Murder at Standing Stone Manor

by Eric Brown

  The girl turned bright red.

  The professor said, ‘I’d hardly call it a fracas, Randall. But I’m not having a charge of mine hobnobbing with the likes of—’

  Nancy glared at her uncle. ‘Roy is a perfectly decent young man!’ she declared.

  The professor sighed. ‘Nance, you’re young. Too young, in fact, to be able to assess the character of a chap like Vickers.’

  ‘If you’d only heard some of the stories I’ve heard,’ Randall drawled, staring across at his cousin. ‘Fair turn your stomach, some of them.’

  ‘You’re beastly!’ Nancy cried.

  ‘Oh, poor, naive, innocent youth,’ Randall simpered. ‘Fact is the man’s an inveterate liar and a thief.’

  ‘He’s not a thief, nor a liar!’

  ‘He’s a poacher,’ her uncle said. ‘That damns him in my eyes, my girl.’

  ‘And I’ve told you about some of his lies,’ Randall said.

  Nancy stared down at her half-eaten jam tart and murmured, ‘I don’t believe you.’

  Randall climbed to his feet, tutted as if pitying her and grabbed a cake from the tray. ‘I’ll take one of these and push off. Excuse me, but I’m expecting a phone call. Been nice meeting you.’

  He left the room and the atmosphere seemed to lighten.

  Maria said into the ensuing silence, ‘Professor, I’m cooking Nancy’s favourite French dish tonight, and I’d very much like her to join us.’

  ‘Her favourite French dish?’ The professor looked mystified. ‘And what might that be?’

  Quick as a flash, Nancy said, ‘Coq au vin, Uncle,’ and smiled at Maria with almost pathetic gratitude.

  ‘I’d like to have her over for dinner to thank her for helping me unpack, you see.’

  ‘Well,’ the professor muttered. ‘Don’t know about that. There’s Xandra to see to.’

  ‘Phooey!’ Xandra said. ‘I can put myself to bed for once. I’m not a child, Edwin.’

  ‘But if you need anything—’

  ‘Then I can get it myself,’ she said. She turned to Nancy. ‘You go and enjoy yourself, my pet.’

  Nancy looked relieved. ‘Oh, thank you!’

  The professor said, ‘Anyone else attending this dinner, Langham?’

  ‘Just the three of us.’

  ‘Then I don’t see why not. But I want you back by eleven, my girl. Understood?’

  ‘Of course, Uncle. Thank you.’

  She turned to Maria, almost tearful, and thanked her, too.

  The gathering broke up a little later, Maria making the excuse that she had to get back and begin the meal. Xandra pronounced that it had been a delight to meet them and that they must come to dinner soon.

  The professor saw them to the front door. ‘And if I get another one of those letters,’ he murmured in Langham’s ear as they were leaving, ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  They thanked him again and hurried from the manor.

  Maria gripped Langham’s arm and hung on, shivering. ‘Wasn’t that perfectly horrendous!’

  ‘I’ll say.’

  ‘What a beastly man!’

  ‘Who, the professor or his son?’

  ‘Randall, though only marginally more than his father,’ Maria said. ‘I really don’t like the way they treat Nancy.’

  ‘I must say, though, I thought Xandra a decent sort,’ Langham allowed.

  ‘At least she seemed to appreciate the girl.’

  They made their careful way over the bridge and turned left along Crooked Lane.

  Maria grinned and squeezed his hand. ‘Are we terribly naughty, Donald?’

  He laughed. ‘Not at all,’ he said, then went on, ‘I just hope the professor doesn’t get wind of it.’

  They passed the Wellbournes’ farm, then the meadow.

  Maria said, ‘You pop in to see Roy, and I’ll start dinner.’

  He kissed her. ‘See you soon. Put the kettle on, will you?’

  She hurried off, and Langham pushed open the farm gate and tramped through the snow to the caravan.

  He climbed the three wooden steps and knocked on the door. ‘Hello? Anyone home?’

  ‘That you, Donald?’ Vickers called. ‘Come in; it’s not locked.’

  Langham pushed open the door and ducked inside. He found Roy Vickers sitting hunched up in a blanket before a wood-burning stove, a book on his lap.

  ‘Anything good?’ Langham asked.

  Vickers hoisted the volume. ‘Dickens. Hard Times. Seems appropriate.’

