A Strange Manor of Death (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 3)

by R. A. Bentley

  'Unless you can think of somewhere with heads to count.'

  'But what sort of heads? Flower heads? People's heads? Animal heads? Hmm, animal heads.'

  Chapter Five

  Dinner that night was not a happy one. Snappish and impatient with Tony, Elizabeth contrived to snub Vanda while casting reproachful glances at Roger, who with eyes only for Vanda, either didn't notice or pretended not to. Bernard and Emily appeared to have fallen out, no-one knew why, and Egg, smarting from the business of the icehouse key, refused to converse with Bernard.

  An exception to the general mood was the Manor's youngest maid. Such was her evident excitement that she gave the impression of having received either a proposal of marriage or a substantial pecuniary windfall. Since, thought Egg, she was somewhat young for the former and the latter was unlikely, that left only one explanation: Nettie had been nobbled. It also seemed clear to him who had done the nobbling, there being few in the company able to offer a suitable inducement.

  He knew that he was probably alone in his suspicions, at least among the men. Vanda was beautiful, of course, but she was more than that. The way she moved, the way she talked, even the way she smoked a cigarette (naturally she never had to light one) was pure sex, and for any red-blooded fellow to think badly of such feminine perfection was close to impossible. Egg was no more immune to her charms than the others, but his lack of physical interest in her allowed him to think the unthinkable. The question was, how did she plan to use Nettie, and to what extent did it threaten their winning the Manor? He would have to discuss it with Charlotte.

  Charlotte had come in rather late for the meal, settling herself amicably beside Janet, whom she liked, and giving him a broad wink. From this he inferred either that she'd done well with her solo work or cultivated someone useful, possibly both. It was looking very promising.

  'Ever meet Lady FitzGreville, Egg?' asked George, sitting down beside him.

  'No, sir, I never had that pleasure,' smiled Egg. 'I only met Sir Jasper once, at my club. He was there with another member and we were introduced.'

  'What did he say to you?'

  'Not very much, just asked me a bit about myself. He insisted on playing me at chess; it's something of a feature of the place.'

  'Did he win?'

  'Yes, he did, but I gave him a run for his money. In fact, it went on longer than I might have wished. Rather a tiresome endgame, as I remember.'

  'You gave it to him, I daresay?'

  'I'm afraid I did. I wanted to get away, and it seemed a bit ungracious not to, under the circumstances.'

  'And then he was thoroughly boorish and crowed about it, I expect.'

  'He seemed to enjoy his success, yes,' said Egg diplomatically.

  'Likely he did. But, you mustn't judge my sister by that old mountebank. She was a lovely girl, and bright. Could have married anyone, but no, she had to have him. It was his behaviour that ruined her health; of that I have no doubt. She was in a wheelchair for the last year or two, you know, and he scarcely came near her. Meant he could bring his fancy women home and not worry about her seeing them. Nor did Joan, come to that. Come near her, I mean. All that unnatural creature has ever cared about is herself. What a family, eh? You got any?'

  'Egg shook his head. No, sir; alone in the world. My parents are gone and both my brothers died in the war.'

  George nodded grimly. 'You'd have been too young for that, of course.'

  'Yes, sir. Though I doubt if they'd have wanted me anyway.'

  'Er, no, I suppose not,' said George, slightly abashed. 'Dashed bad luck, what?'

  Egg forbore to enquire exactly where the bad luck lay.

  As he was leaving the room, Emily caught up with him, dragging her reluctant spouse by the coat sleeve. 'Egg,' she said firmly, 'Bernard has something to say to you, haven't you, Bernard?'

  Pink with embarrassment, Bernard looked furtively around him. 'Er, yes,' he said. 'Fact is, old man, I owe you an apology.'

  Egg smiled and shook his head. 'None required, Bernard. I happened to know what was rubbed out and restored it. No harm done.'

  'Oh! I see.' said Bernard, taken aback. 'That really is much appreciated. Does that mean no-one, er . . . '

  'Shouldn't think so. They wouldn't have had time.'

  'Oh, good. I mean, thanks awfully; that's more than I deserve. Got rather carried away, I'm afraid. Thrill of the chase and all that. Still friends, I hope?'

  'Of course,' said Egg, accepting a handshake. 'I'll admit I was cross to begin with, but then I considered the plank in my own eye.'

