Murder in Thistlecross

by Amy M. Reade

  “All right. I’m here for moral support, though,” I told her. When I went upstairs the first person I saw was Cadi. She was down the hall and didn’t see me. I ducked into my room quickly to avoid another awkward conversation with her. My mobile phone was ringing. I grabbed it from the nightstand.

  “It’s Sylvie,” my cousin greeted me. “What are your plans today?”

  “I don’t have any, I guess. Hugh and Rhisiart are taking care of the funeral arrangements and they haven’t asked me to help or to leave, so I have nothing to do. Why?”

  “I thought I’d take a ride into Cardiff and look around for a few hours. Want to go with me?”

  “Sure! I’ll be ready in a little while. I know Maisie’s making breakfast, so why don’t you come over and eat before we go?”

  She hesitated, then said, “All right. I’ll come as long as someone knows I’m invited.”

  “What do you mean? Why would anyone care whether you were invited?”

  “Rhisiart came over to the coach house last night to tell me that he’s not sure how long I’m going to be able to stay.”

  “What? What did he say that for?”

  “I don’t know. I told him I can leave anytime. Then he became nice suddenly and made it seem like he was doing me a favor by letting me stay. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said.”

  “That’s unbelievable. You’re here as Annabel’s guest, not just mine. She invited you here. He can’t make you leave. You’re welcome to come over to the castle anytime you want.”

  “Don’t say anything to him. I don’t want you to get in trouble. I’d just be more comfortable if we eat out, okay? I’ll meet you by the car in a half hour. Is that enough time?”

  “Yes,” I said absently. I was fuming over Rhisiart’s treatment of my cousin.

  “Don’t be mad, Eilidh. Don’t let him ruin your day. I can’t stay forever anyway. Once Annabel passed away, I decided I should probably head home soon after the funeral. That way I won’t be underfoot and no one will have to worry about me overstaying my welcome.”

  “You could never overstay your welcome. That’s how I feel and I know that’s how Annabel felt. I’ll be down in a bit and we’ll grab breakfast together on the way to Cardiff.”

  After I rang off I took a quick shower and put on warm clothes. The day promised to be cold and raw. Still angry, I stalked to the front door hoping I wouldn’t meet anyone.

  Chapter 14

  But Rhisiart was standing in the massive front hall, scanning the newspaper. I stopped short when I saw him. My sudden movement announced my presence and Rhisiart turned. “Good morning, Eilidh. I trust you enjoyed yourself at the pub last night.”

  “I did.”

  “Maybe you’d like to go with me some evening.”

  “I don’t think so, Rhisiart. I’m not sure you and I are well-suited.”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll come around in time. Where are you headed right now?”

  “Out. I’ll be eating breakfast with my cousin because apparently someone has told her she’s not welcome in the castle.” I hadn’t intended to say anything, but his high-handedness was getting out of control.

  He winced dramatically. “I believe I’m the guilty party. My brother and sister-in-law and I have discussed the matter and it has nothing to do with your cousin, trust me. It’s just that we may be repurposing the coach house soon and we need to have an architect come to look at it. And, of course, there can’t be any guests in the coach house when the work starts. It may move very quickly once the architect has seen the property.”

  I gave him a skeptical look and hoisted my bag over my shoulder, not wishing to continue the conversation. He put his paper down and opened the door for me with a flourish. I stepped outside without another glance at him and walked down the broad front steps. Sylvie was just coming around the western turret of the castle.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, a forced cheery note in her voice. She was taking her own advice and clearly had no intention of letting Rhisiart ruin her day. We walked in silence back to the parking enclosure.

  “I think he likes you,” Sylvie said.

  “You might be right. The one time I went to the pub with him it wasn’t terrible, but that was before Annabel died and he’s been different since then. I don’t like the way he treats people.”

  “I don’t either,” Sylvie agreed. “But we’re not going to talk about him, remember?”

  “You’re right. Let’s talk about something much more pleasant,” I said.

  “Like Griff,” Sylvie said with a wicked smile.

  “He is more pleasant, that’s for sure, but let’s stay away from the topic of men for a wee bit. Pick something else.” So Sylvie told me about some of the photographs she had been taking.

  After breakfast talk turned to the things we were going to do in Cardiff. Sylvie had made a list of the places she thought we’d enjoy. And she was right. We visited the National Museum Cardiff and St. Fagan’s Walk, and the Cardiff Indoor Market. Rhisiart’s name didn’t come up once, nor did the name of anyone in Annabel’s family. We steered away from any topic involving Maisie and Brenda, too.

  But Griff was another matter. Sylvie seemed keen to know more about him, to analyze everything he said to me, to speculate about the future. A future that included him.

  “Sylvie,” I said, laughing, “I don’t really know him very well. I know he has a cottage in the village, but that’s really about it.”

  “You don’t have to know much about him to know he’s a great guy. But you know more than you realize. You know he loves animals, or at least horses. You know he cared about Annabel. You know he cares about what’s done with the stables. He wants them to remain low-key and doesn’t want them converted to housing for race horses. You know he doesn’t like Rhisiart because of the way Rhisiart treats everyone. So see? There’s a lot you know about Griff. Plus we both know he’s cute,” she added with a grin.

