The Murder on the Enriqueta: A Golden Age Mystery

by Molly Thynne

  For a moment it seemed as though Lady Dalberry were about to resent his interference, then her native good sense asserted itself.

  “We will let it wait until we know each other better, yes?” she said, with perfect amiability. “But for myself, I do not doubt that we shall live very happily together.”

  Though she had shown no open resentment, she continued to address herself pointedly to Carol, and had Shand been present, he would no doubt have rejoiced in the fact that he had been witness to the first brush between Lady Dalberry and Jasper Mellish.

  CHAPTER V

  On reaching London the party split up into three: the solicitor hurrying to his office and Mellish accompanying Lady Dalberry to the rooms he had taken for her at a quiet hotel off Piccadilly. She seemed tired, and obviously wished to be alone, and at Mellish’s suggestion Carol and Dalberry took a taxi to Mellish’s rooms in the Albany, where he arranged to join them after he had settled Lady Dalberry comfortably.

  They had hardly left the station before Carol broached the subject that was uppermost in her mind.

  “What on earth was the matter with you, Gillie? You were simply horrid to that poor thing in the train!”

  “On the contrary, I was uncommonly nice to her! I never heard a more base accusation. At any rate, I talked to her. All you did was to squabble with Jasper!”

  His indignation was not very convincing, and Carol calmly ignored it.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked bluntly. “Did anything happen to put your back up?”

  “Nothing. You’re simply fussing,” he answered lightly. “What are you going to call our new-found relative, by the way? We shall have to arrive at some sort of compromise.”

  Carol took him up sharply.

  “Why compromise? She is our aunt by marriage, after all. She signed herself ‘Irma’ in her letter to me, so I suppose that’s what we shall call her.”

  “Aunt Irma,” he repeated thoughtfully. “It seems unnatural, somehow.”

  “I don’t see why. It’s a perfectly good name, even if it isn’t English. Don’t be insular, Gillie!”

  Dalberry grinned.

  “All right, old thing. Let it be ‘Aunt Irma,’ then. After all, we’ve got to call her something.”

  But Carol did not propose to let him off so lightly.

  “Why don’t you like her, Gillie?” she asked, with unusual pertinacity.

  “My dear girl, you’re talking nonsense. I’ve got no earthly reason either to like or dislike her. I know no more about her than you do.”

  “But you do dislike her, all the same. I’ve only once seen you behave like that before. Do you remember that horrid little man who came to Berrydown to paint Uncle Maurice’s portrait? You were hateful to him.”

  “Well, he richly deserved it. Honestly, I thought I behaved quite normally this afternoon. You must admit that the whole situation was a bit trying. I was perfectly polite to her.”

  “You were! That’s the trouble. I never saw you so pompous in my life. It was devastating. Even she noticed it. Why couldn’t you be decently nice to her?”

  “I did as much as I could. You could hardly expect me to hold her hand and pat it. Come to that, that was your job!”

  “I felt awfully sorry for her,” said Carol soberly. “But she’s not easy to get on with, is she? All the same, I think she’s rather a wonderful woman, Gillie.”

  “Is she? She struck me as very like any other Swedish-American.”

  Carol slid a swift, mocking glance in his direction.

  “I suppose you’ve known heaps of Swedish-Americans, Gillie dear,” she remarked ingenuously.

  “You little pig! One up to you. As a matter of fact, this is the first of the species I have come across so far. But she seems quite a characteristic specimen.”

  Carol returned to her former charge.

  “Then why don’t you like her, Gillie?”

  He realized that evasion was hopeless.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. But I admit I don’t like her, if that’ll satisfy you. There’s something about her that puts my back up. I tried to behave decently, and I did think I’d succeeded.”

  “Oh, you were quite polite to her. But I think she guessed you had no use for her. She’s clever, Gillie, and there’s something fascinating and unusual about her. I believe she could be rather horrid, though, if she liked. Her voice is lovely. Did you notice it?”