  'What? Oh, ha! Well I'm sure you wouldn't stoop so low. I'm tempted to scratch from the contest.'

  'You'll do no such thing!' said Emily. 'We're going to see this through. It was all my fault, Egg. He wanted so much to win the Manor for me, and we'd already agree that theft, blackmail and murder were all right but I had to draw the line at tampering with the clues. It wouldn't have been sporting.'

  'I'd say you've got the balance about right,' said Egg solemnly. 'Now I must find Charlotte. We're going to work late on the tricky ones.'

  When Egg told Charlotte, she laughed. 'Silly beggar. He should have shut up. I would have.'

  Egg regarded her with surprise. This was not the response he was expecting. Might she perhaps consider him a dull dog, tiresomely upright and honest? 'I suppose,' he said, 'you think me a model of moral rectitude.'

  'Aren't you, then?

  'Not entirely, I can be quite wicked, on occasion.'

  Charlotte raised the pencilled lines that currently passed for eyebrows. 'Really? How exciting! Are you a heartless seducer of innocent young women, luring them into your bed with promises of undying love, then selling them, debauched and ruined, to some cruel eastern potentate? I must say, I've often wondered.'

  'Not exactly, admitted Egg. 'I just eavesdrop, read private documents, and generally poke my nose into other people's business. I blame my job; one develops an overwhelming need to know.'

  'What a shame,' sighed Charlotte. 'I should quite like to have been debauched. So what have you found out?'

  'Well, Roger thinks I'm hairy at the heel and have the blood of footmen flowing in my veins – which, for aught I know, I may have – and I've discovered he was involved with Vanda years ago and now they've got together again.'

  'She'll regret that. What else?'

  'He's also having an affair with Elizabeth.'

  'How do you know?'

  'I witnessed an intimate act, in the drawing room. Rather instructive.'

  'Gosh! Quite the Peeping Tom I'm engaged to. Is Tony having an affair with Vanda?'

  Egg looked surprised. 'Not that I know of.'

  'Pity, I like things to be symmetrical. What else?'

  'I strongly suspect that Vanda has suborned Nettie. Did you notice her behaviour at dinner?'

  'Whose, Vanda's?'

  'No, Nettie's'

  'Can't say I did particularly.'

  'That's what I thought. I expect she's invisible to women, just another servant.'

  'Charlotte frowned. 'Why not to you?'

  'She's pretty,' admitted Egg.

  'Pretty as me?'

  'Not nearly. Needs another three stone at least.'

  'That's all right then. Why has Vanda done that, do you suppose?'

  'I don't know. Perhaps she'll make her spy on people when they're puzzling.'

  'Well I hope you don't get in each other's way,' said Charlotte dryly. 'What else?'

  'Roger employed Emmett to do the three-dimensional puzzles. His parents used him too, but I suppose that was inevitable.'

  'What a fuss they make. I don't understand what's so hard about them.'

  'You've done them, then?'

  'Yes, all four, including the second part. Took about five minutes each.'

  'I say, that's splendid! Any others?

  'Well, yes and no. I had a go at number five: "How many years a mortal man may live." I should imagine it's Shakespeare – iambic pentamet
er and all that – but it would take forever to look it up, so I concentrated on the second part, which gives a U, some dashes and an A. It was pretty obviously the beginning and end of something, and then I remembered the motto on the sundial in the rose garden. I like sundials, so I'd already had a look. I should imagine it's very old because it's all in rather battered stone, even the gnomon, and doesn't have any recognisable numbers left on it – assuming there ever were any – just some radiating lines. It's set into a more recent-looking block with "Utere, non numera" round the edge.'

  'Use, don't count,' said Egg.

  'I thought that's what it meant but I wasn't sure. It seems to fit, but try as I might I can't get a number out of it, or anything else. It's rather its own answer almost. You could count the lines or the letters, I suppose.'

  'Maybe it's the exception that proves the rule. We've only four left to do, so we'll know soon enough.'

  'I thought that too. If it is, I'm wondering if it refers to all the other numbers in some way, but I can't see how, can you?'

  It was now quite late. Most had retired to their rooms, and Vanda and Roger had the great hall to themselves.

  'Anyway,' said Vanda, 'It's all set up, and it'll be a poor tale if one of us doesn't get something.'

