Murder at Mondial Castle

by Issy Brooke

  He feigned utter astonishment at the mere suggestion.

  “Furthermore, as I am away from home, I don’t have access to very much money and therefore what I give you now is all that I can give you. You must leave this area and not return.”

  “I shall do my best.”

  “Listen, Alfred, it’s for your own good. You were seen in the grounds before the murder. Don’t you realise you’re a potential suspect?”

  “Only if someone names me, and the only people who could do that are you – and her,” he spat out. “Would you do that? Would you throw your own brother to the wolves like that?”

  It was tempting, she thought. But she kept her mouth closed as she unfurled the banknotes. He protested at first, saying it was hard to get places to accept them. “Just take them to a bank and have them exchanged.”

  “I prefer coin.”

  “They are for school fees. It should not matter,” she argued back, and she noticed that in spite of his words, he didn’t hesitate in pocketing the notes immediately. She then laid out a few coins for him. “And these will tide you over to help you get home,” she added.

  “This won’t get me far.”

  “It is all I have.”

  “You must have more back at the castle. I will come with you. I should like to meet your husband again. He was always so very kind to me.”

  “You must not. You would not dare.”

  “I am his brother-in-law. He said he would always have an open door for me.”

  Theodore did not know the depths to which Alfred had sunk. As far as Theodore was concerned, Alfred was still living with his wife Jane and was gainfully employed as a clerk in an office. Adelia had maintained that fiction for so long that she simply didn’t know how to disabuse her husband now. In desperation, she grabbed the ugly grey brooch that was pinned at her collarbone, and threw it onto the table too. “There. Sell it or pawn it.”

  He picked it up. “Is this a grey diamond?”

  She would not have been giving him anything quite so valuable, in spite of its ugliness. “No, it is a sapphire.”

  “Sapphire? This colour?”

  “It is true. It has value.”

  He squinted at it as if he could tell, but he couldn’t and she knew it. Yet she was not lying. “Take it to a few different valuers,” she told him. “Not here. Go to London and go to the best advice. You will not be disappointed. And you can make use of the bank notes more easily if you go home, too.”

  Her words convinced him. He grabbed the decanter, poured out the rest of the wine including the sediment, and drank it down in one gulp. She felt her teeth itch at the thought of the lumps. She couldn’t find anything else to say, and he was clearly done with conversation now that he had got what he wanted.

  Without further ado, he left.

  Harriet sat back. “Shall we order more wine?”

  Seventeen

  In the end, they held back on having any more wine. It had left a furry taste on Adelia’s tongue and the whole meeting made her feel despondent. They trudged back to the coaching inn and refreshed their palates with a reasonable meal before clambering back into the carriage and returning to Mondial Castle.

  “Who is the top suspect in this murder now?” Harriet asked as they rumbled back along the narrow roads. “I should have expected your clever husband to have solved it all by now.” She was always nicer about Theodore than he was about Harriet.

  “I am starting to think it was a passing robber as Lord Mondial claims,” Adelia said. “I wish it weren’t so, but here we are. Although Theodore is still convinced that Taylor the valet is involved and I can see why he thinks so, but I simply can’t suggest a motive for the man. I am beginning to wish I had never told Theodore he ought to investigate. We are running in circles.”

  “What of the local police?”

  “They are still keen to step in, according to Dido and some of the servants, but Lord Mondial won’t have it. He sent the inspector away with some stiff words. Lord Mondial has friends in very high places. He is a friend in a high place himself. So the magistrates and county judges will bend to his demands. He drops the name of the circuit judge whenever the matter is raised. I have no doubt he also knows the police commissioner for this area and if Lord Mondial doesn’t want police involvement, then there shall be none.”

  “Even with a death such as this?”

  “People die every day in all manner of ways. Justice falls only to those who can pay for it, after all.”

  “That is sadly true,” said Harriet. “We see it all the time in our line of work. The Bishop quite despairs at the unfairness of it all. What of that Sir Henry Locksley? He’s a likeable man but he’s far too upset and I can’t understand why he’s still here if he is that upset. He’s awfully prey to his emotions, isn’t he? Quite the wayward romantic sort.”

  “He is very mixed-up and confused and there is more to him than meets the eye.”

  “Oh? I bet he has a secret. I wager he’s an artist. That would explain it, wouldn’t it?”

  Adelia wasn’t sure she wanted to tell her friend everything. She didn’t like the way it could reflect badly on her daughter. Yet by the time the carriage rolled back into the courtyard at the back of Mondial Castle, Harriet knew everything anyway; she just had that way of winkling someone’s secrets out of them.

  But she was never judgemental. Harriet reassured Adelia that she thought Dido was perfectly respectable and blameless and innocent of any clandestine affairs. Adelia believed it, but she needed to hear it from someone else, and was glad of Harriet’s vehemence. They parted in the entrance hall of the castle. Harriet wanted to have a lie down for a few hours, and Adelia decided to get changed and go and see how her daughter was faring. She was only halfway across the hall when she was accosted by Theodore emerging from the library.

