01 - Murder at Ashgrove House

by Margaret Addison

  The quietness that followed the scene felt unnatural, more a lull before the storm than after it, and Rose almost wished that the countess would continue with her threats or turn and walk away, not just stand there and stare at her with obvious hatred. She realised suddenly that neither woman knew what to do to break the deadlock.

  When she heard the twig snap, it did not surprise her unduly or seem of significance. It was so quiet, this unnatural silence, with the two women glowering at each other that she expected sound to be amplified. So she made the mistake of dismissing it as just some creature scurrying about amongst the undergrowth, although it had been loud enough to cause both women to inwardly start and look up, momentarily distracted from their confrontation. Later, Rose told the inspector she was sure that the noise had come from behind a clump of bushes or undergrowth some way off behind her, but at the time she had been too disorientated with shock following the row to be sure, and she had had her back to it whereas Lady Belvedere had had a clear view. It was only later, when the reality of the situation hit her that she wondered whether Lady Belvedere had seen something that she herself had not. Rose herself had not turned around. She might have done so had it not been for the reaction of the countess which had distracted and alarmed her. For Lady Belvedere had seemed to draw a breath, as if she had been taken aback. The colour had drained from her face and she had suddenly looked afraid. This rapid transformation from a fierce woman to a cowering one had frightened Rose and she had instinctively taken a step towards Lady Belvedere, what her intention in doing so exactly was she did not know for it seemed strange and inappropriate somehow to try and comfort or reassure the woman who only minutes earlier had been berating her. As it happened it did not matter for at the last moment she had inadvertently stumbled and lurched forward. She had tried desperately to catch at Lady Belvedere’s arm to stop herself from falling, but had failed. At the same instant that she had hit the ground she had heard the gun shot rip through the air. It had been very loud and she had lain there trembling, not trying to get up, knowing exactly what it was.

  When Rose did at last look up, she could not see Lady Belvedere at first. Where she had been standing there was just emptiness, as if she had been swallowed up by the trees and disappeared. But then Rose had lowered her eyes to the ground and seen the figure lying prostrate on the earth amongst the twigs and leaves. For a moment she had been unable to take it in, wondering whether her own heart had stopped, and then she had tried to hurry towards the body. Due to the shock she found that she had insufficient energy to drag herself up on to her feet. Instead she had crawled forward on her hands and knees feeling the dry earth beneath her palms, vaguely aware that she was ruining her one good day dress but not caring.

  Lady Belvedere was dead, she could see that straightaway by the frozen expression on her face and the eyes wide open but unseeing. Her hat had come off and lay a few feet away and Rose found herself thinking nonsensically how annoyed Lady Belvedere would be to see that it was covered with dirt. The countess was wearing an unbuttoned tweed jacket over a white blouse which was fast turning red as blood seeped out from the hidden wound. There was no need for Rose to search in the pocket of her dress for a handkerchief to try to stem the flow of blood and yet she did so because she did not know what else to do. The futility of the gesture hit her; it was too late, Lady Belvedere was past saving.

  Rose was vaguely conscious that she was beginning to rock to and fro and then she heard a high pitched wail, a scream that was barely human and filled the air and made her start. It was only after a few seconds that she realised that the noise came from her own lungs and that she was clutching Lady Belvedere’s hand. She let it go flinging it from her as if it were contaminated. Still rocking to and fro she clutched her head in her hands, shut her eyes tight to keep out the horror and, tearing at her hair, she gave way to hysteria.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Detective Inspector Deacon and Sergeant Lane from Scotland Yard, sir’, Stafford said in his usual deferential manner as he showed both gentlemen into Sir William’s study.

  ‘Ah, very good.’ Sir William got up from the sofa where he had been sitting and threw aside the newspaper he had been trying to read to while away the time until their arrival. ‘So good of you to come so quickly. Scotland Yard, huh? A tragic business, of course, what, damned unpleasant, but I’d hardly have thought it warranted a couple of detectives to be sent down from Scotland Yard.’