  'Shall you really take her on?'

  'Oh yes, it would be terribly unkind not to now. She's rather cute, don't you think? And I do actually need someone anyway. She can help me learn my lines – she'll love that – and I can put her down as expenses.'

  'You'll get her anyway, when we win the Manor,' said Roger.

  'Shush! Don't tempt fate. We've a lot to do yet.'

  'I'm feeling lucky,' said Roger, stretching. 'I've got you back, and now I'm going to make you Lady of the Manor. You'll see.'

  Laughing, Vanda pulled him to his feet. 'Come on then, you lucky fella; it's bedtime.'

  'Do you mean . . . ' said Roger, surprised.

  'Yes, why not? The horse bolted ten years ago. Just be discreet.'

  Tired and deflated, the Austens got undressed.

  'You really don't have to keep apologising, Bernie,' said Emily irritably. 'It doesn't become you.'

  'No, sorry. But it's rather disturbing, you know, to discover one's feet of clay.'

  'We've all got those, I daresay. And if it makes you feel any better, I sneaked a peek at Janet's notebook when she wasn't looking. There! I'm no better than I should be.'

  Bernard stared at her in amazement. 'You little scamp! What did you get?'

  'It's not ten rungs to the ladder, it's eleven.'

  'I say, that's handy! I was a bit unsure, given the circumstances. We're a long way from finishing though. In fact, we're hardly likely to, especially as we've left the hard ones until last.'

  'I have an idea about that,' said Emily, darkly. 'We've allowed for murder, don't forget.'

  'I hope you're joking!' said Bernard.

  'That was lovely,' said Charlotte as they drew apart. 'You're a good kisser. Not that I've much to compare you with.'

  'Thank you, so are you,' said Egg, now quite faint with lust. 'I'd best let you get some sleep; there's no knowing what we might be up against tomorrow.'

  Charlotte seemed in no hurry to let him go. 'I expect,' she said, 'that you'll be wanting to try me out. Men usually do, don't they?'

  'That's hardly necessary in your case,' said Egg gallantly. 'Of course, you may want to try me out.'

  'I actually think, you know, that I ought to do that,' said Charlotte glancing at her bedroom door. 'It would be terrible to make a mistake, wouldn't it?'

  'How are we getting on?' asked Janet. She was sitting at the dressing table, applying night cream.

  'Just three to go, thanks to you,' said George, studying his notebook. 'In the bag I'd say.'

  'You did do some of them; it wasn't all me.'

  'Yes, eventually. I'm ashamed not to have spotted the nine of diamonds earlier — Curse of Scotland.'

  'Yes, that was unfortunate. Still, it's been fun, hasn't it? I did feel a bit shabby letting the Austens think they'd got the ladder one. I might have been tempted to tell them, if they'd asked.'

  'They'd only to go back later. Don't see why we should spoonfeed them. Had any ideas about number five?'

  Janet climbed into bed. 'No, not really. It's been nagging at me rather. I mustn't think about it now, or I'll never get to sleep.' She turned and put the light out. 'Night-night, Walrus. Love you.'

  'Night-night, Fairy-Belle,' said George.

  But Janet did think about number five. She was no scholar, and she'd had considerable difficulty in finding the source of the quotation and then translating the motto, but she'd stuck at it, only to hit a brick wall. Even if she could find no number, she told herself, there had to be one, or what was the point of it? For an hour or more she lay listening to George's snoring as it went round and round in her head until at last it became incorporated into a bizarre sort of dream. Suddenly she sat upright. 'George! What is that noise?'

  'You woke me up,' grumbled George.

  'Sorry, listen! It's downstairs I think. What is it?'

  George listened. 'I should say,' he opined, 'that it's two men beating hell out of each other with fifteenth century broadswords. One of 'em seems to have the advantage.'

  'It's ten past one in the morning!'

  'So I perceive.'

  'Well aren't you going to do something?'

  'Groaning from the pain in his back, George struggled out of bed. 'Where's me slippers?'

  'Where you left them. Oh my goodness! What was that?

  'Stuff going over, I expect. Where the blazes are they? It's all right, got 'em.'

  'George, do hurry; someone could be killed!'

  'Doubt it. Where's me dressing gown?'