  “And how was your visit to town?” He eyed her empty hands. “You have either bought things that are very small and hidden them in your bag, or they are very large and will be delivered by cart directly. Either way, it does not bode well for our finances.” He smiled and held out his hand to take her bag as they proceeded upstairs together.

  “I have bought nothing,” she said. “I had hoped for some silk ribbons and other trinkets but the choice was sadly lacking.”

  “You said you needed necessities.”

  “Silk ribbons are a necessity, dear one.”

  He laughed. Once in their suite, Smith came forward to help her out of her cape and whisked it away immediately so that the dust and dirt of travel could be brushed from it. “You have lost your brooch,” Theodore said, watching proceedings. “I could have sworn you wore it this morning.”

  “Oh. You are that attentive?”

  “You know that I am. It is my trained medical eye. But how did it work lose? Was the clasp broken?” he said.

  “You are taking this idea of being a detective far too much to heart. It could have come free at any point today. The roads are bumpy. I’ll ask someone to check in the carriage.”

  Theodore smiled as if a cunning thought had occurred to him. “Oh, I can guess exactly what has happened to it.”

  She felt cold. Perhaps having a detective for a husband was a very bad idea. “Oh?” she asked as lightly as she could manage.

  “You never did like it, did you?” He grinned in triumph. “No doubt you have ‘accidentally’ lost it and I am sure that all the searching in the world won’t bring it to light again. Well, it is no matter. Listen, I too have news. I spoke earlier to Sir Henry.”

  Smith came back and took Adelia into an adjoining dressing room. Theodore conversed with her through the partly open door while she got changed, telling her of their ill-fated conversation. She sighed and rolled her eyes multiple times throughout his recount. She had told him not to talk to people! This was exactly the problem with his practice as a doctor, too. Too much blunt speaking. People simply couldn’t cope with certain kinds of truth.

  Still he made a good point a
bout how he had obviously touched a nerve with Sir Henry. Once again, she felt she didn’t quite know what was really going on.

  She left Theodore sitting at the window, tapping his pencil to his teeth, and went out in search of her daughter.

  This time she was going to get to the very bottom of things.

  SHE FOUND DIDO IN THE garden room downstairs, standing up and looking out over the lawns. She was dressed in comfortable day wear and so was not at home to visitors. She had correspondence on a tray nearby, but she was obviously taking a break. She turned when she heard her mother approach, and gave her a big warm smile.

  “I am pleased to see you looking brighter today,” Adelia said.

  “I think that my husband was right all along. Having grandmamma here has made the whole place feel happier somehow. And Mrs Hobson is a delight. She is always amusing.”

  “I’ve just been into town with her,” Adelia said.

  “It is a pretty town.”

  “It is.”

  Adelia walked slowly around a tall orange tree that was outgrowing its terracotta pot. The large doors were thrown open making the room feel like it really was part of the garden. Butterflies flitted from bloom to bloom. She let the silence lengthen until Dido felt compelled to break it. “Mama, do you really think any of us are in danger from the attacker?”

  “Perhaps. If it were not a passing robber who committed this crime then it was someone from within the house. Your father will find it all out, I am sure. He is looking very closely at someone now.”

  “Taylor, the valet?”

  “No. Sir Henry Locksley, in fact.”

  “Mama!” Dido sat down with a thump on an ornate metalwork chair. “We have talked about Sir Henry. What could he have done that could possibly arouse anyone’s suspicion?”

  “The fact that he was in your room, going through your writing-case.”

  “But...”

  “What was he looking for, Dido?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “You can say. You must say. Someone’s life may depend on it. Will you see an innocent man hanged?”

  “It could not come to that!”

  “Forgive my drama, but it could. So whatever you need to tell me, you must tell me now.”

  She bent her head. “He has written to me,” she said in a whisper. “But I have not replied, of course.”

  “That will be it. Oh, so simple and yet so dangerous. He wanted to get the letter back. But why? What on earth did it say?” Adelia pulled up a nearby chair and sat close to her daughter so that they could converse in low tones. “I assume it is awfully incriminating.”

  “Oh, Mama, it was an ill-advised sort of letter and one that I suspect he regretted that he wrote as soon as it left his hands. He may have been drunk at the time. He declares his undying devotion to me. I know that he means only to be an absolute ally to me, a friend as close as a brother might be, but the way that he expressed himself was ... unfortunate. He is not good with his choice of words. It is a letter that I blushed to read. So I hid it away. I should have destroyed it, of course.”

  “Why didn’t you? Such a letter can only bring trouble, to you and to him.”

  “It felt disrespectful to burn it or tear it up because I know that his intentions were always, and will always be, strictly honourable.”

  “Ask your father if even the best of men have only ever honourable intentions,” Adelia said darkly. “Even women. When we are facing the extremes, our emotions can take us to places we would never admit to.”

  “Mama! What do you mean?”

  “Only that a man’s intentions may be honourable most or even all of the time, but sometimes his actions are in contrast to those intentions. And writing a letter of love – yes, that is what it sounds like to me – the act of writing such a letter opens the door to less honourable things. He has taken one step along a dangerous road. All other steps come more easily. In this way, an honourable man and woman may find themselves too far down a path of sin to turn around and escape. It happens by inches.”

