Mischief in St. Tropez

by C. G Oster

  Chapter 12

  T he drive back was done in silence. Dory was trying to sort through all of the prince’s assertions, accusations and euphemisms. At times, Dory wasn’t entirely sure he had been trying to be straight with them, having both disparaged and maligned his friend. But they had learned more about the relationship between the baron and the countess that was his patroness. The assertion that she paid his bills was clear, and he had struggled financially after her death. Also, the baron believed he had some means of restoring his wealth. This did not signify that he had inherited anything substantial from the countess.

  “What a curious man,” Livinia said. “Very handsome.”

  Dory rolled her eyes. The man had an acerbic personality. Intelligent but supercilious. There was even something a bit jaded about him. For his honeyed smile, he was in character much too dark for someone like Livinia.

  “He wasn’t married. Did you see? No ring on his finger.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not married,” Dory said with weariness. Livinia had a habit of being persuaded by the superficial. This man’s surface sold a prince charming, but the personality underneath was anything but. The fact that he had counted Baron Drecsay as a friend, despite the difference in their means, pointed to there being some commonality to their characters that gave them common ground.

  Were they spies, though? There was too much arrogance there to bow to fascists. Or maybe he was enough of a realist to align himself to the direction the wind was blowing. It would be a mistake to think she knew what it would take to turn someone into a spy.

  *

  A car was parked in front of the house as they arrived home. Dory had never seen it before. Pulling next to it, Livinia got out. “Who can that be?”

  An uncomfortable feeling crept up Dory’s spine and at that moment, she heard Vivian’s voice drifting out of the open window. Dory sighed. Lady Pettifer laughed at something he said. As dreadful as he was, Lady Pettifer adored him. Dreadful wasn’t the exact word; how Dory felt about him was more complex. He could be very charming, but that was simply a mask. Underneath, he actually was quite dreadful—but also observant and insightful when not obtusely disregarding.

  The last time she’d seen him, he’d called her a meddling oik and the insult still stung. Biting her lips together, she automatically checked her hair before following Livinia inside the house.

  “Vivian!” Livinia said, gleeful in seeing him when Dory knew they had a contentious relationship—but then siblings always did, and these two were twins, which had to constitute some bond she didn’t understand. They certainly weren’t best friends.

  “Hello, chook,” he said and Livinia gave him a pointed look. They embraced, which might be the only time Dory had seen that, but then they had been apart for two years. “And Miss Sparks,” he said with a quirky tone to his voice. He kissed her on the cheek, leaving a lingering whiff of maleness and whiskey.

  Kissing her on the cheek as greeting was something new too. There had been a time when he’d appeared quite eager to explore her form in some hidden closet, but kissing her on the cheek for greeting wasn’t something he did. Perhaps it had something to do with her elevated status as a companion rather than a mere maid.

  Even so, there had never been a time when Vivian hadn’t made her feel uncomfortable, and he’d done so purposefully on more than one occasion.

  “Vivian was telling me about his drive from Switzerland,” Lady Pettifer.

  “How is Mother?” Livinia asked as she sat down.

  For a moment, Dory didn’t know what to do with herself, if she should leave them to their familial discussion.

  “She’s fine,” he said.

  Apparently that was enough for Livinia, who Dory knew had quite mixed feelings about her mother. She wasn’t as readily forgiving as Vivian seemed to be. “You’ll never guess what happened here,” she said with wide, excited eyes. “There was a murder and I found the body.”

  Gingerly, she sidestepped the issue that she had been meeting this man for a private assignation. It was a fact that Livinia seemed to have wiped from her memory.

  “A murder?” Vivian stated with surprise. “You must be right in your element,” he said to Dory, who couldn’t find anything to respond with and simply sat there opening and closing her mouth.

  “We are investigating,” Livinia continued. “Today we questioned his best friend, a Prince Barenoli. An utterly fascinating man. So charming and handsome—you wouldn’t believe it. He really is keeping up the standard of the fairy tales.”

