‘To keep them out of mischief as much as anything,’ said Cedric, glancing rather anxiously at his wife, who was rather pointedly not looking at him. Instead, she seemed to be staring out in to the middle distance, as if some object there held her fascination.
‘Did Miss Belmore and the Prentice twins know they were to play the part of the courtiers?’ asked Inspector Deacon rather sharply. ‘By that, I mean was it arranged in advance of yesterday’s rehearsal?’
‘Why, yes, Inspector,’ said Cedric, pleased to have something to distract him from his wife’s strange behaviour. ‘Miss Quail mentioned it at the rehearsal last week. She intended to recruit some of the villagers to play the parts of the nobles and attendants in the actual performance, but wished to have an idea yesterday of how many would be required to fill the stage.’
‘I see.’ The inspector turned his attention back to Rose. ‘Do you remember, Lady Belvedere, what happened to the table?’
‘The table?’ Rose looked a little confused, as if she had been brought abruptly back to the present, her thoughts still residing elsewhere. ‘The table … yes, I think Mr Drury set it down at the back of the stage.’ She added, almost as an afterthought: ‘I do remember that the Prentice twins were carrying the foils and the wine glasses when they entered.’
‘Were they, indeed? Do you remember which of the twins was carrying the glasses?’
‘No. I don’t know. You see, the Prentice brothers are very difficult to tell apart. Not only are they identical in looks, but they were wearing matching costumes … black and red striped doublets and breeches.’
‘Very fetching, I’m sure,’ muttered Sergeant Lane grimacing.
‘They were certainly very colourful,’ said Rose. ‘The twin carrying the wine glasses placed them on the table; I do remember that. He then stood behind it and smirked rather unkindly at his brother’s misfortune.’
‘Oh?’ A gleam of interest showed itself in Inspector Deacon’s eye. ‘What misfortune was that?’
‘The poor boy dropped the foils,’ explained Rose. ‘I suppose he was rather nervous. I remember he looked very worried. Mr Drury rushed forward to help him pick them up.’
‘It made an almighty din,’ said Cedric, ‘the foils clattering on to the stone floor, I mean.’
‘And I suppose it caused something of a disturbance?’ suggested the inspector.
‘Yes, Inspector,’ agreed Cedric. ‘It was another perfect opportunity for our murderer to slip the poison into the wine glass, if that’s what you are getting at.’
Inspector Deacon glanced down at his copy of the script again, while Sergeant Lane shifted rather impatiently from one foot to the other, whistling a tune softly under his breath. Even a casual observer might have commented that he appeared restive, as if he feared his superior were intent on reviewing each line of the final scene of the play in detail. Even Rose, who had watched the rehearsal with a great deal of interest and enthusiasm, sympathised with the sergeant’s view. She too felt they were rather wasting their time standing in the folly when there was a whole host of suspects to be interviewed, not least the man who had been spied procuring what he had believed to be the poisoned wine glass.
The inspector looked up from the page he was reading and addressed Cedric, who was now lounging rather nonchalantly against one of the stone pillars. ‘While you and Mr Rewe were leaping about the stage, my lord, what were the courtiers doing?’
‘Watching our duel, Inspector. It was quite a spectacle, don’t you know. I believe they were supposed to be cheering and clapping, though shuffling and dragging their feet would be a more accurate description. It has to be said they were rather quiet.’ He laughed. ‘I suppose they were more concerned with ensuring they did not get in our way. Henry was rather lethal with his foil. The poor fellow would insist on waving it around blindly. They were probably afraid he’d have their eyes out.’
‘From where I was standing,’ Rose said, ‘the courtiers appeared to form a crowd around you. I do remember Miss Quail told them at one point to keep to the sides of the stage in order not to obstruct the audience’s view of the fight.’
‘Yes,’ agreed her husband. ‘But every time we made a move in their direction, they dispersed.’
‘If what you are saying is correct,’ said the inspector, ‘then there must have been a great deal of activity on the stage. You and Mr Rewe were dashing about –’
‘I was,’ said Cedric. ‘Poor Henry was trying to hide in the corner, waving his foil about in a reckless fashion.’
