01 - Murder at Ashgrove House

by Margaret Addison

  ‘Lavinia will be wondering where you are,’ said Rose, trying to keep the fear from her voice, ‘hadn’t you better be getting back to her?’

  ‘All in good time, we’re going to have a little fun first. As to Lavinia, she won’t notice I’m gone for ages, her mother has collared her for yet another one of her jolly little conversations.’

  ‘If you come any nearer to me, I warn you, I’ll scream.’

  ‘Scream all you like, my dear, there’s no-one to hear you. If you think that tiresome butler’s going to intervene on your behalf again, then I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken. He’s in the housekeeper’s sitting room talking over the day with a glass of sherry, I checked; a cosier picture you couldn’t imagine.’ He moved out of the darkness and advanced towards her.

  ‘No, please don’t –.’ Rose turned and looked down the stairs. She would never be able to outrun him, he would catch up with her before she was halfway down. She wondered if she had the courage to throw herself down the stairs, surely it would be a better fate than the one that awaited her. She clutched the banister, hesitating; she was afraid she hadn’t the nerve. This gave Lord Sneddon the opportunity to grab her arm and twist her around to face him.

  ‘Not so fast, now, my dear. I know you’ve got a bit of a thing for Cedric, but –’

  ‘Let her go, Sneddon.’

  The voice came out of the darkness as if from nowhere and so unexpectedly, that both Rose and Lord Sneddon instinctively froze. Lord Sneddon slowly released his grip on her arm and Rose stumbled almost blindly down the stairs. Out of the shadows emerged Cedric. She thought, as she stumbled past him and caught sight of the expression on his face, that she had never seen anyone look so angry. Lord Sneddon, from the way he was now standing there looking scared, obviously felt the same.

  ‘Listen, Cedric, it’s not what it looks like. She led me on, just as she’s been leading you on and then decided –.’

  ‘Don’t bother with explanations, Sneddon.’ Cedric had advanced up the stairs and before Hugh had a chance to react, he had punched him squarely on the jaw and sent him flying backwards, hitting the wall and landing heavily on his back. ‘I heard everything, Sneddon, and I mean everything,’ Cedric said, crouching down besides his erstwhile friend and grabbing him by the collar, yanking him up towards him so that Lord Sneddon was now put into a half lying, half sitting position. ‘Now listen to me. I want you to leave this house first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll make some excuse to my aunt and uncle on your behalf, tell them you were called back to town urgently to do with some family business or some such thing. It doesn’t matter, but I want you out of here.’

  ‘You’ll pay for this, Sedgwick,’ spat Lord Sneddon, putting a handkerchief to his bleeding cheek, ‘see if you don’t. I only wanted from her what you want. You’re just more smooth-talking than me, so the damned girl thinks you’re in love with her,’ He staggered to his feet and down the stairs to his room.

  Cedric came over to Rose, clearly mortified.

  ‘Rose, I don’t know what to say. I had no idea that he was like that when he had drink in him. I’ve heard rumours, of course, about his exploits with servants, but I never gave them any credence. How can you ever forgive me?’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive, Cedric.’ Rose longed to touch his face, such a very handsome face, she thought. Lady Belvedere would seek to put a stop to their relationship developing; that was the obvious purpose of their walk tomorrow. Rose knew she would never see Cedric again; it was almost too much to bear. She wanted to run to her room right now and throw herself on her bed and cry.

  ‘You weren’t to know. And anyway, you came to my rescue. If you hadn’t I’d be –.’ Her face crumbled and she began to sob.

  ‘Rose, please don’t.’ Cedric grabbed her hands in his own. ‘I can’t bear it. And tell me you don’t believe a word Sneddon said about my feelings towards you, I’m nothing like him, I promise you. Oh, I know that it’s far too soon and far too forward to say so now, but you must know how much I adore you, Rose, how much I admire and love you. I have never known a woman like you. You are so totally unique, so totally you. Tell me that you feel the same about me as I do about you. I don’t think I could bear it, if you didn’t.’

  ‘Cedric, I –.’

  ‘I’m being totally sincere, Rose. I’m no good at this sort of thing, but please don’t think I’m out to ruin you, I wouldn’t dream of it. I love you.’ Rose looked up and simply stared.

