Murder in Thistlecross

by Amy M. Reade

  “Have you talked to him yet?”

  “No. He asked me to wait in here.”

  “Do you want me to go get him?” I asked.

  “No, thank you. I’ll just wait.”

  “I was just calling you to let you know that Annabel wants to ride this afternoon. Can you have Miss Muffet ready after lunch?”

  “Sure,” he said, shuffling his feet, his hands in his pockets. He looked decidedly nervous.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked.

  “I don’t quite understand why Mr. Rhisiart called me up here. I hope nothing is wrong,” he said in a worried voice. It bothered me to hear Griff refer to Rhisiart as “Mr. Rhisiart.” It had an odious sound to it, as if there was an implied suggestion that Griff wasn’t as worthy a person as Rhisiart.

  “Why don’t you just call him ‘Rhisiart’?” I asked.

  “He asked me to call him ‘Mr. Rhisiart.’” I must have raised my eyebrows. “Isn’t that what you call him?”

  “No. And I wouldn’t even if he asked me to. I am not his servant, and you aren’t either. You should either call him by his first name or tell him to call you ‘Mr. Griff.’ Does he refer to you that way?”

  Griff grinned. “He doesn’t, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it bothers you, apparently.”

  “It makes my blood boil.”

  “You should spend more time around horses. You might not get upset about things as easily.”

  I was taken aback. “I don’t get upset easily, do I?” I asked him.

  “I don’t know, but you’re upset about how I talk to Mr. Rhisiart. I mean, Rhisiart. I hadn’t given it a thought.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I probably should get out and ride more often.”

  “Let me know anytime you want and I’ll have a horse ready for you.”

  I had been riding a few times since living at the castle, but I was by no means the expert rider Annabel was. Riding horses cost money, and when Callum and I were married there was never enough money to indulge in hobbies like riding. Annabel had insisted that I learn to ride when I first started working for her, “just in case” she had said, so she had taught me the basics. I could see what all the hype was about—there was something quite mysterious, quite powerful, about being on a horse. Perhaps it was the added height it gave me, or perhaps the feeling of a huge, muscular beast under me, or perhaps it was just the feeling of being outside, alone except for the animal, exploring at my own pace. I loved feeling the wind on my face and I loved the smell of horses. Griff was right. I did need to spend more time riding.

  Rhisiart came into the sitting room just then. “Ah, Griff, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. Griff shot me a glance and a small smile.

  “Did I miss something?” Rhisiart asked.

  “Not at all, sir,” Griff answered.

  “Good. I thought not. I asked you up here to talk about possibly renovating the stables.”

  If Griff had expected to discuss any particular topic with Rhisiart, this wasn’t it. His eyes widened, then narrowed. “If I may say, sir, I’ve already discussed the renovations with Annabel.”

  “I’m thinking more for racing horses.”

  Griff gasped and started coughing. “Annabel does not wish to keep horses for racing, sir.”

  “I’ll talk to her. Things may be changing around here a bit.”

  Griff eyed Rhisiart suspiciously. He didn’t like the sound of what he had just heard. Then he looked at me. I shrugged. Rhisiart had already seated himself in Annabel’s favorite chair and seemed to take no notice of our exchanged glances.

  I didn’t want to eavesdrop on their conversation, so I left the room and went down to the kitchen for a snack. Maisie was sitting down, wiping her eyes when I walked into the room; her face was puffy and pink.

  “Is everything all right, Maisie?” I asked.

  I had startled her. She looked up, blinking tears away, and then looked away quickly. “Oh, Eilidh, I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I’m fine. Just being silly. What brings you down here?”

  “A snack. No, don’t bother,” I said as she stood up and bustled toward the cupboard. “I’ll find something.” She sat down again and watched me with a slight smile as I rummaged through the cupboard looking for something that struck my fancy. I found a box of crackers and went to the refrigerator. “Any good cheese in here?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “We have some wonderful cheese I bought in the village,” she said, coming over to where I stood perusing the contents of the refrigerator. “It’s smoked English cheddar. I had a bit of it. You’ll love it.”

