‘Well, I guess all we can do now is clear up. Gillies said she’d have Susan see to Nina’s things,’ she said. ‘She’s a very good servant, isn’t she?’
‘And your books?’ The bed had been stripped and the bedding removed. The bedside cabinets lay bare, the drawers open. The police had been here, Mirabelle thought. They’d searched the place. Of course they had.
‘I suppose they’re airing everything,’ Tash said. ‘Oh lord. Susan must have packed my books with Nina’s stuff. Let’s leave it. It seems gruesome to sort through her things.’
‘Why don’t you check the hut?’
‘The books won’t be there.’
‘Check all the same.’
As Tash wandered through the cottage, Mirabelle retrieved the notebook she’d hidden the day before. Then she clicked open the suitcases. Tash’s books were on top. Expertly, she removed them and checked the rest of the case, running her hands down the side. Then, quickly, she tried to shift the tiny lock on Nina’s notebook with no success, until, hearing Tash coming back, she tucked it inside and clicked the case closed again. This would at least get it back to the house. She could retrieve it another time. ‘Here,’ she said, handing Tash the novels. ‘Someone will come and get the rest of it, I’m sure.’
‘Thanks. You’re a honey. Let’s get out of here, shall we?’ The girl gave a little shiver, her eyes misty.
They walked back up the hill. The grass was slippery after the storm, the bloated mud swelling through the green. On the other side of the glen the sky was clearing, and a long patch of blue had appeared. Mirabelle found herself unexpectedly out of breath as she climbed towards the house. At the top, Tash turned to take in the view.
‘I won’t go down there again,’ she said.
Eleanor sat alone at the table with The Times propped against a pair of Georgian silver candlesticks when they returned. ‘I wondered what had happened to you two. I feel we need to keep tabs on everyone for safety. We rang the gong for ages. Then the constable said you had gone for a walk. I said to Gillies that at least you were together. I’m glad you’re back. We might as well cheer up this rotten day,’ she said, and headed for the drinks cabinet and the silver cocktail shaker.
Tash downed a martini in one. Eleanor laughed. ‘That was obviously required,’ she said. ‘I know I promised you a trip to the cashmere mill, Mirabelle, but it’s not on today, is it? Not now.’
‘We can go another time.’
‘I want to come,’ Tash said firmly. ‘I need to finalise Nina’s order. We can’t let the boutiques down.’
Eleanor put her arm round Tash and gave her a squeeze. ‘You’re such a good girl,’ she said, as if she was speaking to a puppy. Then she handed her another martini. After the second glass, Tash disappeared down the hall in search of the lavatory.
‘Feeling any better?’ Eleanor asked.
Mirabelle toyed with the stem of her glass. She was grateful for Eleanor’s discretion in not discussing what had happened in front of Tash. ‘I keep going back to conversations we’ve had, or things he’s done and seeing it in the light of this,’ she admitted. ‘I know it’s silly – I mean, look what Tash is going through.’
‘Not at all. If there’s anything I can do …’
‘I feel as if I hardly know him. Apart from anything else, I always thought he was a city boy.’
‘Oh, he is. Alan wasn’t brought up out here – Deidre, his mother, was. She was the eldest by a year, I think, though daughters don’t inherit in families like these. I don’t approve. She must have been spunky. She married against her father’s will. McGregor’s father, Thomas, came to survey the bridge over the burn and ran away with the laird’s daughter. I suppose the family would have seen it as marrying beneath her, though who on earth a girl brought up in the middle of nowhere was supposed to marry, I’m not sure. Anyway, it was a love match – must have been.’
Mirabelle stared at her ring. How would the Bevans have taken to Deidre McGregor, she thought? She knew her parents would have considered Mirabelle marrying a policeman beneath her. They would have preferred Jack – a naval officer, whose family was at home on the smart side of London. But then, if she’d married Jack, he would have had to divorce his first wife, and her parents wouldn’t have liked that at all.
Eleanor continued. ‘As I understand it, Bruce never met Alan’s father, or at least not that he can remember. But his mother used to bring Alan here for holidays. You can just see them, can’t you? Two boys rambling about the estate – up and down to the village.’
‘Bruce is an only child?’
‘He had a younger sister, but she died as a baby.’
‘Do you want children, Eleanor?’
