Mystery by the Sea: An utterly addictive English cozy mystery (A Lady Eleanor Swift Mystery Book 5)

by Verity Bright

  She sighed. ‘Well, we’ll probably never know unless Hilary finds a way to come back from the grave a second time. And I think arranging that sort of magic is beyond even a wizard like yourself, Clifford.’

  His silence told her how much he wished he could.

  She shook herself. ‘Right, enough of that! Now, what would I do with a sixpence in my hand? Ah, spend it, of course.’

  Clifford nodded. ‘But it is hardly a princely sum. Certainly not sufficient to buy this mysterious item everyone seems to be seeking. If it were so, it would not be necessary to kill to possess it.’

  ‘Yes, but remember what de Meyer said? That “to the right person it is valuable”?’

  ‘Indeed, but I rather think that the sixpence does not refer to the item itself, but that the clue, or clues, will lead to it. Perhaps each line of the rhyme is a clue in itself? Why otherwise include it?’

  She shrugged. ‘You could be right, but let’s concentrate on “sixpence in the hand” first.’ She took another sip of champagne. ‘Mmm, lovely. Now, I can only think of mundane things you can buy with sixpence, like a bag of buns or half a pound of sausages. What about you?’

  ‘A bus ticket? Candle wax? Paraffin? Clothes pegs. Pr—’

  Eleanor held up a hand. ‘Okay, so you can buy lots of everyday items for sixpence.’

  Clifford looked at his pocket watch. ‘I believe we need to defer this line of thought and meet the ladies.’

  Eleanor glanced past him out the window and laughed. ‘I think they may require a minute or two to, er, make themselves presentable. No turning round!’

  He rose with her, keeping his eyes averted. ‘Kindly reassure me, my lady, that it is not as bad as I am imagining?’

  ‘Of course not, silly.’ She feigned horror. ‘It’s far worse. Let’s go.’

  Thirty-Six

  Out in the street, Eleanor was bowled over by the ladies’, and Gladstone’s, enthusiastic greeting.

  ‘My lady,’ Mrs Trotman said. ‘’Tis too kind of you to take us to lunch again. I’m sure you’ve far better things to be doing than spending it with the likes of us.’

  Eleanor shook her head. ‘Categorically not. I have been missing our catch-up sessions in the kitchen at Henley Hall.’

  Mrs Butters scrutinised Eleanor’s face. ‘You look a little pale, my lady, if you’ll forgive me saying?’

  ‘No, just… never mind. Let us see if this delightful eatery can impress us once again.’

  The homely atmosphere of the restaurant where they’d had Eleanor’s birthday lunch had proved too good not to return to. The owner greeted them warmly, possibly remembering how much they’d eaten and drunk at their last visit.

  ‘Ladies, and gentleman, good to see you again. Ah, and your handsome and well-behaved bulldog.’

  Mrs Trotman chuckled. ‘Well behaved? Good job you don’t have sausages on the menu otherwise you’d see the real Master Gladstone!’

  Clifford caught her eye. ‘I am beginning to wonder from where some of his naughtier tendencies might have come.’

  The ladies looked at each other in horror.

  ‘It’s alright,’ Eleanor said. ‘Clifford was facing the other way when you were outside Postlethwaithes. Besides, he is teasing you. You have my full permission to misbehave on your holiday, you know that.’

  ‘Oh my stars!’ Mrs Butters’ hand flew to her mouth. ‘We were only having a bit of fun, my lady.’

  ‘I know. And I’m only sorry I wasn’t able to join in. It looked hilarious.’

  Polly looked confused and then horrified. ‘Oh lummy, you saw us, your ladyship?’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s fine, really.’ Eleanor leaned in and whispered back, ‘Mr Clifford had mischievous fun when he was your age too.’

  ‘Never!’ Polly breathed, staring at him, her mouth hanging open.

  Clifford cleared his throat. ‘Propriety was not made to be flouted.’ He threw Eleanor a look, but she knew him well enough now to know he was enjoying the exchange far more than he was letting on.

  The restaurant owner was listening with amusement. He bent and ruffled the bulldog’s ears. ‘Master Gladstone is your name, is it, fine sir? Well, whatever the mischief your chaperones have all been up to, I hope it has given them a hearty appetite. We’ve a great treat on the menu today.’

