by Rose Donovan
Both clearly at a loss for words, Fina and Ruby nodded in unison. They slid into chairs near the door though they did not move their legs under the table – ready for a hasty exit.
“Henry must be told, of course… his health… if I posted him a letter today, it might get there by… ah, but I’m forgetting this cursed snow!” cried the Countess. Caught up in her troubles, she seemed hardly to notice that she was speaking her thoughts out loud.
To Fina’s right, Cyril topped up what must have been his tenth cup of tea, judging by the way his hands were shaking. Or was there another reason for his heightened state of nerves?
“I know it’s not the time, but may I ask why you are taking on serving duties?” Cyril asked Ruby, motioning toward the tray with his teacup.
“We’ve been asked to put away Granville’s glassware, in case they bear traces of unknown chemicals – just as a precaution since the police aren’t here.”
“Really? Why you two?” queried Cyril imperiously over his wire-rimmed spectacles.
Snapping out of his rhythmic pacing by the window, Leslie spun around. “Yes, dash it, what makes you qualified? And why should we trust you?”
Julia rose to their defence. “I understand that Ruby has some experience with investigation. Besides, there’s no way for the police to take them. In case you hadn’t noticed it, we’re trapped because of the damn snow. And we need to know.”
“Know what?” asked Ian.
“If it’s poison, you idiot,” said Leslie, his eyes flashing. “God, there’s so many foreigners in this house – it’s probably one of you,” he said, waving his finger around the room, at no one in particular, “that did him in.”
The Countess leapt to her feet, double chin and formidable bosom shaking. “Mr Dashwood, I know you are a guest here – and we’re all upset – but will you kindly leave us alone if you cannot behave. I will not have my other guests insulted.”
The left side of Leslie’s mouth curled upward. “Gladly, Lady Snittlegarth,” he snarled sarcastically. He stamped out of the room. The expression ‘as bad-tempered as a bag of weasels’ drifted through Fina’s mind.
“I say good riddance,” said Julia with finality.
“Hear, hear, darling,” responded Ian.
The argument offered an opening for escape, so Ruby and Fina quietly excused themselves to make their way to the kitchen. Ruby leaned down to whisper into Julia’s ear on the way out of the dining room.
As they were descending the stone staircase to the kitchen, Fina asked Ruby, “What did you whisper to Julia?”
“I wanted to see if she still planned to go ahead with our meeting to discuss her wardrobe. She said she didn’t see any reason we shouldn’t move forward.”
“When are we meeting her?”
“In two hours. That gives us plenty of time to see what we can do in the kitchen.”
Mrs Lynn was whipping up some concoction with such strength Fina could hear her wheeze from the effort. At the sink behind her, a kitchen-maid scoured a cast-iron pot with considerably less relish. In the meagre daylight, the kitchen’s atmosphere was much warmer. The cheerful fire in the hearth also contributed to the cosy domestic scene. She caught a whiff of the smell of warm bread, cooling on a rack in the corner.
Mixing complete, Mrs Lynn turned around and promptly dropped the bowl on the floor. “My dears, you startled me!” she said, in a not-unkind voice.
Fina rushed over to retrieve the bowl with white peaks of meringue which had fortunately remained unmoved by the tumble. “I’ve not been myself this morning; not after what happened to Master Granville,” Mrs Lynn said, nodding thanks to Fina as she placed the bowl on the counter. “Mary, leave that now,” she said over her shoulder to the kitchen-maid. “You want to get those potatoes scrubbed and ready. Look sharp!” The girl scurried off.
“That’s why we’re here, Mrs Lynn. We don’t want to be underfoot, but we need to lock away the glassware Granville used last night. The police will want to know whether there is anything… ah… odd in the dried liquid,” said Ruby, motioning to her tray.
“There was nothing wrong with my cocoa, you know!” retorted the cook, hands on hips. “That Mr Clavering and Miss Aston had it too and there was nothing wrong with them, was there? Must have been some sort of other – what do you call it? A natural cause.”
“No, no, Mrs Lynn. We are not suggesting there was anything wrong with your cooking. Quite the contrary – your dishes are divine.”