  Rather to Gillie’s relief, the arrival of the cab at the Albany put an end to the discussion. He wasn’t in the habit of yielding to unreasonable prejudices, and he felt shy of discussing them. Also, he was too essentially kind-hearted not to feel a little ashamed of his behaviour to Lady Dalberry.

  Jervis, Mellish’s valet, who had been with him for years, and had known Carol and Dalberry since their nursery days, opened the door to them.

  “Isn’t Mr. Mellish with you, my lord?” he inquired, almost reproachfully, as though he held Dalberry responsible for the safety of his master when he was out of his keeping.

  “It’s all right, Jervis, we haven’t lost him,” Carol assured him gaily. “He’s seeing Lady Dalberry to her hotel, and he’ll be here in a minute.”

  “A trying day for everybody, miss, if you’ll allow me to say so,” remarked Jervis. “And I’m hoping Mr. Mellish won’t catch cold to-morrow. Very tricky things, funerals, in this weather.”

  Gillie’s mouth twitched, and he did not dare to look at Carol.

  “You’re quite right, Jervis, they are,” he assented gravely. “I’ll keep an eye on Mr. Mellish for you and bring him back safely in the evening.”

  “Mr. Mellish will not be staying on at Berrydown, I understand, my lord,” ventured Jervis primly, as he led the way into Mellish’s comfortable study.

  “No. We’re all coming up again to-morrow evening. It didn’t seem worth while to open up the house for such a short time, and Mr. Mellish thought Lady Dalberry would prefer to be in town.”

  “I understand that her ladyship is a foreigner,” remarked Jervis, with the freedom of an old servant, as he pulled an armchair up to the fire for Carol and helped her off with her fur coat.

  “It seems a pity, miss.”

  There was such acute disapproval in his tone that Carol could not resist casting a mischievous glance at Dalberry, who firmly declined to meet it.

  Jervis moved softly about the room, placing drinks at Dalberry’s elbow and a small table bearing cigarettes and ash-trays between him and Carol.

  “The cigarettes you liked last time you were here are on the right, Miss Carol. Mr. Mellish ordered some more on purpose. The Virginians are on the left. Is there anything else you would like, miss?”

  Carol shook her head.

  “You’ve made us deliciously comfy, Jervis. This is just the sort of fire I dreamed of all the way up in the train.”

  Jervis beamed discreetly.

  “I thought it best to make it up well, miss. Very chilly things, journeys I always think, especially in winter.”

  He seemed to vanish into the shadows, and they heard the door close almost noiselessly behind him.

  “And so hot in summer,” murmured Gillie drowsily, giving himself up to the warmth and comfort of the blazing fire. “But not so tricky as funerals, mind you. Dear Jervis!”

  “He seems to share your prejudice against foreigners,” remarked Carol. “Now you know how silly you sounded in the cab just now.”

  “Not at all. It’s the attitude of all right-minded Britons. You forget that Jervis can always be relied on to behave with absolute correctness on the most trying occasions. I’ve simply risen in my own estimation.”

  They relapsed into silence, watching the smoke of their cigarettes curl lazily upwards. After the cold discomfort of the train Mellish’s room, with its cunningly shaded lights and glowing fire, was delicious. Carol was half asleep when Gillie spoke again.

  “I say, Carol,” he began, with surprising energy, “we’re pretty good pals, aren’t we?”

&n
bsp; She turned to him, wondering.

  “Of course. Why?”

  “Has it ever struck you that we’ve rather taken each other for granted till now?”

  “I suppose we have, but then we were almost brought up together. One does rather take one’s relations for granted.”

  “I know. Only we’re not relations at all. It’s not as if you were Aunt Marian’s daughter.”

  “That’s true, of course. It’s funny to think that we’re not even cousins; but, somehow, it’s never seemed to make much difference. You see, my mother died when I was born, and the only person I can remember is your aunt. She looked after me till I was ten, and I always called her ‘mother.’ Then I came to England to live with Uncle Maurice, and he and you and the boys seemed just like my own family. When they were drowned it was just like losing one’s own people. I think I minded just as much. Of course, I’ve always known I wasn’t really any relation, but I never seemed to realize it properly, somehow.”

