Death at the Dance: An addictive historical cozy mystery (A Lady Eleanor Swift Mystery Book 2)

by Verity Bright

  Eleanor was itching to press the girl further, but the dowager countess called out to her, ‘Lady Swift! Are you ready? Our team is sadly diminished in the skill set in one corner.’ She glowered at Viscountess Littleton who was busy adjusting the ankle straps of her satin pumps.

  ‘Right-oh! I’m rather rusty, I’m afraid, but best mallet forward and all that.’

  As Lady Langham moved across to Cora, Eleanor stepped up to take her first shot.

  ‘You’re too leftwards of the hoop,’ the dowager countess said.

  Eleanor ignored her and whacked the ball through the first hoop, bumping Lady Langham’s ball out of line as it powered on towards the next hoop.

  Everyone applauded.

  ‘Not too bad,’ the dowager countess offered as she strode up to Eleanor. ‘So you’ve played once afore, I see?’

  ‘Really, a lucky shot, nothing more. I’m better versed in elephant polo.’ Eleanor seized her opening. ‘It must be a terrible strain, though, for Lord and Lady Fenwick-Langham, what with their son, you know, in prison.’

  The dowager countess spun round to face her. ‘Their son! Augusta’s an old, old friend but what I say to you I’ve said to her many a time, and I told that policeman the other night. They’ve spoiled that boy rotten, and he’s turned out the bad apple I always predicted.’

  She threw her arms up. ‘Cora! Don’t be so feeble, girl! Hit it like you mean it.’

  Eleanor felt a hot flush burn across her cheeks. Fearing she might take an irate swing with her mallet at this cantankerous old kilt, she held it behind her back.

  The dowager countess turned back to Eleanor. ‘Cora can scrape a passable tune on the violin and isn’t intolerably stupid. She’s not even got the face of a cow’s behind. And she’s the niece and ward of his mother’s best friend. Any decent man would have taken her off ma hands afore now. And to think it was planned he’d take her as his bride.’

  Eleanor gasped. The dowager countess was trying to marry her niece off to… Lancelot! This was the first she’d heard of it.

  Unaware of Eleanor’s shock, the dowager countess continued, ‘And to think Cora would have been married to a murderer, that’s a pretty result, if you please!’

  Eleanor bit back her reply. Hold your tongue, Ellie. You can have your say when Lancelot’s out of prison.

  Lady Langham joined them. ‘Daphne, dear. You’re up again.’

  Eleanor shot the dowager countess a black look as she strode across the lawn.

  Lady Langham followed and took Eleanor’s arm. ‘Are you alright, dear girl? You’re quite the colour you know.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. It’s just the heat…’

  The hostess patted her hand. ‘It was just an earful of spiteful hot air, I can imagine. Daphne determined a long time ago that Lancelot would rid her of the burden of Cora but he would have none of it. And I understand her anxiety. Daphne is in her late seventies and she is a caring aunt… underneath it all.’

  She lowered her voice. ‘Cora can’t inherit a bean of the estate unless she has a husband to manage it for her. Those are the terms Daphne’s husband wrote into his will. And Cora’s mother left her practically nothing. If Cora is unmarried when Daphne passes away, she will be considered destitute.’

  Eleanor gasped. ‘But Cora doesn’t act that way. Does she know?’

  Lady Langham shook her head. ‘The girl has always believed there is a trust fund in her name, left by her mother’s brother. But during the war that disappeared… like so much else.’

  ‘Hence the dowager countess’ disparaging opinion of Lancelot?’

  Lady Langham nodded. ‘I know it seems odd, ridiculous even, that I’m entertaining someone who seems to be the epitome of a cantankerous old witch from the Highlands. However, she was very kind to my mother in the past. We have a history.’

  ‘But surely you would take Cora in?’

  ‘Well, of course. But she would be a kept charge, looking at a bleak future as a spinster.’ Lady Langham sighed. ‘Life is uncomfortably messy, my dear.’

  The game continued with the dowager countess’ constant complaining and Cora’s angry looks as her aunt disparaged her every shot. It was a relief to the entire party when Lady Langham declared it half-time and herded them back to the Arabian tent.

  Eleanor was as taken with the inside as the outside. Low sofa seats in matching cream and gold were arranged around a central rug, with floor lanterns acting as sentries at each corner. Lord Langham shuffled over to the drinks globe and clapped his hands together.