  'Never mind your dressing gown!'

  'Can't restore order in pyjamas. Need me dressing gown.'

  Once suitably accoutred, however, George moved swiftly enough, turning onto the minstrel's gallery and peering downwards. The great hall was largely in darkness, but a lone table-lamp revealed the combatants to be Tony and Roger.

  'Bastard!' shouted Tony, 'Bastard! bastard! bastard!' Each expletive was followed by a clash of steel.

  'For goodness' sake, Tony!' cried Roger, desperately defending himself. 'Leave off, will you?'

  'Bastard!' rejoined Tony.

  'Gentlemen!' demanded the Colonel. 'Cease that immediately!'

  There followed a dull thud and a sharp yelp of pain.

  'You hit me!' cried Tony.'

  'Oh Lord! I'm sorry, Tony.'

  'You utter bastard!'

  'Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.'

  'You've slashed my arm!'

  'Well, it's your own fault, isn't it!'

  'Bastard!' yelled Tony, and collapsed slowly to the floor.

  'I'm going down,' said Janet.

  More lights came on, and Elizabeth could be seen running towards her stricken spouse. 'What on earth is going on here? Oh my God, Tony!' Falling to her knees beside him she glared up at Roger, now leaning, exhausted, on his sword. 'You great bully! What have you done to him?'

  'I haven't done anything to him; it was an accident.'

  'An accident! How could it be an accident?'

  'Just get me a doctor,' groaned Tony.

  'But what are you doing here? Why were you fighting?'

  'Do you really need to ask?'

  'What does he mean?' demanded Elizabeth. 'What's been going on?'

  'Lizzie . . . ' began Roger, but stopped when Charlotte appeared. She was followed by Vanda, looking decidedly louche in evening shoes and a sheer silk peignoir.

  'Did you know about this?' demanded Elizabeth.

  'I don't know about anything, darling,' said Vanda. 'I was asleep.'

  'Don't you darling me!' said Elizabeth. 'I know what you were doing and it wasn't sleeping!'

  'What's it got to do with you?'

  Nanny arrived with a first-aid box. 'If you could just slip your dressing gown
off, sir,' she said, 'and perhaps your pyjama top.'

  'I can't move my arm,' said Tony, wincing.

  'Scissors?' suggested Janet.

  Nanny snipped gingerly at the blood-sodden fabric. 'Oh dear, that is a nasty gash. You'll need stitches in that.'

  'That's a lesson learned,' growled George. 'Never drop your guard.'

  Fudge arrived, fully dressed. 'I have taken the liberty of telephoning to Dr Crowther, sir. He should be along shortly.'

  'There's an awful lot of blood,' said Elizabeth, sounding frightened. 'Oh, Tony!'

  'Don't touch me!' snarled Tony. 'I don't want you touching me.'

  'You ought to raise your arm,' said Charlotte. 'You need to get it above your heart.'

  'Don't think I can.'

  'How about if I do it for you? There's a brave soldier. Now I'm going to keep it up and press on your brachial artery. That'll reduce the flow.'

  'Are you a nurse?' asked Elizabeth.

  'Heavens, no.'

  Vanda drew Roger aside. 'What happened?'

  'I got a note earlier telling me to be here at one o'clock. It wasn't signed but I assumed it was from Lizzie. I didn't want to mention it.'

  'Might have spoiled the mood rather?' suggested Vanda cynically.

  'Well, quite. I'd forgotten about it until I went to the bathroom. I looked over the rail and thought I could see her. I decided to have it out with her and came down, but it was Tony. When he saw me, he accused me of you-know-what, and attacked me.'

  'With the sword?'

  'Yes. He looked absolutely murderous so I grabbed the other one to defend myself. I know it wasn't very clever.'

  'But how did Tony know about it?'

  'No idea. It was hardly a rational discussion.'

  Vanda frowned suspiciously. 'You are you telling me the truth, Roger?'

  'I course I am! Damn it, we'd only just —'

  'No, all right,' said Vanda hastily. 'Oh Lord, what does she want?'

  The sound of hysterical lamentations preceded by some moments the arrival of Joan FitzGreville. She was followed by a bleary-looking Egg. 'He poked me up the bottom!' she wailed. 'Up the bottom!'

  'Who poked you?' said Charlotte. 'Egg?'