  ‘There,’ he laughed, ‘I’ve said it and I’ll say it again. I love you, Rose Simpson. I want you to be my wife.’

  Rose gasped, hardly able to believe her ears. She wanted to laugh in turn and throw her arms around him, but part of her held back.

  ‘Cedric, it’s no good, your mother will never allow it. She’ll –.’

  ‘Don’t worry about my mother, Rose,’ he bent and kissed her, ‘She can’t stop us, nobody can. I’ll deal with her.’ A new harshness had entered his voice. ‘I won’t let her destroy our happiness, not like she has my father’s. I’ll do whatever it takes, Rose, to ensure we are together; I mean it, whatever it takes.’

  ‘She’s awful nice, you know?’ said Edna as the scullery and kitchen maids lay in their beds in the little sparsely furnished attic room that they shared, with its sloping ceilings enlivened by a flower sprig patterned wallpaper. Although they were exhausted by their day’s labour, as always, especially this weekend with so many uninvited guests resulting in additional work, they still made time for a chat; it was part of their usual nightly routine.

  ‘Who is?’

  ‘You know exactly who I mean, Bessie Smith, unless you haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying these last ten minutes; Miss Simpson, of course.’

  ‘What about her, Edna?’

  ‘She was awfully nice to me when she found me crying in the kitchen garden this morning. I felt that embarrassed, I did, but she was really kind and she promised not to tell Mrs Palmer and get me into trouble, which I bet Lady Lavinia would have done. And she must have kept her word, because the old bat didn’t have a go at me and you know as she would have done, any excuse to tell us off.’

  ‘Well, Miss Simpson’s one of us, isn’t she?’

  ‘Whatever do you mean, Bessie?’

  ‘She works in a shop; she’s a shop girl, Edna. I overheard Mrs Palmer and Mr Stafford talking about it. She works in that dress shop Lady Lavinia’s been working in, you know, to do with that bet with her brother. So she’s no better than the likes of you and me, not really.’

  ‘No!’ Edna sat up in her bed, her eyes large with astonishment. ‘Well I never. But she’s got ever such nice manners and she talks quite posh, really you’d never know.’

  ‘That’s because her family’s come down in the world. Apparently her father drank and gambled away all their money, that’s what Lady Lavinia told Martha this evening. I say that’s awful mean don’t you think, her gossiping to us about her friend’s ill fortunes.’

  ‘I certainly do,’ said Edna indignant. ‘I don’t care that she’s just a shop girl, Bessie, I think she’s a real lady. And I’m not the only one, neither. Albert says Lord Cedric’s awful keen on her and she’s pretty keen on him, too. Perhaps they’ll get married and she’ll be a countess one day.’

  ‘Don’t talk daft, Edna. You’re an awful romantic, you are. Can you really see Lady Belvedere letting her darling son marry a shop girl? No, she’ll do everything in her power to stop it, you mark my words. And there won’t be anything that either of them will be able to do about it, neither.’

  ‘Well I think love can conquer all, Bessie, like it does in the movies. You just wait and see, I think they’ll find a way to be together somehow.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rose awoke the next morning feeling elated, but also with a sense of dread. Cedric loved her! She would in time become the next Countess of Belvedere, would be her own mistress; no more working long hours being polite to customers who were rude to her, or b
eing bossed around by Madame Renard. The days of scrimping and saving would be behind her. She would no longer have to fret about her mother’s ever failing eyesight, for Mrs Simpson would never need to lift another needle, save to do petit-point embroidery for her own amusement.

  But it was no good. She could daydream all she liked, but Lady Belvedere would never let it happen. She wouldn’t let her only son, destined to become sixteenth Earl of Belvedere, marry a penniless shop girl. Cedric had promised her that he would stand up to his mother, do whatever it took to ensure they were together. And last night she had been happy to believe him, but in the cold light of day she did not feel so confident. Cedric was dutiful and obedient, he knew that he had a responsibility to maintain his social position and estates and Lady Belvedere, Rose felt sure, would play on this. He wouldn’t want to, but Rose suddenly knew with a sinking heart, that in the end Cedric would concede to his mother’s wishes.