‘It hasn’t happened yet, but there’s still time. Do you?’
‘I think that’s passed.’
‘So you want a man who’s devoted? It’s the trust, huh?’
Mirabelle nodded. Eleanor was perceptive.
Tash clattered back down the hallway. ‘That martini has gone to my head,’ she said and flung herself on to the sofa.
‘That martini was two martinis,’ Eleanor pointed out. She moved towards the window. ‘Oh look,’ she said. ‘A taxi.’
‘What?’ Tash sounded as if she was half-singing the word.
‘The nearest taxi is in Inverness – who’d be coming from there?’
The taxi pulled up a little away from the house and a man got out. He was tall, wearing a well-tailored navy coat with a black shearling collar and a homburg.
‘Oh god,’ said Tash, standing as if to attention. ‘That’s Uncle Niko.’
‘He made smart work of the journey. All the way from New York inside of twenty-four hours,’ Eleanor said, checking the clock on the mantelpiece doubtfully, as if it wasn’t possible. ‘Bruce said he’d be in tonight at the earliest.’
‘Oh, that’s Niko for you,’ Tash replied. ‘That’s exactly what he’s like.’
The driver removed two suitcases from the car and followed the impressive figure to the door. Eleanor glanced in the direction of the back of the house as the bell rang. ‘We’d best leave it to Gillies,’ she said, suddenly standing on ceremony. They waited uncomfortably as they heard Gillies walking down the hallway, then she opened the drawing-room door with the man’s coat over her arm. ‘Baron Orlov,’ she said, and sniffed, as if she couldn’t believe the words she had just uttered.
Nicholas Orlov swept past her. He was greying and extremely handsome, with a tidy moustache and dark eyes. He bowed formally. Eleanor offered her hand and he kissed it. Mirabelle simply nodded. Then Niko threw his arms around Tash and said something in Russian. Tash hugged him and when she stepped back there were tears on her cheeks again.
‘Everyone here speaks English, Uncle Niko,’ she chided.
‘My apologies.’ When he spoke English his accent was American.
‘Oh please,’ Eleanor waved away the formalities. ‘You must have had a ghastly journey. Have you eaten? Can I offer you a drink?’
‘Thank you.’ He clicked his heels, as if he was in the military. ‘A drink would be most welcome.’
Eleanor reloaded the cocktail shaker and iced more gin. Niko smacked his lips. ‘This is excellent. Thank you,’ he said. ‘Most refreshing.’
‘You got here quickly.’
‘I came at once. I want to see her, of course.’
‘Nobody gets the boat any more,’ Tash sighed. ‘I mean, it’s so old-fashioned. With these new planes, people will be able to get anywhere in a few hours. Well, rich people, anyway.’
‘I’m afraid the police have removed Nina’s body,’ Eleanor explained.
‘Have they caught the man who killed her?’
‘That’s rather foxing them. It’s foxing everyone.’
‘Well, if I can’t see the body, I want to see Gregory.’
‘He’s staying in the village. We can send word.’
‘Where was he when it happened?’
‘In Glasgow on business. Nina sen
t him.’
Niko let out a low tutting sound, as if this was an unacceptable development and his sister’s murder was only to be expected in such circumstances. ‘He was to stay with her at all times. It’s too close,’ he said.
‘Close?’
‘Uncle Niko means to Russia,’ Tash cut in. ‘Geographically, we’re very close to Russia.’
‘In Scotland?’ Eleanor was incredulous.
‘The Reds,’ Niko said. ‘I told Nina it was dangerous. I said she could go to Southern Europe. But here it’s so far north – an easy journey by sea from Moscow.’
‘Moscow is landlocked.’ Eleanor sounded confused.
‘I mean the orders come from Moscow,’ Niko brushed off her comment. ‘If the Reds were ever to expand their territory, this would be an easy target.’
‘An invasion? In Scotland?’ Eleanor’s tone continued disbelieving.
Tash sighed loudly. ‘I told you,’ she said. ‘The Reds. Everywhere.’
‘What do you know? You weren’t there,’ Niko fumed.
‘You were five, Uncle Niko,’ Tash stood up to him.
‘Everyone knows how dangerous they are. These terrible atomic weapons and now Khrushchev is threatening America! Next door in New York, the Humbolts have dug a shelter in their garden.’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t followed suit.’
