Murder at the Masquerade Ball

by Margaret Addison

  Looking out into the garden, Rose saw a cluster of torchlight which seemed to be focused on the gardener’s shed. The light drew her on to walk out on to the terrace. She strained her ears. It came to her suddenly that the cry had been Lavinia’s. She gathered up her skirts in one hand, thankful that hers was a simple gown. She felt the baby inside her give a sharp, protesting kick. With a hand held protectively over her stomach, she headed towards the steps that descended to the garden.

  As she drew near, she became aware that a figure was climbing up the steps. Instinctively she retreated into the shadows. The footsteps she heard were rushed and awkward, adding to her consternation. The figure, whoever it was, was evidently in something of a hurry and panting horribly, as if it had encountered some terrible scene from which it was eager to distance itself.

  Rose watched fascinated as the figure made its way across the terrace. It passed quickly from dense shadow to a shard of light. Rose caught her breath. The figure was not in fancy dress but rather clothed in ordinary attire. The thought occurred to her that here before her was not a guest but an intruder. This person had no right to be in the garden of Kingsley House. A feeling of righteous anger welled up inside her and made her step out of the shadows. She knew not whether her intention was to confront this impertinent stranger, yet in moving forward she became clearly visible.

  The figure let out a startled cry and clutched at her arm.

  ‘Please, you must help me,’ cried Iris Franklin. ‘My husband has just tried to kill me.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ demanded Commander Wrenfield.

  ‘I saw Iris,’ Lavinia said with a shudder, as if she could hardly bring herself to say the deceased woman’s name. ‘Iris … Franklin.’

  The commander raised his eyebrows and gave her a sharp look, but refrained from making any comment. It is possible that he was reflecting whether this was the type of girl given to hysterics or vivid imaginings. Certainly the flamboyant nature of her costume suggested that she might be one prone to making outrageous statements merely for effect.

  ‘Oh, I know what I am saying sounds ridiculous,’ Lavinia said impatiently, rallying a little, some of her usual passion returning. ‘You needn’t tell me that. Iris is lying dead in ... in there. I saw her body with my own eyes.’ She shivered again. ‘But I tell you,’ she said, staring at him imploringly, ‘that I saw her there,’ she pointed to the side of the shed, ‘as clearly as I see you now standing in front of me. She was trying to peer in at the window. She didn’t know I was here, of course, and I suppose I must have frightened her dreadfully when I screamed because … well, she ran off across the garden towards the house.’

  ‘I see,’ said Commander Wrenfield, though whether this was true or not was hard to determine from his voice. ‘Well, I daresay it will be easy enough to find the woman if she’s in the house. I’m not one to believe in ghosts myself but if what you are telling me is correct and you did see Mrs –’

  ‘Oh, I did,’ Lavinia said quickly, relieved that she was being taken seriously.

  ‘Well, in that case, it stands to reason that the woman lying dead in there,’ the commander paused to gesture towards the gardener’s shed with his thumb, ‘cannot be Mrs Franklin.’

  ‘She was wearing Iris’ costume,’ protested Lavinia.

  ‘Was she, now? Well, I daresay one costume looks very like another.’

  ‘But Mr Franklin thought it was his wife, didn’t he?’

  ‘That’s as maybe. But Mrs Franklin can’t be in two places at once; it’s not possible. No,’ Commander Wrenfield added quickly, before Lavinia could object or interrupt further, ‘not even if one of ’em is a ghost.’

  The conversation between the two had been hurried and had, in fact, lasted barely a few minutes. Certainly none of the three men in the gardener’s shed had felt the need to venture outside to discover what was detaining the commander. Tempted though that man was to return to the house to ascertain if Iris Franklin was there, or whether her presence in the garden had been only a figment of Lady Lavinia’s imagination, he was faced with the more pressing and distasteful task of undertaking a thorough examination of the corpse.

  With this in mind, he retraced his steps and walked into the shed. He was followed by a rather reluctant Lavinia, who stood by the door, neither inside nor out, as if in readiness for flight should the occasion arise.

  Watched intently by the three men present, Commander Wrenfield motioned to Hallam to hold up his torch while he, himself, knelt down beside the body and somewhat gingerly set about removing the mask and wig that adorned it. It was, he reflected, a most unpleasant process, not least because the partially dislodged wig was covered in blood.

