Murder At Rudhall Manor

by Anya Wylde

  Lucy narrowed her eyes, but before she could speak Lord Adair interrupted her.

  "Miss Trotter is not going anywhere." He softened his voice. "Until we discover the murderer, we cannot let her leave—or anyone else for that matter."

  "Truly, Lord Adair, this is a personal matter," Elizabeth started to say.

  Lord Adair raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you like justice for your father?"

  Elizabeth’s lips tightened.

  "Will you stay with us until the murderer is found?" Peter spoke up suddenly.

  "I am sure he would prefer—"

  "I would like that," Lord Adair said, cutting Elizabeth short. "Thank you. It would make the investigation easier."

  After that, an uneasy silence did a short dance around the room.

  Palmer, the baboon, started whacking a chair with a cushion.

  Thump, thump, thump sounded in the air.

  No one bothered stopping the animal's game.

  Soon even the baboon gave up and went and curled on top of Peter's shoulder. He looked bored. That is the baboon looked bored, while Peter appeared to be dead.

  "Well," Lady Sedley said, trying to be an entertaining hostess. "Well, well."

  "Yes, well," Elizabeth added just as dimly.

  "Unusually cold," Lord Adair offered, "is it not?"

  "Awfully cold," Lady Sedley bobbed her head.

  "Bitterly cold," Elizabeth said at the same time.

  "I should go feed the animals," Peter told the plate of dried sandwiches.

  "You should." Lady Sedley pounced on the subject. "He has a lot of animals, a whole orangery full."

  Lord Adair stubbed out his cigar on a cherished vase. "That reminds me. I hope my sudden arrival didn't disturb your dinner."

  "Why no, what with all the excitement, our dinner has been delayed," Lady Sedley remarked.

  Someone's stomach growled loudly in the room. Lucy feared it was her own.

  Lord Adair waited politely.

  "Would you like to join us for a late supper?" Elizabeth spoke over her mother.

  "Please, I had a long journey. And I must tell you about the balloon my good friend professor Bagwit loaned to me." He suddenly paused and looked directly at Lucy, "You will be joining us for the meal won't you, Miss Trotter?"

  "She prefers to eat in her room," Lady Sedley told him.

  "I prefer no such thing," Lucy growled. "You have chosen to believe so since the day I arrived. Sent me a measly tray—"

  "Enough," Lady Sedley snapped. "Lord Adair, don’t believe a word the ungrateful wretch says. I am feeling faint at the wicked lies the girl is spouting."

  "I am not lying," Lucy exclaimed.

  "Please join us for dinner, Miss Trotter," Lord Adair said. "And please don’t think of leaving this house until I say so."

  Lucy nodded, trying not to look too grateful that she wasn’t being turned out this night. She watched as Lady Sedley bounded up to Lord Adair and clutched his right arm. Elizabeth followed at a more sedate pace and placed her claws just above his left elbow, a finger discreetly caressing his silk robe.

  Lord Adair, as if unaware of the two adoring females staring up at him, said in a bored voice, "I must send for my valet. I cannot spend a minute longer in this robe."

  "Ian's robes might fit you, my lord. You are taller than him, but if you do not mind revealing your ankles …?" Elizabeth suggested.

  Lord Adair sighed. "Miss Sedley, I would wear a sheet fashioned into a toga if you allowed me. Anything but this robe. I have been wearing it for the last two days."

  Lucy caught him wrinkling his nose at the emerald silk just before the three of them disappeared down the hallway.

  She inched closer to the fire. She had not noticed Peter leaving the morning room with the animals and was surprised to find herself suddenly alone.

  The sandwiches lay forgotten on the table. And the fire, which had roared in Lord Adair's presence, was now flickering half-heartedly.

  The full impact of what had occurred suddenly hit her.

  Lord Sedley had been murdered.

  She felt pity, but not grief. As for the family's behaviour towards herself, she was not surprised by the vitriol. Lady Sedley had wanted her out of the house the very next day after her arrival, but Lord Sedley and Ian had insisted that she stay on. Lord Sedley had said that she was a sight for sore eyes and Ian had reasoned that they wouldn't be able to afford anyone else to teach the children.

