The Trouble at Wakeley Court (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 8)

by Clara Benson

  ‘Yes, I shot him,’ she said, only half-attending, for she was concerned about Florrie. ‘How is your head?’ she said kindly. ‘Do you think you can walk back to the school? If not, perhaps your cousin can carry you.’

  ‘No!’ said Florrie suddenly. ‘Don’t let him near me!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Angela.

  Count Paul had stepped forward and was hovering about in concern.

  ‘I mean he’s a traitor like the others!’ said Florrie.

  Shaking off Angela’s attempts to help, she struggled to her feet and stood, her head proudly erect, every inch the princess, glaring at the Count.

  ‘What did you mean by it, Paul?’ she said to him. ‘How could you betray my father and me in that way? Did you hope to take power, just like the others? I thought you better than they. Obviously I was wrong.’

  Count Paul looked taken aback. He began to say something in Moranian, but she cut him short.

  ‘Speak English,’ she commanded. ‘I want everyone to hear what you have to say. You were behind this whole thing, weren’t you? The attack on my father and the plot to kill me.’

  ‘Why, Irina, my little cousin, how can you accuse me of such a thing?’ said Count Paul. He attempted to laugh, but Angela saw that he was pale and there was perspiration on his brow. ‘My loyalty to you both is true and cannot be doubted. The Grand Duke has been as a father to me, and I have loved you as a sister. I—’

  ‘Then what did Everich mean just now when he said the plan had changed?’ said Florrie. ‘I’m not stupid—I can understand well enough. He told me he was supposed to kill me, but that you telegraphed on Sunday afternoon and told him not to do it after all, and he was worried he’d been cheated. Why did you change your mind?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ said Count Paul nervously. ‘Everich was the traitor, not I. Your father sent me to bring you back safely, and that is what I mean to do.’

  ‘Let us see what Natalia has to say—if she wakes up, that is,’ said Florrie coolly. ‘I am sure she will be able to tell us more. Mr. Hesketh,’ she said, turning to the Latin master, ‘I should like you to have this man arrested. I suspect him of plotting against the throne of Morania.’

  At that, Count Paul turned and began to run.

  ‘Er—’ said Mr. Hesketh, who was struggling with matters of diplomatic etiquette, having never before been instructed by a princess—let alone one who still owed him a Latin translation—to arrest a count. Fortunately, William had no such qualms.

  ‘Oh, no you don’t,’ he said, and gave chase. The result was a foregone conclusion, for the Count got no more than about twenty yards before William brought him down to the ground and pinned his arms behind his back.

  ‘You’d better have the gun,’ said Angela, as the two of them returned, Count Paul struggling and with a streak of mud down his face. William took the revolver and the Count regarded it warily and subsided.

  ‘I do apologize, Your Excellency,’ said Hesketh. ‘Perhaps this is a misunderstanding that can be easily cleared up. However, Her Highness—’ He glanced at Florrie uncomfortably.

  ‘There’s no misunderstanding,’ said Florrie. ‘He tried to have me killed.’ She stepped up to the Count, and before anybody could stop her, spat at him. He flinched, but said nothing.

  ‘Go and lock him in my room for now,’ said Hesketh. William nodded and marched Count Paul away.

  ‘We had better get some help for Irina—Natalia, I mean,’ said Angela. ‘Perhaps you could carry her back to the school, Mr. Hesketh. Can you walk, do you think, Florrie?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Florrie. There was a catch in her voice, and Angela saw tears in her eyes.

  ‘You poor thing. You’ve had rather a time of it, haven’t you?’ she said.

  ‘He was like a brother to me,’ said Florrie with a little sob. ‘Why must they all betray us?’

  Angela wanted to say something but could find no words to comfort the girl. But Florrie did not need her sympathy. She pulled herself together quickly.

  ‘This will hit Father hard,’ she said. ‘I must be everything to him in future. I should like to go inside now.’

