation. As for his prowess with a shotgun, even though he’s very fond of claiming he was brought up with a Purdey in his hands on the family estates in Romania, he couldn’t hit a barn door at five paces.’
He turned to de Silva. ‘Well, Inspector, you’ve seen the best and the worst I have to offer you. I take it you’d like to speak to my wife’s nephew before wrapping things up?’
De Silva nodded.
‘I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to be tactful. Damned awful thing to happen to a chap. He seems to be coping but it’s hard to work out if that’s just skin deep, and to know how to help. Lady Caroline has taken a great liking to him and she’s doing her best, but Wynne-Talbot’s been acquainted with us for such a short time. To a certain extent, we probably still seem like strangers.’
‘You think he may feel that?’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’ He shrugged. ‘My wife won’t hear a word against him, and she’s also delighted to have the succession restored to the direct line of the family, but as far as I’m concerned, it cuts both way
s.’ He levelled a serious look at them. ‘I rely on what I’m about to tell you not going any further, gentlemen. Are we agreed?’
Clutterbuck and de Silva nodded. Clutterbuck spoke for both of them. ‘Of course, sir.’
‘Then I’ll tell you that the future Lord Axford came as a bit of a surprise and, charming as he is, I still haven’t quite fathomed him.’
From what de Silva knew of Petrie, it didn’t surprise him that he took a more cautious view of the new addition to the family than his warm-hearted wife.
‘Granted he’s had a pretty unconventional life for a member of a blue-blooded family,’ Petrie went on. ‘My wife’s eldest brother, Lionel, should have inherited the earldom, but he fell out with my father-in-law, the present earl. Lionel went to Australia twenty-five years ago and my father-in-law disinherited him. He left everything to his other son, Marcus, but then Marcus was killed in the Great War. He had no children.’
A fly landed on a few grains of sugar that had been spilt on the table and started to feed. Petrie brushed it off before continuing.
‘The Axford title must pass down the male line so the heir was then a distant cousin of my wife’s. My father-in-law disapproved of the title and the property being separated so he left all of the Axford estates to the cousin too.’
William Petrie cleared his throat before resuming. ‘But losing both his sons hit my father-in-law hard. As he grew older, he bitterly regretted the rift with Lionel and wanted them to be reconciled, thus restoring him as the next heir to the title and estates. Sadly, by the time he came to that decision, it proved impossible to find Lionel.’
De Silva frowned as he assimilated this information.
‘However, my father-in-law didn’t entirely give up hope,’ Petrie continued. ‘He altered the provisions of his will to provide that if Lionel, or any of his male issue, were found by the time the will took effect, in other words by the time of my father-in-law’s death, they would inherit in place of the cousin. Regrettably, as time went by, that eventuality seemed more and more unlikely.’
De Silva usually discounted most of the beliefs many of his countrymen held about arousing the anger of the gods, but he couldn’t help thinking that the Wynne-Talbot family had been very unlucky in their family affairs. Perhaps the services of a good astrologer would have helped them avoid some of their bad decisions and the consequences that flowed from them. ‘So, am I right in thinking that Mr Ralph Wynne-Talbot is Lionel’s son?’ he asked.
‘Yes. In the early years after Lionel left England, my wife had occasional contact with him and his wife, but eventually the letters stopped, so we were very surprised when we heard from Ralph a few months ago. He explained that his father had been dead for several years but his mother had only recently died. She’d always been against making contact with the family. Apparently, Lionel had suffered with mental problems for a long time and she blamed his father’s rejection of him for that.’
Another fly landed on the table and he batted it away with distaste. He looked round for a servant. ‘Clean this up,’ he barked irritably. His forehead puckered. ‘Where was I?’
‘You were speaking of Mr Wynne-Talbot’s late mother, sir.’
‘Ah yes. The upshot of it is that, as she was dying, she relented and told him that if he wanted to find his family, he had her blessing. She’d kept some of the letters Lady Caroline wrote to Lionel and she gave them to Ralph. Starting from there, he found out that we were living in Ceylon. As my wife is the member of the family who was always closest to Lionel, Ralph asked if he could visit us here before going on to England to be with his grandfather.’
Petrie shook his head. ‘Poor fellow, I don’t imagine it occurred to him that he would be doing so without his wife by his side.’ He swivelled in his chair and stretched his long legs. ‘I’d better go and speak to my wife. I promised her I wouldn’t let you ask Ralph any questions without her being present.’
Clutterbuck and de Silva exchanged looks as Petrie walked away to Lady Caroline’s tent. ‘Well, I wasn’t expecting that,’ Clutterbuck remarked in an undertone. ‘Not something to broadcast, eh, de Silva?’
‘Certainly not, sir.’
‘We mustn’t forget, we gave our word. I’m afraid it means I’ll have to leave Mrs Clutterbuck in suspense. She’s intrigued to know why Lady Caroline has never mentioned her nephew in the past. What Petrie said explains it. Ah,’ he lowered his voice. ‘Here comes Lady Caroline with her nephew now. I’m sure I needn’t remind you, but be careful what you say.’