  “Neither did I, till just lately. But, what with Uncle Maurice’s death and various other things, it seems to have been rather brought home to me. So long as you were at Berrydown with the others, and I knew I should find you there whenever I ran down, it was different, somehow. Now that everything’s broken up, it’s rather rammed things into me.”

  “Poor old Gillie,” she said, with quick sympathy. “It’s hit you harder than any one. After all, as you say, I’m not really one of you, even if I did feel like it, and, though I’ve had to give up Berrydown, it hasn’t changed my life as it has yours. I believe you were happier with your old engineering firm really.”

  He nodded.

  “I was,” he agreed soberly. “I hated giving that up, and though I do care a lot for the old place I don’t want it; at least, not at the price I’ve had to pay for it. I’ve been feeling pretty blue about the whole thing lately, Carol. And I’ve been doing some hard thinking. I got myself into a pretty muddle, too, over it, but I managed to straighten things out to this extent. It’s you that’s the matter.”

  “Gillie! Why, what have I done?”

  “You haven’t done anything,” he explained carefully, “except just be yourself, I suppose. It isn’t so much the old life and all that I’ve been missing. It’s you. Carol, I’m getting more desperately afraid of losing you every day.”

  Still Carol remained blind to the real significance of what he was trying to convey to her. If he had been any other man she would have seen at once what he was driving at, but Gillie, with whom she had alternately played and fought for years!

  “But, my dear old thing, you’re not going to lose me. We shall see each other almost as much as ever. After all, you’ll still be in London most of the time, and even if I do go abroad, it won’t be for long.”

  “Supposing I was to go abroad, to India, say, for a year or two, would you miss me, Carol?” he asked, in desperation.

  She gazed at him in astonishment.

  “Of course I should! But you’re not going to India!”

  He threw away his cigarette and took up his stand squarely in front of her.

  “That’s what I mean. You’d care, in a way; but if I knew for certain that you were going away for any length of time, going somewhere where I couldn’t get at you, I simply shouldn’t know what to do with myself. I expect it sounds pretty silly to you after all the years we’ve known each other.”

  For once in her life Carol was speechless. At last she understood and was trying in vain to adjust her mind to this amazing state of affairs. Gillie went on, speaking very simply and directly.

  “I know I ought to have waited. Given you some sort of warning, as it were. But, somehow, all sorts of things have happened to-day which seem to have brought matters to a head. And now there’s so little time. Jasper will be back in a minute, and I must get this off my chest first. Carol, I want you most awfully. Won’t you marry me?”

  Carol was still conscious only of dismay. In a flash it came to her that the old happy intimacy between her and Gillie was over for ever, and faced with its loss, she realized for the first time how much she valued it. And at the moment she could not estimate correctly this infinitely more precious thing he was offering her instead. She tried to answer him honestly, and was conscious only of her own incoherence.

  “My dear, I don’t know. I’ve never thought of—us—like that. We’ve been so happy together. If only we could go on in the old way!”

  She tried to smile, but there were tears of distress in her eyes.

  He dropped down on to the arm of her chair and took her hand in his.

  “I know. Only the old way isn’t enough for me any more. That’s the worst of it. You do care for me a little, don’t you?”

  She did not answer for a minute. She was doing her best to deal fairly with him.

  “I don’t know, Gillie. I see now that I’ve always been fonder of you than of either of the others. If poor Dick or Morry had been still alive and had asked me this, I should have said ‘no’ at once. But you’re different. And yet I can’t bring myself to think of you in that way. And, Gillie, I don’t want to marry. At least, not yet. I’m only just at the beginning of things.”

  “You’re just at the point where you need some one to look after you,” he pointed out sombrely.

  She looked up at him with swift suspicion.

  “You’re not just doing this because you feel you ought? Because you think I need protecting, or some nonsense of that sort?”

  Gillie rose to his feet and stood looking down at her.

