We both took a while to digest this startling piece of new information coming at us out of nowhere.
‘He is, is he?’ Alec said at last.
‘Lachlan is underwriting it,’ Biddy said. ‘In Lady Love’s memory. And McReadie is going, of course. He’s the plantsman. He’s needed to make sure the cuttings or bulbs or seeds or whatever Spencer finds are properly handled so they survive the journey back here.’
‘We’d heard as much,’ I said. ‘But this is the first news that David Spencer is part of the plan. New Zealand is a very exotic destination to keep quiet about.’
‘That’s just the starting point,’ Biddy said. ‘If they don’t find one there they’re going to move on to China and then the Americas. Lachlan wants a memorial to her. David Spencer probably wants it too. And the way I see it is that if he’s in New Zealand he’s nice and far away from all of us. And the reason he hasn’t mentioned it is that he doesn’t want to steal Mallory’s thunder. He’s going to slip away tomorrow.’
‘Unless the police stop him,’ Alec said. ‘Do you have any shred of proof? Anything at all? The fact of his being out of the way on the day of the birthday is suspicious but not conclusive. Likewise the things you overheard. Is there anything else?’
‘Well,’ Biddy said. ‘What you were saying about an alibi. Making it seem that she was alive and making sure he was out of the way – that’s only half the story, isn’t it? There’s also the matter of needing to be on the spot to do the deed when it really was done.’ We nodded. ‘And I think I saw him.’
That set Alec and me back upon our heels. ‘After tea on the day before LL’s birthday, he said he was walking along to the street, to the grocer’s shop. He made a great fuss about it, asking everyone if they wanted anything while he was there: tobacco or anything. And off he went. But I was in the turret room with its windows all round, and I saw him sneaking back. He wasn’t on the road. He was crouched down behind the wall on the landward side and he was scuttling along the edge of the field there. Keeping his head down so no one on the road could see him, you know. The only windows on that side below the turret are the French windows out of the library and the hedge screens them, even if the curtains are open, so it was the merest chance that I saw him. I watched him all the way until he was too close and then I heard the little side door bang as he came into the house. Now, that door is kept locked, you see. It used to lead to the outside privies before Lachlan updated the plumbing and it doesn’t lead anywhere now. It’s never used. So David Spencer must have unlocked it specially. He wouldn’t have tried it on the off-chance.’
‘And this was before supper on the thirteenth?’ Alec said.
‘The eve of her birthday,’ Biddy agreed.
‘Do you know where he went after he came into the house?’ I said. Biddy shook her head. ‘And why were you in the turret room?’
‘Fetching the pictures to set out for her birthday the next day,’ Biddy said. ‘I don’t know where he went when he came back. And I don’t know when he scuttled back along to the street. But I know he came banging in the front door with a lot of noise and bluster about half an hour later, with some leeks done up in newspaper that he said he’d seen in the shop and couldn’t resist because they were such fine specimens. He went straight to the kitchen to give them to Mrs McReadie. As if McReadie didn’t grow good enough leeks for us!’
‘He was definitely establishing an alibi,’ I said. ‘He must have been disappointed that no one in the family asked for peppermints or a picture paper. He had to buy something to make it clear he had been out.’
Biddy nodded. ‘And then he killed her and left her lying at the dovecote, put those notes on her door night and morning, then went off on the early boat hoping we’d find her while he was away.’
I gave a glance at Alec, wondering if we should tell this woman about Lady Love’s peregrinations. She clearly did not know that the body had spent time in the flower room. Alec shook his head slightly and I agreed. It was a pointlessly unpleasant image to put into Biddy’s head for all eternity.
‘What I don’t understand,’ said Alec, ‘is why, having got away with it, he didn’t hoof it. Why was he still here when the snow melted? Why is he here today? Why couldn’t he wait somewhere else for this expedition to begin?’
‘I think he’s watching us to make sure no one suspects him,’ said Biddy. ‘He couldn’t bear to be somewhere else and all of us talking behind his back, putting it together and tightening the noose. So he stays and watches. It’s been driving me demented. I daren’t even tell poor Dickie in case it floors him.’
