‘Yes. But it does mean, of course, that we must ensure that he doesn’t have an opportunity to leave the house until after a thorough search of the grounds has been made.’
‘What’s your second scenario?’
‘That the murderer has disposed of the glass in the house.’
‘What?’ cried Cedric. ‘But, if he did that, it would be discovered at once. You know as well as I do, darling, how thoroughly the housemaids clean the house. A stray wine glass would look out of place at once.’
‘Not if it was hidden behind an ornament or a curtain. And remember, all the formal rooms are cleaned in the morning,’ his wife reminded him. ‘It would not be until tomorrow morning at the earliest that the wine glass would be discovered.’
‘By which time our murderer would be holed up safely in his own dwelling?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the last possibility?’ Cedric asked curiously. ‘You said there were three.’ A thought struck him and he looked incredulous. ‘Surely you don’t think –’
‘Yes,’ said Rose, laughing at the look of disbelief on her husband’s face. ‘He might still have the glass upon his person.’
‘Surely, he wouldn’t take such a risk?’ protested Cedric.
‘He might. You see, he may consider it hardly a risk at all. Think, darling,’ Rose continued earnestly. ‘We are the only ones who believe that Ursula Stapleton was murdered. Everyone else is of the opinion that her death was from natural causes. Our murderer believes he is safe; as far as he is concerned, no one suspects Mrs Stapleton was poisoned, or has noticed the wine glass is missing.’
‘I say, you’re quite right.’
‘That might be turned to our advantage,’ said Rose.
‘Do you mean because we can lull our murderer into believing that we do not suspect foul play?’
‘Yes, and he might give himself away.’
‘And the others?’
‘They will speak more freely if they believe there is nothing suspicious about Ursula Stapleton’s death.’ She quickened her pace. ‘Now, we really must join the others. While we’re waiting for the police to arrive, I shall casually make mention of the missing wine glass, as if in passing. I won’t connect it with Ursula Stapleton’s death, of course. It is just possible someone noticed something.’
‘Very good. Meanwhile, do you suggest I telephone to the chief constable? I could tell him that we suspect a murder may have been committed and suggest that he organise an extensive search of the grounds.’
‘I think it would be better to speak to the constable, first,’ said Rose, ‘the one who will undoubtedly arrive in summons to Manning’s telephone call. You could take him aside and tell him of our suspicions. No one will think it very odd if you speak to him first.’
Thus resolved, they hastened to the house to follow their plan of action. As they made their way along the paths, the lawns stretched out before them invitingly. Rose was conscious all of a sudden that the folly and the violent death that it harboured like some sepulchral chamber, seemed strangely very far away. It had consumed their thoughts and actions but now, as they negotiated the paths and stone steps leading from one ground level to another, and watched as the lakes glistened and sparkled in the late afternoon sunshine, she was reminded only of being in the most idyllic of settings on a brilliant summer’s day. She knew also that if she were to turn her head now, she would discover that the great pillars of the Greek temple were concealed from view by the trees. How very odd it felt, this contrast between light and dark, the sudden lifting of the spirits compared with the heartfelt sorrow. If she were of a fanciful nature, she might almost believe that the death was no more than a dream or a piece of play-acting.
Rose quickened her pace. It would do no good to think what a wonderful day it might have been had death not so cruelly intervened. Too well could she imagine Cedric talking enthusiastically about the fencing match, and asking her whether she was not a little impressed that he had remembered all his lines without a prompt. Try as she might, the joyous scene sprang up stubbornly before her mind’s eye, the laughter and the chatter, the applause, her complimenting the other thespians on the quality of their acting, and congratulating Miss Quail on the performance …
They were just approaching the house when a noise roused Rose abruptly from her musing. At first she felt bewilderment, for she could see nothing out of place which might have caused the sound. The building looked as it always did, a colossal palace of a place with its smooth, plain alabaster-coloured exterior; its corner towers topped by pyramidal roofs; and its great Corinthian columns flanking the entrance porch, bringing to mind the folly. Yet, amid all this splendour and tranquillity, Rose was convinced that something had startled her. She caught her husband’s eye. From his expression, it was evident that he too had heard something. Before she had an opportunity to open her mouth to speak, however, Cedric was running towards the house. She did her best to follow him.