  She threw back the bedclothes and began pacing the room. She couldn’t let it happen, she couldn’t lose him. She was too close to perfect happiness to have the countess snatch it out from under her. Rose looked at her reflection in the mirror. Determination showed on her face, she was resolute. Last night Cedric had told her he would do whatever it took. This morning she knew that she would.

  When she went down for breakfast, she found that Sir William was the only person there. Her host informed her that, as on the previous day, the married women were breakfasting in bed and Lord Belvedere had already eaten and was in the library. Lavinia had a headache and did not require breakfast and Lord Sneddon, Rose felt sure, would not be coming down for he would find it difficult to explain away the damage to his face that was sure to have resulted from Cedric’s punch. She was not disappointed to find Cedric absent. His presence would weaken her resolve.

  She was just coming out of the dining room when Miss Crimms, who had obviously been waiting for her to finish breakfast, came rushing over to advise her that the countess was waiting for her by the French windows in the drawing room. The servant hoped that Rose did not mind but, because Lady Belvedere was keen for their walk to commence as soon as possible and following her instructions, she had taken the liberty of gathering together a hat, coat and gloves that she had taken from Rose’s wardrobe, so as not to delay the walk by Rose having to go upstairs to get these items for herself.

  It was with trepidation that Rose joined the countess in the drawing room. There was no outward acknowledgement of the other’s presence or any attempt to exchange pleasantries. Lady Belvedere merely opened one of the French windows and walked through onto the terrace. Like an obedient child, Rose followed.

  In different circumstances she would have enjoyed this walk, as she followed Lady Belvedere through the well-tended gardens, cutting across a corner of the parkland to the woods beyond. This was an area that they had failed to explore yesterday. She would have enjoyed it, she knew, if she had been here with Cedric or Lavinia, the Lavinia of before yesterday afternoon that was, the one she was used to in the shop who would giggle at a joke behind Madame Renard’s back. Even with Lady Belvedere as her unwelcome companion, it was not lost on Rose that the day itself promised to be another fine one and, even in her apprehension of what lay ahead, she could appreciate the beauty of the greenness of the lawns and the countryside all around her, so different from the greyness of the London she was used to. She took in the sweet smell of freshly mown grass, the vivid colours of the flowers in bloom. It seemed so peaceful, so inviting, such an unsuitable backdrop in fact, for a confrontation.

  Meanwhile the Countess of Belvedere was striding forward at such a pace that Rose was finding it difficult to keep up and had to resort to half running, half walking in an effort not to be left behind. She stumbled along as best she could. She knew she would arrive at her destination hot, flustered and out of breath, whereas this seemed to be Lady Belvedere’s usual walking pace, for the lady herself seemed hardly aware of Rose’s presence or the heat, certainly she did not turn around to make sure that she was following her; it was as if she had forgotten the girl’s existence.

  The woodland, when they reached it, seemed dark and uninviting after the fierce brightness of the gardens and Rose hesitated before entering, hovering on the edge. The countess seemed oblivious to Rose’s uneasiness for she marched right in, barely stopping to identify a path through the trees.

  Their progress slowed as they walked deeper into the woods and had to negotiate the odd fallen branch and twigs. The gardens, the parkland and Ashgrove House seemed far away and Rose wondered if she would ever be able to find her way back without Lady Belvedere’s assistance, or whether she would be lost in the woods forever going round and round in circles never being able to find her way out.

  The countess stopped abruptly and turned to face the girl, drawing herself up to her full imposing height.

  ‘Right, this will do, Miss Simpson, we have come far enough. I wanted to make sure that we wouldn’t be overheard as no doubt we would have been if we had taken a walk in the gardens. What I have to say to you is for you alone.’

  If the countess was awaiting a reaction to her words, she waited in vain.

  ‘I will not beat about the bush, Miss Simpson. As you are no doubt aware, I speak my mind. You can be in little doubt as to why I wanted to have a talk with you.’

  ‘Indeed, Lady Belvedere, I have absolutely no idea why you should wish to speak to me.’ Rose clenched her fist to give herself more courage. Her voice, she was pleased to hear, did not sound scared. ‘Ever since we have been introduced you seem to have gone out of your way either to ignore me completely or to snub me. To what I owe this current pleasure, I cannot imagine.’

