Heirs and Graces (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

by Rhys Bowen

  “Ah, there you are, Lady Georgiana. I’m glad to see you. I’d like a little word, if you don’t mind.”

  I shot Belinda a look of apprehension. “I’ll go and see how Darcy and the others are getting along,” she said. “Maybe Jack has put in an appearance.”

  Left alone with Chief Inspector Fairbotham, I waited to find out what he wanted, and hoped it wasn’t to go back to the glen and view the body again. He eased that fear by saying, “The police surgeon has just arrived and is with the body now. So is our photographer. Not a pleasant thing for a young girl like you to have witnessed.”

  “No, not very pleasant,” I agreed.

  “Lady Georgiana,” he said. “I wonder if I might have a word with you in private?”

  “I believe Her Grace has put the library at your disposal,” I said. “Perhaps you’d like to make that your headquarters, so to speak.”

  “Good idea,” he said. “At least it’s nice and warm in there. Miserable old day outside, isn’t it?”

  I agreed that it was as I led him down the hall to the library.

  “I’m not sure that I can be of any help, Chief Inspector,” I said tentatively. “I’ve already given you my account of how I found the body.”

  “What I really want from you is some background,” he said. “So that I don’t start out at a disadvantage, you know.” He looked at me and nodded. “You seem like a sensible, levelheaded kind of girl. Didn’t have hysterics on finding a body. Had the presence not to touch anything at the murder scene. And I understand that you’re not related to anyone here?”

  “No, I’m just a visitor,” I said. “I was invited to stay by the dowager duchess. She wanted some young people in the house when the heir to the dukedom arrived from Australia.”

  “I read about that,” he said. “Rum business, wasn’t it—finding a long-lost heir on a sheep station in the middle of nowhere. Almost too good to be true.”

  “I believe a lot of background checking was done before he was brought here. He has a valid birth certificate, and his mother had a valid marriage license.”

  “But until recently the family didn’t even know of his existence?”

  “That’s correct. His father, who was the younger son of the old duke, went to Australia before the war, but returned home to serve his country as soon as war was declared. He was killed in action almost immediately and never had a chance to tell his family that he had married. And he never had a chance to see his son either.”

  “Sounds rather fishy to me,” the inspector said.

  “Well, the dowager duchess accepted Jack immediately. Apparently the resemblance to her dead son is very strong.”

  “All the same, I think we’ll get in touch with the police in Australia, just in case. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone has shown up out of the blue claiming to be the heir to a fortune.”

  “Except that he was reluctant to come and feels clearly out of place here. I think he can’t wait to get back to Australia.”

  “With the money in his pocket now, eh? I understand that the dukedom comes with a serious fortune.”

  “I didn’t get the impression that money was all that important to Jack.”

  “Money’s important to everyone, my dear young lady,” he said. “Trust me. Wave enough pound notes in front of someone and they’ll be willing to commit all sorts of crimes.” He motioned me to sit in one of the armchairs beside the fire, and took the other one himself. “Now as I said, you seem like a sensible type of girl, so I wanted to get your take on this family before I start to interview them. Is there anything I should know? Any arguments or hostilities going on behind the scenes?”

  “Look, Chief Inspector, I don’t feel comfortable in the role of the telltale,” I said. “As you said, I’m an outsider and I’ve only been here for a week or so. That’s only long enough for superficial impressions.”

  He was looking at me half amused, half suspicious. “You lot always stick together, no matter what, don’t you? It’s always us versus them. All right. Give me those superficial impressions then. Let’s start with the man who has been murdered: Duke Cedric. Tell me about him?”

  “Well,” I said, trying to collect my thoughts. “I’d say he was a selfish man, brought up to have his own way and to get what he wanted. He had little regard for the feelings of others.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “Well, his niece Elisabeth was crippled in a horse riding accident. Apparently there is a clinic in Switzerland that might be able to cure her, but Cedric refused to pay for her to go there for spinal treatments. On the other hand, he wasn’t hesitating at all to shell out loads of money to build a big theater on the property. And he made it clear to the rest of his family that he found them a nuisance and wanted them out of his house—even though it has hundreds of rooms.”

  “And who are the other members of his family that he finds such a nuisance?”

  “Well, his mother, the dowager duchess. You’ve met her.”

  “Oh yes,” he said. “I’ve definitely met her.”

  “As you saw, she’s very much an aristocrat of the old school. She used to be my grandmother’s lady-in-waiting.”

  “And your grandmother was?”

  “Queen Victoria’s daughter.”

  “Blimey,” he muttered. “Do go on.”

  “She is very hot on everything being done correctly. And a terrific defender of the dukedom.”

  “I don’t suppose she was too thrilled when a young lad from the outback arrived then?”

  “Actually, it was she who sought him out. The survival of the title and property are all-important to her. She was furious with Cedric for refusing to marry and produce an heir.”

  “Yes, why didn’t he ever marry?”

  “He wasn’t much interested in girls, Chief Inspector, as you’ll soon discover when you interview the other people in this house.”

  “I see. Had a male companion, did he?”

  “Several.”

