The Black Cat Murders: A Cotswolds Country House Murder (Heathcliff Lennox Book 2)

by Karen Menuhin

  ‘Um …’ I mumbled through a mouthful of scone.

  ‘Are you sweet on her?’

  ‘Well …’ I wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Do you think she’s like Hiram’s mother, Ruth Chisholm?’

  ‘Lennox.’ Miss Busby sipped her tea. ‘People are what they are. Not what you want them to be.’

  ‘Um,’ I mumbled again, my mind elsewhere, and then turned to look directly at her. ‘You mean “yes”, don’t you.’

  ‘I mean, Lennox, that you need to view her without the romanticised imagery you’ve conjured in your mind’s eye. Talk to her, don’t worship from afar. Get to know her as a real person.’

  ‘Yes. Well, yes, I will.’ I munched a bit more. ‘Not very good with the fairer sex, you know. Bit of a mystery.’

  ‘I rather thought so,’ she smiled. She waited for me to reply, but I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  ‘Did you want to ask me about the Bloxford Beauties?’

  I nodded. ‘Why are you one of them?’

  A shadow flitted across her face, causing the smile to falter.

  ‘The Brigadier, Neville, was not the elder son. Did you know that?’

  ‘No,’ I confessed. ‘Before my time.’

  ‘Randolf –’ Her voice broke across his name, she took a breath and continued. ‘We were engaged, a long, long time ago. And as a young bride-to-be I was asked if I’d like to become one of the Bloxford Beauties. The portrait was meant as a wedding gift to the groom – this was the tradition and has been for a few hundred years. Not everybody said yes, but I jumped at it. I was a madcap young thing in those days, you know. Riding to hounds, out with the shooting parties, dancing the night away at local balls. We had a marvellous time. The Hall was always bustling: the older Bloxfords liked to entertain and we even put on our own shows at the theatre. It was such fun, so full of laughter and music. Poor Caroline has missed all of that. I do hope she and Hiram can bring the house back to life again.’ Miss Busby paused to sip tea, her eyes gazing into the distance.

  I waited in silence. The kitten, ‘Mr Tubbs’ as he was now designated, clambered up to sit on her knee; she stroked him quietly.

  ‘The Bloxfords are military men. Born to be soldiers, they used to say. Randolf was no exception, his regiment was sent to fight the Boers. He died there shortly before he was due home for our wedding …’ She forced a smile. ‘Typhoid killed him. Not a heroic death. Agonising and utterly wasteful, but not heroic. And so he was dead and buried in Africa and I never saw him again.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said; all I could say really.

  ‘Grace and Brigadier Neville were wed a year later. Caroline didn’t come along for a long time, too long probably, and Grace’s health never really recovered, poor soul. I remember your mother, you know. Mary-Rose, a lovely woman. They were close friends.’

  I regarded her, thinking about how her life would have been – the wife of the Earl, probably a mother and even grandmother by now.

  ‘I taught.’ She sipped tea and took up the conversation again. ‘After Randolf died I became the local schoolteacher. I enjoyed it. The people who live here in the village are all friends, and my family of sorts. I feel very blessed, you know.’

  ‘Why do you visit the chantry?’ I asked. ‘And care for it?’

  ‘I was born in this village, I have a relatively humble background and I find the house chapel very pretentious,’ she smiled. ‘I wanted to be wed at the old chantry, where my parents were married. And that is where I hold my memories of Randolf. Even if his body isn’t buried there, I feel his presence. And I go to say thank you to God, for the life I have led. A long life now and not too many aches and pains –’ she smiled ‘– for an old lady.’

  I echoed her smile. ‘No regrets? You would have been lady of the manor, patron of the arts, a grand dame, if your fancy had taken it.’

  ‘None at all – and I would have never been a “grand dame”.’ She laughed. ‘Enough of days gone by, Major Lennox. What have you discovered? You and Inspector Swift?’

  I told her about Crispin and Andrew and the Black Cat Club, and Clegg and the switched planks, and then the ridiculous members of the opera group, finishing with my luncheon discussion with the German, von Graf. Miss Busby listened quietly without interruption.

  ‘It may not be related to this Black Cat Club at all, you know,’ she mused. ‘It may be something that happened at Braeburn Castle.’

  ‘Possibly. I think von Graf made the arrangements for Jarvis to come here, through Lady Ruth. And von Graf was instrumental in bringing the Noble House of Opera to the Hall,’ I replied. ‘And Ruth agreed to that too.’

