Lady Rample Spies a Clue

by Shéa MacLeod

  I got up quickly and dashed across the room, throwing open the door. The hall was empty. No one in sight. How bizarre.

  I shut the door and collected the envelope. It was thick and creamy, and my name was scrawled across the front in black ink. It matched the stationary that I’d been provided in my room. No doubt every guest had access to it.

  I slit the envelope with a silver letter opener from the desk and pulled out a single sheet of paper. In the same sprawling hand was the message: Meet me in the rose garden before supper. It was signed with Hale’s name.

  My heart gave a little flutter of excitement. We hadn’t had much of a chance to speak since the walk to the fete.

  I glanced at the time. It was still a good hour until the evening meal, so I rushed my toilette. And, with thirty minutes to spare, descended the stairs. The drawing room was empty, so I stepped out through the French doors leading to the great lawn. A path took me ‘round to the rose garden at the side of the house in front of the long, low orangery building.

  The roses perfumed the dusky evening with their heady scent, inviting me to relax and enjoy a leisurely stroll, but I was too eager. I strode briskly down the path, assuming Hale meant to meet me at one of the benches tucked beneath the trellises. It was all rather mysterious and romantic.

  The little flutter grew stronger. It was ridiculous, reacting to a man like this. I was a modern woman, in control of her emotions. Aunt Butty would no doubt laugh and tell me there was no such thing as being in control of emotions when it came to men. Such feelings were meant to be enjoyed, savored, and experienced.

  Unfortunately, the rose garden was empty. Perhaps I was early. I sat down on the first bench, folding my hands genteelly in my lap, trying not to fidget. The perfume of roses teased my nose, along with something else. Something slightly sweet. Vanilla? Almond? How odd.

  One moment I was sitting there, enjoying the evening. The next, something was wrapped around my neck and someone was choking the life out of me!

  Unable to scream, I writhed against my attacker, jamming my fingers up beneath the scrap of material around my throat, trying to pull it away. I kicked wildly, using my body weight to thrust myself forward, then back, slamming into my attacker.

  The move was unexpected, causing the attacker to stagger and the noose to go slightly slack. I dragged in a lungful of air and let out an unholy shriek. Startled, the attacker let loose the bit of fabric—which fluttered to the ground—whirled and ran. I tried to get a good look, but he—I assumed it was a man—had disappeared into the bushes.

  “It came from here!” Aunt Butty’s strident voice echoed over the gardens.

  “I heard it, too.” Miss Semple, not to be left out.

  “Down here.” Chaz, taking charge.

  Footsteps crunched on the gravel as the entire guest list charged down the path toward me. They stopped abruptly as they spotted me.

  “Ophelia,” Aunt Butty cried. “Are you all right?”

  I shook my head. “Someone just tried to kill me.”

  Chapter 14

  While Harry and Chaz led a search of the gardens, the Misses Kettington returned to the house to telephone the police. Aunt Butty inspected me for injuries. Assured I was alright, she bent down to scoop up the bit of pink and white striped fabric from the ground.

  She held it out to me. “Isn’t this your scarf, Ophelia?”

  I stared at it in horror before plucking it from her outstretched hand. “Yes,” I said, my voice husky.

  “You’re going to have one almighty bruise,” she proclaimed before ushering myself, Maude, and Miss Semple back to the house.

  I touched my throat which already felt raw and sore. “They used my own scarf; can you believe it?”

  “You’re sure you didn’t see who it was?” Miss Semple asked, eyes wide. I thought she looked a little paler than usual, but it was hard to tell.

  I eyed her closely, but she showed no signs of being in on it. She looked rather shocked and genuinely concerned.

  “I’m afraid not. It was so sudden and he, or she, was behind me. Then when I managed to get loose, the attacker ran off into the bushes. Didn’t even get a glimpse.”

  “Harry will find him,” she assured me.

  I wasn’t so sure.

  At that moment, Hale came charging down the path. He stumbled to a halt when he saw me surrounded by the other female houseguests.

  “Sorry, heard a scream,” he said lamely, glancing from me to the other women. He clearly didn’t want them thinking this was anything personal.

