Murder at the Castle

by Jeanne M. Dams

  ‘And just what did you . . . Yes?’ Alan looked up with irritation at the clerk, one of the two he had sent away.

  ‘Very sorry, sir, but Sir John asked me to give you a message. He’s gone off in a hurry. His wife has fallen and they’re taking her to hospital and he’d like you and your wife to come.’

  ‘Which hospital?’ he asked on his way out the door.

  We didn’t speak on the road, Alan because his full attention was focussed on driving as fast as was safely possible through the heavy rain that was now starting to fall, and I because all I could think of was the baby. I, who had so badly wanted babies and never could have them. The thought of Cynthia losing her baby was unendurable. I could only pray.

  The emergency room was crowded, but Alan found me a seat while he went to try to find someone in charge. Sir John was nowhere in sight; I assumed he was with his wife.

  ‘They won’t tell me much,’ said Alan, returning. He was fuming. ‘These places give bureaucracy a bad name. They’re so confounded taken up with their own petty regulations and their own self-importance—’

  He was interrupted by a nurse, or an aide, or somebody in a white uniform, at any rate. ‘Would you come with me, please, Mr Nesbitt?’ Her sour face made it evident that she had overheard him. I didn’t ask if I could come, too. Best not to push our luck. I could fret just as well here in the waiting room.

  What if the accident cost not only the baby’s life, but Cynthia’s, too? What would Sir John do? He was a sensitive man, a musician, obviously in love with his wife. How would he be able to cope with a double loss, on top of everything else? And there were the twins to look after . . . I prayed some more.

  And how had the accident happened? Was it . . . Oh, dear heaven, was it another non-accident? Surely no one could have wanted to harm Sir John’s pregnant wife!

  Had anyone thought to tell Inga and Pat, at the seashore with the twins, and probably getting drenched? Sir John would want them back near him, no matter what happened. He would be imagining all the terrible things that could happen to them, too.

  I’ve always been an expert fretter.

  Alan came back into the room and forestalled my questions. ‘She’s gone into labour. John is with her, of course. She wasn’t badly hurt in the fall, only a sprained ankle, but she’s only a month away from her due date, and the baby decided to start things a bit early.’

  ‘Will the baby be all right? Will she be all right?’

  ‘They think so, but of course it’s too soon to tell for sure. They’re not going to try to stop the labour, since the baby’s heartbeat is strong, and they think it has an excellent chance of survival. They may perform a Caesarean section if the baby seems to be getting stressed. And that’s all I know, love.’

  ‘It’s good news as far as it goes,’ I said, weak with relief. ‘How’s John?’

  ‘Coping rather well, actually. Of course he wants to be strong and calm for Cynthia, but that’s not all of it. He’s a man of strong faith, Dorothy.’

  I was reminded of how weak my own faith can sometimes be, all that fretting. I took a deep breath. ‘I wondered if anyone had thought to get in touch with Inga.’

  ‘Oh, Lord, yes, she’s off with the twins, isn’t she? Or at least she might be coming home at this point, especially with the rain. I think John had meant to go and pick them up, but of course . . . Do you have her number?’

  I was scanning my phone’s memory as he talked. ‘Yes, here it is.’

  ‘You’ll have to take that outside, madam,’ broke in the officious voice of the attendant whom Alan had annoyed earlier. She pointed to a somewhat tattered sign prohibiting mobile use in the hospital.

  ‘Yes, of course. Alan, is there anything else we can usefully do here, for the moment?’

  ‘I don’t think so. It may be hours before there’s any change.’

  ‘Then let’s go. We can pick up the girls and the twins and bring them back. That at least will be some help to John.’

  Alan paused to leave a message at the desk in case John should start worrying about the twins, and then we left, and I pulled out my phone.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Inga answered immediately. ‘Dorothy! Where is everybody? I’ve tried ringing Lady Cynthia and Sir John, but no one answers. We’re just about ready to climb on a bus. The twins have had a glorious day, but then the rain started, and besides, they’re more than ready for their naps.’

  ‘We’ll tell you when we get there. Here’s Alan; you can give him directions.’