Pacified, Mrs Lynn dug in the pocket of her apron. “Very well, miss, I’ll unlock the safe for you. Grimston don’t mind me having the key – it saves him from having to do all the work himself.” She ambled off toward the butler’s room.
Ruby whispered, “I’ll have a nose around after I’ve locked up the cups. Would you see what you can learn from the cook while I’m busy? Maybe anything she knows about the family or guests?”
“I’ll do my best. I have the impression she has been with the family for a long time. She must know their secrets – I’ll see if I can get the gossip flowing,” said Fina, looking forward to the challenge.
Once the tray was safely deposited, the cook carefully dropped the key back into her pocket and patted her apron, as if to tuck the key up for the night. As she turned to the door of the scullery, Fina asked, “Have you been with the family a long time, Mrs Lynn?”
The cook’s already thin figure seemed to deflate further. She felt around for a stool as if she had been blinded. Plopping down with a heavy sigh, she said, “I’m sorry, Miss Fina. It’s just that what happened to Granville came over me, finally.”
Mrs Lynn hugged herself and stared at the fireplace. “You see, I came to Pauncefort Hall well-nigh over twenty years ago, maybe a few years before Granville was born. The Hall was a happy place then – not that it hasn’t been since then, mind you – but there was something different about it. I think it was the happiness of Lord and Lady Malvern. Aye, they were a grand couple and thrilled about starting a family. First came Granville, then Charlotte, and then Edgar. The Earl and Countess of Snittlegarth lived in London in those days, but they came to Pauncefort often. Then everything went terribly wrong, Miss Fina.”
Mrs Lynn paused, sighed and scratched her hand, meditatively.
Not wanting to lose the momentum of the story, Fina said, “Whatever went wrong, Mrs Lynn?”
“Ah, now, you see, Lady Malvern died suddenly one weekend, when the whole family was having a grand time at the Hall. You see…” She paused in her story to dab her eyes with the corner of her apron. “This horrible death brings back these memories. Lady Malvern died from ptomaine poisoning after a summer picnic. At least, that’s what the doctor said at the time. No one questioned it. It was odd, though, because other family members ate some of the cherries as well. We all just assumed that only some of the cherries had spoilt. What was curious, though, was…”
Edgar strode into the room, oddly confident in his gait. Blast it, thought Fina. Just as Mrs Lynn was getting going.
“Mrs Lynn, could you make me some eggs? I’m famished and I missed breakfast,” enquired Edgar.
He jumped as he turned his head to see Fina in a nook by the doorway.
“I, I know this must look dashed unfeeling on my part, but I think I’m craving comfort right now,” he said.
“Now, sir, you know you have to keep your strength up. I’ll hop to it,” said the cook, turning toward the stove.
At the sound of another voice, Ruby emerged from the butler’s room. “I’ve heard shock can do that to someone, Edgar,” she said. “I expect that’s what it is. Please don’t let us stop you from taking care of yourself.”
“Mmm… very understanding of you, Miss Dove. I appreciate it,” he said as he sat at the table with them, running his fingers through his unwashed sandy hair. “I just cannot understand what happened. Julia mentioned that you knew a little about investigating crime. Have you turned anything up so far?”
Ruby looked wary. “
I’d have to wait for the official test, but I’m afraid that there is nothing in the snifter or the teacup – or saucer, by the way – that indicates the presence of any sort of toxin. Besides alcohol, of course,” she said with a wan smile.
“Nothing at all? Well, that’s excellent news!” Edgar said, slapping his hand against the table so hard that a stray teacup toppled over on its side. Fina’s stomach lurched as she saw a spray of skin flakes from his fingers fall gently on the cutting board.
“Sorry,” he said. Fina was unsure if he were sorry for the exclamation or for tipping over the snifter. “Must have been a medical condition, I suppose.”
“Not necessarily, Edgar,” said Ruby in a firm voice. “It could be that he simply ingested it elsewhere. No, I tend to agree with Gayatri that this was not a natural death.”