  The butler entered the room distracting her from her gloomy thoughts.

  Hodgson, the butler, was an old man who had been with the family the longest of all the servants. He was a kindly old thing who liked his drink and a bit of gossip. His puffy almost maroon face was expressive and his eyes were small and wrinkled at the corners. He dawdled now in the room straightening things which did not need to be straightened in hopes of inducing Lucy to chat.

  Lucy was only too willing to oblige him. Too many questions were bubbling inside her, and Hodgson was an excellent source of information.

  "Lord Adair is a remarkable man, isn't he?" Lucy asked.

  "Beloved of the king and the regent," Hodgson beamed.

  "Beloved of the mistresses, too, or so I hear," Lucy nodded.

  "A rare and dangerous thing that," Hodgson said picking invisible lint off the cushion.

  "Is it true that he can kill anyone and not be hanged?"

  Hodgson smiled indulgently. "Not anyone, miss, only those who are a threat to the regent's safety."

  "A threat to the regent," Lucy mused. "Well, he might as well kill anyone he likes, or rather dislikes, and then proclaim him a danger to the king or the regent. Who is to question him? The poor victim is hardly likely to rise from the grave to give his defence."

  "He is a good man, miss," the butler soothed. "He was the finest spy during the war. Helped defeat the French. If hadn't been for him—"

  "We would have still won," Lucy finished.

  Hodgson pressed his lips together and remained silent. He had moved on to wiping the dust free lamp.

  Lucy plucked a sandwich off the tray and nibbled the corner.

  "He may not find the murderer," Hodgson comforted.

  "You were listening at the door?"

  "Naturally I took your place as soon as you vacated it."

  Lucy nodded. “As you should have."

  "It is my duty to know all the goings-on." He turned back to look at her from the door. "Miss, I shouldn’t be saying this, but you did a good thing by killing that fermented old man."

  "I didn’t kill him," Lucy protested.

  The butler winked at her. "Sure you didn't, Miss Trotter, sure you didn’t."

  Chapter 7

  Lucy perceptibly brightened as she looked down the long wooden table. She eyed the innumerable sweet and savoury dishes dotting the polished surface and dug her nails into her palm in order to prevent herself from catapulting onto the table and sinking her teeth into a warm pigeon pie.

  She had grown up eating simple dishes in the orphanage, and ever since her arrival at Rudhall, the dinner tray sent up by the cook had been interesting but recognisable.

  But here everything appeared to be exotic and colourful.

  Near her own plate sat a bowl of something akin to eggs, except it had creamy yellow flesh with funny little brown spots all over. She gingerly sniffed a white lump which turned out be to be boiled fish and discreetly pushed away a strange soupy dish with blobs of green floating on top.

  Finally, her eyes alighted on the only other dish placed close at hand. She wrinkled her nose in confusion and stuck her tongue between the gap in her front teeth. It looked like some sort of meat. Was it lamb drenched in gravy, she wondered?

  "Sheep's brains in matelot sauce," Hodgson whispered, nodding towards the dish.

  Lucy slowly put down the fork and leaned as far away from the table as possible.

  Lady Sedley, Elizabeth, Peter and Lord Adair she noticed were sitting at the other end of the table. They were sur
rounded by piles of lush fruits, breads, delectable looking pies, pretty jellies, chicken, cold ham and cheeses.

  She scowled in annoyance. It seemed the arrangement had been deliberate. She was surrounded by strange and tasteless food by design. Her stomach growled in hunger and her heart bubbled in anger.

  "Please ignore my pale complexion, my lord," Lady Sedley's voice floated towards Lucy. "I fear a touch of quinsy coming on."

  Lucy rolled her eyes. Lady Sedley always felt something coming on. Last week she had constantly complained of consumption.

  The week before that, it had been dropsy, and both the times the physician had patted her hand and told her that nothing whatsoever was the matter with her.

  All she needed was a good long walk and a drop of brandy.

  Spinoza swooped into the room at that moment startling Lucy into dropping her spoon. He flew in circles over her head flapping his wings. He appeared to be searching for a good spot to land on.