  Langham laughed. ‘Thing is, how would you like to come over for dinner with us this evening?’

  The young man narrowed his ink-black eyes. He appeared unsure. ‘Well …’

  ‘I know it’d mean you dining out two nights running – living the high life. But, you see, we’ve invited Nancy along, too.’

  Vickers blinked. ‘You have?’

  ‘You two seemed to be getting along pretty well last night, before the interruption.’

  ‘Yes, we were.’

  ‘So why not resume things, and Professor Robertshaw be beggared?’

  Vickers grinned. ‘She is a pippin, isn’t she?’

  ‘I’ll say she is,’ Langham said. ‘So you’ll come?’

  ‘Try keeping me away.’

  ‘Excellent. We dine at eight. Come over a little earlier.’

  Smiling, Langham left the caravan and made his way home.

  Maria was in the kitchen and turned as he stepped through the back door. ‘Well?’ she asked nervously.

  ‘He’d be more than delighted.’

  She opened her arms. ‘Come here, Donald, you wonderful matchmaker!’

  SEVEN

  Langham was putting more coal on the living-room fire when a knock sounded at the front door. It was seven thirty.

  ‘Get that, would you, Donald?’ Maria called from the kitchen.

  He opened the door to find Nancy kicking her boots against the doorstep. Behind her, huge snowflakes drifted down through the inky night. She wore her duffel coat and was hugging herself.

  ‘It’s got even colder, Donald!’

  ‘Come in and get warm. Here, I’ll take your coat.’

  He hung it on the coat stand as she prised off her boots. ‘I brought these along,’ she said, pulling on a pair of old-fashioned slippers. ‘They’re Uncle’s old ones. I couldn’t find mine.’ She stared down at her feet. ‘They look ridiculous, don’t they!’

  He smiled. ‘Well, they do look a bit funny,’ he admitted. Not only were the slippers more suited to the feet of an old man, but they were too big for her and contrasted oddly with her stockinged legs and red dress.

  ‘I like your dress.’

  ‘A hand-me-down from Xandra. I took it in myself.’

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘A gin and tonic would be lovely,’ she said, following him into the living room. ‘I’m not too early, am I?’

  ‘Of course not – just in time for a drink before dinner.’

  Maria joined them from the kitchen, and Langham poured two gin and tonics.

  ‘I say, it’s awfully nice of you to invite me,’ Nancy said, taking her drink and sitting in a big armchair beside the fire. ‘It’s wonderful to get away from things from time to time. There are days when I think being cooped up in the manor will drive me mad.’

  Maria admired the girl’s dress, and Nancy repeated that it was one of her aunt’s cast-offs which she’d altered to fit her. ‘I have a small allowance, but it doesn’t stretch to many new clothes.’

  ‘You seem to get on well with Xandra,’ Maria said.

  Nancy sipped her drink, making wide eyes at its strength. ‘Oh, that’s lovely!’ she exclaimed. ‘Yes, Xandra’s like a mother to me. She took me in and made me feel at home. Unc’s all right, sometimes, but he does like to rule the roost rather. I’m surprised he let me out tonight.’

  ‘Having met your uncle now on a couple of occasions,’ Langham said, choosing his words with care, ‘I hope I’m not speaking out of t
urn, but he seems somewhat preoccupied.’

  ‘So you’ve noticed?’ Nancy said, nodding. ‘He has been acting a bit oddly for a while now.’

  ‘How long is a while?’

  ‘Oh, I’d say a month or so,’ she said.

  Langham considered his drink. According to the professor, he’d received the threatening letter just a few days ago.

  ‘Any idea what might be troubling him?’ he asked.

  ‘Not the foggiest. Unc isn’t one to reveal his feelings. He’s always rushing off up to town at the drop of a hat, and seems flustered each time before setting off.’

  Langham exchanged a glance with Maria. ‘How often does he shoot off like this?’

  ‘Oh, perhaps once a week. He just tells me he’s popping out and won’t be back for dinner, or lunch or whatever.’

  ‘He doesn’t tell you where he’s going or who he’s seeing?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, not a word. Just that he’s going into town.’

  Maria said, ‘Doesn’t Xandra know where he’s going?’