“But what else was in the room that he could have eaten?” asked Fina. “Don’t poisons act quickly – it must have been something in his room?”
Ruby paused and rubbed her nose. Fina held her breath because she knew this meant that Ruby was about to tell a lie. Perhaps lie was too strong a word. Maybe ‘untruth’ or ‘omission’ would be better descriptors. Fina and Ruby had learned each other’s ‘tell’ gestures long ago, for their own protection. Fina felt her cheeks get hot – not because she felt guilty, but because she felt guilty that she knew Ruby was about to tell a lie.
“Actually, there are poisons that may have a delayed effect of this type. I expect that is what happened. I am unfamiliar with these poisons, but I know they exist,” she said.
“Well, then it could have been anything!” exclaimed Edgar with exasperation.
“No… not anything. We all ate the same dinner, correct?” Ruby looked toward the cook, who nodded her assent. “And then the men all drank from the same decanters. We’ll need to check to see if Granville drank something special – do you know, Edgar?”
Sitting down to a hot plate of eggs, bacon and toast, Edgar answered in between gulps of food.
“He drank brandy like the rest of us. Though at some point I think Granville switched to Scotch and soda. I suppose someone m–m–might have tampered with his glass, though. I’ll have to think about it,” he said, though he seemed lost in other thoughts as he chomped down on a piece of toast. “Mrs Lynn, these eggs are delicious!”
“I know just how you like them, sir. Always have since you were a little boy,” she said.
16
“Let’s find somewhere private to talk. My head is positively swimming,” suggested Ruby, pointing toward the library door as they ascended the stairs from the kitchen.
Fina felt a soft tickle around her ankle. She looked down to see a little tuxedo cat, tail curved around her feet. A soft plaintive mew and a misty look in the cat’s eyes made them irresistible. She bent down and began to coo, scratching the cream-collared shirtfront of the cat.
Ruby leaned back from the library door. “Looks like you’ve made a friend for life, Feens,” she said, bending down to stroke the kitten. Fina knew Ruby was fond of cats, but not in the same way she herself was positively enamoured by them.
“I wonder where the kitten came from – I didn’t see her last night,” said Fina, straightening up. “Definitely gives us some much-needed comfort after all that’s happened.”
Ruby nodded as they both sat down in overstuffed chairs in front of the warm glow of the fire. Fina found it difficult to wrap her mind around the fact that they all had sat, chatting in this room, just a few hours before.
“Arggg! Cat!” screeched Fina. The tuxedo kitten had sprung onto her lap – claws first, of course, as if it were a mountain climber. “Well, I guess you can stay since you’ve already come,” she said in a soft voice, smoothing the fur over, rhythmically.
“Feens, I’m not sure where to begin,” said Ruby, rubbing her temples.
“How about we start with your lie?”
“Lie?”
“Yes, why did you lie about the poison?” said Fina, trying to take the sting out of the words by softening her voice.
Ruby stared at her in disbelief, and then Fina saw a flash in her eyes. “I completely forgot that we knew each other’s tells,” she said, now smiling. “I’ll tell you why and then let’s back up and review what has happened so far.” Fina murmured agreement. “I didn’t want to tell anyone at the time – just because they might get the wrong idea – but I do know what poison killed Granville.”
Fina’s hand stopped in the middle of the kitten’s back and stayed there. She just sat motionless, waiting for Ruby to continue.
“I know the effects of the concentrated oxalic acid stain remover I used on Gayatri’s dress last night. Though oxalic acid can be found from a number of common plant sources, this particular concentrate is derived from my grandmother’s garden in St Kitts. It has been used in my family for generations. My grandmother first taught me how to identify it, dry the leaves and then pulverize them into a fine powder. You add a little water to make it into a paste to put on a textile to remove the stain. It takes many uses to make it work, though, so I developed a concentrate at the lab in Oxford.”
“And you think it’s what caused his death?”
“The main point is that it is terrifically poisonous, as I said last night. My grandmother once told me a story about someone who had been enslaved on the island and had exacted revenge on the master. The results of the poison were exactly the same as those we saw on Granville’s body. I remember them well because they’re so distinctive – and my grandmother was a very vivid storyteller.”