  She was right. I knew I liked Griff, but I hadn’t given much thought to why I liked him. And Sylvie had put it all out there for me to see clearly. Suddenly I was anxious to get back to the castle to see him.

  It was dark when we left Cardiff and headed back to the village. We stopped at a chippy for supper on the way back so I wouldn’t have to eat in the dining room under the scrutinizing eyes of Annabel’s family. I hated to think of Maisie and Brenda stuck back in the castle without the freedom to come and go that I enjoyed, but the time would come when I would probably be looking for another job and I wanted to spend time with Sylvie while she was nearby. I could commiserate with Maisie and Brenda after Sylvie left.

  When I got back I found the household in a flurry of preparations for Annabel’s service the next day. Or rather, Maisie and Brenda were in a flurry of activity while the three new owners of Thistlecross Castle made lists and barked orders to the two harried women. I jumped in to help them as soon as I walked in the door and realized what was happening.

  Hugh and Sian had decided that a home cooked meal would be more “comforting,” as they put it, for the guests who would be arriving to pay their respects after the service. This included Annabel’s matronly—and quite wealthy—friends from the village as well as people from her church, people involved with the charities Annabel had supported and sponsored, and friends with whom her sons had grown up.

  I went downstairs to help Maisie in the kitchen first. “Wouldn’t it be smarter and easier to use a caterer for this?” I asked.

  “It certainly would,” Maisie grumbled. “Annabel used her caterer friend for the meal after Andreas’s service and things went very smoothly. Brenda and I worked hard, but we weren’t treated like mules. And we were able to pay our respects to Andreas, too, even though I didn’t know him well and what I knew of him I didn’t li
ke. But it was important to show our support for the family because of the way we felt about Annabel. And now this—Brenda and I aren’t going to have one minute to formally grieve for Annabel. We won’t even be able to go to the service because we’ve got so much work to do here to prepare for all those people.”

  “Do you want me to talk to them?” I asked. I didn’t relish the thought of approaching Hugh and Sian and Rhisiart about this, but someone had to stand up for Maisie and Brenda.

  “What good would it do?” she asked grumpily. “The service is tomorrow morning and it’s too late to hire anyone else to do the cooking or to help with the cleaning. No, we’re stuck. We’ll just get through the day and maybe we can do something to remember Annabel in private.”

  I felt sick at the prospect of Maisie and Brenda missing Annabel’s funeral service. After several minutes of helping her in the kitchen, I concocted a story about something else I had remembered and I went in search of Rhisiart.

  In hindsight, it probably would have been smarter to look for Sian or Hugh, but I was worried one of them might give me the brush-off. I knew Rhisiart would at least listen to my request.

  I found him in the drawing room, working in a notebook. I knocked on the door even though it was ajar and he grunted, “Who is it?” without looking up from his work. Perhaps I should have waited, I thought, but I’m already here and I’ve already disturbed him. Might as well go through with it.

  “It’s Eilidh.”

  He pushed his notebook away and leaned back in the chair. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I’ve come to ask a favor of you.” He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head toward the sofa. I sat down on the edge of it, leaning forward stiffly. He just looked at me. I plunged into my request.

  “It’s just that Maisie and Brenda are working so hard to get the house and the food ready for tomorrow that they’re not even going to be able to attend the funeral. They both loved Annabel and it seems a shame they’re not able to say goodbye to her properly.”

  “Hmm,” he said, nodding his head slightly.

  “Do you think you could let them take just a short break to go to the funeral? All they want to do is pay their final respects.”

  “But they’re needed here,” he said finally.

  “I know, but maybe they could just take an hour or so to go into the village. They do such a wonderful job in the castle and they have for years. They deserve this.”

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, and I got the uneasy feeling he was going to say something I didn’t like.

  And I was right, but what he said still came as a shock.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll agree to let Maisie and Brenda come to the funeral tomorrow. For an hour,” he added, pointing in my direction, “if you go to the pub with me for a drink this evening.”

  Was he suggesting I go on a date with him in exchange for a favor? The very idea was revolting. I didn’t say anything. There were plenty of things I would do for Maisie and Brenda, but I had to draw the line somewhere and Rhisiart’s request was cheeky to an unbelievable degree.

  He was waiting for an answer. I sat and stared at him and he met my gaze steadily. Neither of us said anything while my mind raced, trying to decide if I should make a counter-offer or say yes or say no.

  I was distracted for a moment by a soft sound. I glanced toward the door and saw Brenda peek into the room, her haggard face revealing how tired she was. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said in a quiet voice. “I was just wondering when I might be able to dust in there.”

  “Just give us another minute, Brenda,” came Rhisiart’s reply. She turned away, her shoulders stooped. I thought for a moment of her mother, working herself to exhaustion down in the kitchen, making everything perfect for the guests who would be in the castle tomorrow. All those people would be talking in low voices about Annabel and her good works, not giving much thought to the people who worked so hard to feed them so sumptuously.