  ‘What is it?’ Eleanor asked as her stomach gave an unladylike rumble, which drew a sharp sniff from Clifford.

  ‘It is our chef’s speciality, madam. Care for a surprise?’

  ‘Absolutely!’

  The ladies nodded enthusiastically. Clifford held up five fingers by way of ordering and a waiter led them to their table.

  The arrival of the food interrupted what Eleanor suspected was a substantially truncated version of what the ladies had been doing since they last met up.

  ‘That looks and smells amazing!’ she said, inhaling deeply.

  ‘It is layered turbot and shrimp savoury crumble,’ the waiter said proudly. ‘The chef only makes this once a month. Served with parsnips and carrots in rosemary sauce with homemade bread and butter.’

  Polly and Eleanor both clapped their hands, their eyes bright.

  Mrs Butters poked Mrs Trotman in the side. ‘Looks like you’ve got summat else you need to add to your menu, Trotters.’

  Mrs Trotman waited until all the food was on the table, and the waiter gone before replying, ‘Should be parsley and dill sauce, but I’ll consider it if you wish it so, of course, my lady.’

  Eleanor savoured a mouthful. The soft, slightly sweet turbot flakes mixed delightfully with the creaminess of the shrimps and the sharp salty tang of the cheese in the breadcrumb topping. She nodded.

  ‘On the menu ’twill be then, my lady. And a pleasure ’twill be.’

  ‘Excellent! Now do carry on telling me what you have all been up to. The bits you can tell me, that is,’ Eleanor said with a wink.

  ‘Oh, I think we’ve just about covered it all,’ Mrs Butters replied hurriedly.

  ‘What ’bout the museum and the gallery, though?’ Polly said quietly. ‘We’ve done those too. The orniwhatsitthingamey was my favourite.’

  ‘Orni what?’ Eleanor said.

  ‘Sorry, your ladyship, ’tis a complicated word. I meant the paintings of the birds were my favourite.’

  ‘Lots of seagulls?’

  ‘Everything, your ladyship. Some of them looked like fairy-tale creatures, so colourful and beautiful.’

  Clifford nodded as the waiter went to refill their glasses. ‘There is an ornithological painting exhibition at the Town Hall, my lady.’

  Mrs Trotman nodded. ‘And only thruppence entrance fee as it’s still out of season.’

  Eleanor bit her lip. ‘Ladies, that reminds me. I’m sorry, but Clifford and I won’t be able to join you for our planned sightseeing trip this afternoon. There’s something we must attend to.’

  ‘Fancy the lady of the house apologising to us. ’Tis no matter at all,’ Mrs Butters said. ‘Although we would have enjoyed it enormously, my lady.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way to keep ourselves occupied,’ Mrs Trotman said, avoiding Clifford’s eye.

  ‘I have no doubt about that,’ he muttered.

  The group’s easy chatter continued over a delicious dessert of baked apples and prunes with ice cream as they imagined what it might be like to actually live at the seaside. During this, the waiter returned with a small bowl.

  ‘For Master Gladstone. With the chef’s compliments, madam.’

  ‘Now, that is service that we haven’t seen before, even at the Grand. Please thank him and the owner most profusely. Gladstone, a sausage, and a dash of gravy, all to yourself, old chum.’

  Having watched him snuffle up the contents and lick the bowl clean, Eleanor asked if the ladies had decided how they were going to occupy themselves that afternoon.

  ‘Yes, thank you, my lady,’ Mrs Trotman said. ‘We’re off to the Royal Pavilion.’

  Mrs Butters nodded. ‘T
hey say it’s still like a palace inside.’

  Polly gasped. ‘A palace? But it must be a fearful price to be allowed in then?’

  Eleanor half listened to their plans as she slid into her coat, which Clifford held for her, her mind endlessly running over the conundrum of the rhyme on her wedding photograph.

  Mrs Butters patted Polly’s head. ‘Don’t you worry, my girl. That’s why I’m in charge of making our pocket money go so far. ’Tis only sixpence.’

  ‘Sixpence!’ Eleanor and Clifford chorused, exchanging a look.

  Mrs Trotman looked from one to the other in surprise. ‘Yes, my lady. Apparently it’s been sixpence since it opened to the public in 1851.’