Niko put down his empty glass. ‘I apologise,’ he said coldly. ‘Family feuds are so tiresome for onlookers.’
Eleanor shrugged this off. ‘It’s great you feel comfortable enough to speak openly,’ she said. ‘Gillies has prepared a room. The police haven’t said when they will release poor Nina’s body but you are welcome to stay as long as you’d like.’
Niko clicked his heels again. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll show you upstairs,’ Tash offered. ‘No point in standing on ceremony.’
‘Would you, dear?’ Eleanor smiled. ‘And in the meantime, I’ll see if we can rustle up Gregory. You can speak to him in my husband’s study, Baron. I’ll have Gillies let you know when he arrives.’
Niko and Tash trooped into the hallway as Eleanor rang the bell for service. A moment later a disgruntled Mrs Gillies arrived.
‘Could you send to the village for Gregory, please?’ Eleanor asked.
‘I can’t find Susan anywhere, madam,’ Gillies said.
Eleanor paused. ‘Oh, I told her she could go home,’ she remembered. ‘I should have passed that on. She seemed upset this morning.’
Gillies loitered. ‘I can’t run everything on my own two days in a row, madam, what with the extra guests.’
Eleanor sighed. ‘Sorry, Mrs Gillies. I thought I was being kind, but I wasn’t very kind to you, was I? Perhaps you could send for Gregory by telephone? Baron Orlov wants to see him.’
Mrs Gillies did not look hopeful. There were only two telephones in the village – a box outside the shop and one at the police station. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she said.
‘Thank you. And I want you to know I appreciate everything,’ Eleanor gushed. ‘I expect this month Mr Robertson will see to it that you receive a bonus.’
Gillies’s expression made it clear that money was not the question. It was a matter of principle. ‘Youngsters just don’t have the grit,’ she said, turning to leave the room.
Once she’d gone, Eleanor flopped on to the sofa. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure we’ll be able to buy the old girl off. Though I don’t agree with her about Susan not having the grit. Anyone who makes it down to Inverslain in this morning’s weather deserves a medal.’
‘Inverslain?’
‘The village she comes from, further along the track. I just can’t seem to crack this “lady of the manor” thing, Mirabelle. I hope all this isn’t going to spoil your holiday.’
Mirabelle couldn’t help but smile. A murder, grieving relations, a revelation about McGregor and a staffing crisis was hardly what they’d had in mind when they decided to come. ‘Oh, not at all,’ she said.
Eleanor let out a giggle. ‘You’re so English.’ She smiled. ‘I love it!’
Chapter 7
Belief is a wise wager
Mirabelle heard the car coming along the lane at the rear of the house at the end of the afternoon. She listened as the engine cut out and the sound of the doors slamming echoed on the damp air like gunshots. A few minutes later, McGregor walked into his room. He knocked on the adjoining door and hovered sheepishly in the frame, his cheeks ruddy.
‘Did you catch anything?’ she asked.
‘Dinner is secure. The fishermen returned with three handsome salmon. Well, Bruce did, anyway. We also picked up company – the Dougals will be eating with us. I can ask Gillies to make you a tray, if you’d prefer? I’d quite understand if you don’t want to come down.’
Mirabelle shook her head. ‘I’m all right.’
‘I’m not,’ he said. ‘I can’t get you out of my mind. I’m so sorry, Belle.’
Mirabelle stared. It felt as if McGregor was a locked box, but then, she realised, perhaps she had liked that about him. What was wrong with her? People changed, after all. People learned. But to keep a secret for this long was a kind of betrayal – except, of course, she had secrets too.
‘I feel like an idiot,’ she said. ‘I’m supposed to be so perceptive.’
McGregor’s gaze fell to the carpet. ‘The last thing I want is to make you feel foolish. I’m the stupid one. You’re the most honourable woman I know.’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve done plenty of things I’m ashamed of.’ There were a lot more than fifteen skeletons in her closet.
McGregor shook his head. ‘I’m glad Bruce told you. You’d have found out sometime.’ He got down on his knees. ‘Can you forgive me?’