As they crossed the terrace, there was a commotion, the sound of two men shouting now clearly reaching their ears. However, Rose did not have time to try to listen to what was being said. Her attention was drawn instead to the strange and somewhat unexpected spectacle of two of the servants hurrying towards them, almost running, while attempting rather unsuccessfully to maintain a dignified appearance. The sense of foreboding that filled the air, and made Rose take a sharp intake of breath as she prepared herself for some awful revelation, was not helped by the servants’ attire of black trousers, waistcoats, and tailcoats, which added something of a funereal air to the proceedings.
‘What is it, Manning?’ cried Cedric, rather sharply. He was addressing the butler, who was one of the hurrying servants. ‘What is the matter?’ It was evident from his brusque manner that he felt himself to be on edge, eager to be informed of the worst and be done with it.
‘Begging your pardon, m’lord,’ gasped Manning, between breaths. ‘There’s an awful to-do in the drawing room. Charlie and me,’ he indicated the footman, who was the other servant that had accompanied him, ‘we’ve done our best to quieten the two young gentlemen and bring them to their senses, as has Mr Cuffe and Mr Drury to give them their due, but there’s no reasoning with them; the young men, I mean. Going at it hammer and tongs, they are.’
In spite of herself, Rose was forced to conceal a smile, wondering whether Torridge, the Sedgwicks’ former head-butler, a rather formidable old fellow, would have put the matter quite so eloquently as his successor.
‘To whom do you refer?’ said Cedric, looking slightly irritated.
‘Why, the young Prentice gentlemen, m’lord. Fighting, they are! Almost upset a table they did, and a pot of tea. I fear for the china, I do.’
‘Good lord!’ exclaimed Cedric, looking appalled. This was not the usual behaviour of his house guests.
‘And that’s not all, m’lord,’ said the butler, beginning to enjoy himself. ‘One of them has punched the other in the face. Blood pouring out of his nose … begging your pardon, m’lady. Can’t say which one ’as done it, looking so alike as they do that no one can tell one from t’other but their own mother.’
At that moment, the sound of a startled cry floated to their ears.
‘Quick, m’lord,’ implored Manning. ‘You’d better hurry, before one of ’em does the other a serious injury.’
Chapter Five
A strange sight indeed met Lord and Lady Belvedere’s eyes as they entered the drawing room of Sedgwick Court. In his agitated state, the butler had thrown open the door somewhat noisily. The room’s occupants, considerably alarmed by the act, had been arrested in their various activities, their movements frozen for a moment as if they were subjects in a photograph. In consequence, the earl and countess found themselves greeted with an odd tableau of sorts. The impression of a staged scene was further heightened by the fact that the characters were still dressed in Elizabethan costume. And it was also only now that Rose realised that greasepaint had been smeared rather crude
ly on the faces of one or two of the older thespians, a fact that had not been apparent outside in the bright afternoon sunlight. Here, in the drawing room, however, it was very obvious, its garishness contrasting sharply as it did with the exquisite ornaments, rich furnishings and ornate decoration of the room.
The scene itself focused on the Prentice twins. It was evident that some attempt had been made to keep the two young men apart. This endeavour had been met with only limited success, as evidenced by the bloody nose that adorned the face of one of the twins; it was difficult to tell which one, being as they were so alike in appearance and dressed identically in their black and red striped doublets and breeches. While undoubtedly, they had at some point been entangled, as evidenced by the injury, they had subsequently been separated, and now occupied opposite sides of the room. Algernon Cuffe was standing resolutely in front of one of the twins forming an impenetrable barrier, a restraining hand placed on the young man’s chest, while poor Walter Drury clung doggedly to the arm of the other, a rather feeble shackle, it must be said. Fortunately, the twin in question was at that moment giving little thought to retaliation, content instead to nurse his bloody nose. He was whimpering slightly, his eyes full of unshed tears. His brother, meanwhile, was glaring at him with barely concealed anger, his face flushed and crimson, a wild look in his eyes.