  ‘We were in the area, Sir William,’ replied Inspector Deacon, a tall, dark-haired rather handsome man dressed in a three-piece, pin-striped suit who had an authoritative air about him, which immediately revealed his profession and which Sir William found rather comforting. He might be a trifle younger than he had been expecting, but he’d do, yes, he’d do very nicely; just the sort of chap to sort out this spot of bother without making a song and dance about it. Probably had a gentle manner with the ladies too, which would come in jolly useful with poor little Miss Simpson.

  ‘We were sorting out a case of embezzlement in the area, sir,’ the Inspector continued. ‘The Chief Constable thought it best to call in Scotland Yard over this unfortunate incident, being as we were on hand so to speak and it involves the wife of a Peer.’

  ‘Quite so, quite so.’ Sir William beckoned them to sit down. The sergeant chose a chair by the window, outside Sir William’s direct line of vision, where he could take notes discreetly and relatively unobserved, while the Inspector chose an armchair facing the sofa.

  ‘Coffee if you please, Stafford.’ Sir William sank back down onto the sofa.

  ‘Very good, sir.’ Stafford left, closing the door gently behind him.

  ‘It’s a most unfortunate business, Inspector. Not the sort of thing one wants to have happen at a weekend house party. I think you’ll find it was a very tragic accident rather than anything more untoward. I’ve done nothing but think about how it could have happened since I heard the news. The more I’ve thought about it, the more I’m certain there can only be one explanation. It must have been a poacher in the woods looking for a rabbit or such like to feed his family. Goodness knows, it wouldn’t be the first time. And poor Lady Belvedere just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. How the poor fellow came to shoot her by mistake I simply can’t quite fathom. Most of them are pretty good shots, I can tell you, but perhaps he was the worse for wear and inadvertently let his gun go off. And then, no doubt as not, he panicked and ran off. I’m sure that in a day or so he’ll come forward when his conscience gets the better of him. I don’t think our British justice system will treat him too harshly. ’

  ‘Indeed, sir, that’s a possible explanation,’ Inspector Deacon admitted and tried to keep the scepticism from his voice. Nevertheless Sir William looked up sharply as if he doubted the policeman’s sincerity. He’s clutching at straws, poor old fellow, thought the inspector, he knows the scenario he’s putting forward is highly unlikely but he doesn’t want to face the alternatives, can’t say I blame him.

  ‘I suppose you’ll be wanting to talk to Miss Simpson, Inspector? She was out walking with Lady Belvedere when the countess was shot; a dreadful thing for a young girl to experience, jolly nasty. She was in a totally hysterical state, I can tell you, when they brought her back to the house. I was tempted to send for the doctor to give her a sedative, but I thought you’d probably want to interview her straightaway, what with her being a witness so to speak, not that I think she saw anything. So I made do with giving her a little brandy and Mrs Torrington’s sitting with her now because she was in no fit state to be left alone.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir William, most thoughtful. I’ll speak with Miss Simpson shortly, but before I do there are one or two things I’d like to get clear first. Perhaps you could give me a run through of who exactly is staying at your house this weekend.’

  ‘Certainly, Inspector.’ Sir William looked relieved at being given a question that he could answer easily. ‘Let me see. Well, of course there’s myself an
d my wife, Constance, Lady Withers,’ he began crossing the names off his fingers, ‘Henry, Earl of Belvedere, poor Marjorie’s husband, their son, Cedric, Lord Sedgwick, their daughter, Lady Lavinia and Cedric’s friend, Marquis Sneddon.’ The sergeant caught the inspector’s eye and raised his eyebrows at the sound of so many what he called “toffs”. ‘And Lady Lavinia’s friend, Miss Simpson of course,’ ended Sir William.

  ‘Just a moment, Sir William, you mentioned a Mrs Torrington earlier. How does she fit in?’

  ‘Oh dear me, had I forgotten to mention Edith? I’m afraid one does rather forget about Edith. She’s staying here too, of course. She’s a distant relative of my wife’s, one of her old school friends in fact.’

  ‘And Lady Belvedere was your sister-in law?’