  ‘No doubt you think yourself very clever, Miss Simpson, and perhaps you are in your own way. But I will not have this insolence, this pretence at denseness. We both know what you are trying to do, what your goal is, but I can tell you here and now that you can scheme as much as you want, but you will not succeed.’

  ‘Indeed, Lady Belvedere, I know no such thing,’ replied Rose coolly. ‘I am not aware that I have been scheming as you put it. My intention is just to enjoy a weekend in the country with my friend.’

  ‘Enough of this pretence.’ The countess was beginning to look annoyed. ‘I know that you have gone out of your way to befriend my daughter, to encourage her in her idiotic game playing at being lower class. You imagine no doubt that such a relationship will bring you advantages, that you may use it to elevate your position in society. You have also set your designs upon my son. You think you can bewitch him with your charms. Do you really think Cedric could be interested in a girl like you? He finds you a curiosity, nothing more, something to enliven a dull weekend. But if you hope to become something more to him, you are mistaken. Unlike you, he is born for great things. In time he will become the sixteenth Earl of Belvedere and he will need a wife of his own class who is worthy of him. He will marry a member of the aristocracy, the daughter of a viscount or a baron perhaps, or even the daughter of a duke or marquis, but certainly not someone like you!’ Lady Belvedere spat out the words in a disgusted laugh.

  ‘If you believe that to be so, Lady Belvedere, that Cedric can have no real interest in me, then I’m surprised that you’ve taken the trouble to have a talk with me.’

  ‘My son is young and impressionable, Miss Simpson and it is possible that in an unguarded moment you may manage to lead him astray, but, I warn you, before you do something that you may, no will regret, that if you are thinking of trying to trap my son, then you had better think again. Cedric will not be blackmailed into an undesirable marriage. Do you really think that the Belvedere family has never dealt with the likes of you before? Do you honestly think I am just going to stand back and let my only son ruin his life?’

  ‘I think you have insulted me quite enough, Lady Belvedere. I’m not going to stay and waste my breath trying to argue with you. I could tell you that you have got it all wrong, that you don’t know me at all, but I k
now you wouldn’t believe a word I say.’

  ‘You’re right, Miss Simpson, on all accounts. How very perceptive of you. I want you to pack up and leave immediately. Go back to the house, make some excuse to Lavinia for your sudden departure and then summon a maid to pack your case, although,’ Lady Belvedere broke off to look Rose up and down disparagingly, ‘you are no doubt used to packing your own bags, I doubt very much whether your mother has a servant. So no need after all to trouble my sister’s servants. However, I am sure if you ask politely enough they will arrange for the chauffeur to drive you to the railway station.’

  ‘You mistake my meaning, Lady Belvedere. When I said that I would not stay here, I meant literally that. I meant I’m not staying in these woods to be insulted by you. I have no intention of leaving Ashgrove House.’

  ‘But I demand that you do!’ Lady Belvedere, who was not used to being contradicted, was beginning to go red in the face.

  ‘You have no authority to demand that I leave, Lady Belvedere. I am here as the guest of Sir William and Lady Withers and, I might add’, here Rose paused to pluck up the necessary courage, ‘unlike you, I am an invited guest.’

  ‘How dare you, Miss Simpson! Lady Withers is my sister. I need no formal invitation to come and stay here. Do you think this rudeness does you any favours? It certainly won’t win me over. Do you really think that I’ll back down?’

  ‘I have no idea what you will do, Lady Belvedere. But if I am being rude, it is only in response to your rudeness to me. You have made it evident to everyone, including the servants, how much you resent me and my presence here at Ashgrove House. And today you have left me in little doubt as to your feeling towards me. So if I am being rude to you, it is no more than you deserve.’

  Silence filled the woodland, an uneasy, almost eerie silence, in stark contrast to the raised voices just before. Rose found herself shaking; she was too shocked to speak further. Never before had anyone spoken to her with such hatred, and never had she felt driven to speak to anyone so rudely. How appalled her mother would have been if she could have heard her. Lady Belvedere’s face was quite purple now with rage and she was trembling. During the course of her tirade her voice had risen until her last few sentences had been almost shouted, strands of her hair escaping from her bun. For the first time that morning, Rose was pleased that the conversation had not taken place in the gardens where there almost certainly would have been witnesses to this spectacle.