“How long does it take for the poison to take effect?” asked Fina, now cradling the kitten for her own comfort as much as that of the cat’s.
“Maybe fifteen to twenty minutes, no more than that. Of course, the dosage might make it happen a bit more quickly, but it would have to be fairly substantial,” she replied. “Normal oxalic acid poisoning actually takes days. But not my concentrate.”
“So that means it must have been just before he went upstairs to bed, or just after when he was in bed.”
“Yes, although I couldn’t smell any oxalic acid in either the snifter or the cup, and it’s pretty whiffy stuff. I should clarify – pure oxalic acid is odourless, but my stain remover concoction is not.”
“Hmm,” said Fina. “Is it possible that he could have drunk the lot, leaving no trace?”
Ruby shrugged. “I suppose so. But it’s unlikely. There was a tiny amount of dried liquid in the bottom of both the snifter and the cup.”
The cat curled into a ball on Fina’s lap, covering its face with its tiny paw, oblivious to the seriousness of their discussion. Fina wished she could join along in the blissful release. She gazed out the window: the snow was still falling lightly.
“Feens – are you there?” asked Ruby, not unkindly.
Fina shivered. “Yes. Sorry. I’m having trouble focusing… So what you’re suggesting, to be clear, is that the poison must have been ingested before he went to bed – perhaps from another glass? There’s no way the killer could have switched the teacup or the snifter because the doors were bolted from the inside.”
Leaning forward in a stretch, Ruby said, “Yes. Do you mind if we go through the evening, step by step, to figure out what happened?”
Before they could begin, Fina’s head snapped up at the sound of a soft footfall behind her. She gave Ruby a warning gesture. Had someone been there all the time? How much had they overheard?
The footsteps came closer. They sounded strangely menacing. Fina, holding her breath, felt sure that whoever was with them in the library had come in with evil intentions. Her fingernails gripped the plush velvet upholstery.
A sudden gasp made them both jump. “Blimey!” said Charles, peering around the edge of the high-back wing chair that had hidden the women from his sight. “You gave me a fright!”
Fina collapsed into the cushions. “You gave us a worse one!” She noticed the kitten, unperturbed, had peeled back one eye to see who had the
audacity to interrupt her slumber.
“I came to stoke the fire,” he said, pushing the charred logs with a poker, sending up sparks as one fell on another. “The house is in a state. Grimston has just announced that the telephone line is out of order, thanks to the snow. The Earl is ranting and raving, Lady Charlotte is crying, the Countess is in a true state of blank-faced shock, and the guests are all behaving in a very anxious manner. I’m anxious myself,” he said. His hand closed over his mouth. “Begging your pardon, ladies. I forgot myself in your company. I shouldn’t be discussing the guests and the family in this way. I forget myself around you, for some reason,” he said, quickly glancing at Fina and then looking away hastily.
“I expect it’s because the three of us don’t move in such aristocratic circles,” said Ruby.
Charles nodded and bent down to stroke the cat, after securing permission to do so from Fina with a smile.
“This here’s little Grayling,” he said, affectionately. “She must have been separated from her mother – she’s clearly the runt of the litter. The little cheeky layabout wandered to the back door of the kitchen about a month ago. She hopped up on the counter when Mrs Lynn wasn’t looking and made away with the fish on the counter.”
“Hence the name Grayling,” said Fina, grinning. “My brother used to fish,” she said, her voice catching on the last syllable. Fond and painful memories flashed momentarily – again.
Redirecting the conversation quickly, Ruby asked, “So what do you think happened, Charles?”
Straightening up, he pulled over a short stool to sit in front of the fire. Scratching his head, he said, “I don’t have any particular theories – mostly because Granville was disliked by so many people at Pauncefort this weekend. But I cannot see any of them hating him enough to commit murder. Mind you, it was a timid sort of crime – if you can ever say that about murder.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” said Fina. “You mean because it was some sort of poison?”
Fina did not want to give away the fact that they suspected Ruby was the source of the poison. She saw her friend’s fists relax themselves from their clenched position.