  One is never far from the sea anywhere in Great Britain. In North Wales it’s only a few miles away. Alan told Inga we’d be there in fifteen minutes, rang off, and set out.

  ‘How did Cynthia happen to fall?’ I asked, finally able to think beyond the immediate crisis.

  ‘John didn’t know, and I didn’t press it. Cynthia was in too much distress to tell him, and it wasn’t his chief concern at the moment.’

  ‘No, of course not. But I wonder . . .’

  ‘So do I. Far-fetched as it may seem, so do I, though we’re probably both being foolish. But at the moment I’m more interested in how Delia fell, which I think James was about to tell us.’

  ‘Oh! James! I forgot all about him! Oh, good grief, do you think he’ll have run away again?’

  ‘Far more likely that Sergeant Blimp has clapped him in irons and thrown away the key. I wish I didn’t dislike that chap so much.’

  ‘He’s an idiot!’ I said warmly. ‘He’ll alienate James so much, he won’t say a word when you talk to him next.’

  ‘Unfortunately, you could be quite right. We’ll face that when we come to it.’ Alan peered through the rain-streaked windscreen. ‘Did that sign say Prestatyn?’

  ‘It said something unlikely in Welsh. We were past it too fast for me to read the English underneath. You’ll have to turn around.’

  Despite a couple of such diversions, we got there in very little more than the fifteen minutes Alan had promised, and none too soon. The twins were hot, tired, and cross, and both Inga and Pat were looking frazzled. They had waited in the bus shelter, but everyone was rather wet.

  ‘I promised them ice cream,’ said Inga, ‘but I’m beginning to regret it. They’ve reached the stage where nothing is right, nothing is what they want, and of course the rain has rather spoiled things.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Alan, the experienced father and grandfather, ‘and their favourite word is “no”. Right, then,’ he said, addressing the children. ‘Into the car you get. We’ll stop for ice cream on the way home. There’s not a lot of room, so you’ll have to sit on laps.’

  ‘Don’t want to sit on a lap!’ wailed Jack. ‘Want ice cream now!’

  ‘It’s a lap and ice cream, or neither,’ said Alan, fixing both children with a stern eye.

  Men, I’ve always thought, have an unfair advantage when it comes to dealing with peevish children. There’s something about that baritone voice that we women simply can’t match. Jack’s lower lip still protruded, but he scrambled on to Inga’s lap with no further protest as Jill settled in with Pat.

  ‘Are we really going to stop for ice cream?’ I murmured as Alan took off down the road.

  ‘If they’re not asleep by the time we find a place, yes. I keep my promises. Within reason,’ he added.

  But as Alan had predicted, the children were sound asleep in five minutes. The threatened storm had failed to materialize, but the rain persisted. Inga, speaking in a soft and soothing voice, said, ‘All right. What haven’t you told us? Where are their parents?’

  ‘Cynthia took a fall,’ I said in the same tones. ‘She seems to be okay, but she’s gone into labour. John is with her. So far everything seems to be coming along well.’

  ‘She looked to be pretty far along.’

  ‘Eight months, I understand. So the baby has a good chance.’

  ‘One more accident,’ said Pat, and her voice was so full of sadness I feared it might rouse the sleeping twins, but they were ex
hausted and slept on.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Alan firmly, ‘but this time it does really seem to have been an accident.’

  Alan had nothing whatsoever on which to base that opinion, I thought as we drove on through the rainy, sleepy afternoon. But if it made anyone feel better, what was the harm?

  Inga phoned Nigel to tell him what had happened, and to expect her when he saw her. The twins, oblivious to everything, didn’t wake even when we got to Soughton Hall. The girls carried them up to their rooms and laid them in their big double bed, damp clothes and all. ‘They can have a bath when they wake up,’ said Inga softly as she pulled the door nearly shut. ‘Right now we all need some rest.’

  ‘And some tea,’ I said firmly. ‘I’m starving. Lunch was a very long time ago.’

  ‘We can’t leave the children,’ said Inga.