Mirabelle’s heart lurched. She hated the past intruding on them like this. ‘God, it was a hundred years ago, Alan. I wish you’d told me. I don’t like that you think of yourself as bad. I know all the good you’ve done.’ She dropped to her knees on the floor beside him. ‘It’s just a shock. You’ve been racked with guilt for years and I didn’t even notice.’ She wanted to ask him to promise not to hide anything ever again, but it didn’t seem fair when there was so much she had left unsaid.
McGregor smiled weakly. ‘Some holiday I brought you on.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I like solving murders …’
He laughed. ‘You want to solve it. Of course you do.’ He wrapped his arms around her. ‘You and me both.’
‘Well why not? We’re good at it. Perhaps it would distract us.’
‘A busman’s holiday, you mean.’
She laid her head on his shoulder. Outside, the sky was darkening. A pale streak of purple flared across the sunset as the moon rose. This was how she kept her guilt at bay, she realised – by finding justice for people like Nina Orlova. They had that in common – it turned out it was McGregor’s technique as well.
She was about to say something but the gong sounded for dinner. McGregor jumped to his feet and held out his hand. ‘We’d better get dressed,’ he said.
The moment was gone. Mirabelle pulled a red satin sheath from her closet and disrobed untidily, stepping into her evening shoes and applying lipstick at the same time. Red had always suited her – just like Nina. It was a colour you could wear like a disguise. She chose a pair of diamond-drop earrings, like tiny stars. Then she surveyed herself in the mirror. Next door, McGregor fumbled with the buttons of his evening shirt. ‘You go down!’ he called. ‘If we arrive flustered, they’ll assume – you know.’
Mirabelle checked in the mirror once more. She didn’t look in the least flustered. Maybe, she thought, we can just decide not to dwell on it. The war was over.
Jinx sat regally at the foot of the stairs, as if he was an ornament. Mirabelle petted him as she passed. The music on the air tonight was jazz, and there was laughter coming from the drawing room.
‘Mirabelle!’ Bruce hailed her as she appeared in the doorway. ‘You look lovely.’
Eleanor was mixing more cocktails. The baron and Tash sat together on the sofa, Tash tonight arrayed in a demure, silver-grey cocktail dress. Her hair was fixed to one side with a circular diamanté clasp. Beside her, a grey-haired man with a long moustache sprang to his feet.
‘This is our neighbour – Willie Dougal. Lord Dougal, but we don’t stand on ceremony.’ Bruce made the introduction and then turned to a woman Mirabelle hadn’t immediately noticed, who was standing beside the window wearing a full-length, midnight-blue velvet dress that camouflaged her against the curtains. A wire-haired terrier wagged its tail at her feet. ‘And this is Lady Dougal. Gwendolyn.’
‘How do you do.’ Mirabelle shook the woman’s hand. ‘Am I correct that you were here last week for dinner – with Tash and her godmother?’
‘Four-and-twenty families.’ Willie Dougal grinned. ‘Just as in Jane Austen, Miss Bevan. That’s the whole county. We dine together endlessly.’
‘We’ve known each other since we were children,’ Bruce explained.
‘Not me,’ Gwendolyn said. ‘I met my husband at a house party. I’m from Argyll – an incomer.’ She rounded the sofa and sat down opposite Niko and Tash. ‘It’s a terrible business. You must be devastated, Baron Orlov.’
Niko nodded. ‘I spoke to our man this afternoon. I hold him responsible.’
It was, Mirabelle thought, quite common for the victim’s family to seek to apportion the blame as quickly as possible, but the baron was being unfair – Nina had sent Gregory away.
‘Do you mean the black man?’ Gwendolyn Dougal’s clipped west-coast accent dripped with enmity. ‘I heard he helped deliver the McCrossan baby today. That’s a curse on the poor child.’
‘A curse?’ Mirabelle’s tone was incredulous.
‘A black fairy at the feast.’
‘Well at least Davina has had her baby. A lovely little girl,’ Eleanor smoothed the water. ‘She’s lucky Gregory was about. He fetched the doctor who was out on another house-call – he got the man there within twenty minutes, I heard.’
Mirabelle remembered Gregory running through the trees on the other side of the field before lunch. He must have had some day, between that and the police interrogation he would have undergone and the pub landlady’s waters breaking. ‘Did you have a chance to speak to the police about Nina’s funeral?’ she asked.
[Mirabelle Bevan 08] - Highland Fling Page 10