‘I don’t imagine he’s been troubled by you all talking,’ I said. ‘Since no one is saying a word to anyone. Yours is the sixth version we’ve winkled out. All different. Spencer must be cock-a-hoop.’
‘And on that note,’ Alec said. ‘Let’s the three of us get up to the ballroom, shall we? If he’s as watchful as all that he’ll be wondering why we’re in a pow-wow.’
‘I’m just glad I’ve got you two to help tonight,’ Biddy said. ‘We should make sure that one of us can see him at all times. It would have been awfully suspicious if it was just me on his tail – and I couldn’t follow him to the cloakroom – but this way we should be able to manage it.’
‘I’ll mention it to Teddy,’ I said. ‘And Grant. No doubt she’ll find some excuse to attend.’
With that, we left the dining room. Alec strode ahead and Biddy kept pace, then, realising that I was nowhere near them, they turned back and waited for me to wriggle my way across the floor. They did not notice, for that reason, David Spencer descending the staircase. He had one hand tucked into his dinner jacket and the other resting lightly on the banister rail and looked the picture of ease and suavity.
‘There you all are!’ he said. ‘I’ve been sent to round you up. Carriages approach and you are needed, Dandy.’
‘I?’ I said.
‘Mother of the bridegroom,’ said Spencer. ‘Mallory wants you to greet the guests as well as her, Donald and Lach. She’s feeling the lack of her mother terribly tonight. And Cherry thinks she would excite a little too much comment from the neighbours, given her …’ He waved a hand in front of him.
‘Very well,’ I said, wriggling to the bottom of the stairs. I could, indeed, hear the sound of revellers mounting the steps towards the front door. Lairdie, the footman, was making his way towards it to open up for them. He was dressed this evening in Highland dress, his kilt swinging and various bits of him glinting as the chain of his sporran, his silver buttons and the dagger in his sock caught the lamplight. I gripped the handrail and tried to lift one of my legs to make a start on the bottom step. Nothing happened. I tried the other one.
‘Oh, Lord!’ said Alec. ‘Would an arm help at all?’
‘I don’t see how,’ I said. Lairdie was opening the door and a rush of cool night air and happy voices poured in. I looked back at the stairs and then, before I knew what had happened, David Spencer bent down, grabbed me round the silk-encased thighs and straightened again with me over his shoulder. He set off up the stairs at a trot, me squeaking my disapproval and trying not to get dizzy looking at the steps falling away behind his heels.
In less than half a minute we were on the first floor, I was back on my feet and Spencer was smoothing his hair.
‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘It’s not usually my style to cart women off without permission but there was nothing else for it.’ And he left me.
Alec, arriving at my side, was fuming with impotent rage. ‘Cheek!’ he said. ‘Upstart! I could have lifted you, Dandy. I’m just as strong as him.’
‘Hardly flattering,’ I said, ‘to reassure me that you’re hefty enough not to buckle under my weight.’ Biddy Tibball was up beside us on the landing now. Her face was pale and drawn.
‘The sight of it,’ she said. ‘The sight of him carrying you like a … well, like a dead weight. As if he’s done it before. And we know he has. I feel quite sick.’
�
�Steel yourself, Mrs Tibball,’ said Alec.
But I, another frail woman, and currently hobbled by my outfit to boot, felt just as shaken. ‘You’re right, Biddy,’ I murmured. ‘We keep him in sight this evening. We keep one set of eyes on him at all times.’
17
It made for a rather less dull party than I thought was in store. Brought up as I was to train my full attention on whomever I was currently speaking to, never to glance over a shoulder to find more interesting goings-on, I usually find myself stuck with curates and aunts. Tonight though, I stood at the edge of the ballroom while Alec was dancing and kept my beady eye bouncing around the throng.
The youngsters, of whom there was a lively crowd, managed to dance terrible modern dances to all but the very slowest dirges provided by a five-piece band and, when the dirges outwitted them, they went to stand by the open windows, smoke black cigarettes that someone had produced from somewhere – not the Applecross grocer’s shop – and drink brimming glasses of champagne until they cooled off. While their jabbing elbows and knees were off the dancefloor, the elders ventured out, doing some terrifically complicated reels at a snail’s pace, while the fiddles moaned on and the drums boomed out their death knell.
