The Shadow of Langley Hall

by Dilys Xavier

  He was about to ask after Catherine when a car pulled into the kerb in front of them.

  ‘Oh, here’s my chauffeur,’ Louise exclaimed. ‘I’d better not keep him waiting.’

  As she climbed into car, Richard gently touched her elbow. ‘Please give my regards to Peter.’

  *

  Catherine had waited until Peter replied before entering the room. She had seen him stuff a soggy handkerchief into his pocket before looking up at her through reddened eyelids. But it wasn’t only the physical results of the attack that worried her; she was convinced now that he was concealing something. When she asked him to explain why the policeman was interested in the white powder he found in the Jaguar, he ignored her question, complained of a headache and went to his room. It was obvious that he was determined not to discuss the incident.

  And now as they sat over a coffee the next morning, she tried once again.

  ‘Can’t we talk about it, Peter?’ she asked, softly.

  Peter shrugged and winced. Catherine could tell that he was in a great deal of pain. His face was still a mass of cuts and bruises, and he complained that it felt as if a horse had kicked him in the stomach. Catherine wanted him to take him to a private hospital, but he steadfastly refused because he did not want to leave the manor under any circumstances. So he continued to prevaricate rather than tell her what had really happened.

  ‘I’ll be all right in a day or so,’ he muttered. ‘I just need to rest.’

  ‘I don’t know if I’ve imagined it or not,’ Catherine said, quietly, ‘but things seem to have taken a turn for the worse since the day we buried Cousin John.’ When Peter made no comment, she continued. ‘Until then everything was all right and suddenly we’re faced with the problem of Richard Carlisle. I wish I’d asked you to escort him off the premises.’

  Reluctantly, Peter had to agree with her. His attempts to find out more about the man had indirectly brought about the current situation. If he hadn’t gone to the garage for booze , he wouldn’t have seen Murphy with the heroin, and he wouldn’t have been beaten up. And the only reason for his visit had to been to tell Murphy to get some Calvados for Carlisle.

  ‘I don’t suppose the police will catch the men who attacked you,’ Catherine said, breaking into his thoughts. ‘Your description of them was very vague, to say the least.’

  ‘Catherine, I ...’ Peter stopped and looked beseechingly at her. He desperately wanted to tell her the truth, but he was fearful that Murphy would keep his threat to harm her. But he couldn’t keep it all bottled up inside, he had to unburden himself. He took a deep breath and then blurted. ‘I need to share something with you.’

  ‘Yes, of course. What is it?’

  ‘I’ve been ...’ He paused as he tried to find an easier way to put into words what had really happened. ‘I need to tell you about a few things - things that I’ve been keeping from you for a variety of reasons.’ He stifled a sob, and then continued.

  Over the next half hour, Peter explained how he had become involved with Murphy, and the arrangement they had made to transport tobacco and alcohol from the continent. He spoke of his growing concern about the man’s other activities. Then he told her how his suspicions were confirmed and the subsequent events that had led to the beating up he had received from Murphy and his companion.

  Catherine listened to him in silence with a look of bewilderment on her face.

  ‘And that’s not all,’ Peter dropped his voice yet again. ‘I asked someone to break into Carlisle’s computer. I hoped to find something we could use to thwart any effort he was making to cause you a problem with the inheritance. But I think we may have unwittingly given the game away.’ He explained how Gerald had gone very quiet and hurriedly shut the machine down.

  ‘Can it be traced back here?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I don’t think so. It’s just that ... well, Carlisle might assume someone’s spying on him. If he twigged that you set things up with Cecile he might put two and two together.’

  ‘Did you find anything?’

  ‘Yes. He’s applied for copies of the birth, death and marriage certificates of his parents and of Sir Hugh. Plus a few other things.’ He stopped as Catherine gave a small cry. ‘There may be nothing to worry about. They might not prove anything. And even if they do, there’s no guarantee that he’ll get them back in time. It’s barely a month until your birthday. By then it’ll be too late.’