  ‘Who’s for a little spice in their afternoon tea?’

  All hands, except Cora’s, shot up.

  ‘Good show! Hard work all this croquet lark. A small tipple will sharpen the eye.’

  Eleanor took a seat next to Viscountess Littleton. ‘Gracious, how rude of me not to ask before. Where is Cuthbert?’

  ‘Called away to some business emergency the morning after the murder. Left me to fend for myself!’

  As promised, Lady Langham changed the teams around for the second game. She partnered herself with Eleanor and Cora while Lord Langham was ordered to play alongside the dowager countess and Viscountess Littleton.

  Eleanor looped her arm through Cora’s, making sure no one else was within earshot. ‘My dear girl, your mourning band I saw earlier isn’t for the colonel, is it? It’s for Lancelot.’

  Cora searched in her dress pocket. ‘Yes. I’m so worried, Lady Swift, that he will be…’ Her words dried up as she produced a handkerchief and dabbed at two fat tears.

  Eleanor looked at Cora intently. ‘My dear, do you know anything about that dreadful night that might help Lancelot?’

  Cora nodded hesitantly.

  Eleanor’s heart quickened. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s too awful. How could it help Lancelot? It would likely send him to the gallows!’

  ‘Cora, dear, without our help, he is already quite desperately alone, facing a most uncertain fate.’

  ‘No. It’s a certain fate. My aunt is trying to see to that. If she’d let him alone, he might have taken more interest in me. She’s messed the whole thing up, but she’s blaming him!’

  Eleanor rubbed the girl’s shoulder sympathetically. ‘I’m so sorry to have brought all this up. But please tell me what you know, for Lancelot’s sake.’

  Cora dabbed her eyes and took a deep breath, ‘I saw… oh, Lady Swift, I saw Lancelot in the garden in his pirate costume. He’d taken the mask and hat off and… and was having the most fearful row with the colonel. It was just before…’

  Eleanor bit her lip. She didn’t need to ask Cora just before what. This wasn’t what she was hoping to hear. No wonder the girl had kept it to herself.

  ‘Did you hear what they were arguing about?’

  ‘Not really, only snippets. They seemed to be whispering at first but then things got really heated. The colonel shouted something about “aeroplanes” and Lancelot being a “disgraceful wastrel”. Then he said something most peculiar about Lancelot being a “something beef”. I’ve never seen Lancelot anything but laughing and joking but he looked as though…’

  Eleanor was already dreading the reply as she asked, ‘As though what?’

  ‘As though he was going to strike the colonel!’

  Lady Langham stood on the top step of the grand entrance to Langham Manor, her arm looped through Eleanor’s. ‘My dear, I haven’t the words for how grateful Harold and I are for, well everything. Tell me, did you uncover anything at all helpful?’

  Cora’s words were still ringing in Eleanor’s ears. ‘Possibly. However, my head is whirling with all the information I’ve collected across the day. I need to go home and sift through it.’

  ‘With Mr Clifford’s input too, I do hope? You really are quite the unorthodox team.’ Her hostess squeezed her elbow. ‘Ah, the car has arrived. Jenkins!’

  The chauffeur leapt from the gleaming Rolls and stood to attention on the bottom step. ‘Yes, my lady.’

  �
��Lady Swift is being taught to drive by Clifford. If she asks, let her have a go at the wheel.’

  Eleanor gasped and stared first at the now white-faced chauffeur and then back to Lady Langham.

  Jenkins stuttered, ‘Beggin’ your pardon, your ladyship, but his lordship…’

  Lady Langham gave Eleanor a gentle hug and gestured down the steps. ‘No buts, Jenkins. This is the nineteen hundreds, not the eighteen hundreds!’ Winking at Eleanor, she strode into the house.

  Twelve

  The following morning Eleanor felt as though she had missed a week of sleep. She descended the stairs only to be bowled backwards by Gladstone’s exuberant welcome at the bottom. After convincing him that jumping up wasn’t good for a chap of his advanced age, she carried on down the hallway with the bulldog padding alongside her.

  Polly was waiting halfway along. The young maid curtseyed, spilling cleaning polish on Eleanor’s dress. ‘S-s-sorry, your ladyship! Oh, I messed up your lovely dress. I’m such a dolt.’ She slapped her forehead.