  “Lady Rample was attacked,” Mrs. Breverman said breathlessly.

  “Good god!” Hale exclaimed. He looked like he wanted to say more, do more, but he restrained himself.

  “Run ahead and have Jarvis pour a brandy. And tell Mrs. Bates to stoke the fires,” Miss Semple ordered as if he was just another servant.

  “No fire,” I protested. “The night is warm enough as it is. I will take that brandy, though.”

  A ghost of a smile quirked Hale’s lips. “Consider it done.”

  “Well? What are you waiting for?” Miss Semple demanded. “Run along.”

  I shot her a dirty look, but Hale merely tugged on an imaginary forelock and said, “Yes’m, right away.” With a wink at me, he turned and strode back up the path toward the house.

  Miss Semple, meanwhile, clutched at her pearls. “Well, I never.”

  “Mr. Davis is not a servant, Miss Semple,” Aunt Butty said severely. “He’s a musician.” As if that settled it, she took my arm. “Now, come. Ophelia has had such a shock. We must see her to the house.” She charged up the path behind Hale with me in tow, the other women trailing along behind us. For once, Julia Semple was speechless.

  Once back in the drawing room, ensconced in a comfortable armchair and with brandy in hand, I was able to take stock. Someone had tried to murder me! I had assumed the note was from Hale. It was signed by him, after all. But what if it wasn’t? Because I wouldn’t believe for a moment that Hale had lured me into the garden to choke me to death. Still, I’d have to ask him about the note. Later. When Miss Semple wasn’t eyeballing me with great suspicion. I did not need tongues wagging about me and Hale. Not that I much cared what society thought of me, but I did care what it thought of Hale. Because he had neither money nor position to protect him from gossiping tongues.

  Shortly after I’d finished the brandy, Chaz and the other men returned. “Nothing,” he admitted wryly. “Bas—er, he got away. Too much of a lead, I’m afraid.”

  I wanted to swear a blue streak. Instead I said, “Dash it. No clue at all?”

  He dropped into the seat next to me. “There was one thing,” he said in a low voice. He held out his hand. In his palm was a button. A plain little thing. Brass, no sort of decoration of any kind. “Found it in the bushes. Had to have been recently dropped. Figured it got torn off his jacket or something.”

  I took it from him, turning it between my fingers. “I don’t recognize it. Could be from anything.”

  He shrugged. “It’s all I found. I didn’t tell the others because...”

  “Surely none of them could have done it. Weren’t they all inside?” They’d all come down the path with him, I was fairly certain.

  “I was in my room when I heard you scream. Took a bit to get downstairs. By then, Harry and Mathew were already in the drawing room with the female guests. Binky joined us at some point, not sure when. He might have been in the room already. Couldn’t swear to it.”

  “So how could any of them have attacked me?”

  “I don’t think they could have. But there are the servants. And Hale Davis.”

  “Hale wouldn’t hurt me.”

  He lifted a brow. “You sure?”

  “Yes.” And I was. There were a lot of things in life I was unsure about, including Hale’s intentions. But I was absolutely certain of the fact he would never harm me. Nor would Chaz. And I wasn’t sure a woman would be strong enough. That left Harry, Mathew,
and the servants. “But there is the chauffeur.” I told Chaz about asking Varant to check on the chauffeur’s background, as well as that of the others. “Maybe someone overheard me.”

  “It’s possible. And a brass button could have come from a chauffeur’s uniform. We’re going to have to find a way to search his rooms.”

  “I’m all for that, but not tonight.”

  Just then Jarvis arrived in the drawing room with Willis who immediately charged over to me. “I hear someone tried to wring your neck.”

  “Not exactly elegantly put, Detective Inspector, but accurate nonetheless.”

  “What happened?” He shooed Chaz away and took his spot. Chaz let him, looking amused.

  I told Willis about going into the garden, sitting on the bench, but I left out the part about the note. “Next thing I know there’s scarf around my neck and someone’s trying to choke the life out of me.”

  “Why were you in the garden, Lady Rample?”