  ‘I say,’ said Cedric. ‘I’m not a man to tell another man how to do his job, and I daresay you have a great deal more experience of this sort of thing than I, but I rather think the police would prefer it if we didn’t touch anything. In fact, they take a pretty dim view of that sort of thing.’

  He winced as the commander chose that precise moment to tug rather violently at the wig, which was proving difficult to remove in its entirety due to the fact that it was still held in place by a variety of hair pins.

  ‘They may feel we are tampering with the evidence,’ continued the earl, raising his voice slightly, ‘or, at the very least, muddying the waters. I say, Wrenfield,’ he said more firmly, as the commander’s fingers strayed towards the woman’s mask, ‘really I must protest in the strongest terms. You –’

  ‘It’s a question of determining identity, my lord,’ said Commander Wrenfield, glancing briefly in the young man’s direction. ‘I’ll wager this corpse is not that of Mrs Franklin.’

  ‘What!’ cried Raymond, wrestling his arm from Cedric’s grip and lurching forward. ‘Of course that’s my wife. I recognise her costume. If you must know, I chose it myself. Iris … Iris has … had not been feeling very well lately. I thought …’

  His sentence faltered and then stopped. All the while he had been speaking, he had been watching the commander closely, busy at his self-imposed task. He had been filled with an awful fascination, quite unable to tear his eyes away from regarding the lifeless body lying prostrate on the ground. Meanwhile, Commander Wrenfield had finally succeeded in removing both the mask and wig in one simultaneous and rather dramatic movement, which revealed both the face and the hair of the corpse.

  Raymond let out a startled cry as a rich mane of hair, the colour of spun gold, greeted him and he stepped forward to take a closer look at the face.

  ‘It … it isn’t Iris.’

  ‘What?’ This time the word came from Hallam’s lips. He pushed past Raymond and stared down. ‘No,’ he said, a mixture of relief and incredulity evident in his voice. ‘It’s not Iris … Mrs Franklin. Oh, thank goodness.’

  The startled look had not left Raymond’s face, though much of it was hidden by his mask. Nevertheless, to the others he still resembled a man in a daze, who had just woken to discover that he was still in some unfathomable nightmare. Indeed, if anything the realisation that the body was not that of his wife seemed to have brought him little comfort. If Cedric had not had the presence of mind to catch him by the arm, he would certainly have stumbled.

  ‘It’s Hilary,’ he said. ‘It’s my secretary, Hilary Casters. I ... I don’t understand. What is she doing here?’

  ‘Well, I daresay Mrs Franklin will be able to help us there,’ said Commander Wrenfield briskly.

  ‘Happen you made a mistake, Franklin, and killed the wrong woman, eh?’ said Hallam rather nastily, jabbing the man in the ribs. ‘No need to fret, Cedric,’ he said quickly, as the earl made to protest. ‘I’m not really expecting your friend to answer my question and incriminate himself. The fellow’s too much of a coward.’

  ‘Now,’ said Commander Wrenfield, resuming control, ‘if you’ll just take Mr Franklin by the arm, Lord Belvedere, I’ll accompany you both to the house. There’s someone there I’m eage
r to speak with.’

  ‘I say, are you referring to my wife?’ cried Raymond. ‘I must speak with her first.’

  ‘Given the rather unusual circumstances in which we find ourselves, sir, I am sure you will appreciate that I can allow you to do nothing of the kind,’ the commander said in a tone of voice which suggested the matter was not open for discussion.

  ‘You’ve no right –’ began Raymond rather feebly, but he permitted himself to be led swiftly away by Cedric across the garden and into the house via a servants’ entrance, much to the surprise of the earl’s staff.

  The commander, meanwhile, headed towards the terrace, where he was confronted, not only by the loud music emanating from the ball, but also by the solitary figure of a woman. He wondered idly whether she had ventured out on to the terrace for the purpose of greeting him. Certainly she gave the impression that she was waiting for someone to appear. Indeed, she seemed to be straining her eyes as if she were trying to make out something at the very end of the garden.