  ‘Yes, indeed, Inspector. She was my wife’s older sister.’ Sir William appeared suddenly lost in thought as he looked over to the unlit fireplace. ‘It’s funny to think that we were all inseparable once, when we were young, Henry, Marjorie, Connie, Edith and I. Five friends who did everything together. A long time ago now, of course, a lot of water under the bridge since then as they say.’

  At that moment Stafford entered the room noiselessly bearing a silver tray with a silver coffee pot and three bone china cups and saucers, a milk jug and a sugar bowl. The inspector wondered how his sergeant was going to manage the tricky task of trying to juggle his cup and saucer in one hand with his notebook and pencil in the other. Stafford however foresaw the difficulty, as every good butler would, and as soon as he had poured the coffee and distributed the cups and saucers to Sir William and Deacon, he pulled up a coffee table to Lane and placed his cup and saucer in easy reach, while ensuring that it could not be knocked over accidently. He gave a final glance in the direction of Sir William to ascertain if anything more was required of him and, getting no sign to indicate the affirmative, left the room as silently as he had entered it, closing the door behind him as quietly as if he had been drawing a curtain.

  ‘Quite a house party then, Sir William?’

  ‘Yes, I mean, no. It is but it wasn’t intended to be. My wife had only invited Edith, Lavinia and Miss Simpson for the weekend. But then we received a wire from Cedric to say that he was coming down and he ended up bringing his friend with him. And then we had a telephone call to say that Henry and Marjorie were coming down as well. It quite upset my wife, I can tell you, she thought they were all the wrong mix of people to have together, that they’d get along terribly and that there’d be all sorts of rows and disagreements, and oh ….’ Sir William stopped suddenly as he realised what he’d just said. ‘It rattled the servants too,’ he continued valiantly. ‘They’d all the bedrooms to suddenly get ready and of course the food. Constance and Mrs Palmer, our cook-housekeeper were determined to impress them. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, Inspector, but Lady Belvedere could be very critical if everything wasn’t exactly to her liking. It used to worry my wife dreadfully. She used to be on tenter hooks before a visit from her sister, not that she used to visit very often, and hardly ever with her husband.’

  ‘I see,’ said Deacon, studying Sir William closely. ‘So was there any particular reason why they all decided to descend on you this weekend?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose there was. Lady Belvedere no doubt had got wind somehow that Lavinia would be coming down and saw it as an opportunity to berate her on this shop work malarkey of hers, try and get her to give it up and all that. Of course, it just made the girl more obstinate and determined to stick it out. You know probably better than I do, Inspector, what young girls are like nowadays. See nothing wrong with going against their parents’ wishes. And Lavinia has definitely got spirit. Anyway, coming here was the only way that Marjorie was going to see her, because from what I can gather, Lavinia has been refusing to go home for the weekend, not wanting to receive a lecture from her mother.

  ‘And then of course I think Cedric, that’s Lord Sedgwick, Lavinia’s brother, was curious to meet the friend, Miss Simpson. Quite smitten he was as soon as he set eyes on her. I think he found her a welcome change from the young ladies he usually mixes with. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, has little Miss Simpson. Nothing silly and frivolous about her and she knows the meaning of hard work. The two of them seemed to get on like a house on fire, which, as you probably can imagine, did not go down at all well with Lady Belvedere.’ Sir William paused as he reflected and it seemed to bring a smile to his kindly face. ‘Of course, no doubt Cedric also wanted to see how Lavinia was doing. If I’m honest I don’t think that any of us thought that she would stick with the shop work, too used to having her own way and enjoying herself. It was the result of a bet, you know, with her brother that she couldn’t earn her own living for six months. But I’ll say this for her, she’s determined when she sets her mind to something and I don’t think she wanted to lose face in front of Cedric. They’ve always been rather competitive ever since they were children.’

  ‘Thank you. Right, before I have a word with Miss Simpson, I’d be grateful, Sir William, if you could tell me what sort of a woman the deceased was.’

  ‘Ah,’ Sir William suddenly looked uncomfortable and disinclined to say anything further.