  ‘She doesn’t take much notice of his comings and goings.’ She hesitated. ‘Between you and me, things don’t seem to be going too well. I mean … Well, they hardly have anything to do with each other these days. They rarely dine together, and when they do meet, they’re forever bickering. Perhaps it’s just as well that they lead separate lives.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Maria said. ‘It must be difficult for you.’

  Nancy smiled brightly. ‘Oh, not really. I just keep out of the way when Unc’s on the warpath.’

  ‘It can’t be easy having Randall back under the same roof, either,’ Langham observed.

  ‘So you noticed he hates me?’ Nancy said.

  ‘It did seem blatantly obvious,’ he said. ‘What on earth have you done to offend him?’

  ‘Have the temerity to exist? Have the gall to get myself invited to live at the manor?’ She shook her head. ‘I think he’d dislike me anyway, but the real reason is that I was friendly with his ex-wife, and I know what Randall is really like.’

  ‘Ouch,’ said Maria. ‘That could be awkward.’

  ‘I’ll say. Randall likes to play the part of the badly done-to husband whose wife met another fellow and ran off, but the fact is that Randall was unfaithful on more than one occasion, and on the last one, Olivia had had enough. She left him, and only later met her new fellow. Randall is one of those self-centred chaps who don’t like getting what they dish out themselves, and it suited him to play the aggrieved party to his father.’

  ‘How long ago was this?’ Langham asked.

  ‘Olivia finally walked out six months ago.’

  ‘Do you still see her?’ Maria asked.

  ‘I’ve sneaked off once or twice and met her in town,’ Nancy admitted, ‘but it’s all very cloak and dagger. Unc thinks Olivia is evil personified – well, it wouldn’t take much to persuade him of that – and if Randall got to know I was still in contact with her …’ She grinned to herself.

  ‘What?’ Maria asked.

  ‘It’s just struck me,’ Nancy said. ‘I think Randall looks like a young twit from a Wodehouse novel, don’t you?’

  Maria laughed. ‘I suppose he does,’ she agreed. ‘Though he doesn’t much act like one.’

  ‘No,’ Nancy said. ‘He’s more like’ – she thought about it – ‘like Flashman from Tom Brown’s School Days – nasty and sadistic!’

  ‘And which literary character would you say you most resemble, Nancy?’ Maria asked.

  Grinning, Langham said, ‘How about Heidi?’

  Nancy poked her tongue at him. ‘No! I’d like to think of myself as more like a heroine in a Brontë novel.’

  He saw Maria’s indulgent smile as she regarded the girl.

  Nancy hiccupped, then stared down at her drink and exclaimed, ‘I say, where did that go all of a sudden?’

  Maria laughed. ‘I’ll get you another.’

  She was pouring more drinks when a knock sounded at the back door. ‘I’ll get it,’ she said, passing Langham and Nancy their gins.

  ‘That must be our second dinner guest,’ Langham said.

  Voices drifted in from the hall. Nancy’s eyes widened. ‘Oh,’ she said, standing suddenly and looking like a child on Christmas morning.

  ‘It’s the least we could do, after last night.’

  Roy Vickers halted suddenly in the doorway, then grinned across at the smiling girl. ‘Hello there.’

  Nancy blushed. ‘Hello again.’

  Entering the room behind the young man, Maria said, ‘Perhaps, tonight, the professor won’t storm in and drag you off.’

  ‘He would if he knew I was here,’ Vickers said, crossing the room and taking Nancy’s hand. ‘He seems to have it in for me. Has me down as a poacher and who knows what else.’

  Vickers wore the same frayed suit as he had the previous night, a white shirt and a blue RAF tie.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ Langham asked. ‘Gin, Scotch or beer?’

  ‘A beer would be nice, thank you.’

  Langham moved to the kitchen and poured a bottle of Fuller’s bitter into a pint glass. When he returned, the three were sitting around the fire discussing the weather. Apparently, the snow was so bad that the twice-daily bus service into Bury St Edmunds had been cancelled. ‘More snow’s forecast for the next few days,’ Vickers said. ‘That east wind is murderous, all the way from Siberia.’

  Nancy said, ‘I don’t know how you can live in that little caravan, Roy.’

  ‘Do you know, it’s not half bad. The stove heats it up a treat, and I have a constant supply of coal and logs, thanks to Richard. It’s very pleasant in the summer.’