  ‘Let’s put that aside for the moment,’ Catherine said, quietly. ‘What do you intend to say to the police when they come to see you again? If the powder they found is heroin then they’ll charge you with possession. What then?’

  ‘I’ve decided to tell them the whole story. It’s no good trying to hide anything now.’ He stopped again and looked imploringly at Catherine. ‘I won’t say that I did it for you, because that’s not wholly true, but I saw the opportunity to resurrect my import business with an injection of much needed capital. I wanted to be successful, to be respected, to be able to contribute to our marriage. And now I’ve ruined everything.’

  Catherine gazed at Peter with an expression of both pity and contempt.

  Before she could make a comment, he continued.

  ‘If I cooperate with the police they may agree to keep the name of Langley Hall out of things. I’ll move out and try to distance myself from the estate just in case they are indiscreet.’ Unable to control himself any longer, he started to sob. ‘I do love you, Catherine, and I wanted to be a good husband, one that you’d be proud of, but ...’ He stopped and lowered his head disconsolately.

  ‘I don’t know what to say, Peter,’ Catherine said, softly. ‘I’m deeply distressed by what you’ve just told me, but I accept that your intentions were good, even if you went about things the wrong way.’ She placed a hand on his arm. ‘Thank you for being honest with me. I’ll ring our solicitor and ask him to see you straight away. He’ll be able to advise you on what to do.’

  At that moment the phone rang.

  ‘Oh, hello, Cecile,’ Catherine said, recognising her friend’s voice. She listened to the other woman for a few moments and then sighed. ‘That’s okay. It doesn’t matter much now, anyway. Let me ring you back later, I’m in the middle of something important at the moment.’

  ‘Your little plan with Cecile hasn’t worked either, apparently,’ Peter remarked, as she put the phone down. ‘What else is going to go wrong?’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  When Cecile finally rang Richard two days later, she complained, ever so nicely, that he had not made the call personally, but had delegated the task to his secretary.

  ‘I’ve been rather busy. I have a lot of things on the go at the moment.’ He smiled to himself as he waited for her to make a comment, but when she remained silent he continued, ‘But what about you? What have you been up to?’

  ‘I’ve been away for a few days, visiting an old friend,’ she explained.

  ‘And accidentally turned your mobile off.’ When she did not comment, he chided her. ‘Oh, come on, Cecile, I play those games when it suits me too. So let’s drop the pretence. I enjoyed our time together the other night, and I’m pretty sure you did too. Why don’t we keep the ball rolling?’

  Cecile laughed softly, a lovely, deep-throated laugh.

  ‘Touché. Come over tonight. I’ll expect you around about eight o’clock.’ Then she hung up before he had time to respond.

  He walked out into the reception area as the postman handed a bundle of letters to Nicole. She skimmed through them quickly and looked up at him.

  ‘Nothing yet; I’ll tell you the minute something turns up.’

  ‘I hope it arrives soon,’ he muttered, walking back to his office. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he was running out of time. The claim had to be made, recognised and settled before Catherine turned thirty and apparently that was only a matter of weeks away.

  The rest of the day sped by as he dealt with the ever-increasing workload and it was nearly dusk wh
en he finally closed the door behind him. As he drove through the village on the way home he saw Peter’s sister, Anna, standing by the side of the road. He waved, and then on a sudden whim stopped and wound down the window.

  ‘Hello there. Can I give you a lift?’ When her face creased and her bottom lip quivered, he asked, ‘What’s the matter? Are you all right.’

  ‘Not really.’ She gulped noisily as she tried vainly to hold back her tears. ‘I’ve just been to see Peter at the manor. He’s in terrible pain and he looks awful.’

  Without hesitating, Richard swung open the door. ‘Hop in, I’ll take you home.’ As Anna climbed into the car he asked what had happened.

  ‘Some men attacked him,’ she said, in a subdued voice. ‘I rang him yesterday and he could hardly speak, so I asked one of my flat mates to take me over to see him.’