I had never seen the point of those reels. They are unnerving to be in, as one is thrown from man to man like a skittle, always in danger of going wrong and wrecking the set or of missing the arm held out towards one and simply spinning off into the tables and chairs and breaking limbs. Watching it, however, was rather moving. The couples were absolutely stony-faced and in perfect time with the plaintive music. I was even quite proud of Hugh, swishing round so knowledgably, no matter how involved the patterns became. Perhaps I was turning Scottish after all these long years. I blinked as David Spencer passed close by me, catching then flinging away a woman in a blue cotton dress, a white apron and a little hat. The serving maids were dancing.
Perhaps he had made a bet with someone that he would partner every woman in the room before the night was done. Biddy had been grim-faced as she did her stint, but I applauded her nevertheless. If he had killed my best friend, I might not have been able to stomach his hands upon me. I had also marked him, before this maidservant, with Mallory, with Cherry and with several of the jolly neighbours. It was inevitable, I suppose, that eventually he would come up and proposition me.
‘It’s a very slow waltz,’ he said, ‘and I promise to stick to the time-honoured shuffle and not put in any fancy steps. Would you care to?’
‘Delighted,’ I said. As we took to the floor, Alec grabbed Biddy Tibball and muscled his way towards us, setting up just behind Spencer’s head with a glower. I was aware of Hugh watching with rather a lot of interest and foresaw that I should have to explain the glower.
‘It’s all going off very well,’ I said, as the music started up and we spun away, in something far from the promised shuffle. At first, I clutched his shoulder and tried to sort my feet out, but he was what they call in professional ballroom circles a ‘strong lead’ and so instead I let myself be rattled round like dice in a cup without worrying. ‘I thought it would be sad. I thought no matter how many people were here, all we would be able to think about was who was missing.’
‘I can’t say she’s been far from my mind,’ he said. ‘But one must try, for Mallory.’
‘Indeed.’
‘He’s a splendid boy, your Don,’ Spencer said next.
‘Boy rather than man?’ I said. ‘If you are asking me what I think about the difference in their ages—’
‘I’m not.’ He pulled his head back and gave me a startled look. ‘He’s a boy and Mallory is a girl, viewed from my great number of years.’
‘Mine too,’ I said, with a laugh. It was hard to remember that this man was a cold-blooded killer. ‘If I had ordered up a bride from a menu I would have ordered one younger and I wouldn’t have ordered her so soon. But she’s lovely and he cares for her. I mean, look at them!’
Donald and Mallory were dancing a rather more ambitious waltz, thanks to the split in the front of her skirt, but despite that they did not seem to be concentrating on getting the steps right, but were gazing deep into one another’s eyes, with small smiles on their faces. I turned the problem over in my mind: did a mother killed by a spurned lover taint Mallory? No, I concluded. When this was over, she would be his bride. Then, I cast an eye around to see if Hugh was witnessing the display of affection and caught sight of Grant watching with as much triumph on her face as though she was not just the wardrobe mistress and hairdresser, but at least the matchmaker if not the proud mother. I chuckled.
‘So stately his form and so lovely her face that never a hall such a galliard did grace,’ said Spencer, smiling at them too.
‘What’s a galliard?’ I said.
‘A kind of dance, although I’m taking licence since they’re actually doing a waltz.’
‘You certainly are steeped in Highland … what-have-you,’ I said. ‘For a Londoner.’
‘I’m not a Londoner,’ he said. ‘Not even the home counties. Chaucer would think me a Midland man. And anyway, Walter Scott isn’t from the Highlands.’
‘Scott, is it?’ I said. ‘I just about know “Oh what a tangled web we weave”, and that’s my lot.’
I bit my lip after that, but Spencer did not seem to read anything into it. ‘I’m very glad Mallory is going to be settled,’ he said presently. ‘Changes are coming to Applecross, I fear.’
‘Inevitably,’ I said. ‘But changes were coming anyway.’