‘Good lord!’ exclaimed Cedric, echoing the words he had uttered to his butler a few minutes before when first hearing of the skirmish. Though he himself was dressed in Tudor breeches, his face was innocent of any grease paint and revealed clearly an expression of amazement. Indeed, it took the young earl a moment or two to fully digest the scene before him. When he spoke again, there was a note of anger mingled with bewilderment in his voice.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ he demanded. He might have added: ‘How dare you behave in such a disgraceful manner in my house?’ but did not. The look he gave, however, conveyed the thought as effectively as if he had uttered the words.
Both the Prentice twins had the grace to look shamefaced, though it was not clear whether this was because they regretted their conduct, or were simply embarrassed at being spoken to in such a manner by a member of the aristocracy. Certainly, one of the young men began to mumble a series of apologies, while the other bowed his head and remained silent.
‘Look here, this won’t do,’ said Cedric sighing, and adopting a more paternal approach, though in truth he was only a few years older than the twins. ‘We have all had the most awful fright and I daresay it has affected us differently. But that is no excuse to start fighting in this ludicrous fashion. Now, will one of you two boys tell me what you were arguing about for this to happen?’ He pointed to the injured twin’s bloodied nose and looked expectantly from one to the other. Both the Prentice brothers, however, were strangely reticent, remaining resolutely silent. Cedric frowned and looked enquiringly at both Algernon and Walter, who merely shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders as if they were as equally perplexed as himself. Next, Lord Belvedere cast a surreptitious glance at Miriam, who he noticed was standing apart from the others and looking out of the window as if uninterested in what was happening in the room. It occurred to him to wonder whether her air of indifference was assumed. Had she really been such a disinterested party to the recent proceedings? Why, surely, he reasoned, it would have been quite a spectacle?
The same thought had occurred to Rose, who was standing a step or two behind her husband. She took the opportunity, while he was speaking, to survey the room. It was quite likely, she thought, that Miriam had been the cause of the disagreement between the brothers and, for chivalrous reasons, Algernon and Walter had decided to pretend ignorance. She stole a glance at Henry Rewe who, crouched on a footstool, was regarding the twins rather nervously, twisting his hands together in a timorous fashion. It was quite possible that, if pressed, he might reveal what he knew of the argument. However, Rose had not the heart to approach him at that moment for the poor boy looked as if he would be quite sick, given any little encouragement. As it was, he was clutching at his stomach while taking sips of water from a glass.
She looked about her to ascertain if there was anyone else they might approach. Giles Kettering, whom she considered would have made an admirable witness, she noted with regret was absent from the room. However, this in itself was not of particular note, for when he was not donning the robes of Horatio, he was employed as her husband’s secretary. It was quite probable, therefore, that, on delivering his message to the butler, he had retired to his own quarters to change into his usual attire of blue serge suit, to await the arrival of the doctor and the police.
The only other occupant of the room was the director, Cordelia Quail. It was with some relief that Rose noticed the woman was calm now, though there remained about her the air of someone who had been through a painful experience. Most noticeably, her face showed signs of a handkerchief having been dabbed in rather a tardy fashion around her eyes and face, for her make-up was rubbed and smeared in places. The rouge that she had daubed on her cheeks mingled with her blue eye shadow, and her lips, until recently a deep crimson shade, were now bare of colour and looked oddly naked in the light of the drawing room. It was no good, Rose thought, to interrogate Cordelia on what had caused the fight between the Prentice twins, for she seemed absorbed in her own little world, far removed from the drawing room at Sedgwick Court. Looking at the expression on the woman’s face, it was as if Shakespeare’s play was still proceeding before her eyes much as it had been performed that afternoon, a living breathing thing, the final scene unfolding ...