  She pulled down a small wooden cutting board while I unwrapped the cheese, then opened the box of crackers. I cut two thin slices of cheese and put them each on a cracker and handed one to Maisie.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” she said. “I could use a little snack.”

  “Everything all right?” I asked again.

  “Eilidh, children are the most wonderful thing that will ever happen to you. They’re also the hardest.”

  “Brenda giving you a hard time?”

  She nodded. “She gives me trouble sometimes, that girl. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around her.”

  “I suppose teenage girls are like that. I probably gave my mum a run for her money when I was Brenda’s age. Heck, I probably still give her a run for her money!” I said with a laugh.

  Maisie smiled. “I hope you’re right and that it’s just her age. If she doesn’t grow out of this behavior, I’ll lose years off my life.”

  “Hang in there,” I said, slicing off more cheese for each of us. “She’s bound to change as she gets older.” Easy for me to say, I thought. I don’t have any children. I don’t even have the prospect of having them. The thought made me suddenly sad.

  Maisie seemed to sense my melancholy. “If Brenda doesn’t change, maybe you’d like to adopt her.” Her remark made me laugh and I returned upstairs with a smile on my face. Poor Maisie would just have to wait for Brenda on the other side of her teenage years. Luckily for her, that was only a couple years away. I hoped her situation would become easier as Brenda matured.

  As if hearing my thoughts, Brenda descended the steps to below-stairs as I was going up. “How are you doing, Brenda?” I asked.

  She averted her eyes and answered in a small voice, “All right, I suppose.”

  “Be good to your mum,” I cautioned with a smile. She didn’t seem to hear me.

  I had been gone just long enough for Rhisiart and Griff to finish their conversation. Rhisiart was coming out of the sitting room as I passed the doorway. “Eilidh, just the person I wanted to see,” he said.

  “What can I do for you, Rhisiart?” I asked.

  “I was wondering if you’d care to go to the pub with me again tonight,” he answered. “I enjoyed your company last time.”

  “I probably shouldn’t. I haven’t seen much of my cousin since she’s been here. I was hoping to go with her to the pub. Perhaps we’ll see you there.”

  “Sure. That makes sense. Maybe I’ll see you there.” He turned and walked away hurriedly. Griff came out of the sitting room next.

  “I can’t believe the nerve of him,” Griff said. “He wants to add more stables for race horses. Annabel will hate the idea of having race horses in the stables.”

  “I wonder why he’s so keen to have race horses here,” I mused. “I wonder if it means he’ll be spending more time at the castle.”

  “Who knows?” Griff grumbled. “I hope not.”

  I smiled. “Griff, you sound like you don’t like Rhisiart.”

  “I don’t mind telling you that he gets under my skin, Eilidh. I’ll bet you he has plans to take over this whole place now that the favored son is gone. I’ll bet he’s trying to get Annabel to change her will.”

  I laid my ha
nd lightly on Griff’s arm. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I cautioned. “We don’t know anything about Annabel’s will or Rhisiart’s plans for the future. Maybe it’s all completely innocent.”

  Griff gave me a look that told me I ought to know better. “I could be right,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as Griff. “Besides, Annabel is very much alive and doesn’t show any signs of needing a will anytime soon.”

  “Thank God for that,” Griff muttered. “I couldn’t stand it if Rhisiart moved in.” I wondered what Griff would think of Rhisiart’s invitation for me to join him at the pub later. It didn’t really matter.

  After Griff left I walked over to the coach house to see Sylvie. She was getting ready to go hiking. “Why don’t you join me?” she asked. “You could use a few hours away from that family.”

  She was right. “I’ll go on one condition,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “That you go with me this afternoon to a cooking class. I scheduled one for the family, but I don’t know if they’re going and it’s too late to cancel. Might as well get Annabel’s money’s worth. I had a whole slate of activities planned, and I have a feeling I’ll have to cancel the rest of them.”