  ‘Sir William, I know it seems in bad taste to say anything disrespectful about the dead’, said Deacon gently, ‘but we really do need to build up a picture of the deceased’s character. It will help us get to the truth of how she happened to get killed.’

  ‘I don’t see why that’s necessary, Inspector. If she was killed by a poacher, as I believe she was, I don’t see that her character has got anything to do with it.’

  ‘Even so, Sir William, I’d be grateful if you’d humour me.’ There was something about the inspector’s voice that persuaded Sir William that he would not take no for an answer.

  ‘Very well, in that case, Inspector, just between ourselves,’ Sir William continued, still looking rather ill at ease. It amused Deacon to note that Sir William appeared to have completely forgotten about Lane, who was seated not far behind him and was at that very moment scribbling furiously into his notebook. ‘Lady Belvedere was quite a difficult woman. If I am quite honest, I would not call her a particularly nice woman. Quite frankly, she was spiteful, domineering and ruthless. She wanted her own way in everything and wasn’t concerned how she got it, or who she trampled on in the process. I’m afraid she was rather a bully.’ It appeared to Deacon that once Sir William had overcome his natural distaste about speaking ill of the dead and his sister-in-law to boot, there was no stopping him, the flood gates had opened and his words poured out. ‘My wife was quite scared of her, you know, had been ever since she was a small child even though she had no reason to be now, of course. I think her own children were probably equally afraid of her. She had quite a temper when she was annoyed, I can tell you, she could be very vindictive when she put her mind to it.’

  The inspector looked up and caught his sergeant’s eye. He knew exactly what Lane was thinking: no wonder someone took a pop at her!

  ‘Right, so I assume from what you’ve said that she may have had a number of enemies, people who may have wished her harm,’ Deacon said aloud, trying not to be put off by Lane who was nodding his head vigorously behind Sir William’s back.

  ‘No, no, Inspector. She could be a trifle unpleasant, that’s all.’ Sir William looked suddenly alarmed, as if he wished to retract his words. ‘I’ve probably exaggerated it a bit’, he added quickly in an attempt to lessen their effect. ‘Truth be told, although I didn’t like the woman very much, it doesn’t necessarily mean to say no-one else did. Probably a bit biased, Inspector, I was all set to marry her once, you know, a long time ago, had set my heart on having her for my wife. It’s hard to imagine now, but she was a jolly beautiful woman when she was young and of course beauty can blind one to a woman’s defects. Ah well, it obviously wasn’t mean to be. Now I just thank my lucky stars that I married her sister instead, got exactly the wife I thought I would with Consta
nce.’ He spoke Lady Withers’ name with affection, as if he had suddenly realised that he had had a lucky escape.

  Deacon tried to hide his exasperation. If Sir William was now keen on back tracking, it was unlikely that he would express his feelings so freely again.

  ‘The family’s taken Lady Belvedere’s death very badly, I can tell you, Inspector. My wife’s naturally very upset at losing her sister in such tragic circumstances, Lavinia is bawling her eyes out with her now in the morning room, enough to sink a battle ship, and Cedric has shut himself up alone in his room and refuses to speak to anyone, even to his father.’

  ‘And the Earl of Belvedere, Lady Belvedere’s husband, how has he taken the news?’

  ‘Henry? Well, he’s ensconced himself in my library, just as he did yesterday and the day before and every time he comes to stay for that matter. Not sure the news has really sunk in. He’s in his own little world most of the time, Inspector. Obsessed by old books, you know, collects them, he’s quite an authority I believe. I have rather a few valuable and interesting ones myself which he’s making a point of studying. I rather think he’s hoping that I’ll sell them to him, but I shan’t, they’ve been in my family for generations.’

  ‘So you don’t think he’s too upset by the news?’

  ‘It’s not really that, Inspector. It’s rather hard to explain. I suppose it’s more that he and my sister-in-law led rather separate lives. I’m not saying that they’d fallen out, so much as they just had completely different interests and didn’t really see a lot of each other except at meal times.’