Rose was roused from her musings by the appearance of Mrs Simpson. With a start, she realised that she had quite forgotten that her mother had been present when Ursula Stapleton’s death had occurred, so preoccupied had she been in focusing her attention on the Sedgwick Players. Mrs Simpson entered the room clutching a shawl in her hands, which she proceeded to drape around Cordelia’s shoulders.
Meanwhile, it was evident from his manner that Cedric had quite abandoned his attempts to ascertain the cause of the disagreement between the brothers. The twins themselves, recollecting where they were and conscious of the fact they had caused an unsavoury spectacle, had composed themselves sufficiently to make some gestures of atonement. The twin who had thrown the punch was now patting the arm of the other in a conciliatory manner, while mumbling something under his breath. Walter Drury, once he had satisfied himself there was no threat of further violence, had released his grip on the sleeve of the injured twin and was instead dabbing at the boy’s nose with a clean cloth, which he dipped in a basin of hot water.
Liberated of the need to form an obstruction, and finding himself at something of a loss, Algernon Cuffe stepped forward, tall and magnificent in all his regal finery. He cast a fleeting glance at Cordelia, as if he expected that she, as director, might wish to address his lordship, to apologise for the disgusting behaviour demonstrated by some of their party of thespians. One glimpse, however, was sufficient to inform him that Cordelia had not recovered her equanimity; it was quite possible that she was oblivious of both her surroundings and even that a fight had occurred among her cast.
Algernon, aware that the eyes of the Sedgwick Players now rested firmly on his person, and conscious of the responsibility that he carried on his shoulders as a founding member of the group of thespians, cleared his throat, and began to speak in a rich, full-bodied baritone voice, the same voice that had thrilled provincial audiences.
‘I really must apologise, my lord, on behalf of us all. Quite frightful behaviour, what.’ He paused, as if waiting for a reply of sorts, but Cedric, watching him closely, made no comment. ‘I am sure you can appreciate that we are all rather shaken up over what has happened,’ Algernon began again in more appeasing tones. ‘By Ursula’s death I mean. I know I am, I don’t mind telling you. And these two,’ he made a vague gesture towards the Prentice twins, ‘why, they are little more than boys and quite clearly on edge. Shameful beha
viour, I know, but best forgotten, what?’
Cedric frowned and looked thoughtful. He opened his mouth to speak, but obviously thought better of it. Instead, he sighed and then summoned a footman to bring some brandy. Advancing further into the room he said:
‘I do wish one of you would tell me what caused the fight.’
‘It was nothing, your lordship,’ said the twin with the bloody nose. ‘I’m afraid I was being rather flippant about poor Mrs Stapleton’s death that’s all and Freddie very properly took exception. Served me right, of course, but I’m awfully sorry we caused a scene in your house … and in front of your servants, too,’ he added as an afterthought.
‘You won’t tell Mother, will you?’ mumbled the other brother. ‘She’s awfully strict about that sort of thing.’
‘Yes. She hasn’t forgiven us yet for being sent down from Oxford.’
Rose was of the view that Gerald Prentice’s explanation for the disturbance lacked truth, yet his words were spoken with an odd conviction, and were accompanied by an imploring look. However, there appeared little to be gained in pursuing the matter any further.
The next few minutes were employed by members of the Sedgwick Players helping themselves to brandy. Certainly, both Algernon and Walter each poured themselves a generous glass, and Mrs Simpson added a few drops of the liquid to Cordelia’s cup of tea.
Walter edged his way over to Lord Belvedere, lowering his voice to a whisper and speaking in rather a delicate manner. ‘The body, my lord … Mrs Stapleton …?’
‘She is quite safe,’ said Cedric quickly, taking a gulp of brandy. ‘One of the servants is keeping watch over her until the doctor and the police arrive.’
Though both men had taken efforts to speak quietly, their words had evidently been heard by Algernon, who crossed the room to address the earl.
Murder in the Folly Page 5