Then why do so? De Silva suppressed a twinge of annoyance.
Studying Ralph Wynne-Talbot, he was surprised that he looked as composed as he did. The famous stiff upper lip of the British might, of course, account for it.
‘Good morning, Inspector de Silva.’ Lady Caroline’s smile was strained and she sounded tired. ‘My husband tells me you have a few questions, so my nephew and I have come to answer them but I hope you won’t keep us long.’
De Silva bowed. ‘I shall try not to, my lady, but first please accept my sincere condolences.’
‘Shall we sit down?’ asked Petrie. He drew out a chair for Lady Caroline and the party waited for her to take it before seating themselves.
‘Well, fire away, Inspector,’ Ralph Wynne-Talbot said flatly. He sank so low in his chair that his chin was almost resting on his chest. The fingers of his right hand beat an erratic tattoo on the armrest. Lady Caroline put her hand on his. ‘If it’s too painful, you don’t need to talk to the inspector now, Ralph. I’m sure he will understand if you’d rather wait.’
He gave her a wan smile. ‘Dear Aunt Caroline, you mustn’t worry about me so. The inspector has a job to do and I oughtn’t to stand in his way. As I said, Inspector, fire away.’
‘If you have no objection, I’d like to start by asking you to tell me what you remember happening this morning.’
‘Very well, I don’t suppose there’s much to say that hasn’t already been said. I heard Aubrey raise the alarm around dawn and it took me a few seconds to wake up. At first, I thought he might have been attacked by a wild animal of some kind and the shikaris would go to his rescue, then I heard my wife’s name and my blood turned cold.’
‘You thought it might have been she who had been attacked?’
‘Yes. I scrambled out of my sleeping bag as fast as I could. I’d gone to sleep in my shirt and trousers and I didn’t stop to find my shoes. I ran out barefoot and there was Aubrey. He looked horrified when he saw me and started gibbering something about Helen but I couldn’t make sense of it. I looked around, terrified I’d see her body.’
He stopped and moistened his lips with his tongue. Lady Caroline leant forward. ‘Do you need something to drink, my dear?’
He shook his head. ‘When I couldn’t see her anywhere, I was afraid whatever it was had dragged her off. I shouted at Aubrey to calm down and tell me what had happened.’
His voice became husky. ‘That’s when he told me she’d fallen. I didn’t believe him at first. I even made a joke of it, God help me. I suppose I was afraid. I said he needed to lay off the whisky or he’d be telling me he’d seen pink elephants next.’ He raised his head; his eyes glistened. ‘Then I realised he was telling the truth.’
‘You say you were afraid,’ de Silva said gently. ‘Was that because you were already worried about your wife?’
Reluctantly, Ralph Wynne-Talbot nodded. ‘Yes, although I never thought she’d do anything like this. She’d been unhappy for a while. We’d been expecting a child and she lost it. I tried to help her get over that but it was very hard for her. I took her to doctors; they said she needed time. When she agreed to leave Australia, I hoped a new life in England would help.’ He raised his hands in a gesture of hopelessness. ‘I’ll always believe I should have done more. I just didn’t know what.’
Lady Caroline stood up and patted his arm. ‘Well done, my dear.’
She turned to de Silva. ‘Have you heard enough now, Inspector? I thin
k my nephew needs to rest.’
‘Of course. And once again, sir, I’m sorry to trouble you at such a sad time.’
Petrie stood up. ‘I’ll join you in a moment or two, my dear,’ he said.
He waited until his wife and her nephew had walked away before turning to de Silva. ‘Thank you, Inspector. I expect you’ll want to be getting on with the job of finding the body now. Clutterbuck? A word if you please before I go.’
The two men walked a little way off and spoke briefly. Unable to hear the gist of the conversation, de Silva waited for Clutterbuck to return. It had been an uncomfortable hour and he was glad it was over.
The body would need to be found and examined, of course, but it was hard to believe that Helen Wynne-Talbot’s death was anything but suicide. It was a pity that no one except Major Aubrey had seen her jump, but why would he lie? All the same, it had always been his professional opinion that one should leave no stone unturned. His time in the force in Colombo, indeed all his experience in the police service, had convinced him that nothing should ever be taken on trust. It was extraordinary how often what seemed at first to be an open-and-shut case proved to be nothing of the sort when you dug deeper. He would like to try and find out a bit more about Aubrey to satisfy himself the man was reliable. Maybe learn more about the Ranescus too, even though it seemed unlikely that anything he discovered would change his view of what had happened at dawn that morning.
Clutterbuck returned and sat down heavily. ‘Well done, de Silva. Dashed delicate situation. Fortunately, Petrie didn’t have any complaints about how you handled it. Grisly business finding the body, I’m afraid, but see to it as soon as you can, will you?’
‘I’ll get onto it straight away, sir.’
‘Best get the funeral over as quickly as possible and return to normal. Although I don’t suppose life will be normal for poor Wynne-Talbot for a long time.’
Dark Clouds Over Nuala (The Inspector de Silva Mysteries Book 2) Page 5