  “All right, I’ll go for a drink with you,” I said. “When shall we go?”

  “How about thirty minutes?” he asked.

  “That’s fine.” My voice sounded flat in my own ears. I hoped Brenda wasn’t listening because I didn’t want her to report to her mother that I was going on a date with Rhisiart just so the two of them could have an hour off to attend the funeral the following day. Maisie wouldn’t forgive herself if she knew what I was doing.

  He gathered his notebook and pencils, then excused himself and walked out of the room, glancing back and winking at me. I winced inwardly. It was going to be a long evening.

  Brenda came into the drawing room, her dust cloths bunched up in her hand. “Can I dust now, Eilidh?” she asked, her voice a little louder than when she had spoken to Rhisiart.

  “Sure, Brenda, come on in. I was just leaving,” I said. Something in my voice must have warned her that all was not right. She tilted her head and gave me a hard look. “Is something wrong, Eilidh? You don’t look like yourself.”

  “No, nothing’s wrong,” I hastened to assure her. “I guess I’m just wishing I didn’t have to say goodbye to Annabel tomorrow, that’s all.”

  “I know how you feel. She was just the nicest lady. I wish me and Mum could go to the funeral, but I think we’ll be too busy here.”

  I didn’t say anything. I figured Rhisiart would tell them they could have the time off to go to the funeral, so I didn’t want to give any hint that I knew his plans.

  “Take a break now and then, Brenda,” I advised her. “You’ll be more productive if you’re not so tired.”

  “I will,” she said, reaching up to dust a sconce on the wall. “See you later.”

  I turned and left her to her work. I went to my room to brood for twenty minutes, then grabbed a coat and went to the front hall to wait for Rhisiart.

  He was already there, waiting for me. He looked dapper in his khaki trousers, white Oxford shirt, and navy toggle coat, but I knew his looks were deceiving. “Ready?” he asked. He held out his arm for me to take and I pretended not to notice. He opened the door for me and we went out to his car, which was already parked in the circle out front. He hurried around to the passenger side of the car and again opened the door for me, this time with a comical flourish. He seemed a different man, softer and more playful.

  But I still didn’t trust him. I sat in the front seat of the car, pressing my body as much as I could to the left so I wouldn’t touch his arm accidentally. He didn’t seem to notice, though I got the feeling that not much escaped his keen writer’s eyes. He didn’t say much except to comment on the chilly weather as we drove into the village and parked at the pub, apparently having decided to respect my wishes not to talk just yet.

  When he had parked the car he ran around the front and opened my door, again offering me his arm to help me out. It was indeed a very low-sitting car, so I took his arm. He gave me a sideways smile as I released his arm.

  Once in the pub, he pulled out my chair for me and helped me off with my coat. We sat down and a server brought us menus. Rhisiart offered to look at the wine list, but I didn’t feel like drinking wine. I wanted something hearty to drink, and that called for a pint.

  We both ordered pints and then Rhisiart sat forward and I sat back in my chair while we waited for our drinks.

  “So what do you think of all that’s going on in the castle?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the change in ownership, the possible changes in staffing. Everything.”

  I hadn’t noticed any changes yet except that Hugh and Sian and Rhisiart seemed to be relishing their new positions as lords and lady of the manor. I chose my words carefully when I answered him several moments later.

  “Change is hard, especially when it comes as a result of the death of someone so beloved, as Annabel was. It’s also hard when people a
ren’t kept apprised of what’s going on.” I gave him a pointed look.

  “Are you saying you and the other staff don’t realize what’s happening?”

  “Is there anything to realize?” I shot back. “Annabel died. Someone has to own the castle, so it’s you and your brother and your sister-in-law. There really haven’t been any changes other than that, have there?”

  He sat back and regarded me with barely-concealed amusement. I fumed under his gaze. Whereas his behavior before we drove away from the castle and since coming into the village had suggested he might try to be a gentleman tonight, this was quickly turning into a tête-à-tête for which I had no stomach.

  “I suppose you’re right about that,” he acknowledged, toying with his fork. “But mark my words, things are going to change soon.”

  “Things like what?”

  He leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Once the funeral is over and the barrister has completed the necessary paperwork to transfer ownership of the castle to me and Hugh and Sian’s baby, and to set up the baby’s trust so Sian can make the necessary decisions, we’re going to turn the old place into a brand-new venue for breeding race horses. And not only that, but we’re going to open it up to the public.”

  I stared at him in horror. “You’re kidding.”

  He smiled, self-satisfied and smug. “You see, Annabel never made full use of the property after her second husband died. We’ve been trying to get her to make some changes for years. The old castle could become a world-class destination for horse breeders, horse aficionados, and people who are interested in learning more about the breeding process and horse racing in general.”

  I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. “I think that’s horrible,” I said flatly. “Annabel would hate it—you know that.”

  “Annabel isn’t here any longer,” he said flatly.

  “But how could you dishonor her memory like this?” I asked.

  “You’re forgetting, I think, that when Brian was alive the castle grounds were used for polo games. Brian kept his polo ponies in the stables.”