‘And the courtiers were moving to and fro as they watched your duel,’ continued the inspector.
‘Yes, like I said,’ said Cedric, sounding a trifle bored. ‘They were doing their best to get out of our way and not be stabbed by Henry. Not a mean feat, I can tell you. They had to be rather quick on their toes.’
‘So, in all the confusion, anyone might have had an opportunity to slip the poison into the wine glass. By that, I mean anyone who was on the stage at the time.’
‘Yes, I suppose you are right, Inspector. I must say, the thought had not occurred to me,’ admitted Cedric.
‘And Mr Cuffe, in the guise of King Claudius, picked up the wine glass and dropped in a pearl.’
‘I say, Inspector, you’re quite right,’ Cedric said, looking impressed. ‘I’d forgotten that bit in the play. Too busy concentrating on the fight, I suppose. It wasn’t a real pearl, of course, just a piece of polished glass.’
‘But an opportunity nevertheless for Mr Cuffe to administer the poison, should he be inclined to do so?’
‘I’d say!’
‘What happened to the wine glass? Did he put it on the table?’
‘No. I think Mr Drury took it from him,’ said Rose. ‘Yes, he did. He was playing Osric. I remember now he looked as if he did not quite know what to do with it. He held it rather awkwardly and looked about him as if he was expecting someone to be standing beside him who wasn’t there.’
‘The queen, perhaps?’ suggested Inspector Deacon, turning a page of the script. ‘She had to drink from it. She made a toast to Hamlet.’
‘Yes,’ said Cedric, all sign of idleness now forgotten. ‘The king tells her not to drink from the glass, but she disobeys him.’ He paused, as if reliving the moment in his head. ‘We all stopped what we were doing and stared at her. I don’t know why we did. Henry and I usually continued fighting during the part where she raises her glass to Hamlet. I say, I suppose it is possible that we all had some awful premonition of the disaster that was to follow. How ghastly!’
‘Algernon Cuffe sounded very fierce when he told Mrs Stapleton not to drink,’ said Rose.
‘I say, you’re quite right,’ exclaimed Cedric. ‘He almost shouted the line. It made us all jump, I can tell you.’
‘Perhaps he knew the glass was poisoned,’ suggested Sergeant Lane, ‘or at least suspected it was.’
‘Who gave the glass to Mrs Stapleton. Did she take the glass from Mr Drury herself, or did someone pass it to her?’ Inspector Deacon asked rather sharply.
‘Miss Belmore took the glass and carried it to her,’ Rose said slowly, hardly daring to catch her husband’s eye. ‘Mr Drury looked awfully relieved. I think he thought he would be left holding it.’
Cedric did not plead Miriam’s innocence this time as she had feared, but remained resolutely silent on the matter. Instead, he said almost dully: ‘I suppose what we are saying is that anyone could have done the crime. We all had an opportunity to slip the poison unseen into Ursula’s glass.’
‘Yes,’ agreed the inspector, ‘though I’ll wager you, my lord, and Mr Rewe were too preoccupied with your duel to do the deed on the stage, as it were. According to your account, you were darting about the stage and lunging, and Mr Rewe was doing his best to defend himself.’
‘Rather ineffectually,’ murmured Cedric. His face brightened. ‘Look here, Inspector, I daresay you’ll want to base your investigation here at Sedgwick Court?’ He did not wait for a
reply before continuing. ’Sergeant Lane will tell you that I put my study at his disposal when he and Inspector Bramwell investigated the death in the maze.’
‘And awfully good of you it was too, my lord, to be sure,’ said the sergeant.
‘Well, I like to do what I can to assist the police with their duties,’ said Cedric. ‘My wife and I should consider it an honour if you would do the same, Deacon.’ He descended the stone steps. ‘Now, if you gentlemen would care to follow me, I’ll show you to my study and arrange for some refreshments to be brought to you.’