  Hesketh lifted up Natalia Everich with some difficulty, and Florrie took Angela’s arm, and they all returned slowly up the drive towards the school, leaving the body of the dead assassin to lie where it had fallen.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘Goodness, how these Moranians do like to make things complicated,’ said Mr. Hesketh, as he put down the telephone late that afternoon. ‘I prefer a quiet life, myself—but then I don’t have a country to rule, so I suppose it’s easier for me.’

  ‘Then Count Paul really is guilty, is he?’ said Angela.

  ‘It rather looks like it. As far as I understand it, his original intention was to have both father and daughter assassinated and then seize the throne, and so he laid the groundwork by spreading a rumour that the Krovodanians were planning such an attempt. That way, when he did take power he could blame the murders on Krovodar and have an excuse to invade the country. There’s nothing like a successful war to detract attention from the legitimacy of one’s own claim to power, and Count Paul knew that very well.’

  ‘But the attempt on the Grand Duke failed,’ said Angela.

  ‘Yes—much to Count Paul’s dismay, no doubt. Apparently the old man had no suspicion of who was really behind it, but when he found out that his daughter had gone missing—the real Irina, I mean, not the fake one—he promised Count Paul her hand in marriage if he brought her back. Since his first attempt to take power had failed, this seemed as good a way as any for the Count to get his hands on the throne, and he knew from Everich that Florrie had escaped and was in hiding somewhere, so he telegraphed to say that the plan had changed and that Florrie was not to be killed, and then came to England hot foot to find her and carry her back.

  ‘Unfortunately for the Count, it appears that he had rather rashly promised Everich a position as chief minister in his new government, but with the Grand Duke still alive this was no longer possible. Everich was greatly disappointed when he found out, and wanted a guarantee that he would receive at least some sort of reward for his efforts, and that’s why he ran off with the Princess. He intended to use her as an inducement to Count Paul to give him what he wanted.’

  ‘That is, he threatened to kill her if he didn’t get it,’ said Angela. ‘It’s a good thing he was stopped. Anyone who can shoot his own wife in cold blood like that is evidently a very dangerous man. Why did he do it?’

  ‘She saw the game was up and was trying to persuade him to hand over Florrie, I gather,’ said Hesketh. ‘I think at that point Everich saw her as merely an obstacle in his way and decided on the spur of the moment to be rid of her.’

  Angela shuddered.

  ‘I confess I found him rather frightening, myself,’ she said. ‘I take it he killed Edwards, too.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hesketh. ‘Edwards was another accomplice who had outlived his usefulness, and so had to be put out of the way.’

  ‘Where did Irina—Natalia—go on Saturday night, by the way?’ said Angela. ‘Have the police found out yet?’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Hesketh. ‘We made rather a blunder there. It appears that she and Edwards drove to Percham, where Everich was renting a little cottage by the harbour, and stayed there in the guise of Swiss tourists—it was easy enough for them to fool us that way, since we were searching for a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl, not a twenty-year-old woman. They even spoke to the police and tried to send them off on the wrong scent by saying they had heard a motor-boat out to sea. Presumably the idea was to make us think Irina had been taken abroad.’

  ‘Yes, I did think Natalia’s original story wasn’t entirely convincing,’ said Angela. ‘Quite apart from anything else, she made a mistake by telling us she didn’t know Edwards’ name and then mentioning it shortly afterwards. That’s partly what made me suspect her. But why did she come back?’

  ‘She was never meant t
o disappear in the first place,’ said Hesketh. ‘It was only panic that made her run off to Percham with Edwards, after the attempt on Florrie went wrong. Of course, Everich had to play along and pretend he really believed the Princess was missing, while he decided how best to act in order to find the real Irina. He was still determined to get hold of Florrie, and I think he decided to bring Natalia out of hiding in the hope that she would be able to convince everyone she knew nothing of the plot and lure Florrie out, somehow. At any rate, she was no use to him stuck in a cottage miles away—especially once he had disposed of his other accomplice, Edwards, and so he cooked up a story for her and instructed her to return to the school.’