  Lord Adair, unruffled by the bird's arrival, poked a slice of cheese. He turned to Lady Sedley and said, "It is unnaturally cold this winter. People with a delicate constitution are bound to suffer. It is unfortunate."

  Lucy bent down to pick up the spoon, her attention only partly on the conversation. Her fingers touched the spoon while her eyes looked down the table. Her mouth fell open.

  Peter's ankles were primly crossed, but he was wearing two different styles of boots, both a rich dark brown.

  But that was expected. He often did that sort of thing.

  What was unexpected was that farther down the table Lady Sedley's pointed yellow leather shoe, trimmed with green silk and embroidered in pale pink, had hopped over to stroke Lord Adair's uncomfortable right thigh.

  Lucy's eyes crossed and uncrossed themselves, and she slid a wary glance towards Elizabeth, who was placed opposite Lord Adair.

  She found Elizabeth in a very queer position. The woman was not sitting but half lying on the chair. Her back was uncomfortably arched, her bottom was perched at the very edge of her seat, and her pointed toe, encased in a striped blue and cream stocking, had stretched across to make ever so tiny concentric circles on Lord Adair's worried left knee.

  Above the table, Lady Sedley was saying in a perfectly normal voice, "I think I will write to the physician in the morning. My husband's death," Here she gave an artful sniff, "and the theft have left me feeling queer."

  Lord Adair's right leg was now attempting to get away from Lady Sedley's shoe and nudge Elizabeth's big toe away at the same time. He replied in an equally steady tone, "I once had the pleasure of eating dinner at a friend's house. The duck had been lovely and tender that day. His wife told me much the same thing. She said she would call the physician in the morning, for she was feeling a little odd. She died that night."

  "You don't say," Lady Sedley gasped. Her entire leg moved up his thigh to lie across his lap.

  Lucy hiccupped at the sight and banged her head on the underside of the table. Her cheeks turned pink, and she sat back in her seat. She had forgotten the spoon on the floor. She hiccupped again and reached for the wine.

  Lord Adair was now pulling out some sort of herb from inside a pocket in his robe and offering it to Lady Sedley. He was recounting its various benefits, but Lucy heard none of it. She was grasping the stem of her glass, her face turning redder and redder until it was almost maroon in embarrassment.

  A loud hic escaped her lips and all eyes swivelled towards her. Lucy hurriedly took another sip of her wine.

  Lord Adair shot her a keen look before continuing where he had left off. "A brilliant herb, saved the life of a man bitten by a cobra, or so the man who sold it to me said. I haven't tested it yet. I would be keen to know all your symptoms once you have consumed it."

  "I suppose I am feeling a little better," Lady Sedley said hastily. "I don't think it is necessary—"

  Lucy bit her lip and once again dived under the table on the pretext of picking up the spoon.

  Things had progressed, it seemed. Peter's ankles were uncrossed, Lady Sedley's second leg had joined the first leg on Lord Adair's lap, and Elizabeth had abandoned the knee in an attempt to part his robe and reach his unclad calves.

  Meanwhile, Lord Adair had dropped a hand over Lady Sedley's thighs and down to his legs, where he sat clutching the edges of his robes close together to keep out Elizabeth's adventurous feet.

  With another hiccup, Lucy emerged back up. She smoothed her scandalised hair and held the cold wine glass to her warm cheeks. It was a good few moments before she turned her attention back to the conversation above the table.

  "Lord Adair, the gooseberry cheese is wonderful. Do taste a bit," Elizabeth was saying.

  A large basket of fruits blocked Lord Adair's view of Elizabeth. He bent sideways in an attempt to look at her. "Thank you. I particularly liked the apple stew."

  Lucy nibbled on a piece of dry, stale bread. Elizabeth and her mother were leaving no stone unturned in their attempt to attract Lord Adair. No doubt such a lavish fair had been brought out for his sake.

  As Lucy expected, Lord Adair and Elizabeth spent some time trying to have a conversation with each other by straining above the basket or bending sideways to look at each other.

  After another few moments of weaving to and fro on the chair, Elizabeth burst out, "Oh, this is impossible. I am going to ask Hodgson to remove this basket—"

  Lord Adair was out of his chair before Elizabeth had finished her sentence. "Allow me," he said and swept up the basket, walked down the table and planted it right in front of Lucy's face.