‘That’s frightfully kind of you, my lord,’ said Inspector Deacon, remaining where he was. His voice sounded artificially loud among the stone pillars, as if he had a mind to project his voice to an unseen audience staring up at him from the lawn below. ‘However, it will not be necessary for I’ve arranged for the use of the private parlour at the Sedgwick Arms for just such a purpose.’
‘Oh?’ Cedric swung around and fixed on the inspector a look of utter surprise. Even the sergeant, Rose noticed, looked somewhat taken aback by his superior’s statement.
‘Well, I’ll just get Manning to telephone to the Arms to inform them that you have changed your plans,’ said the earl.
‘There’s no need for that, my lord.’
‘Oh, but I insist. It’s no trouble, I assure you.’
‘There’s no need for that, my lord, because I shall be conducting the investigation in to the death of Mrs Stapleton from the Sedgwick Arms.’
‘Not from Sedgwick Court?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘I see.’ Cedric lowered his gaze, and then, just as abruptly turned to scowl at the inspector. ‘Look here, Deacon, I don’t see why you have arrived at that decision; I don’t see at all. If Inspector Bramwell did not have an issue with –’
‘I am not Inspector Bramwell, my lord,’ began Inspector Deacon.
‘The circumstances were different then,’ said Rose slowly, enlightenment suddenly falling on her like a summer shower.
Until those final minutes they had almost appeared to be as one, working together to piece together the fragments from some elaborate jigsaw puzzle. Standing there in the folly, she had almost forgotten the first awkward moments in the hall on the policemen’s arrival. But now the gulf between them had returned more vivid than ever, highlighting the disparity between their social positions and professions.
‘Those involved were our guests,’ she said dully. ‘They were staying in our house at the time, whereas –’
‘The Sedgwick Players are our social inferiors?’ said Cedric, his eyebrows raised, his look incredulous. ‘I say, does it matter? We were all in the play together. Why, I took my direction from Miss Quail.’
‘That’s as may be, my lord,’ said Inspector Deacon, ‘but I believe the witnesses and suspects will speak more freely if I conduct my interviews in less … imposing surroundings.’
‘I wonder what’s got in to old Deacon,’ Cedric muttered to his wife a few minutes later as they watched the policemen depart.
‘He doesn’t want me to be present during the interviews,’ Rose said, almost bitterly, ‘but he’s far too polite to say so.’
Cedric shrugged his shoulders and started for the house. It did not occur to him for one moment that Inspector Deacon would be successful in his attempts to thwart his wife’s investigation in to Ursula Stapleton’s death. Rose lingered a few moments before following her husband’s example. It was only when he turned and looked back to see what was keeping her that she quickened her pace.
‘I suppose it is quite different now,’ she murmured softly to herself, almost under her breath. ‘Everything has changed. What a fool I was to think that any of it would be the same.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘I’ve always thought she was a very nice young lady, sir,’ said Sergeant Lane, getting up from his chair in the private parlour at the Sedgwick Arms.
He had been busy scribbling notes and, in a pause in the proceedings, had seized the opportunity to pace the room and stretch his legs. He had only to glance down at his notebook to envisage the number of pages he would fill before the day was out; his hand ached already in anticipation of the toil. He sighed, noting as he did so that the inspector had made no comment on his observation.
‘Miss Simpson,’ he added, for the avoidance of doubt. ‘I mean, Lady Belvedere, as I suppose I should call her now, though so grand a title don’t seem to suit the young miss nearly as well. Anyway, she looked quite a picture, I thought, what with her fine clothes and her hair styled all elegant, like.’
Inspector Deacon gave his sergeant something of a shrewd look. He did no more, however, than mutter a few words which his subordinate assumed concurred with his own assessment of the young woman.
‘She doesn’t seem to have any airs and graces about her as you’d expect a young lady to have in her position,’ Sergeant Lane continued, ‘what with her marriage, and all. Too grand for us, you’d have thought she’d have considered herself now, but no, not at all. Friendly towards us, she was, just like old times, though I thought she looked a little surprised to see us. His lordship, too; he greeted us like we were old friends, he –’
‘That’ll do, Lane,’ said Inspector Deacon abruptly, holding up his hand. ‘I am fully aware that you think I erred in declining his lordship’s hospitality.’