  ‘It was a clever plan, though,’ said Angela. ‘Had it worked, we’d never even have known the Princess was missing.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Hesketh. ‘It was an ingenious idea, right enough, and it was only made possible in the first place because the Grand Duke tried to be cunning and sent his daughter here incognito. That extra touch made it easy for the plotters. I believe the plan was to lure Florrie outside and away from the school, kill her and dump her body somewhere—probably in the sea. Then Everich would take the fake Irina back to Morania, still in the guise of the Princess, to claim the throne from her dead father. Once they were back home, of course, Irina would resume her identity as Natalia Everich. Eventually the news would filter back to Britain that Princess Irina had disappeared or died, and nobody would associate her disappearance with the missing schoolgirl Florrie Evans, whose parents would turn out to be untraceable. Since Count Paul would be ruler of Morania by then, the whole thing would be covered up and the Moranians wouldn’t have to deal with any bothersome spluttering from our Foreign Office about assassinations on British soil.’

  ‘How is Natalia, by the way?’ said Angela.

  ‘It’s touch and go,’ said Hesketh. ‘Luckily the bullet missed her major organs, but it was still enough to do her rather a lot of damage. It will be some time before we can speak to her, if she does survive.’

  ‘It all makes me very glad not to be a princess,’ said Angela. ‘Poor Florrie! It must have been a dreadful shock to her to find out that the people who were supposed to be protecting her were in fact plotting her death.’

  ‘She’s a princess, and a Moranian one at that,’ said Hesketh. ‘They’re used to that sort of thing. We have had about twenty telegrams from the Grand Duke this afternoon, commanding us to lock her in the dorm until someone can be found to take her home. She sent him one back in reply. It was in Moranian but it was rather long and I imagine told him exactly what she thought of that idea.’

  ‘She is certainly a remarkably self-possessed young woman,’ said Angela. ‘It’s not every girl who would have the foresight to carry a knife around with her.’

  ‘Yes—I think if anyone deserves credit for saving Florrie’s life it’s Florrie herself,’ said Hesketh dryly. ‘The rest of us made rather a bad fist of it.’

  ‘Well, we did our best,’ said Angela. ‘And considering we were trying to protect the wrong person through no fault of our own, I don’t think we did too badly.’

  ‘True,’ said Hesketh. ‘By the way, Mrs. Marchmont, I take back what I said about a woman with a gun being the next best thing to a man. If I ever find myself in another tricky spot, I should be more than happy to have you—and your gun—by my side.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Mr. Hesketh,’ said Angela. ‘I try to avoid shooting people as a rule, but sometimes one has no choice in the matter. I am only glad I happened to be on the spot today, or who knows what might have happened?’

  She left Hesketh to his work and went upstairs to pack her things, for she was to leave the next morning. Given the events, very little work had got done that day by the school as a whole, and most of the teachers had judged it best to give the girls a little freedom, for they knew it was useless to try and make them work. Everyone knew that a man had been killed and that the girl they had known as Irina Ivanoveti had been shot and gravely wounded, and all wanted to talk and wonder over it. The teachers, too, spent much of the time muttering in corners together. They had been given only incomplete information, and they were dying to ask Mrs. Marchmont or Mr. Hesketh what had happened. Neither of them seemed inclined to satisfy anybody’s curiosity, however, and so the teachers were forced to be content with the little news they had, until such time as Miss Bell saw fit to explain the situation.

  The next morning, Angela went to take her leave of Miss Bell. Now that the danger was over and the miscreants safely out of the way, the headmistress was starting to breathe more easily. Girls and Maths and discipline and teachers she knew and could manage with admirable competence, but international intrigue was quite beyond her and unsettled her severely. Secretly, she was quite relieved that she was shortly to lose the two Moranian girls who had caused her so much trouble, although she would never have admitted the fact. She was also looking forward to the departure of Mrs. Marchmont, who had become associated in her mind—justly or not—with the whole sorry affair.