  “Hmmm.” He stroked his chins. “Several male companions. Any idea where I might find them?”

  “In the house somewhere,” I said. “They’ve been staying here. They are supposed to be working on a play that was going to be part of Cedric’s theater festival this autumn.”

  “Right.” He took out a notebook and scribbled down some words.

  “Any other non-family members live in the house?”

  “Well, I’m here at the moment and so are two friends of mine, the Honorable Darcy O’Mara, son of Lord Kilhenny from Ireland, and my school friend Belinda Warburton-Stoke. Mr. O’Mara was the one who was sent to fetch the heir from Australia.”

  “And Miss Warburton-whatsit?”

  “She only came to deliver a lost evening slipper to me that I’d left in London. She arrived right before you did.”

  “Convenient of her,” he said. “Now, let’s get back to the rest of the family. A whole pack of ’em, by the looks of things.”

  “Well, there are the dowager duchess’s two sisters,” I said. “Princess Charlotte is the widow of a Russian prince who was murdered in the Bolshevik uprising. She fled to Paris and then came here. The other sister is the widow of an Austrian count, and I’m not sure how long she has been living here.”

  “Blimey,” he said. “You nobs don’t exactly marry the boy next door, do you?”

  “Actually, their father was ambassador to Vienna so she did marry the boy next door,” I said.

  “And these old women,” he went on. “What are they like? A bit dotty? I know there’s a lot of inbreeding among your sort.”

  I could feel my hackles rising. “You know, Chief Inspector,” I said coldly, “you’d get a lot more cooperation from the occupants of this house if you didn’t start out by insulting them. You put our backs up. We clam up. Simple as that.”

  �
�Good point,” he said. “I was just trying to lighten things up, you know.” He paused. “And between you and me, I’m a bit nervous myself. I’ve never been in a house like this before. Nor have I ever had dealings with the family of a duke.”

  “Let me give you a hint then,” I said. “Noble families take their ancestry very seriously. It doesn’t do to poke fun at it.”

  “Point taken,” he said. “I’ll be suitably reverential from now on. I may even tug my forelock and grovel, if it will help.”

  I had to smile at this. “No groveling needed, but it does help if you give them due deference.”

  “Right you are. So we’ve got the duchess, the lad from Australia, two widowed sisters and the hangers-on of the dead duke living here. Anyone else?”

  “Lady Irene and her family,” I said.

  “Oh, Lord, yes. The one who took the overdose of sleeping mixture last night. Tell me about her.”

  “She is the dowager duchess’s only living child now,” I said. “She married a Russian count she met in Paris. They have three children—a girl of fifteen—the one I told you about, who damaged her spine; and twins, who are eleven, I believe.”

  “Ah yes, I met the kiddies already. Too ghoulish for their own good, I’d say, but then, when you’re eleven you’ve no real concept of death, have you? They clearly think it’s a lark. So Irene and her family live here full-time, do they?”

  I tried not to wince at the use of the word “kiddies.” “For the past two years.”

  “And the Russian count?”

  “Not a happy memory for the family. I gather he got through Lady Irene’s fortune and then ran off with a South American dancer.”

  “So she had to come back home to Mum?”

  “Exactly, and isn’t enjoying it too much being dependent on others.”

  He stroked his chin again, staring into the fire. “So this overdose of sleeping powder last night—was she the type of woman who might get despondent enough to take her own life, would you say, or was it just an accident?”

  “I really don’t know her well enough to comment on that,” I said, and decided to stay silent about the row with her brother and the way she had stormed out of his rooms the week before. No doubt that would all come out when he spoke to the others. “And there is a third possibility you haven’t yet mentioned, Chief Inspector,” I added. “That someone attempted to murder Lady Irene as well.”

  “Yes, the old duchess mentioned that, didn’t she? All right. Let’s take this one step further, Lady Georgiana. Any idea who?”

  “I’ve no idea at all,” I said. “As I said, I’m a recently arrived guest myself. I wasn’t personally acquainted with the family until now.”

  “Ah.” He gave a self-satisfied grin. “So you are thinking along the lines of it being one of the family then—not an outsider?”

  “I haven’t really given it much thought, Chief Inspector,” I said, trying to keep my face a serene mask. “I suppose it’s entirely possible that an outsider was lying in wait for the duke on that footpath. Since I know nothing of his lifestyle, I couldn’t even begin to suggest whether he had enemies elsewhere.” I remembered what Virginia had said. “Or if he bumped into a tramp who wasn’t right in the head. You do see them wandering about these days, now that there’s no work to be had, don’t you?”

  He looked hard at me. “Now, that would be convenient for all concerned, wouldn’t it? Blaming it on the mysterious tramp who just happens to vanish afterward. I’ve read it in a dozen books.”

  “I’m just throwing out all possibilities since you asked for my opinion, Chief Inspector. I suppose a family member could just as easily have bumped off the duke in the house whenever they chose. A good shove down one of those long flights of stairs might have done it.”

  He looked at me with an expression of amusement mixed with amazement. “You certainly are a modern young woman, aren’t you? Cool as a cucumber.”