‘What do you mean?’ I thought I felt his hand grow warm in mine; an unpleasant sensation, and I briefly regretted the demise of long evening gloves, like the dowager I was.
‘Lady Love was going to leave Applecross,’ I said. My throat felt dry as I considered, too late, the wisdom of speaking. But I was safe enough, with Alec and Biddy watching and surrounded by people.
‘Do you think so?’ David Spencer said. ‘What have you heard?’
‘What do you mean?’ I said, hoping I sounded innocent. ‘She fitted out the manse for her and Lachlan, didn’t she?’
‘Oh!’ he said. ‘Leave this house, you mean? I thought you meant leave the estate. Leave Wester Ross. Leave this place and make a new life.’
‘With you,’ I added, my heart in my mouth and my throat now dry enough to click when I swallowed.
‘So you did hear something,’ he said. ‘Of course, in this house of women it was ridiculous to believe that the secret would be kept. Yes, I hoped to persuade Lavinia to come and live with me. I came up for her birthday to state my case and sweep her away.’
‘And on her birthday, when you disappeared for hours, were you making preparations?’
‘No, no, it was all wrecked by then. By that time I was trying to avert an even worse disaster.’
‘You failed,’ I said.
‘I did,’ said Spencer. ‘I loved her. And it killed her.’
‘It?’ I said. His hand was now so slick with sweat that mine was slipping out of it. ‘It killed her?’
‘Don’t tell me you believe in this “tramp”!’ he said, with a sneering laugh. ‘You’re a detective, for one thing, and not a stupid woman even without that. I’ve been on tenterhooks every minute since you got back, waiting for you to gather us all up and lay the truth out on the table.’
‘I take it you wouldn’t care for that?’ I said.
‘Not at all,’ said Spencer. ‘Although I’d be interested to know how you uncovered that truth, since you know less than I do of the matter. I don’t suppose you’d do me the great favour of just looking the other way until tomorrow. Once I’m gone, you can tell who you like and say whatever you choose. But if it’s all right with Lach and the girls, why can’t you just, for tonight, look the other way?’
He had pulled back again to see into my eyes and suddenly he lunged forward as if he was going to kiss me or, I feared, bite me. It was, however, just that he had been bumped from behind. The male half of another couple
was holding his head too and the village woman staring over her partner’s shoulder at us had a look of alarm on her face.
‘Gammon his cart!’ she said.
‘Not at all,’ I said. I was getting very good at guessing. ‘Don’t mention it. No harm done.’
I was wrong about that, though. David Spencer let go of my hand, put his to the back of his head and brought it away with red fingers.
‘Good heavens,’ I said. ‘You’re bleeding.’
‘Yes, it was quite a smack.’
‘Shall we get you a bandage?’ I said. ‘Some ice at least?’
‘Best not fuss,’ he said. ‘It’s terribly bad luck as far as these Highlanders are concerned, to shed blood at a wedding or a christening. I don’t want to chance an engagement party. If you’ll forgive me.’
He took me to the edge of the dancefloor and then shot off towards the doors. I signalled frantically to Alec, who – I am afraid to say – simply left Biddy standing alone in the middle of the room and hightailed it off after him. Biddy came to stand next to me, naturally enough given the fact that we were two orphans abandoned in the middle of a dance.
‘What happened?’ she said. ‘I was looking the other way.’
‘Tell me,’ I said, ‘is it bad luck to shed blood at a Highland wedding?’
‘It’s rather bad luck to shed blood at all,’ she said, reasonably enough, ‘but there are no particular taboos about it. Why?’
‘In that case,’ I said, ‘I’ve definitely tipped our hand. I am sorry. I couldn’t resist it, while I had the chance. You did much better than me.’
‘Not really,’ Biddy said. ‘I’m afraid I dropped a hint or two of my own. We were talking about architecture.’
‘That sounds harmless.’
‘And I asked if he knew why there were no windows on the east side of the house. I said it seemed odd not to have any way to see if there were strangers approaching unless one stood in the turret.’ She rubbed her nose. ‘And he stiffened. I felt his shoulders go quite wooden.’
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