  Eleanor swallowed her dismay at the stain on the front of her dress. It had been one of her mother’s favourites. She took the crestfallen girl by the shoulders. ‘The truth is, Polly, I owe you an apology.’

  The maid’s head jerked up. ‘Apology, your ladyship? But… but that can’t be right, can it? Meaning you’re the mistress and I’m just the maid, not to be rude, of course.’

  ‘No, I’ve been terribly remiss, Polly. I have entirely forgotten to tell you something very important.’

  The young girl’s eyes were the size of saucers.

  ‘I have forgotten to tell you that you… are the best maid I’ve ever had.’

  Polly’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes welling up. ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, you. You are quite irreplaceable. So no more talk of you being a dolt or anything else uncomplimentary, do you hear me?’

  The maid nodded. ‘Yes, your ladyship. The best maid… Thank you. Golly, shall I ask for your breakfast, your ladyship?’

  ‘Perfect. I’ll have a light breakfast in the morning room today.’ Her stomach was still full from the mountain of food they’d plied her with at Langham Manor the day before.

  Polly skipped down the hallway towards the kitchen, failing to see Mrs Butters, feather duster in hand, peeping out from behind the bannisters.

  The housekeeper grinned as she emerged.

  ‘My lady, you are so kind. She means ever so well. It’s those gangly arms and legs that make her so clumsy. And her so young. Keep thinking she’ll have to grow into them one day, but I’m beginning to wonder.’

  ‘I meant what I said, Mrs Butters.’

  ‘I have no doubt about that. And neither me nor Mrs Trotman will stick a fork in her bubble by letting on she’s the only maid you’ve ever had.’ The housekeeper winked. ‘Although, you never having a lady’s maid before is quite, well, irregular, if you don’t mind my saying, my lady.’

  ‘Well, Mrs Butters, as you are aware, my parents were quite “irregular”, as was my upbringing, until… they disappeared.’

  ‘Of course, my lady, God bless their souls. I’ll bring the breakfast things shortly. Cook’s tried out a new pastry recipe, cinnamon and vanilla twists. Seeing as you wanted a light breakfast, they’ll be perfect and soon put the spring back in your step. Though, they’re not for sharing with Mr Greedy there.’ She pointed at Gladstone now lying on his back on Eleanor’s feet, his stumpy tail beating out a muffled rhythm on the deep-pile rug. ‘And don’t fret, that beautiful dress will come up good as new, I’ll make sure.’

  She left Eleanor to wonder for the thousandth time how this kindly woman was always able to lighten her mood.

  When Clifford knocked and then entered the morning room, he found Eleanor changed into a new dress, waiting for him with her notebook at the ready.

  ‘Now, Clifford I need to run over what I learned yesterday and come up with our next move.’

  He placed her breakfast tray on the table and waited patiently. As she ate, she recounted all that she had learned the day before at Langham Manor. Occasionally he interrupted her to clarify a point, but otherwise listened silently and attentively until she had finished. As this coincided with her finishing her breakfast, he cleared her plate away and poured her another tea.

  ‘First of all, I must congratulate you, my lady, on your efforts yesterday. As to our next move, I would say the information you obtained from Mr Sandford about the movements of young Lord Fenwick-Langham’s gang, as you refer to them, particularly Prince Singh’s early exit, suggests they are a group we should certainly find out more about. Miss Glews’ assertion that she may have seen two guests dressed similarly as pirates going upstairs may or may not be a red herring, but we should follow it up nonetheless.’ He paused and cleared his throat. ‘As to the information you gleaned from the guests, I would suggest the most salient revelation was not that the dowager countess had intended her ward, Miss Wynne, to be young Lord Fenwick-Langham’s wife, for that was fairly common knowledge—’

  Eleanor snorted. ‘Not to me, it wasn’t, Clifford!’

  Clifford mopped the tea off the tablecloth. ‘Agreed, my lady. However, as I was saying, the most salient information was that young Lord Fenwick-Langham was heard by Miss Wynne arguing with the colonel shortly before the colonel was killed. The difficulty with following up that line of enquiry, of course, is that unless someone else overheard the argument we can’t move forward with it, seeing as the two gentlemen involved cannot readily be questioned.’