  “Did you find him charming?” Vivian asked, turning his attention to Dory. With that, everyone turned their attention to her, effectively forcing her to answer.

  “No.”

  Vivian’s eyebrows rose, but he wasn’t surprised, and instead had a reassured expression as if he knew her so well. “Won’t be swayed by any Prince Charming, will you? Pray tell, why didn’t you find the handsome prince charming?”

  “Must be the arrogance,” she said through gritted teeth. In a way, it sounded petty because he knew that was what she accused him of. “There was something dark about him, something jaded.”

  “Tosh,” Livinia said. “He was lovely, and so happy we were investigating his friend’s death.”

  Vivian didn’t take his gaze away from Dory, and she suddenly found the tea service inordinately fascinating, deciding to pour herself a cup of the cooling tea. It had been a long ride and she was parched.

  “How was it traveling across the border?” Lady Pettifer asked.

  “It was a mess. It took two hours to get them to let me through. Soldiers everywhere. It seems the French are worried the Swiss are going to roll over for Herr Hitler. I saw garrisons camped a bit further inland, endless fields of them. Tanks and rows and rows of sandbags. The French have made themselves ready.”

  A silence descended on the room.

  “And what did you learn about poor Baron Drecsay?” Lady Pettifer said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, as if she’d heard all she could tolerate about the war.

  “Well,” Livinia said. “He’d been in some financial strife since the death of his benefactor, Countess Tirau, but he believed he’d found some means out of it.”

  A frown marred Lady Pettifer’s face, but Vivian didn’t look concerned. But then, he didn’t know about this man’s interest in Livinia.

  “The prince said he was intelligent and that he considered the commitments he made.” Livinia was making it all sound too peachy.

  “He confirmed that Drecsay had been a visitor to a few bedrooms he shouldn’t be in, and that his benefactor frowned deeply if she even found out about it,” Dory added, more for Lady Pettifer’s benefit.

  “Oh, that kind of benefactor,” Vivian said as if he now understood. “A kept man.”

  “Vivian!” Livinia chided. “No need to be crude. The police say that some irate husband dispatched him. Although other people say he was a spy.”

  “A spy?” Vivian said with amused expression.

  “Well, he was Hungarian and their position can only be described as detached.”

  “What could a spy possibly garner by creeping around bedrooms in Cote d’Azur?” Vivian asked.

  “You’d be surprised what people around here know,” Lady Pettifer said. “Who here doesn’t have a family member in Parliament? I’m sure quite a few even have relatives in the actual War Cabinet.”

  “That they wish to speak about to a foreign bedroom hustler?”

  “He was not a hustler,” Livinia stated with offense. “Why do you insist on painting everything in the ugliest light possible?”

  “What other light can one put it in? A man patroned by older women. There is only so much light one can use.”

  “Children,” Lady Pettifer said with exasperation. “Now we are very glad you have come to see us. Are you staying a while?”

  “I haven’t made any specific plans,” Vivian said. “Obviously, I need to get back to England, but I hear the p
assenger ships are getting harder to book passage on.”

  “Unfortunately, that is true. Speaking to Mrs. Muiring on the phone today, she mentioned that her neighbors were driving to Spain to book passage.”

  “That would take days,” Livinia uttered.

  “Don’t worry, Vivian,” Lady Pettifer said. “We’ll find a way home for you, but there is no reason you can’t stay a few weeks.”

  “No, of course not. It’s always lovely down here. Spring seems to be late back home, and things are pretty grim there. This malaise seems to have descended everywhere. It’s like we’re in a war that refuses to be and no one seems to know what’s going on. London has turned into a maze of sandbags. I’ve never seen it so drab.”

  “Things are gayer here,” Livinia said. “Except for this murder. It’s shocking. Who could do such a thing? It’s as if people are losing their minds everywhere.”

  “Things are only going to get worse,” Vivian said. “And Mother is basically a stone’s throw away from Germany. Half of the people who work at the sanatorium are of German descent.”