  ‘Shouldn’t he be in hospital?’

  ‘That’s what Catherine thinks too, but he won’t listen to her.’ Then she went on to relate Peter’s explanation of the events that had occurred when he was beaten up. She had just finished when they drew up outside her apartment. As she slid out of the car, Anna paused and looked beseechingly at Richard. ‘Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?’

  He was about to say no, when he saw the pleading look in her eyes and decided that he should try to comfort her. He locked the car and followed her into the old house that had been converted to student flats. The inside of the apartment reminded him of his own days as an undergraduate, sharing digs with a group of young men. Empty drink cans, coffee mugs and overflowing ashtrays seem to cover every available surface of the sitting room.

  Anna made a feeble excuse about the mess.

  ‘It’s clean-up day tomorrow.’ She led the way into her room, shut the door behind them and then began to cry; softly at first and then with increasing emotion. ‘Oh, Richard, I’m frightened.’ She grasped his hand. ‘I’m frightened that something terrible is going to happen to Peter.’

  Richard slipped an arm around her shoulder and without thinking began to smooth her tousled hair. Anna laid her head on his chest and continued to sob, then after a while she lifted her tearstained face to look up at him.

  ‘Will you hold me close for a few minutes?’

  Once again Richard hesitated, concerned that someone might come into the room unannounced while he was cradling her in his arms. But he was even more worried about the effect she was having on him. Anna’s emotional outburst had triggered a response in him that was totally unacceptable under the circumstances. His reaction did not have much to do with compassion, but rather with raw sexuality.

  He recalled how she had hung on his every word at Catherine’s dinner party. She had all but sat at his feet; her eyes had followed him around the room whenever he moved away. Richard had felt both embarrassed and flattered that the young, nubile woman should pay so much attention to him. For a brief moment or two he had allowed his mind to dwell on the possibility of a sexual dalliance with her before dismissing it as fanciful thinking.

  But what about her feelings? She may have harboured the same ideas about him. If she did they would have to be nipped in the bud immediately before things became too awkward. Gently disengaging her arms he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pushed it into her hand.

  ‘How about that cup of coffee?’ He deliberately tried to sound bright and cheery. ‘I’ll have to make it a quick one, because I’m on my way to visit a friend.’

  At his urging they went into the kitchen, but just as Anna handed him the coffee a flatmate of hers arrived at the flat. The girl gave Richard a long hard look before disappearing into her room. Only a minute or two later Richard looked pointedly at his wristwatch, drained the contents of the coffee mug in two gulps and placed it on the table.

  ‘I really must go,’ he said, ‘I’m already running late.’

  He breathed a sigh of relief as he slid into the Saab. Things could have been very sticky if Anna’s flatmate had found them in the bedroom together.

  He was later than intended arriving at Cecile’s, and just as he reached for the bell push she opened the door of her apartment.

  ‘A little compensation for my lateness, ‘ he said, handing her a dainty bouquet of flowers. ‘I didn’t allow for the traffic. Anyway that’s my excuse.’

  She thanked him and then led the way into the sitting room. The soft glow of a standard lamp seemed to accentuate her sultry beauty, and almost at once he felt a quickening in his loins. Unable and unwilling to wait for her to invite him to take his coat off, Richard divested himself of his jacket and handed it to her. As she reached out for the garment he dropped it on the sofa and pulled her into his arms.

  Their lips met and held. Then with deliberate steps she walked him backwards into the bedroom.

  They lay still for a while and then Cecile eased herself up onto her elbow and looked into his eyes.

  ‘Are we going to start every date like this, or shall we eventually settle down and have a normal relationship?’ She laughed softly. ‘Mind you, I’m not complaining. It was fantastic.’ Then she pulled him off the bed. ‘Come on I’ve made some supper and there’s a bottle of wine in the fridge.’