  ‘Oh, Mrs. Marchmont,’ she said, when Angela made her appearance. ‘I am just writing an advertisement for a new Latin master. Now that the danger has passed Mr. Hesketh will, of course, be leaving us. It is a great pity, for he is really a very gifted teacher, and I half-thought I might be able to persuade him to take the post permanently. It was not to be, however, and so I must find another one.’

  Angela expressed her sympathy and hoped that Miss Bell would be successful in her search.

  ‘Still,’ went on Miss Bell, ‘at least I do not have to look for a new gardener. It appears that Miss Fazackerley’s brother is without a position, and is more than happy to start immediately.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Angela, surprised.

  ‘Yes,’ said Miss Bell. ‘He has had misfortunes in life, and has not always acted for the best, but here at Wakeley Court we are always prepared to give a man the opportunity to improve his lot and his character if he, in turn, is willing to prove his worth. Miss Fazackerley speaks for him and has given assurances of his future good behaviour. Of course, we shall take him on trial to start with, but I very much hope that he will suit.’

  ‘That is good news,’ said Angela.

  And indeed it was, she thought, as she left Miss Bell’s study. Dick Fazackerley had been dragged into the thing when he was in fact wholly innocent. It was pleasant to think that he would now have the chance to prove himself in an honest job.

  Morning break-time had arrived, and Angela found Barbara, Florrie and Violet in the Quad, apparently cramming for a Maths test but in reality doing nothing of the sort. Florrie looked quite recovered from her ordeal of the day before, and had refused absolutely to spend a second day in the San.

  ‘Hallo, Angela,’ said Barbara. ‘Are you really going, then?’

  ‘I am,’ said Angela. ‘I have just come to say goodbye.’

  ‘You are coming back at the end of the month, though, as you said, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I shall be back then,’ said Angela, who was determined to keep to her resolution of spending more time with her god-daughter—at least until the Ellises got back from India.

  ‘Then I won’t see you again,’ said Florrie. ‘I’m going back to Morania in the next few days.’

  ‘Are you leaving Wakeley Court for good?’ said Angela.

  ‘Perhaps. I don’t know,’ said Florrie. ‘It all depends on how quickly my father gets better. I should like to come back, perhaps for the summer term, but I don’t know whether he’ll let me.’

  ‘Of course he will, you ass,’ said Barbara. ‘He can’t keep you shut up in a palace forever, can he?’

  ‘“You ass?”’ repeated Florrie, sticking her nose in the air haughtily. ‘You’re not supposed to say that to a princess, you know.’

  ‘Aren’t I?’ said Barbara. ‘I thought it was Moranian for “Your Highness.”’

  The three girls collapsed in giggles, and Angela shook her head and walked off. In the ent
rance-hall she met Mlle. Delacroix.

  ‘So, I hear you have saved us all from a dangerous criminal,’ said Mam’selle. ‘At least, that is the story that is going around. Nobody tells us teachers anything, you understand, and so we have to listen to stories. Is it true?’

  Angela confessed that there was some truth in the rumour, and Mam’selle nodded.

  ‘That was very bold of you,’ she said. ‘Barbara is also a bold one. You are obviously a great influence on her.’

  Angela thought of the betting book and was inwardly forced to admit that the French mistress might be right, although whether it were a good influence or a bad one was doubtful.

  ‘She is a good girl,’ went on Mam’selle. ‘I think she will do well. If you like, I will keep an eye on her and write to you if I think there is any cause for concern.’

  ‘That would be very kind of you,’ said Angela.

  ‘I understand how these things are,’ said Mam’selle. ‘I am also a godmother, you see.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Angela.

  ‘Yes,’ went on Mam’selle. ‘I have a godson. He is seven years old. He lives in Yorkshire. I do not see him as often as I should like.’

  ‘That is a pity,’ said Angela.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Mam’selle simply. ‘Still, it cannot be helped.’

  There was a pause as the two women regarded one another, then the bell rang for the end of break, and Mam’selle went off to her next lesson with a wave of her hand. Angela stood for a moment, looking after her, then turned and left the building. It was time to go home.

  ***

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