  Eleanor sighed deeply. ‘I know. One is… dead and the other is incarcerated.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll just have to persuade the inspector to let me see Lancelot again, although I don’t know how.’

  A knock on the morning-room door interrupted them.

  ‘Yes?’

  Mrs Butters entered. ‘Apologies for the interruption, my lady, you have a visitor.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It is Lady Coco Childs.’

  Eleanor blinked. ‘Really? What on earth can she want? Maybe she’ll have some news that will help Lancelot. Please stick her up on the terrace, it’s a beautiful morning.’

  As the housekeeper left, she turned to Clifford. ‘I’ll have to swim through another pot of tea I suppose. You know I doubt that the Duchess of Bedford really thought through her invention of the oh-so-fashionable afternoon tea. She clearly gave no regard for the consequence of one having a host of unexpected guests.’

  Clifford tutted. ‘Most irresponsible of the duchess, my lady. Perhaps she never envisioned it being served in the morning?’

  Eleanor ignored the quip. ‘I say, how about you do your wonderful butler thing of hanging around unnoticed. You might pick up something I miss.’

  ‘It will be a pleasure to’ – he sniffed – ‘hang around unnoticed, as you put it.’

  ‘Good-oh!’

  ‘Lady Childs!’ Eleanor said as she stepped onto the balustraded terrace, which was bathed in the midday June sunlight. The intoxicating scent from the lilac and lavender borders rose up with that of the recently mown lawn, heralding this was summer proper. Dashes of tiger-orange lilies and montbretia brought the steady hum of bees busy about their business.

  Her guest immediately leapt to her feet and kissed Eleanor on both cheeks. ‘Good morning, shall we just go for Coco? All that other stuff is such a bind, don’t you find?’

  Eleanor was left with a smell of quite delightful perfume and an immediate sense of warmth towards her unexpected guest. ‘Of course, Coco, call me Eleanor. To what do I owe the pleasure?’

  ‘You are sweet. I would have understood entirely if you’d sent me away with a flea in my ear when I arrived unannounced. Frightfully rude, I know, but I really need to talk to you.’

  ‘Fire away.’ Eleanor pulled out a chair and adjusted the parasol to keep the sun from both their eyes. ‘You’ll take tea, of course?’

  Coco nodded as Clifford set the tray down. Running her finger along the edge of her crea
m silk scarf, she sighed. ‘It’s this awful business with Lancelot. I can’t believe he’s been accused of…’ She leaned forward and hissed, ‘You know, murder. That’s why I’m here. Because we… well, I, hoped you would be able to help. By the way, were you interviewed by that handsome detective fellow? Dreamy or what!’

  ‘Interrogated would be a better description,’ Eleanor said.

  ‘Interro— you mean he accused you?’ She put her hand over her mouth in shock. ‘Of what? Stealing Lady Fenwick-Langham’s necklace? Not of… murdering the colonel? The very idea!’

  ‘Something of that sort, yes,’ said Eleanor.

  Lady Childs picked up her cup and took a shaky sip. ‘I’m so sorry, my dear. I realise one mustn’t speak ill of the dead and all that, but I would understand entirely if you had done the terrible deed. The colonel was rather bothersome to be around.’

  ‘Did you know the colonel well?’

  ‘Not so much knew him as kept running into him. Social circles in these parts are distressingly small in the main. We like to hang out elsewhere but have to put in an appearance at the right event every now and then, you know, to keep the… er, allowance rolling in.’ A slight colour hit her cheeks. ‘Lucas and Johnny used to get in a rage about the colonel always being there, pouring cold water on everyone’s fun.’

  ‘Oh yes, but did Lancelot ever row with the colonel?’

  ‘Not exactly row, not like pistols at dawn, but they had plenty of heated exchanges.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Well, not to put too fine a point on it, the colonel thought Lancelot a wastrel and an embarrassment to his parents. He let Lancelot know his opinion of him in his usual untactful way and Lancelot, being Lancelot, told him in no uncertain terms what he thought about the colonel.’ Coco paused. ‘You know, Lancelot never stopped talking about you.’

  ‘He didn’t? How tiresome for you all.’ Eleanor tried to shrug it off, but her face betrayed her. She hurriedly gestured to the iced finger fancies that Mrs Trotman had managed to magic up. Coco shook her head.