  Richard was tempted to coax her back into the bedroom after they had eaten, but decided not to break the pleasant rapport they had established. He was delighted to find that they had quite a few things in common, besides an appreciation of each other’s bodies. It was just after midnight when he chastely kissed her goodnight.

  ‘When do we have an encore?’

  ‘Let me divest myself of a couple of admirers first,’ Cecile replied. When he raised an eyebrow, she smiled knowingly. ‘You may want to do the same.’

  He paused, one hand on the doorknob.

  ‘Why don’t have a weekend together? Somewhere different, but not too far away. A place where we won’t be distracted from getting to know each other a bit better.’

  ‘Do you have anywhere in mind?’

  ‘I’ve heard that the Channel Isles are very peaceful.’ When she agreed, Richard promised to make the arrangements and phone her within the next few days.

  *

  After Catherine had spoken to the solicitor about her concern for Peter, she rang Josie Billings. The older woman had been a friend of her mother’s and had assumed the mantle of a surrogate aunt. They had become good friends over the intervening years and Catherine would often turn to her when she wanted advice.

  ‘How will you manage without Peter?’ Josie asked. ‘You can’t run that place on your own.’

  ‘I suppose I’ll have to hire someone. I shan’t bother applying to the court for approval; after all it’s only a few weeks until the inheritance is finalised,’ Catherine had not previously expressed her concern about Richard Carlisle, but now she felt the need to unburden herself completely. When she had finished, Catherine gulped back a tear. ‘It’s just one thing on top of another. I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Cross one bridge at a time,’ the woman counselled her. ‘Peter will need all the support he can get until his problem has been straightened out. He’ll be feeling pretty rotten at having let you down, and he deserves your friendship if nothing else.’

  After Josie said goodbye, Catherine sat staring into space. If the police took any action the newspapers would soon find out that Peter was associated with the manor, and they would plaster it all over the front pages. That was the last thing she needed now on top of everything else. But she would have to stick by him because, even though she didn’t love him in a romantic sense, there was a strong bond between them and he was a good companion. She had quickly come to depend on him more since Cousin John’s death. It’ll seem strange not having him around the place, she mused.

  It was rather fortunate that he had retained his old apartment, for at least he had somewhere else to live. And as far as she knew it was still his official address. However, her immediate concern was to find someone to manage the estate in his absence. Maybe she could engag
e an agency to find a suitable person. But what if she didn’t like the person they chose, or what if he couldn’t cope with the workload? Then she remembered Josie’s words; ‘Cross one bridge at a time.’

  Peter looked up as she came into the room bearing a tray with afternoon tea.

  ‘I’ve been in touch with Braithwaite and Hutchinson,’ Catherine said, putting it on small table and sitting down beside him. ‘I explained that you aren’t well enough to go to their office, so they’ll send Joshua Browning to see you tomorrow morning.’ She clasped his hand between hers. ‘I told them only enough to ensure that they realise the seriousness of the situation.’

  ‘Thank you very much, Catherine, I appreciate your support.’

  ‘Now it might be a good idea if you get some rest.’ She poured him a cup of tea. ‘Here drink this, it might help you relax.’

  *

  Cecile woke up the next morning with a smile on her face. She recalled her words to Catherine Lowestoffe after Richard’s previous visit to her apartment, when she had said; ‘He’s quite a lad. I might just hang onto him for a while.’ It had been a long time since any man had captured her imagination like he had, and she was sure that he felt the same way about her.

  His idea to spend a weekend in Guernsey delighted her. She had never been there and it broke with the tradition of going to Paris or Rome to celebrate the start of a new relationship. However, she had some loose ends to tie up before she became too involved. The first man she phoned must have been surprised to hear the catch in her voice.

  ‘John, I must spend some time with mother again,’ she said, as if holding back a sob. ‘She’s not too well at the moment and as you know she’s on her own now.’ She paused when he asked when she would be home again. ‘I’m not sure, let me phone you when I get back.’ She repeated the conversation with two other men and then dialled her mother’s number.