  At his approach, she started visibly and he rather regretted the ominous appearance of his gold Bauta mask with its harsh, straight lines which obscured most of his face. He was just considering what he might say in order to allay the woman’s fears, all too aware that the nature of his mask meant that his voice would be distorted in what some might perceive to be an alarming fashion, when he was joined by Lavinia.

  ‘I say, I’ve had a frightful job trying to keep up with you. I really think you might have waited,’ she said rather petulantly. She spotted the figure on the terrace. ‘Rose, is that you? Oh, thank goodness.’

  She pushed past the commander in a rather rude manner and started to climb up the steps that led up from the garden, considerably hindered by the awkward shape and design of her skirts.

  ‘Something absolutely ghastly has happened. Really, it’s too horrid and beastly for words. Oh, curse this gown, it’s been nothing but tiresome all evening. Now, what was I saying? Oh, yes. Raymond Franklin has murdered his mistress! He thought it was Iris and murdered the other poor girl by mistake.’

  ‘Lady Lavinia, really I must protest –’ began Commander Wrenfield, appalled at the girl’s frankness and blatant lack of discretion.

  ‘Oh, it’s quite all right. You see, this is Lady Belvedere, Lord Belvedere’s wife and my sister-in-law. Rose is quite used to this sort of thing. You must have heard of her? She is the most frightfully clever and brilliant detective. I can’t tell how many times she’s helped Scotland Yard with their most baffling cases. Murder is right in her line.’

  ‘Lavinia!’ exclaimed Rose, somewhat appalled by her friend’s flippant manner and the bad impression it gave. She decided the girl was most likely suffering from shock. Indeed, she gave all the signs of doing so; speaking rapidly, as if she were almost afraid that she could not get all her words out before she went to pieces.

  At her friend’s reprimand, Lavinia took a deep breath and this time, when she spoke, her voice shook.

  ‘This gentleman,’ she said, addressing Rose, ‘is a policeman. At least,’ she paused a moment, ‘he acts as if he were a policeman which he wouldn’t do if he wasn’t a real policeman, would he? Anyway, whatever he is, you’ll be able to help him with his inquiries, won’t you?’

  ‘Is it true,’ enquired Rose of the man in the mask, ‘that Miss Casters is dead? Mrs Franklin was under the impression that her husband was trying to kill her rather than someone else.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Commander Wrenfield sharply.

  ‘Are you really a policeman?’ asked Rose.

  Commander Wrenfield avoided answering her question by posing one of his own.

  ‘Is the lady here? I should like to speak with her.’

  ‘I am afraid that is quite out of the question until you tell me who you are,’ Rose said.

  She spoke with a degree of firmness that surprised the commander after Lavinia’s rather rambling and disjointed prattle. Had they been alone, he thought he might have been tempted to take this woman into his confidence. Lavinia’s presence, however, made this impossible, particularly as the girl seemed quite incapable of holding her tongue. Therefore, almost inevitably, a brief silence followed Rose’s speech, during which it became apparent, even to Lavinia, that their companion had no intention of revealing his identity. Rather than increasing her suspicions of him, Rose found curiously that the man’s stubborn refusal to reveal his name had exactly the opposite effect.

  ‘Besides,’ she said at last, if only to break the uncomfortable silence that engulfed them, ‘Mrs Franklin is having a lie down. I’ve asked my lady’s maid to sit with her. I thought Mrs Franklin ought not to be left alone. She is in a very agitated state.’

  ‘That was very wise, your ladyship.’

  ‘Did you see Ceddie?’ piped up Lavinia. ‘He and Hallam apprehended Raymond Franklin. In fact, Ceddie frogmarched him into the house through one of the servants’ entrances.’

  ‘That would explain the torches I saw in the garden besides your own,’ Rose answered, directing her remarks to both Lavinia and the commander. ‘I did not know quite what to do for the best. As I have said, Mrs Franklin was in a very distressed and rather incoherent condition. I hardly knew if she was speaking the truth when she said her husband had tried to kill her. I saw the torch light by the shed and thought I would wait here to see who returned to the house.’ She glanced at Lavinia. ‘Was it you who screamed? I heard you from my bedroom window, which happened to be open at the time.’