  “It was warm. I wanted some fresh air,” I lied.

  He gave me a look rife with suspicion. “That all?”

  “What other reason could there be?”

  He harrumphed. “Why would someone want to kill you?”

  “I’ve no idea. Isn’t it your job to find out?” I wasn’t about to tell him it was likely because I was snooping in his investigation.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do,” he said crossly. “Do you have any enemies?”

  “None, unless you count my husband’s cousin, Lord Rample.”

  Willis tugged at his ear and glanced across the room at Binky who currently hovered near the drinks cart. “Alphonse Flanders? That Lord Rample?”

  “We call him Binky, but yes. He’s rather jealous that I inherited my husband’s money. All he got was the title and the entailed estate. He’s rather bitter about it, but I can’t see him trying to strangle me over it.”

  “Maybe he wants the money.”

  “Except he doesn’t get it and he knows it. Everything goes to my Aunt, should she outlive me.”

  “And if she doesn’t?” he asked

  I frowned. “That’s getting rather personal, isn’t it?”

  “I’m trying to solve an attempted murder here, Lady Rample. Yours.”

  “Fair point. If I outlive her, there are a number of charities that benefit. I doubt any of them would send an assassin after me.”

  He smirked. “You’ve quite an imagination, my lady.”

  “I try.”

  “So, there’s nothing you can tell me about your attacker?”

  “Nothing at all,” I admitted. “Not even if it was male or female. Thought I’m guessing male, based on strength alone. Still, with the right leverage...”

  He nodded. “Could have been a strong woman.”

  “Exactly. Now, if you’ll excuse me Inspector, I feel in need of a lie down.”

  I DIDN’T, OF COURSE, need a lie down. I’m made of sterner stuff than that, but I wanted to get away from Detective Inspector Willis and the others. I needed room to think. And I wanted to talk to Hale.

  Fortunately, I found him lounging in a dark corner just outside my room. “Hale.”

  “Ophelia.” His kiss was warm, unhurried, as his hands roamed down my back as if making sure I was in one piece.

  I pulled away and dragged him into my room before someone caught us necking in the corridor. I felt suddenly like a naughty schoolgirl.

  “Are you alright?” he asked the minute the door was closed.

  I touched my throat. “I’ll have a bruise, no doubt, but otherwise I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry I was late. If I’d been there...”

  “So, you did send the note.”

  “Of course. Paid one of the maids to slide it under the door.” He sank down onto the chaise longue and pulled me on top of him. It was a rather inelegant position, but I was not averse. “I wanted to see you again. We’ve barely had a moment alone. But I was waylaid by Jarvis.”

  “What did he want?”

  “To give me instructions about the party this weekend.”

  “Oh.”

  “If I’d been there—”

  “If you’d been there, he might have tried to kill you, too.”

  “I’d like to see him try,” he said grimly.

  “I prefer you alive and unharmed.”

  His eyes twinkled naughtily. “Oh, do you?”

  Sometime later I came up for air. “Only now we’ve got a problem.”

  Hale blinked. “What?” His tone was one of utter confusion. Not that I blamed him. He’d no idea how many different things my mind could focus on at once.

  “How did the killer, or attempted killer, know that you’d given me that note or that you’d be late?”

  He shrugged, coming around remarkably. “Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he simply followed you, saw an opportunity.”

  “But he came armed with a scarf. My scarf.”

  Hale nodded thoughtfully. “When did you last see that particular scarf?”

  I pondered a moment, recalling my foray into the cellar and the quick change after. “The day after the break-in. I had it with me at lunch. We dined on the lawn. I think I must have left it on the table or something, because it was quite warm. I think I remember taking it off, putting it down, but I don’t recall having it when I went upstairs later.”

  “So, maybe your attacker grabbed it then.”

  “But why?”

  “Perhaps he planned to return it but never got ‘round to it.”

  A thought sparked. “Or maybe he was going to use it to frame me for something!”

  “Always a possibility, I suppose. Now can we not talk about murder and mayhem for a moment?”

  I lifted a brow. “Only a moment?”