  ‘And they’ve never put the price up since so anyone can afford to go and see it,’ Mrs Butters said.

  Eleanor glanced at Clifford, who nodded. ‘Ladies. I do believe Clifford and I will be free to join you this afternoon after all!’

  Thirty-Seven

  The Royal Pavilion was less than half a mile away, yet Eleanor felt the walk to it was taking forever.

  ‘The sea air seems to suit you, my lady.’ Mrs Butters puffed by her side. ‘It’s like trying to keep up with Polly when Trotters tells her we’re going for ice cream or that she can watch the Punch and Judy man again.’

  Eleanor smiled at her housekeeper but failed to slacken her stride. ‘I find the only way to stay warm in this weather is to walk faster! And that wonderful lunch has fuelled my legs.’ She tried to hide the eagerness in her voice. ‘And I’ve been meaning to look around the Pavilion since I arrived. It was kind of your friend at the boarding house to take Gladstone for the afternoon, by the way.’

  ‘It’s no bother, my lady. She’s delighted to have Master Gladstone all to herself for a few hours. He’s worked his doggie charm on her and no mistake.’

  Clifford nodded. ‘They were indeed her exact words, although, we need to purchase the lady a new pair of slippers.’

  Eleanor stifled a laugh. ‘Oh, he didn’t?’

  ‘True to form, he did, in fact. While I was thanking the lady on your behalf for her kind agreement to watch over him for the afternoon, he managed to steal her only pair from underneath her armchair. The lady was, however, most gracious about having lost them to Master Gladstone’s rather soggy collection.’

  Mrs Butters chuckled. ‘He is such a terror. I don’t know why we all love him so much.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ Clifford agreed. ‘Anyway, we will purchase the new slippers, although the cost should rightly come out of Master Gladstone’s allowance, were he to have one, right after—’

  ‘Right after we have seen the Pavilion,’ Eleanor said.

  Clifford nodded again. ‘Which we intend to visit every inch of, do we not, my lady?’

  Mrs Butters laughed. ‘Ever the one to get value for money for the household accounts is Mr Clifford.’

  ‘’Tis like the most beautiful fairy-tale palace you told us about from your travels, your ladyship,’ Polly said in hushed tones a few minutes later as they stood looking at the exterior of the Royal Pavilion.

  Despite the increasingly bitter wind, Eleanor paused to take in the full majesty of the exquisite Indian and Mughal design. The intricate filigree porticos running the length of the seemingly mile-long frontage were interrupted at regular intervals by semi-circular pagodas, each topped by an onion-domed cupola of varying size and grandeur. Myriad minarets rose from ornate plinths along the roofline, while the glazed cream tiles that decorated the exterior reflected the weak afternoon sunshine, making the whole edifice glow.

  With their tickets purchased and Polly’s once again preserved intact, they hurried into the Pavilion grounds where the young girl ran her hands down the smooth pillars and stared in delight at the patterns cast by the shafts of sun filtering through the portico above.

  ‘Perhaps this is why Franklin was reading A Complete Guide to Brighton’s Points of Interest and Landmarks, Clifford?’ Eleanor whispered.

  ‘Possibly, my lady, although without his having seen the photograph and read the clue relating to sixpence, I cannot fathom why? How could he have drawn the same conclusion as we have that Mr Eden may have been pointing to the Royal Pavilion? And how so without seeing your wedding photograph?’

  ‘He probably hasn’t. I imagine he was pouring over all the sites listed, looking for one that looked as if Hilary might have hidden the item everyone wants so obsessively. If so, maybe he’s given up the idea that Hilary gave it to me?’

  Clifford’s brows drew together. ‘Hopefully. But what did Mr Franklin discover amongst Mr Eden’s belongings that makes him think the item may have been secreted at one of those sites, anyway?’

  She thought for a moment. ‘Well, the morning after Hilary booked into the Grand, he went out for the day, and didn’t return until the evening. So if everyone has searched his room to no avail, and my continued insistence that I don’t have the wretched thing finally convinced them, it’s true—’

  ‘They may have come to the conclusion that Mr Eden hid the item while he was away from the hotel?’