  Sylvie grinned. “That would be fun. I could go home and surprise Seamus with my new skills. It’s not fair that he has all the fun in the kitchen. What are we going to learn?”

  “I’m not sure, except it’s a French dinner party theme.”

  “Ooh, that sounds magnifique,” Sylvie said with a laugh.

  When I returned to the castle I went in search of Hugh and Cadi. I found them in their room, arguing about when they were going to return home. The bedroom door was thick, so they must have had their voices raised quite high. I knocked on the door and the voices stopped.

  “Who is it?” Hugh asked.

  “Eilidh,” I called.

  The door opened and he stepped aside to admit me. “What is it, Eilidh?”

  “I have a cooking class scheduled for the family this afternoon. I’m trying to get a head count of who might like to go.”

  “I’ll go,” Cadi said. She had been sitting on the edge of the bed and she stood up to walk toward the door. She shot Hugh a dark look. “I’ll do anything to get away from this stifling house.”

  “Watch it, Cadi,” Hugh warned.

  “We’re leaving before dinner,” I told her. “The theme is a French dinner party, so we’ll make dinner and eat it there.”

  “Good,” Cadi said.

  “Hugh, do you want to go with us?” I asked.

  “Who else is going?”

  “Besides Cadi and me, my cousin Sylvie is going. I haven’t asked Rhisiart yet.”

  “I’ll go if he goes. I don’t want to be the only bloke.”

  I smiled at him, then noticed that Cadi wasn’t smiling. “I think you should stay here,” she told him. “You and I need a few hours apart.”

  The look Hugh turned on his wife was one of pure anger. “Is nothing private?” he snarled.

  “Take it easy, Hugh. It’s not as if everyone in this old place doesn’t hear us fighting.”

  He brushed past me and stalked down the hallway. I turned to Cadi and she laughed lightly when she saw the look of surprise on my face. “He’ll be fine. Needs to cool off, that’s all. God, this place gets under my skin!” she said in a loud voice, raking her hands through her hair. “I’ll be glad to get away for a while this evening.”

  I left her in her room to go in search of Rhisiart, whom I found in the drawing room reading a newspaper. “Does anything interesting ever happen in this village? I don’t remember it being this boring when I was growing up,” he said in frustration when I came into the room. I didn’t feel the need to remind him his brother had been murdered just a few days ago. That should be excitement enough for anyone, I thought.

  “Rhisiart, do you want to join us for a cooking class this evening?” I asked.

  “I thought you were going to the pub,” he answered.

  “I might go with Sylvie, but that’ll be later on. The cooking class takes place around the dinner hour and we eat there.”

  “Is Hugh going?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll go.”

  I hadn’t realized there was such animosity between the brothers, but Rhisiart’s comment made me wonder. How well did he get along with Hugh? How about Cadi?

  “Cadi’s going,” I said.

  “I’ll go anyway. I just don’t want to get stuck spending the evening with my dear brother.”

  I gave Rhisiart the details of the cooking class and he said he would meet the rest of us there. I found as I went looking for Sian I was not looking forward to his presence at the class. He would be the only man and a girls’ night out, even if it had to include Cadi, sounded fun. Sian was reading a magazine in her room when I found her. As I had suspected, she had no interest in a cooking class. I tried cajoling her into going, but she seemed content to stay at the castle.

  I changed into clothes suitable for hiking and joined Sylvie in the coach house before we struck out together across the fields behind the castle. I led her directly to the forest that bordered the fields and we spent the next several hours following one of the trails that Griff had marked through the dense trees.

  Sylvie asked me all about Rhisiart while we walked. “He asked me to go to the pub tonight with him,” I told her.

  “Are you going?” she asked with a grin.

  “Take it easy,” I chuckled. “No. I mean, I told him maybe he could meet us there after the cooking class, but I said I’d be with you.”