  “I don’t feel cool,” I said. “Actually, this whole thing has made me feel rather sick. But I do want to help if I can, and there’s one thing that may be relevant. The duke went out to post a letter, so one is told. When I came across him though, there was no letter in his hand. Did you perhaps find one in his pockets?”

  “No,” he said. “There was no letter. Any idea what was in this letter?”

  I paused then shook my head. “As I said before, I really didn’t know the Duke of Eynsford.”

  He frowned as he stared at me. “And where might the duke have written this letter—do you know that?”

  “In his study. I heard his valet saying that his master had risen early and asked for a cup of coffee to be sent to his study. Then he told the footman Frederick that he wanted to catch the early post.”

  Chief Inspector Fairbotham was looking at me with interest now. “And can you take me to this study? I’d like to take a look around for myself.”

  “All right,” I said. “It’s just down this hallway.”

  I took him out of the library and tried to remember which door they had opened to look into Cedric’s study. I was glad when I found the right one. The room was stuffy and smelled of cigarette smoke and old books. In its center was a large mahogany desk, and papers were untidily heaped on top of it. Among them I spotted rough designs for what looked like his amphitheater, and I remembered that a footman had been given the sack because he had touched the papers—the same footman who had stormed up to the front door when he discovered that Cedric was planning to tear down his parents’ cottage. A half-full coffee cup sat beside the blotter with a half-smoked cigarette resting on the ashtray.

  “There’s a possibility he might have blotted the letter and left us a hint on the blotting paper as to what all this might be about,” the chief inspector said, peering down at the desk. But the blotting pad was pristine.

  I pointed at the pen that lay beside the pad. “These latest fountain pens don’t really need blotting, do they?” I said.

  “I’ll need time to go through all this stuff,” he said. “There may be lots of things you don’t know about him—you say he liked young men. Maybe he was being blackmailed and refused to pay up.”

  “Do blackmailers usually kill the goose that lays the golden egg?” I asked.

  He looked up at me. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t you? I thought all you young society ladies would be removed from the sordid side of life. Aren’t you raised in convents and finishing schools?”

  “You’d be surprised what one learns in a finishing school, Chief Inspector,” I said, stifling a grin. “You ask my friend Belinda when you interview her.”

  “He was lucky he got that letter to the post,” he said. “He must have used the last envelope. There’s plenty of notepaper here, but no more envelopes.”

  “I expect he has more in one of the drawers,” I said.

  The inspector pottered around a bit. “Offhand, I can’t see anything here that would have a bearing on his being stabbed on the grounds,” he said. “I’ll get my man to go through everything with a fine-tooth comb after we’ve interviewed everyone. I should be getting on with that, I suppose. Can’t expect people to sit around all day, can I?”

  It was only when he told me I was free to go that I realized that neither of us had mentioned the knife in Cedric’s back. It was the most important aspect of the murder, and yet we had both chosen to ignore it or skirt around it. I was glad because I should have had to identify it as Jack’s.

  Chapter 21

  I heaved a sigh of relief as I watched the inspector return to the library, and I was released to go back to the others. The interview was at an end. I felt as if I’d been walking on eggshells all the time, terrified that something I said would be taken wrongly. Because when I examined it, there were so many things that could be misinterpreted at the moment—Jack’s arrival to claim his position as heir to the dukedom, Princess Charlotte’
s séance, which spelled out “death,” Lady Irene’s row with her brother and his refusal to give her any money or let her use the family home in London and then Cedric’s stunning announcement the night before that he planned to adopt his valet, Marcel, and make him his heir. All incidents were in their own way incriminating. All were possible motives for someone in this house. And the inspector’s suggestion that the sisters might be “a bit dotty” and that insanity ran in families like theirs. They certainly were interestingly eccentric . . . And then the one salient detail that hadn’t come up yet, but would: that the knife in Cedric’s back belonged to Jack.

  I started as a figure stepped out in front of me, pale and ghostlike in the gloom. It was Jack himself.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Where have you been?” I asked. “I’ve hardly seen you today.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve just been wandering the halls, trying to come to terms with everything that’s happened.”

  “I’m sure it must be a big shock to you.”

  “My oath, yes. I mean, it was a pretty big shock when some bloke turns up at the sheep station and tells me that I’m connected to a posh family in England and then that I’m not only connected, I’m supposedly the heir. I mean, my mum told me that my dad came from some kind of gentry, but that he’d turned his nose up at all that sort of stuff and liked Australia better, where everyone is equal. I have to say I agree with him. This sort of thing, it’s all bloody rubbish, isn’t it?” He laughed and ran his fingers through his blonde hair. “Your Grace.” He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s what one of the servants called me: Your Grace. Can you imagine? Me! I don’t think I can take it, Georgie. It’s too ridiculous for words.”

  “I expect most people in your position feel the same way,” I said. “My brother certainly didn’t want to be a duke, or to take over the running of the estate. And I’m sure nobody wants to be king. I know my cousin the Prince of Wales, doesn’t. He told me once he’d do anything to get out of it, and he hopes his father will live to ninety-nine. But our sort of people are brought up to do our duty.”