‘Well, sir, it’s just that I thought they looked a trifle offended and … well, it did seem a little ungrateful.’
‘It couldn’t be helped, Lane,’ Inspector Deacon said, somewhat brusquely. ‘We’re undertaking a murder investigation, and I’m afraid the feelings of those involved don’t amount for much.’
‘But, sir –’
‘I don’t doubt Lord and Lady Belvedere meant well, but really it wouldn’t do for us to be based at Sedgwick Court,’ continued the inspector, apparently resigned to the fact that his sergeant required a fuller explanation for his decision. ‘For one thing, the parties involved in this affair live in the village. They won’t want to have to trudge up to the house to give their statements. And jolly intimidating they’d find it too if they did, being greeted by butlers and footmen and the like. We’re not dealing with house party guests this time. Amateur thespians are rather a different kettle of fish. If we were to interview them in Lord Belvedere’s study, they’d be on their best behaviour and say as little as possible. As it is, it’ll take all our efforts to loosen their tongues. We don’t want to put any unnecessary obstacles in the way if we can help it.’
‘I suppose so,’ said the sergeant, sounding a little unconvinced by his superior’s argument. ‘Still, it’s a shame,’ he added, casting a look round their rather modest surroundings. ‘You could have sat in a velvet captain’s chair behind a large estate desk, sir, and me, I could have sat in a nice comfortable chair to take my notes instead of one of these old rickety dining chairs as has seen better days, to say nothing of that old moth-eaten horsehair sofa.’
‘Don’t let our landlady hear you saying such things,’ the inspector said, shuffling some papers before him on the table. ‘She made a point of telling me how she keeps a very respectable house. And most particular, she is, that the place is kept clean and tidy, just as it should be. I wouldn’t advise you tell her it’s not a patch on Sedgwick Court, not if you want to eat a hearty supper tonight.’
Inspector Deacon rose from his chair and positioned himself with his back against the unlit fireplace. His dark hair gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight that shone through the window of the little parlour. In spite of the cane that he was obliged to use, he still had the appearance of a tall and slightly imposing man. Certainly, there was an authoritative air about him, despite his relative youth. The sergeant, himself a young man, looked at his superior a little apprehensively. He had the odd feeling that he had inadvertently touched a nerve, or strayed on to ground on which he was a trespasser.
‘This murder is a rum old business, Lane,’ said Inspector Deacon quietly, re
turning to the particulars of the case. He passed a hand across his sleek, black hair in something of a distrait fashion. ‘I don’t like it. This affair was premeditated all right, down to the last element. There was something rather spiteful and vindictive about it. Our murderer watched Mrs Stapleton drink the poison and die before his eyes. It takes a certain type of person to do that; watch a woman die, I mean.’
‘It sounds to me, sir, as if he hated her,’ said Sergeant Lane. ‘As if he took a particular pleasure in her suffering, like.’
‘Or perhaps we are merely being fanciful,’ Inspector Deacon said wearily. ‘By that I mean it is possible we are seeing intrigue where there is none. The play suggested to our murderer a method by which Mrs Stapleton might be killed amid a sea of suspects. Talking of which, we had better have a word with this Mr Rewe. If the footman is correct, and we have no reason to suppose he’d lie, Henry Rewe saw fit to steal what he supposed to be the poisoned wine glass from Sedgwick Court.’
‘That was quick thinking on her ladyship’s part,’ said Sergeant Lane, a note of admiration in his voice, ‘substituting the poisoned glass with the innocent one, I mean.’
‘It was,’ conceded the inspector, colour rising to his cheeks unbidden. This fact was not lost on his subordinate, who was determined to play his advantage.
‘Quite a lady, like I said. Why, it’s quite possible isn’t it sir, that we won’t need to have our bags unpacked? If this Rewe chap confesses, and there is nothing to say he won’t, not with the evidence we have against him. If that happens, we might be boarding the train back to London before you can say Bob’s your uncle.’
Murder in the Folly Page 15