  Lucy quivered from top to toe in excitement. If she had a tail, it would have started wagging madly at this point. She had hoped something of the sort would occur, tried to will it, in fact, but for it to actually happen—a whole basket of fruits within her grasp—Her fingers itched with suppressed emotion and a tear almost formed in one eye.

  She had eaten a rare orange, stolen an apple at times, but here she was presented with so many different fruits that she had only before seen in watercolours. Her stomach roared, her eyes feasted, and with trembling fingers she piled her plate with grapes, a peach, an apple and a few small plums.

  She bit into the sweet, crisp flesh of the peach and tried not to moan aloud.

  Once her stomach was somewhat full, she turned her attention back to the situation under the table.

  This time she dropped a knife and ducked underneath.

  A pup was lying on Peter's boring boots. She ignored him and swiftly turned her attention towards the more exciting part of the table.

  Somehow, while she had been cooling her blushing cheeks on top, things had become complicated underneath.

  Some mysterious process had confounded the feet of the two ladies present and instead of sliding up and down Lord Adair's legs, their adventurous toes were playing blind man's buff with each other.

  Lady Sedley's foot was caressing Elizabeth's calf in the mistaken belief that it was a part of Lord Adair's anatomy, and Elizabeth happily nudged Lady Sedley back also believing it to be Lord Adair's frisky toes.

  As for Lord Adair, he sat with his legs crossed on top of the chair, the robe well tucked in with not a thread dangling over the edge of the seat.

  Lucy picked up the spoon and the knife and once again sat up in her chair.

  "… died. How?" Elizabeth was saying.

  Lucy listened for a moment trying to get the gist of the topic.

  The conversation had galloped ahead. They were now discussing Lord Sedley's murder.

  She pushed away her plate and leaned forward in her seat. The goings-on under the table were forgotten as things had just become interesting on top.

  Chapter 8

  "Odd," Lord Adair was saying.

  Elizabeth leaned forward, her eyes intense, "The murder could have been done by my old Aunt Sedley. Believe me, my lord, no one else could have gone up those stairs without Mother's or Peter's knowledge."

  "I see," Lord Adair said, taking
a bite of his food. He chewed thoughtfully for a minute. "Miss Sedley, I don't think your aunt could have committed the crime."

  "Why not?" Lady Sedley broke in. "She was an awful old thing. Bitter to the core and could never see anyone happy."

  "Was an awful old thing," Lord Adair echoed Lady Sedley, "and since she was and no longer is, she couldn’t have done it."

  "Her ghost haunts this manor, my lord," Lady Sedley protested.

  "Mother," Elizabeth said lifting her palm, "Lord Adair is a rational man. After he learns the facts, he will be forced to admit that only a ghost could have committed the crime."

  Lucy brightened — a ghost. Hah! This was brilliant. As long as she was no longer a suspect, she was willing to believe wholeheartedly in this ghost story.

  Lady Sedley dabbed the corners of her mouth. "Lord Sedley's bedroom, where he was found, is two stories above the ground. The jewels were kept in the study hidden away in the priest hole. He always wore the key to the hole around his neck on a thin gold chain."

  "The study and Father's room are next to each other," Elizabeth continued. "Only one flight of stairs leads to his room and the study. Not even the servants have hidden access to those rooms."

  Lady Sedley leaned forward in her seat. "Now, at the base of the stairs that leads to his room is a small wooden gate. It is a unique thing fashioned for the purpose of keeping Peter's animals out. We were getting tired of waking up in the mornings to find all sorts of dogs and cats sitting on our beds staring at us. It makes one feel queer. One morning I was woken up by a parrot squawking 'morning' in my ear and Lord Sedley found a tuft of cat hair in his mouth—"

  "Mother," Elizabeth tsked impatiently.

  "Right … Where was I?"

  "The murder," Lucy prompted, now completely engrossed in the conversation.

  "Ah, yes," Lady Sedley continued, "the murder. Now, we had a small meal at three. I saw him next at half past four arguing with Miss Trotter in the garden. He stormed off to his room soon after, and that … that was the last time I set my eyes on him."