  “I don’t want to interfere with your date,” she said.

  “You don’t seem to understand,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I don’t want to have a drink with him alone. There’s something about him that makes me uncomfortable. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s just this feeling I get.”

  “Haven’t you been to the pub once with him?”

  “I have,” I admitted. “But that was kind of a special circumstance. We were both starving and he caught me off guard when he asked me to go get something to eat. I didn’t think of it as a date.”

  “He might have thought of it like that,” Sylvie pointed out. “Men can be so thick that way.” She changed the subject. “Do you ever hear from Callum?”

  “No. And I don’t want to, either.” Her question had suddenly put a damper on my spirits and all I wanted to do was return to the castle. “We should turn around and head back so we have time to get ready for the cooking class. I want to shower and change,” I said.

  Sylvie looked a bit taken aback. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said. “I mean, by mentioning Callum. I was just surprised to hear talk about dating, that’s all.”

  “Who’s talking about dating?” I asked crossly. “I’m not dating anyone. And least of all Rhisiart!”

  I could tell she shared my hurry to get home. The pleasant mood had darkened and I felt guilty. It was my fault for reacting the way I did to talk of Callum, but she should have known better.

  When we returned to the castle Sylvie went back to the coach house to shower and change and I did the same in my room. By the time we got in the car to drive to the cooking class, I was feeling much better. The first thing I did was apologize to her for my earlier behavior.

  “I just want you to have a wonderful holiday,” I said. “And all of a sudden we were talking about Callum and he’s the last person on earth I wanted to think about today. And we were talking about Rhisiart, and I don’t like to think that he wants anything more than friendship with me, and then we were talking about dating, and the thought of it absolutely scares me to death.”

  “I should have known better than to bring up Callum. I’m sorry about that.”

  I gave her a quick smile. “That’s okay. Now, enou
gh about men and let’s go learn how to cook French food.”

  The mood in the car was lighthearted the rest of the way to the cooking class, which was held in an old Norman-style home several villages away. I was glad we could drive there in the soft sunshine of the afternoon—I wanted Sylvie to see some of the gorgeous scenery surrounding the county where Thistlecross Castle was located.

  It was a beautiful afternoon for a drive, and somewhere behind us I knew Rhisiart was driving Cadi to the class. Indeed, they arrived at the old home where the class was to take place just a few minutes later than we did and we all walked in together.

  Our instructor introduced herself as Jacqueline. She explained that she was a former cook at the Canadian embassy in London. I had read a bit about her online before booking the class and I had chosen this particular class because I was so impressed with her credentials.

  The menu was elegant yet, Jacqueline promised, easy for novice chefs. We were going to prepare Muscovy duck with crispy skin, a bouillabaisse with garlic aioli, spiced pears, a salad with a pomegranate vinaigrette, and an apple jalousie for dessert. The kitchen was a huge room with heavy wooden workstations arrayed in two rows. Cadi and Rhisiart shared one table and Sylvie and I shared another. We tied on aprons and examined our knives and got to work under Jacqueline’s expert tutelage. As she explained, each workstation had a different part of the meal, and we rotated so each of us could experience the entire meal process. We sliced pears and apples, steamed clams, tested the fragrant soup before and after we added the saffron, and learned how to use puff pastry.

  Jacqueline kept everything moving so we could eat dinner at the appointed hour. At the back of the kitchen was a long wooden farmhouse-style table set with rustic place settings and centerpiece. Fall flowers, fruits, and vegetables made up the décor, and the table runner was made of old flour bags sewn together. Jacqueline poured wine for everyone and passed a baguette. Each of us tore off the amount of bread we wanted and Jacqueline came around with the bouillabaisse and aioli. I put a dollop of the aioli on my bouillabaisse and ate my first bite with a sigh of contentment. It was perfect, and as I looked around the table at my fellow diners, I could tell how much they were enjoying the experience, too.