by Rhys Bowen
“So what’s your duty supposed to be?” he asked.
“To marry well,” I said. “There’s no other option open to me. I’m not trained for any kind of career or profession.”
“So you’ll marry who they tell you to, will you?”
I had to smile. “Actually, no. I already turned down a Romanian prince. Everyone was furious with me, but I couldn’t have married him.”
“You turned down being a princess?”
“Possibly a queen someday,” I agreed. “But he was awful, Jack. He was worse than awful. So I made up my mind that I’ll only marry for love.”
“So your lecture about doing your duty doesn’t apply to you?” He gave me a friendly grin.
I found myself observing him. Could someone who had just stabbed his uncle be so relaxed and easy with me? He’d insisted over and over that he didn’t want to be duke, or to have this lifestyle, and money didn’t seem important to him. But perhaps he was just a good actor.
“I’d better go and round up everyone,” I said. “The inspector is ready to talk to us in the library.”
“Stone the crows,” he said. “Does he have any ideas yet about who might have done it?”
“Give him a chance. He’s not a miracle worker. He’s only just taken a look at the crime scene, and I’m sure he won’t have the police surgeon’s report yet.”
“My money is on one of those strange, poncy blokes who hung around Cedric,” Jack said. “They were definitely emotional when he made that announcement about wanting to adopt his valet last night, weren’t they?”
I decided to speak up. “You might consider that you are probably the prime suspect, Jack.”
“Me?” He laughed. “Why would I want old Cedric out of the way?”
“To inherit the dukedom, of course. He got up early to write a letter then went to post it himself. There was no sign of a letter when I saw the body, so someone must have wanted to stop that letter from reaching its destination. And if the letter told his solicitor that he wanted to adopt his valet, thus cutting you out, well, then . . .”
I gave him a long, hard look. He laughed nervously. “That’s a load of old cobblers. I never wanted to be a bloody duke in the first place.”
“I know that,” I said. “But the police might see it differently. You’d better have a good alibi for early this morning.”
“Alibi?” He frowned. “I don’t have any kind of alibi. I got up early, went for a walk then it looked as if it was going to rain so I came in and they were just putting out breakfast. So I helped myself then I went up to see Sissy.”
“You seem to be spending a lot of time with your cousin,” I said.
He blushed. “Well, I feel sorry for her, stuck up there all alone. At her age, she should be going to parties and having nice dresses and things. And she’s a terrific teacher. She’s helping me with my reading and writing.”
“So where did your walk take you?” I went on. “Did you happen to see anyone?”
He looked sheepish. “I went to see the horses, as a matter of fact. I feel comfortable around horses, and they’ve told me I can ride any horse I like. Bluebird, isn’t it?—he’s a real cracker. Him and me get on like a house on fire.”
“What time was this?”
“Early. I know it was before breakfast. Probably about seven, seven thirty.”
“And did you see Cedric at all?”
He shook his head. “I told you, I don’t remember seeing anybody.”
“And when you came back into the house, did you see anyone then? Anyone who could vouch for your being indoors before Cedric was killed?”
He was looking at me strangely now, his eyes darting nervously. “Hey, you really do think they’ll try to pin it on me, don’t you?”
“Yes, I’m afraid I do.”
“Do you think they’ll gang up against me?”
“I don’t think they’ll gang up against you—least of all your grandmother, who seems thrilled to have John’s son here. But it may come to a process of elimination, and you will stand out as the most likely.”
“Bloody hell,” he said. “The way you’re talking, I’ve a good mind to bugger off back to Australia now.”
“That would be disastrous, Jack,” I said. “If you’re innocent, then nobody can prove you’re guilty. The one thing one can say about our justice system is that it’s fair. Come on, let’s go and get a cup of coffee before the grilling begins.”
Before we could go into the Long Gallery, Belinda appeared as if by magic at our side.
“So this is the famous Jack Altringham at last,” she said. “You’ve been so invisible that I began to believe you were a figment of Georgie’s imagination.” She held out her hand to him. “I’m Belinda, Georgie’s oldest and dearest friend. I came down on a mission of mercy, to bring the evening slipper she left behind in London and found the place in an utter uproar. And now that horrid inspector says I can’t leave because I’m a suspect like everyone else.”
Jack took her hand and shook it. “That’s too bad,” he said. “I’m sure they’ll rule you out very quickly. Hell, you weren’t even here when poor old Cedric was killed, were you?”
“Absolutely not. Probably passing through Lewisham or one of those ghastly London suburbs—row after row of identical dirty brick.” She sighed. “God, how I hate cities. I’m a country girl, born and bred.”
“Are you? Then I know how you feel. I was in Sydney for a couple of days and that was enough for me. Too many people.”
“I’m stuck in London at the moment,” she said. “Even worse; like living in a sardine tin.”
“Why are you stuck there?”
“Trying to earn a living, darling. It’s not easy in these days of depression. Especially when you’re like Georgie and me—not trained for anything sensible except curtsying without falling over and knowing which fork to use at the dinner table.”