  ‘Exactly, which is what we are assuming.’ She slapped her forehead. ‘Of course! Hilary had a bundle of tourist brochures on the desk where he was murdered as well.’

  ‘Indeed, that might explain it. As to the Royal Pavilion, however, the reference to sixpence might still be a coincidence.’

  She nodded. ‘And even if we are right and he did hide it here, it’s simply enormous.’ She gestured along the length of the building. ‘Someone could have hidden a herd of elephants in here and we wouldn’t find them.’

  ‘I believe something of their unmentionable habits might give them away.’

  ‘Clifford!’ She stifled a smile at his uncharacteristically crude humour.

  ‘My lady, my quip, albeit a rather hasty and inappropriate one, I admit, was intended only to lighten your mood. I noted Mrs Butters is becoming suspicious that something is wrong. If you sincerely wish to keep the events surrounding Mr Eden’s death hidden from the ladies, might I suggest we need to avoid our faces being a reflection of our thoughts?’

  ‘You’re right, of course. But I am terrible at that, aren’t I?’

  ‘I really couldn’t say, my lady, but perhaps a broad-brimmed hat and your new sunglasses might have been a better choice this afternoon?’

  That made her smile, which she was relieved to see Mrs Butters noticed as she was walking back over to join them.

  ‘’Tis a treat to see you are enjoying your afternoon as much as we are, my lady. Isn’t this the most beautiful building ever?’

  ‘It is even more remarkable on the inside I imagine, Mrs Butters. Shall we chivvy the others and make the most of our time here?’

  A few minutes later, the five of them shuffled down the Long Gallery with a gaggle of other tourists. The collection of exotic art pieces and furnishings was brightly lit by ornate lanterns set below the central painted-glass ceiling. At the end, their bespectacled guide ushered them into the Banqueting Room.

  Despite occasionally being entertained by princes, sultans and maharajas during her travels, this was one of the most extravagant and opulent rooms Eleanor had been in. Every inch seemed to be decorated with the finest velvet, impeccably detailed wallpaper, gold paint or cut-crystal glass. The delicately vaulted ceiling rose to a giddying height, the enormous chandelier threatening to bring the beautiful craftsmanship crashing down. Sloped inlays of ebony and gold nestled on golden carved rails, which also ran down the corner of each wall. Floor-to-ceiling portraits hung everywhere, except for one wall of full-length arched windows. On the long central mahogany table sat seven gold candelabra, each taller than Eleanor in her dancing heels.

  She tried to marshal her thoughts and tune into the tour guide at the same time.

  ‘King George the Fourth hosted a great many prestigious banquets for royalty and nobility from around the world in this very room even before he acceded to the throne. It is here that we can see the first
example of his majesty’s exuberant spending and his desire to blend innovative techniques among the more traditional architectural elements.’

  ‘Can’t he just point to whatever it is without such a long-winded preamble,’ Eleanor whispered to Clifford.

  ‘I believe the gentleman is merely trying to give the visitors exceptional value for their sixpence.’

  She nodded, a little chastised, and listened to the guide again.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please regard the wallpaper between the paintings. Not only does it provide a stately backdrop to the artwork, but it is also an early example of the use of Prussian blue.’

  Eleanor started. ‘Blue,’ she mouthed.

  Clifford nodded and gestured to the guide again.

  ‘His majesty was so taken with the colour blue that you will see Prussian blue in many of the rooms throughout the Pavilion, along with the brighter, bolder blue verditer. Blue has become a colour synonymous with the essence of this royal palace’s design.’

  ‘Clifford!’ Eleanor whispered. ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. It’s the fourth line of the rhyme. We must be on the right track.’

  ‘It would seem so. I assumed only the last line was a clue, or, if all the lines were, then each line would point to a different place. However, now that I think of it, I underestimated the difficulty Mr Eden faced. Not only was he rapidly running out of time’ – and life, Ellie! – ‘he had to hide his clues in text that wouldn’t seem out of place on a wedding photograph.’

  Polly appeared at Eleanor’s side, her bottom lip trembling.

  ‘Whatever is the matter?’ Eleanor asked gently.

  ‘’Tis all too beautiful, your ladyship. Even more beautiful than Henley Hall. I want to remember every bit, but my brain is already swimming with pictures.’