  ‘Of course not.’ I picked up the phone. I had to explain why I was calling and ordering tea from the Warners’ room, but once that was sorted out, the meal was quick to arrive, delivered by none other than the proprietor.

  ‘We were so worried about Lady Cynthia!’ she said as she arranged the tea things. ‘We hadn’t heard anything since the ambulance took her to hospital. Is she . . . will she be all right?’

  ‘We think so,’ said Alan. He nodded toward the door of the twins’ room and kept his voice low. ‘She’s gone into labour, but when we left the hospital about half an hour ago, all the vital signs, hers and the baby’s, were good.’

  ‘Oh, I do hope so! We were so upset! She’s such a lovely person, and so is Sir John. And the twins are a delight.’

  ‘What happened, anyway?’ I asked. ‘Sir John didn’t know.’

  ‘We don’t either, really. One of the wedding party – you know we had a wedding here today?’

  We nodded. ‘I hope it was over before the rain.’

  ‘Barely. Everyone was leaving when one of the groomsmen heard her scream and found her lying in the garden, by one of the paths. There didn’t seem to be anything she could have tripped over, but there she was. He tried to help her up, but she couldn’t manage to stand or walk, so he laid her in a more comfortable position and ran to us. We rang the ambulance and then Sir John and . . . you probably know the rest. You went to the hospital with Sir John, then?’

  ‘He asked us to follow him.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ She sounded as if she didn’t, really. ‘Had they finished the concert?’

  ‘Just,’ said Alan. ‘It was a great success.’

  ‘Oh, good. She was worried about that, kept saying she couldn’t interrupt him while he was on stage.’

  ‘She’s a musician herself, of course,’ I said with a smile. ‘The show must go on, and all that.’

  ‘Well,’ she said after a fractional pause, ‘I’ll leave you to your tea. Just ring up if there’s anything else you need. And of course there’ll be no bill. We’re just happy to hear that Lady Cynthia is doing as well as she is.’

  ‘Thank you so much. This looks splendid,’ said Alan, carefully closing the door after her.

  ‘She was wondering why John wanted us at the hospital,’ I said. ‘And to tell the truth I wondered myself. Do you think she thinks he thinks . . . Let me start over. She probably knows who we are, and that we’ve been looking into the incidents that have plagued the festival. I’ll bet she’s worrying that John thinks something peculiar happened with this accident, and he’s wanting you to investigate. Which might lead to liability issues for the hotel.’

  ‘Convoluted though that statement is, I managed to make my way through it,’ said Alan. ‘And I suspect you’re right.’

  ‘That’s why she’s treating us to the tea.’

  ‘Right again. If I were still a policeman, I couldn’t have any of this, since it constitutes a bribe. However, as I’m not . . .’ and he polished off a small crustless sandwich in two bites. Inga followed his example, making a good meal, but Pat was listless and ate little.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like a sandwich?’ I asked, offering her the plate.

  ‘Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I’m tired, I think.’

  ‘And no wonder! But some food would help, really it would.’ I looked at her drawn face and her restless hands.

  ‘I couldn’t,’ she said with a shudder. ‘But thank you. You’re . . . very kind.’

  Well, if she wouldn’t eat, she wouldn’t. I changed the subject. ‘Why do you think John wanted us at the hospital?’ I asked Alan, taking a couple of sandwiches myself.

  ‘I think he wanted you, particularly, because you seem to be a calming influence on Cynthia. But then she was out of anyone’s reach except his. I was superfluous, I think.’

  ‘Never,’ I assured him, and ate a scone.

  The children slept through our tea, but woke shortly afterwards and wanted their own. We’d saved some for them, and the food kept them occupied for a little while, but then they wanted their parents. They wanted their nanny. It took all our efforts to get them calmed down, bathed, and changed into fresh clothes. But then they wanted entertainment. None of their toys were of interest. Jack, indeed, threw his Thomas the Tank Engine across the room, narrowly missing a very nice lamp. Much as I hate the electronic babysitter, I tried a couple of the videos John and Cynthia had brought along. The twins didn’t want to watch them. We were out of ideas.