  ‘Where did you buy the caravan?’ Maria asked.

  ‘I didn’t. It was in the meadow when I came to the farm looking for work, two years ago. As luck would have it, Richard wanted someone to give him a hand around the place, and he said I could lodge in the caravan over the summer.’

  ‘And in winter?’ Langham asked.

  Vickers shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Well, he did say there was a small room in the house, but to tell the truth, I was comfortable enough where I was. I didn’t want to be a burden.’

  ‘What were you doing before you moved here?’ Maria asked.

  ‘I worked in a drapery in Norwich. I hated it. I wasn’t cut out for shop work, having to be nice to customers all day long.’

  Maria slipped into the kitchen, then returned to announce that dinner was almost ready.

  Langham opened a bottle of French Merlot and they ate in the dining room next to the kitchen. It was obvious to Langham that Nancy was smitten with the young man; she could hardly keep her eyes off him and chattered to him about her previous life at the boarding school in Cambridge.

  At one point, Vickers stopped eating and stared down at his plate. ‘My word, this is excellent.’

  ‘French cooking at its best,’ Langham said, and Maria murmured her thanks.

  Vickers looked across the table at Langham and Maria. ‘Thank you very much for inviting me. It’s much appreciated.’

  Langham raised his glass. ‘It’s nice to have friendly faces around the table.’

  A little later, Maria asked if Roy had any brothers or sisters.

  ‘I was an only child,’ he replied, ‘and my parents died just after the war.’

  ‘So we’re both orphans,’ Nancy said.

  Vickers smiled at her. He indicated the photographs on a side table which Maria had unpacked just that morning. Two of them were of Langham in uniform, one in Madagascar, off duty in a bar in Antananarivo with a couple of friends, and the other in India, sitting on a wicker chair on the veranda of a bungalow.

  ‘Where did you serve?’ the young man asked.

  ‘Madagascar and India, for the most part. Field Security, so I never really saw front-line action, other than initially in Madagascar. In ’42 we were sent to India, and I supervised an area almost the size of Britain, mainly tracking down spies an
d monitoring Nationalist activity. I must admit, it was something of a cushy number.’

  Nancy listened, wide-eyed. ‘Gosh. I can hardly remember the war. I was just eight when it ended. You make me feel so young.’

  Langham laughed. ‘And you make me feel dashed old, my girl.’

  Maria turned to Vickers. ‘Tell me what you did, Roy.’

  His reluctance to do so was obvious. He regarded his almost empty plate and murmured, ‘Did my best to shoot down Messerschmitt 109s.’

  Nancy shook her head. ‘That must have been …’ she began.

  ‘It’s not something I think about much, these days. Or talk about, either, if I can help it.’

  Langham was about to change the subject, but Nancy said, ‘I’ll tell Randall what you did, next time he pipes up.’

  Vickers sighed. ‘Randall’s a fool. Just ignore what he says.’

  ‘Anyone for more drinks?’ Langham said.

  He moved to the kitchen and opened a second bottle of wine. When he returned to the dining room, Nancy was saying, ‘He’s so arrogant! The way he goes on. I think it’s because he was too young to be in the war, and he’s always resented the fact. Do you know what he told me, Roy?’

  Forbearing, Vickers said, ‘No, what was that?’

  ‘He tried to tell me that you were just a quartermaster in the RAF,’ she said, ‘and that you never flew. I told him he was being beastly, and jealous of a war hero.’

  Vickers winced. ‘Well, he was partly right, Nancy. After a year in hospital, I did work in stores at a base near Lincoln.’

  ‘Yes, but the point is that you flew, and were shot down and injured, and Randall just can’t accept that. Sometimes I just want to stab him to death!’ she finished melodramatically.

  She stopped and stared around the table, then hiccupped. ‘I say, am I a little tipsy?’

  ‘Just a tad,’ Vickers said, smiling. ‘Thank you for wanting to defend my honour, but don’t go stabbing anyone, all right?’

  She smiled. ‘I promise.’

  Maria made coffee, and they returned to the living room and sat around the fire, chatting until Nancy sat up straight, pointing to the carriage clock on the mantelshelf. ‘Crikey! It’s almost eleven. Unc said I had to be back for eleven!’

  ‘Or you’ll turn into a frog?’ Vickers said.