Jack grinned. “Yes, Georgie’s been trying to drum that into my head. Load of cod’s wallop, if you ask me.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Belinda said. “So unnecessary and so outmoded, isn’t it? I mean, fish would taste just the same if one cut it with a meat knife.”
“Too right,” Jack said. “Look, Georgie and I were about to grab some coffee before we have to face the inspector again. Want to come along?”
“Why not?” Belinda said, as if the idea had never occurred to her. She slipped her arm through Jack’s, and they went on ahead of me. I had been watching this little interchange with admiration, wishing that I’d actually taken lessons in seduction from Belinda rather than learning all the useless skills of finishing school.
“I studied fashion design with Chanel,” I heard her saying. “And now I’m trying to get my own clothing line off the ground, but it’s all rather depressing, since my father cut me off, having now turned twenty-one.”
I almost laughed out loud. The way she phrased this had been the truth, I suppose. She had indeed turned twenty-one—only it had been three years ago. I decided not to join the group around the coffeepot, but felt it was my duty to see how Mr. Smedley was faring all alone in the morning room. I had found him an absolutely wet and spineless specimen, but I would not like to find myself a virtual prisoner in a stately home where a murder had taken place.
When I crossed the hall and opened the morning room door, Mr. Smedley jumped to his feet and stood there like a startled rabbit, ready to run. I noticed that his coffee was only half drunk and the plate of biscuits beside him untouched. What’s more, he had been reading The Lady, which showed how distracted he must have been feeling.
“It’s only me,” I said. “I came to see how you were.”
“How long am I to be kept here, Lady Georgiana?” he demanded. “This is an outrage. Apart from an exchange of correspondence with the late duke, I have no connection to this family
at all. It’s not as if I actually knew the man, so surely they could just take my statement and let me go.”
“I don’t see why not,” I said. “I’ll go and talk to the inspector if you like, to see if he’ll interview you first, before he gets to the rest of us.”
“Would you?” I saw relief flush over his face. “I’d be most grateful. It feels as if I’ve been shut away in here forever. And now that I won’t be getting the contract to design the theater here—” He paused and looked up at me. “I presume the new duke will not wish to carry on with the plans?”
“I think it highly unlikely,” I said.
“I feared as much. Then the sooner I am back in my office on Queen Anne Street, the better.”
“Look, why don’t you come with me and we’ll find the inspector. I can vouch that you were with me the whole time when we found the body,” I said.
“That’s frightfully decent of you, my lady,” he said. “Much appreciated.”
He followed me like an obedient dog to the door, and we set off down the hall. No sooner were we heading in the direction of the library then we heard the clatter of running feet behind us and Nicholas and Katherine came sprinting past.
“Grandmama says the inspector wants to speak to us, one by one in the library,” Nick shouted as he ran past. “He’s going to grill us all and perhaps someone will break down and confess. Isn’t it thrilling?”
“We thought we’d go along and see if we can be first,” Kat added. “Get it over with, you know.”
Mr. Smedley had gone rather green around the gills again. “In which case I think I had better retreat to the morning room until the police have dealt with the family,” he said. “It would be most inappropriate if I intruded on such a difficult and embarrassing business.” He attempted to turn and flee.
“If you want to escape from here in a hurry, then I suggest you get in first,” I said, and marshaled him down the hall after the running twins.
He gets rattled rather easily, I thought, but then it crossed my mind that we really knew nothing about Mr. Smedley. He had shown up on the doorstep and introduced himself as the architect come to meet with the duke. What if he wasn’t what he seemed? Who could say how long he had been out on the grounds before he came to the front door, or what he might have got up to there?
Chapter 22
As we approached the library, the twins went bursting in ahead of us.
“Hello,” I heard the chief inspector’s voice say. “And what do you two want?”
“We heard that you wanted to grill the whole family so we thought we’d be first,” Nick said.
“I don’t usually grill kiddies,” he answered in good-natured fashion. “Unless you’ve come to confess to the murder—which I very much doubt.”
“Oh, but we might have vital information for you,” Kat said. “You never know what we might have seen. Children are very observant, you know.”
“All right. So where were you when the murder took place?” the inspector asked.
“We don’t know what time it took place,” Nick said, “so we can’t answer that.”
“Early this morning. Between seven and eight. Where were you between those times?”
“We were where we always are—stuck in the nursery, getting up and having breakfast with Nanny, I suppose.”
“And did you happen to look out of the window and see anything that might be important?”
“I don’t think so,” Nick said sadly. “Only that it was starting to rain and we thought it was beastly because we’d be stuck in the schoolroom all day.”
“So I suggest you stop wasting my time and hightail it back to your schoolroom and let me get on with my work,” the inspector said, no longer in such a friendly fashion. “Go on. Off you go.”
He looked up as I appeared in the doorway. “Ah, Lady Georgiana. Can you take these two scamps off my hands and keep them out of trouble, do you think?”