  “I’m doing it because I love you. I realize now that I’ve loved you for years.”

  For a moment she could not answer, and when she did her voice was full of compunction.

  “I’m so frightfully sorry, Gillie dear. I wish this had never happened. I do care for you, but I can’t feel like that about it. And I know I don’t want to marry, yet, at any rate. You must give me a little time, please. I can’t say anything definite now.”

  “I’ll give you as long as you like, if you’ll only think seriously over what I said. But you will remember that it means a lot to me, won’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “I feel I’ve been such a pig,” she said. “I do appreciate your wanting me. It’s only that it’s so surprising, somehow, that I don’t seem able to grasp it. And then, there’s my own life. It sounds silly, I suppose, but I have been looking forward so much to being on my own. You see, in a way I’ve seen less of life than most girls of twenty. It was lovely at Berrydown, and I was extraordinarily happy there, but, except for hunt balls in the winter and a few shooting parties, there was nothing very exciting. We used to come up for the theatres, but we never did a London season and I never ‘came out’ like all the other girls I know. Then there was the awful accident to Uncle Maurice and the boys, and since then, of course, I’ve been in mourning, and till now I haven’t wanted to go anywhere. And now I’m not really heartless, honestly, but I can’t help thinking of the things I shall do when I come of age and am my own mistress. I expect you think it’s horrid of me,” she finished miserably.

  Gillie’s eyes met hers with their usual frank honesty.

  “I don’t. It’s only natural. But you’ve brought one thing home to me that I ought to have seen for myself. It wouldn’t be fair to bind you now, before you’ve had time to look round. I didn’t realize how much you’d been cut off from things. I don’t wonder you want to have a bit of a fling before you settle down for good.”

  Carol rose and stood by his side, slipping her arm into his.

  “Give me a year,” she pleaded. “I shall know for certain then. I can’t tell you now. But, please, Gillie, can’t we be friends as we used to be? Don’t let this spoil it all. And, of course, you’re free, absolutely free. I mean, if you were to meet some one you liked better.”

  Gillie smiled down at her, a curious, twisted little smile very unlike his usual wide-mouthed grin.

  “There won’t be any one,” he said, �
�so don’t count on that. I’m sorry I bothered you. I was a fool to rush things like that. Of course I’ll wait, and we won’t speak of this again until the year’s up. Meanwhile I shall be hanging round, so to speak, just as I’ve always been.”

  As he spoke they heard the sound of a latch-key in the front door.

  “It’s Jasper,” murmured Carol, subsiding swiftly into the big armchair.

  Gillie bent over her.

  “I say, Carol.”

  “Yes, old thing.”

  “If you do meet anybody in the course of the next twelve months, you’ll tell me, won’t you? It’ll be a bit of a facer, you see, and I’d rather hear it from you.”

  “Of course, Gillie dear.”

  “And if you should change your mind about this?”

  She had only time to nod as Mellish came into the room.

  Dalberry saw her home to the house of the friends with whom she was staying, and they met next day at the funeral. Almost immediately afterwards she left for Yorkshire, going straight from there to the south of France, and he did not see her again till she got back to London in the middle of the last week in February.

  Meanwhile that hard-working officer, Chief Detective-Inspector Shand, was not idle, though it was not till just before Carol’s return to town that he was able to bring his plans to a head. But his methods, though occasionally slow, were very sure, as a certain lanky individual who, after a prolonged absence abroad, had spent the better part of a week enjoying the pale February sunshine and watching the heterogeneous crowds that drift slowly along the Front at Brighton, was to discover.

  He did not start as a hand was laid on his shoulder, but the somewhat cynical smile with which he was observing the unwieldy progress of a fat matron faded as though it had been wiped out with a sponge, and the silver-headed cane, balanced between his long, very supple fingers, gave a twitch and then was still. For a second he sat motionless, then he turned slowly and his upward gaze met that of Chief Inspector Shand.

  “Coming?” asked Shand gently.

  Henry Piper, sometimes known as Long Peter, nodded.