  Chapter 15

  The next morning as I drank my tea and nibbled on toast—brought to me by Mrs. Bates since Maddie was otherwise occupied—I made a list of clues about my attacker. There was precious little.

  1. Button, brass, plain

  2. Scarf, mine, lost?

  3. Scent, sweet, vanilla? almonds?

  And that was it. There’d been no voice, no visual. No dropped driving license or letter with the attacker’s name conveniently written on it. The only thing left was to go through the clues one by one.

  The button could have come from the chauffeur’s uniform. It looked like the sort of thing to be found on a uniform. I’d have to see if I could sneak in and have a look at his jackets. But, frankly, it could have come from anyone’s clothing. Chaz had a nautical blazer, and I didn’t doubt at least one of the other men did, too. Nautical was all the rage these days. Aunt Butty had a hat decked out in red, white, and blue ribbons and rosettes, loaded down with brass buttons.

  My scarf I was fairly sure I’d left in the garden after luncheon the day after the break-in. Again, anyone could have picked it up and kept it. Either they didn’t realize who it belonged to, and therefore weren’t sure who to return it to, or they did know and either forgot or kept it for nefarious purposes. Either way, it didn’t narrow things down except, perhaps, to people in the house: guests and staff. And Harry, of course. It also ruled out Varant and Neville Chamberlain since neither of them had been there. Although I couldn’t imagine why the former would try and murder me, and the latter was no doubt long gone back to London.

  Finally, that sweet scent. I couldn’t place it other than it smelled like...biscuits. Or cake perhaps. Unfortunately, it didn’t clue me in to my attacker. No one smelled like that. Although I supposed I hadn’t sniffed everyone thoroughly. It wasn’t any sort of perfume I was familiar with. Could it be Cook or her assistant? Could they be in on it? Or could the attacker have had a pocket full of biscuits?

  I laughed at my own nonsensical ideas. This was getting nowhere fast.

  Really, there was little I could do other than attempt a visit with Maddie, check the chauffeur’s uniforms, and go around sniffing people. Which would no doubt make me look like a lunatic. But there was
nothing for it if I wanted to discover the truth.

  Tucking my notes away, I finished my toilette with a swipe of lipstick and a string of Tahitian pearls and exited my room.

  While I was breakfasting, Jarvis delivered me a note. It was from Varant. He’d had a word with Willis’s superiors, and I was to be allowed to visit Maddie any time I wished. Huzzah! Take that Willis!

  The minute breakfast was over, I took my car into town and marched into the police station. I’d barely opened my mouth to demand to see my maid when the desk sergeant gave me a supercilious smile.

  “Lady Rample. Detective Inspector Willis said to expect you. This way, please.”

  I felt like grumbling but held my tongue. I hadn’t expected it to be this easy, even with Varant’s clout behind it. I suppose I should have known better.

  The sergeant led me to a small room with a couple of chairs on either side of a narrow table. The floor was scuffed, the lightbulb dim, and the walls a depressing green that verged on gray. The single window overlooking the street was in desperate need of a wash, the fine film of dust partially blocking the morning light. The place stank of stale cigarettes and old tea.

  Maddie sat at the table looking tired and pale, but otherwise none the worse for wear. She looked up and, seeing me, appeared suddenly hopeful.

  “M’lady!” She jumped to her feet, hands clasped to her flat chest.

  “Sit down. Sit down.” I waved at her as I took my own seat. I’d give anything for a cup of strong tea, but based on the odor, I decided to wait. “How are you doing, Maddie?”

  She grimaced. “Been better. Could be worse.”

  “Have you seen your solicitor?”

  “Yes, m’lady. He was in the other day. I can’t thank you enough for sending him.”

  “I am not about to allow this Willis person to railroad you into a confession.”

  “Wouldn’t do it no how,” she said, her jaw set into stubborn lines.

  I had no doubt of it. “Good girl. What did the solicitor say?”

  “Mr. Jones said it’s poppycock. They’ve no evidence and no right to hold me. He said I’ll be out by the end of the day.” She didn’t look convinced.