  “No!”

  “Yes,” Adelia said firmly. She thought she might have been over-egging the pudding a little but her daughter’s honour was the most important thing to her. If she was brought into disgrace even by words, not even by deeds, then Lord Mondial would have her cast out or committed to an asylum without a second glance. He was strict and upright and his own brand of honour would not allow for a moment of flexibility.

  Not that she would express those fears to Dido.

  “Where is the letter now?”

  “In the hidden section below my wedding tiara in my locked jewellery case that lies in my own private safe in my room,” Dido said in a rush.

  “It must be destroyed and Sir Henry must be told that it is gone.”

  “But why?”

  “While it exists, it brings danger to you and your whole family, and to Sir Henry. If you care for him at all, let it be destroyed utterly and let him know it. He will understand why. I suspect he is trying to get it for the exact same purpose. He can only be filled with regret at his actions.”

  Dido thought about it for a moment before acquiescing with a heavy sigh. “Very well,” she said. “Let us see to it immediately.”

  Eighteen

  Adelia acted as chaperone between Dido and Sir Henry as he was told of the letter and what they had done to it. She called him into the garden room after Dido had fetched the letter and burned it in front of her mother’s eyes.

  Sir Henry looked pale and nervous as he glanced between mother and daughter. Dido kept her head turned away and didn’t speak, letting her mother take charge. Adelia assured him the matter was at a close now the letter had been destroyed and he escaped from the meeting as quickly as he could.

  Dido went to speak to the housekeeper on everyday matters, seeking solace in the ordinary running of the household, and Adelia headed upstairs to find Theodore. He wasn’t in their suite nor any of the public rooms, and eventually Lord Mondial, who was lounging in his study, indicated he had left him in the stables, “talking to the horses.”

  She went out and found him doing exactly that.

  Theodore was leaning on the stable door of a loose box, peering into the gloom and apparently muttering a stream of nonsense. As she got closer, she saw the long thin head of a handsome bay mare. Theodore would blow gently at her nostrils and she would huff and blow back.

  “Is this the only way you can get intelligent conversation?” she asked as she approached and he jumped.

  “Ah! I was lost in my own thoughts there.”

  “Well, I have some news for you concerning Sir Henry. But first you must understand that no blame is to be attached to either Sir Henry or Dido.”

  The warning made his face cloud over. “This sounds serious.”

  “It is, but I believe that nothing reproachable has happened. And we have averted any possible rumour of impropriety.”

  “You need to start at the beginning.” He glanced around. “Come, let us sit down and discuss this. Follow me. I find the hay barn to be both private and strangely comforting.”

  He led her into a vast lofty space that was piled high with straw bales on one side, rich and deep yellow in colour, and hay bales on the left, a lighter and thinner substance altogether. Both smelled wonderful. She had been raised in the heart of London and any hint of bucolic countryside filled her with romance. She almost giggled as she sat on a wide low straw bale and spread out her skirts, feeling like a milkmaid in a pastoral painting. The hay was scratchier than she had expected but she could ignore it for the sake of looking appealing.

  Theodore did not sit down. He prowled around as she explained what had occurred between Sir Henry and Dido. He cursed the young man a few times but she managed to persuade him that Sir Henry was merely impulsive and reckless but not a lothario, and Dido was entirely innocent.

  “Yet has he no care for our daughter’s reputation?” he said angrily. “Sending letters of love to a mar
ried woman!”

  “He does care for her reputation and for her, very much, and that is why he was looking for the letter. He explained that he wished only to get it back and destroy it himself to ensure it could never come to light and harm her. But he could not approach Dido and ask her because a private meeting would have been misconstrued and a public one would have been overheard. He also did not wish to cause her any embarrassment or distress by referring to the letter directly. He accepts it was a foolish thing to have done, and wants to never think of it again. And I believe him.”

  “Foolish? Criminally irresponsible. Did you read this letter yourself? I need to know what it said. I cannot now believe anything he might claim that it said. I need to see it for myself.”

  “I did read it. It was not a passionate declaration of love. It was an affectionate letter from one friend to another, that was all. He was offering his support. The unfortunate thing was the wording and the fact it comes from an unmarried man to whom she has no familial connection. He said that he dedicated himself to her, which could be misinterpreted by those of evil mind. And we know the world has enough of those.”

  “Fool. Was the man raised in a barn?” Theodore muttered, kicking at a bale.

  She laughed at his joke but he didn’t even realise he’d made one.

  “Theodore, calm down,” she said. “You are worked up far too much over this. I suspect it is not the letter that is truly bothering you.”

  “No,” he grumbled. “It’s this whole thing. I thought that I’d look at the evidence, speak to people – and you would speak to people – and that would be that. Things would add up and the killer would be found. It ought to have been easy and logical. I had not realised that people would lie. That they would lie to me! And, worse, that because people would be lying about unrelated things, it would become this tangled mess. And even worse than that: the tangled mess might reveal things that could have stayed hidden because they are nothing to do with the murder!”