“Of course,” I said, “but first I thought you might have a word with Mr. Smedley. He’s the architect who came to meet the duke this morning and was with me when we discovered the duke’s body. Naturally, he’s anxious to make his statement and get back to London.”
“Naturally,” the chief inspector reiterated. “Very well. Come on in, Mr. Smedley, and you can make a statement for us while Lady Georgiana rounds up her family members.”
“Very well, although I have absolutely nothing salient to add to your investigation, I am sure,” the little man said, throwing me a nervous glance as I went out.
“I don’t think he’ll ever find out whodunit, do you?” Nick asked. “He doesn’t know the right questions to ask.”
“Should he have asked you any right questions?” I asked with a grin.
“Possibly,” Kat said. “We may have overheard something incriminating sometime that we didn’t realize was important. We do love snooping on grown-up conversations, you know.”
“You’ll get yourselves into trouble one day,” I said, but even as I said it I remembered the lonely time in my own nursery, and how I would creep to the staircase and hide in the shadows, listening to the adults talking down below. It’s what lonely children do to feel that they are part of life.
The twins ran on ahead of me into the Long Gallery. I followed them and found the others still sitting together, not saying anything. Nicholas and Katherine had already grabbed the last sandwiches as if they hadn’t had a meal in months. I passed along the information that the inspector wanted to speak to each of us in turn. Edwina now took charge, bossing everyone and choosing the order in which they should go to be questioned.
“And there is no point in mentioning anything unnecessary to him,” she said. “We have our disagreements like any other family, don’t we? But I can’t see what bearing those would have on my son’s murder. The fact that this crime took place on a footpath that leads directly to the village and the station indicates to me that it has to have been an outsider.” And she gave us a long, hard stare.
She turned to Jack. “John, dear, it is only right that you should go first, as head of the family,” she said. “Nothing to worry about. A mere formality.” And she attempted a bright smile as Jack shot me a worried glance and left the room.
I went to perch on the arm of Darcy’s sofa. I noticed that the Starlings had now joined the group, standing nervously beside the fire.
“So was it awful?” Adrian asked me. “Do you think that brute of a policeman will try to get one of us to confess?”
“Only if he thinks you did it,” I replied.
Adrian shuddered. “Don’t. It’s too terrifying to think about. Simon and Julian and I were absolutely shattered—still are, aren’t we?” He looked at them for affirmation. “And to think that if only we’d plucked up the courage to go and talk to Ceddy this morning, we could have walked down to the theater site with him and he would still be with us now.”
I wondered whether they had been told about the letter Cedric had insisted on posting himself. If it really was to his solicitor stating that he wanted to adopt Marcel, then they had as good a motive as any of the family to prevent that letter from being mailed. Was that the motive? I wondered, or was Cedric merely having a private laugh at their expense and not serious about wanting to adopt his valet? Edwina walked across to the coffeepot, poured herself a cup then exclaimed, “This coffee is cold.” She stalked across to the bell by the fireplace and gave it a bad-tempered jerk. Eventually Huxstep appeared.
“Huxstep. There is cold coffee in this pot,” she said angrily. “I see no reason to let standards slip because we have a few policemen in the house. Have it replaced immediately.”
“Your Grace, I must apologize,” he said, “but the servants have been told they are to wait in the servants’ hall until each of them has given the police a statement. I thought Your Grace knew this.”
“I’m sorry. I
did not know that the chief inspector now thinks he can order my servants around without my permission. I have already spoken to him once, but I will be next in line and let him know that he cannot disrupt the running of this house. Better still, would you please get me the lord lieutenant on the telephone right away? It’s time someone more competent took over this case.”
It was like being in a doctor’s office, waiting for the next patient to be called in. We sat in near silence while Her Grace was summoned to the telephone then came back in a worse temper than before. “The lord lieutenant is off on his yacht in Monte Carlo,” she snapped. “How inconsiderate of him to have deserted his post like this. I’m afraid we’ll have to have Mr. O’Mara put out his feelers, as he calls them, to Scotland Yard after all.”
Mr. Smedley appeared in the doorway, announcing that the chief inspector had given him permission to leave, so he was heading back to London. He could not have looked more relieved. Then Jack returned, and Edwina went in his place, presumably to give the chief inspector a piece of her mind. I didn’t envy him.
“How was it?” I asked Jack when he took a seat on the sofa opposite.
Jack shrugged. “He didn’t really ask me much.”
Edwina came back shortly afterward, her mouth still pursed in annoyance. “Really, that man has no manners at all,” she said. “I suppose it was to be expected, coming from the north like that. One doesn’t associate dark, satanic mills with good manners, does one? Do go and put out your feelers, Mr. O’Mara. The sooner a competent man from Scotland Yard comes to take over here, the better.”
Huxstep appeared again to say that the sergeant was still taking statements from the servants, and Mrs. Broad wanted to inform Her Grace that luncheon might be a little delayed.