  “I doubt the Germans have raiding the sanatoriums of Switzerland utmost on their agenda,” Lady Pettifer said. “Still, it is a worry. If the Germans were to invade, the suffering would be indiscriminate.”

  “They wouldn’t take mother hostage, would they?” Livinia said, concern finally registering on her face.

  “For what purpose?” Vivian asked.

  “I don’t know. She is a lady. Maybe they assume she could serve as some leverage.”

  “What does your father say?” Lady Pettifer asked.

  “He refuses to speak about it.”

  With a snort, Lady Pettifer looked away.

  “We must do something about Mother. I just don’t know what.”

  “She’s not allowed to leave,” Livinia pointed out.

  “Yes, thanks, Livinia. I’m fairly sure the sanitorium regulations didn’t consider the large-scale invasion by the Germans.”

  “The French line is holding,” Livinia countered. “They will arrest her if she returns to England. That was the deal father struck with the commissioner.”

  With piercing eyes, Vivian glared at her. Dory couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking.

  “Perhaps she needs to be transferred somewhere less volatile,” Dory added after a moment of silence.

  “There’s nowhere that isn’t volatile,” Vivian said, turning his eyes on her as if she were responsible.”

  “America,” Dory added quietly. “They have absolutely insisted on being neutral in this war, and they are much too far away for the Germans.

  “They say Belgium is a bit of a canary in the mine, that the Germans would invade them first, get the small problem tackled before the big problem,” Lady Pettifer added. “They might bypass Switzerland entirely. They cannot fight on every border, and Switzerland has never indicated it will serve as a problem for them.”

  “Would you bet your life on it?” Vivian asked. “Everyone is expecting the invasion to start any day.”

  A silence descended again, as if no one wanted to say anything more, in case their words brought around the eventuality they all feared.

  Chapter 13

  V ivian spent a bit of time in his guest room the next day. He slept, Dory assumed. For all his blasé attitude, Dory could tell he was worried, and that worried her. When people like Vivian were taking things seriously, it spelled the situation had to be dire.

  Could it be that they had stayed on in France too long? There were still so many here; it was hard to believe they were in grave danger. The heavy militarization Vivian mentioned up north wasn’t visible here. Other than the lack of sugar and the half-hearted insistence on blackouts, there was nothing really visible of the war here on the coast.

  Most said they were simply going to wait this war out, refusing to be chased out of their house and home to return to cities or families they no longer felt welcome with. Lady Pettifer felt she couldn’t endure the travel, and Livinia still feared the remnants of her mother’s scandal. But now Dory was frightened.

  On the wireless, they reported a great deal of bluster. Communications with the French and agreements to stay strong. Nothing particular was being reported, which on the one hand was excellent, but it almost felt as though the Germans were too quiet, as if they were planning to pounce. Hopefully, Dory was completely overreacting.

  Walking outside, she let the gentle morning sun warm her skin. This was the lovely part of the day, before the heat really set in. The breeze coming off the sea was pleasant and there was a stillness. Except for the birds that were chirping away. This place was so lovely. How could something so horrid as war be threatening all around them?

  The noise of a car echoed across the trees. Someone had arrived and Dory walked around the corner of the house to see. It was Richard, who was stepping out of his car.

  “Has she come down yet?” he asked.

  “Livinia? No, I’m afraid not.”

  He growled slightly. “She told me to come early. I should have known better than to listen to her. But you’re up. Trusty Dory. Early to bed, early to rise.”

  This made Dory wonder what kind of opinion Richard had of her. It wasn’t as if she was old enough yet to be considered the dour spinster—not that it strictly mattered what he thought. “Not always, but when I’ve had a trying day, then yes.” And also because Vivian and Livinia had stayed up, and Dory had learned to fear Vivian’s tongue when he drank. That was when he tended to be his most vicious and Dory had fled to bed rather than stayed with them. Not that she was going to tell Richard any of this.

  “I heard you and Livvie were in Nice yesterday.”

  “Yes, we met with Prince Barenoli.”