  ‘Yes,’ muttered Lavinia. ‘I was awfully frightened. I thought I had just seen Iris’ ghost. Of course it all sounds rather silly and ridiculous now that we know she’s alive. But I didn’t know that then. I thought she was lying dead …’ she faltered, before adding with a shudder, ‘It’s all too horrible for words. Poor Miss Casters. We’re all so delighted that Iris is all right, but there’s still a young woman lying dead on the floor of that horrible old shed.’

  ‘It’s surprising that none of your guests heard the scream,’ remarked Commander Wrenfield, ‘There were two screams in all, though the first wasn’t very loud, I’ll grant you. In fact, I doubt it would have been heard by anyone who wasn’t in the garden.’

  ‘That’s when I saw Raymond Franklin bending over … over the body,’ explained Lavinia, with another shiver. ‘It … it was horrid.’

  ‘The music in the ballroom is rather loud as you can hear for yourself,’ said Rose, gesturing towards the house. ‘It’s jolly difficult to hear anything but the band when one is in the ballroom. The chaperones’ and sitting-out rooms overlook the street, so I am not surprised that nobody in those rooms heard Lavinia scream.’

  ‘I suppose the same goes for the buffet room,’ admitted the commander, rather grudgingly. ‘But the same can’t be said for those in the dining room. If I remember rightly, it has windows overlooking the garden as well as the street.’

  ‘You are quite right, but there would have been a great deal of noise in that room what with the chatter and the servants laying and clearing the tables.’

  ‘Still, I’d have thought one or two of your guests would have been out on the terrace, in order to take the air, so to speak,’ persisted the commander. ‘They’d have heard the scream all right.’

  ‘I’m sure they would have been out on the terrace earlier in the evening,’ said Rose. ‘But you see, the grand unveiling of the masks is due to take place in a few minutes and everyone has been gathering in the ballroom.’

  As if on cue, they suddenly became aware that the band had stopped playing and a hushed silence had fallen over the ballroom; it was almost as if some strange spell had been cast. Those on the terrace listened with as much intense anticipation as those within the building itself, their ears strained for the sound of the grandfather clock in the hall below striking the hour. When the chimes came, they did not disappoint, for they resonated through the quiet house with a majestic force. One … two … three. Applause filled the air and the spell was immediately broken. Th
e guests emitted a collective cheer. They removed their masks, laughing and exclaiming as they recognised their friends and acquaintances. For them, the enchanted, fairy tale element of the evening had come to an end. They were now at an ordinary ball.

  The band struck up a final, jaunty tune as the guests made their way out on to the landing and down the stairs to partake of hot soup, devilled bones, kidneys and beer, prior to making their departure. For they were not to know of the tragedy that had occurred in the garden a few hundred feet from where they were gathered, nor the fact that, on Cedric’s instructions, the front door had been locked and barred and their departure delayed.

  Unthinkingly, Rose removed her own mask, Lavinia following her example. Only the commander remained incognito, his stark gold mask now looking strangely out of place among the naked faces of his companions.

  ‘Really,’ said Lavinia, ‘I do think you ought to remove your mask. You’ll be awfully conspicuous if you don’t. And I rather think it is time we saw your face, don’t you? I, for one, would like to know to whom I’ve been talking. Don’t you agree with me, Rose?’’

  ‘I am afraid that I cannot acquiesce to your request, Lady Lavinia,’ replied the commander rather formally, accompanying his statement with a bow. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, your ladyships, I must telephone Scotland Yard.’

  ‘Well, really!’ exclaimed Lavinia, as they watched the man’s retreating back as he made his way across the terrace. ‘What a cheek. He knows who we are. I think it’s awfully rotten of him not to be a sport and tell us who he is. Why, he won’t even show us his face.’ She sighed. ‘Do you think he is frightfully old? Or perhaps that is just his voice. Some young men do have very old voices, you know.’

  Rose, who was secretly as intrigued by the man’s identity as Lavinia, refrained from comment. From his conduct, she thought it likely that the stranger was a man of authority who was used to having his orders obeyed. She concealed a smile. In Lavinia, he had almost met his match. Her face clouded as she remembered the body in the gardener’s shed. Whoever the man in the gold mask was, it appeared he did not wish it to be generally known that he had attended the Belvederes’ masquerade ball. He had come to the ball in a disguise and evidently wished to leave it in a similar manner.