  Alan said, ‘I’m terribly sorry, but I do really need to go back to the hospital and see how Cynthia’s getting along. And then I should make sure James is safely on ice for the night. I think tomorrow will be soon enough to question him again. I hate to leave you with this, though.’

  He gestured at the twins, who were using the very expensive mahogany bed as a trampoline and doing their best to destroy the duvet, shrieking all the while.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Inga. ‘We’ll manage. Go do what you have to do.’

  He had barely left when I had an idea. ‘Listen, Inga, Pat. These kids are usually pretty good, but their world has been upset. They want their parents, and they want to go home, and there’s no chance of any of that for a while yet. I’m opposed on principle to bribing children, but there comes a time. I’d like to take them to a toy store and turn them loose. Do you think Nigel could come with the car?’

  He could and would, Inga told us after a brief phone call. So we quieted the twins (with some difficulty), straightened their clothes and tidied the disturbed bed, and had them ready to go when Nigel pulled up to the front door.

  The hotel people had told us where to find a big toy store. It was exactly the kind of place I dislike, a big store with lots of plastic toys and little to stimulate a child’s imagination. Never mind. What the adults needed just now was a diversion, something to keep the kids amused until we could figure out what to do next.

  And it worked. With two adults to supervise each child, we managed to maintain more or less civilized behaviour. Nigel and Inga, experienced parents, set boundaries on what the twins could have, and they, like the good children they basically were, accepted the limitations. They took a long time to choose the two toys each wanted the most, and I gladly proffered my credit card to the cashier. It was a small price to pay for some peace and quiet.

  Back at the hotel, the two settled down like angels to play with their new acquisitions, and the adults to a conference. ‘What they need,’ said Inga, ‘is their own familiar surroundings. With their parents and their nanny here, they did reasonably well in a hotel. Now that everyone’s out of reach, they’re bound to be disoriented and scared. I wonder if there are some grandparents who could be prevailed upon?’

  ‘I suppose we could ask John. It depends upon how things are going with Cynthia.’

  ‘You could phone Alan and find out,’ Pat suggested.

  ‘I can’t, though. That is, I could try, but if he’s at the hospital still, he’ll have the mobile turned off. They’re very pernickety about the rules.’

  ‘Hospitals always are,’ said Nigel. ‘But he might not still be there. Why
not try? The kids are okay now, but they won’t be for long. If they’re anything like Nigel Peter, they have an attention span of about ten minutes.’

  ‘If that,’ said Inga.

  I was, therefore, greatly relieved when Alan answered his phone.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘In the hospital car park,’ he said. ‘Jack and Jill have a new baby brother!’

  ‘Oh!’ It’s a boy, I mouthed to the others. ‘That was quick.’

  ‘They decided on a Caesarean. Both mother and baby are doing well. He’s small, only a little over five pounds, but healthy, and the doctors say he’ll be fine. He’s still in the special care unit, but that’s just a precaution, because of his low birth weight. And Cynthia, when I left, was just coming out of the anaesthetic and quite happy. I’m just headed for the police station to check on our fiery Irishman.’

  ‘Before you do that, do you think you could go back and talk to John for a moment? Now that he’s over most of the anxiety, we need to know if there are any grandparents, or aunts, or anyone who could take over the care of the twins. They’re being somewhat difficult, and I don’t know how much longer the hotel people are going to put up with them.’

  ‘Oh, Lord, yes! Even Mike and Dennis, perfect grandchildren though they are, could be hellions at that age, especially when they were upset. You poor darling! There’s hope, though. Frieda’s arrived in Appledore.’

  ‘To stay? Or only to pack up her things?’ I couldn’t keep the hope out of my voice.

  ‘To stay, John thinks. He talked to her on the phone, told her it was all a mistake, and she’d soon have another baby to look after. Apparently she adores babies.’

  ‘So what should we do?’ In the background, the twins were growing noisy. Apparently one of the new toys was in dispute between the two of them.

  ‘If you can bear it, I’d suggest taking them home at once. I’ll check with John, of course, but it seems the only sensible solution. Look, you won’t all fit into that tiny car of Nigel’s, so suppose I drop everything else and come to help.’