  “That wanker. Excuse my French.”

  “I take it he’s not your favorite person,” Dory said.

  “Thinks a lot of himself. Can be a right bastard to the girls. They swoon over themselves for a royal title. It’s pathetic.”

  Dory decided not to mention that Livinia had been in danger of swooning a bit herself. It felt disloyal pointing something like that out, but Richard only confirmed her own impression of the handsome prince. ‘Beauty came with a price,’ he had said more than once. Maybe he was one to test how much people were willing to pay. He hadn’t overtly said anything despicable; it was just a feeling Dory had gotten. With a shake of her head, Dory dismissed the man from her thoughts.

  Speaking of low opinions. “You seem to have a very low opinion of Baron Drecsay.”

  “Really the kind we can do without,” Richard said with a disgusted look on his face.

  “You mean gentile poor?” Dory said without thinking, or rather without care.

  “If you can’t afford to be here, you shouldn’t be. Sniffing around rich old women. It’s disgraceful.”

  “He was also sniffing around Livinia,” Dory pointed out and Richard’s mouth tightened. Obviously, Richard was in love with Livinia, but she never quite saw him as anything other than a friend she depended on for just about everything. The truth was that he would probably make her quite a good husband, but she was off being impressed by the superficial beauty of foreign nobles. “Anyone else he was sniffing around?”

  “Who knows,” Richard stated. “He liked anyone with money. I didn’t really know him that well—stayed clear of his lot. Someone who did know him better was Terry Wilcott. They were chums, I suppose. He might be the one who knows who Drecsay was dabbling with. But, you know, I wouldn’t dismiss the theory that he was a spy. The man would do anything for money.”

  “Except spies tend to be carted away and interrogated, not whacked on the head and left at society parties.”

  Richard’s eyebrows rose and sank. “I suppose. Perhaps it is more likely that someone was trying to keep some woman out of the man’s clutches.”

  Which actually gave Richard a motive more than anyone, but by the look on his face, the thought that he was a suspect never occurred to him. At
the party, he had claimed to arrive late, but who was to say that was true. It was blatantly clear that Richard had a distaste for the man. He wouldn’t be the first person to protect one of the Fellingworth offspring, Dory thought with a snort. It appeared Richard took that snort as agreement with what he was saying.

  “Actually, Terry is going to be there this afternoon, maybe you should come along if you want to ask him. Whose is the car?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? Vivian arrived yesterday.”

  This time, Richard’s eyebrows rose even higher in surprise. “Vivian? It’s been an age since I’ve seen him. Livvie didn’t say.”

  “We weren’t expecting him.”

  “Just like Vivian to go where the wind takes him,” Richard said with a smile. “It’s been a few years since I’ve seen him. I don’t suppose he is up either?”

  “No,” Dory said.

  “Why is it so hard to get these Fellingworths out of bed?” he said brightly and walked back to the house. “The day is young and the party awaits. Terry is likely to be there. Are you going to come?”

  Indecision accosted Dory. The urge to talk to this Terry itched inside her, and she didn’t entirely understand why. No one seemed to like this Baron Drecsay, except perhaps Livinia. Even his friends appeared very blasé about his murder. The police seemed to have stopped caring entirely, feeling they had better things to do than investigate the death of some bedroom-creeping foreigner. Maybe it was the fact that no one seemed to care that really got on Dory’s wick. You couldn’t just wipe someone away and get away with it.

  “Lady P,” Dory heard from inside the house. “Smashing day.”

  “Young Richard,” Lady Pettifer replied. “Have you come to steal Livinia away for the day. That would be good. She’s been a bit blue about that man’s unfortunate demise.”

  Taking a breath, Dory exhaled. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure how deeply Livinia cared about Baron Drecsay’s murder. At times it felt like only she cared, and she hadn’t even met the man.

  Fine, she would go speak to this Terry Wilcott, she decided, taking a few more minutes outside. Lady Pettifer didn’t need assistance dealing with the charms of men like Richard.