  ‘Oh dear. It’s all quite complicated, or seems to be,’ she remarked. ‘Major Lennox, do you fear there is some sort of mad killer on the loose? Because I would hate to think that any of the wedding party are in danger.’

  I pondered this, a thought that had already troubled me.

  ‘I believe not,’ I said. ‘I’d say the motives lie in the past.’

  ‘I do hope you are right,’ she said.

  So too did I.

  Fogg, Tubbs and I retraced our footsteps. The rain had blown away as quickly as it had appeared and the walk through the walled gardens was damp underfoot, giving off the scent of new-grown grass and wet earth. I placed Tubbs in Fogg’s basket and left them in my bedroom.

  I had Andrew Dundale in my sights now; there were a number of questions I wanted to ask. Just as I was heading downstairs to find him, I was diverted by Dicks, rather red in the face.

  ‘Lady Caroline has been looking for you, sir. Seems to be in a bit of a tizzy about that dead chaplain.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I thought she’d taken the news rather too well. By the way, Dicks, the kitten’s a boy. Called him Mr Tubbs. Better get him some milk and take up a treat for Mr Fogg. We were caught in the rain – got a bit damp.’

  ‘Certainly, sir,’ he grinned.

  I tracked Caroline down to her rooms in the west wing. She was indeed in a tizzy and had been crying, too, by the looks of it.

  ‘Greetings, old stick,’ I hailed her upon walking in.

  ‘Oh, Lennox.’ She climbed off the bed and came to peck me on the cheek. ‘It’s beastly. No-one liked that awful man, but there are now two chaps dead in a week. The ceremony is only three days away and we will simply be awash with people. Should I call it off? Are they in danger, do you think?’ She looked up at me, hair tangled, eyes red-rimmed; she was still dressed in riding gear and her white chambray blouse was now badly creased. I assume she’d been lying on the bed working herself into a flap.

  I made her come and sit in the window seat, a place where we’d spent many hours in our childhood, reading books and plotting mischief.

  ‘What does Hiram think?’ I asked, putting my arm around her shoulders as she sniffled into a handkerchief.

  ‘That we should carry on. The deaths weren’t actually in the house and he thinks it’s to do with some sort of dispute between the players in the opera group. I said we should send them packing but he thinks Swift will uncover the culprit and that will be that. And Ruth is absolutely determined that the next opera must go ahead, so I’m really rather cornered, aren’t I?’

  Indeed she was, and that was very likely the crux of the problem. Lady Grace had died young and Caroline had spent most of her life being the only child of a loving but absent father. She’d had the run of the house and ordered everyone in it pretty much as she liked. Now she was about to wed and had Hiram to contend with, not to mention a single-minded stepmother-in-law. Kind though they both undoubtedly were, Caroline was no longer calling the shots in her own home and the realisation had probably hit her hard.

  ‘I agree with Hiram. There is no need to cancel because of Jarvis, no one will miss him.’ I squeezed her shoulders, trying to gee her up. ‘You’ve found a good chap there, in Hiram, I mean. He’ll be a rock for you. A mountain, actually.’

  She gave another sniff. ‘He is rather vast isn’t he. We had to g
ive him one of the draft horses to ride, he looked ridiculous on the others.’

  ‘I saw the saddles,’ I remarked.

  She laughed. ‘They brought them with them, he and Ford. Can you imagine what the hunt master will say when we turn up for a meet?’

  I laughed with her. ‘He’ll be a breath of fresh air, Caroline. Bring some life to the old place.’

  ‘But he may chafe against the bit here — you know how stuck in our ways we are. I do wonder if I’m expecting too much of him. And if he really knows what he’s letting himself into.’

  ‘As you said, old thing, he’s a big chap – he can think it out for himself. More to the point, are you ready for this marriage?’ I asked without quibbling.

  ‘Lennox,’ she began, then halted as people do when about to utter something ticklish. ‘Um. Do you know why Daddy was so keen for you to come before the ceremony?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You do?’ Her brows shot up.

  ‘Yes, I just said so.’ I unwound my arm from her shoulders.

  ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ she asked.

  ‘About marrying you?’ I said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Not a chance, old stick. Run a mile first. Actually – I’d run a lot further.’

  ‘Oh, thank heavens,’ she said and relaxed back against the cushions. ‘Hiram and I were concerned and we weren’t sure how to broach it.’

  ‘You didn’t seriously think I was harbouring feelings for you, did you, Caroline?’

  ‘Well, it’s hard to tell with you, Lennox. You’re so utterly hopeless at romance.’ She stuffed her damp handkerchief in her pocket and sat up.

  Why was it that absolutely nobody ever credited me with the ability to do a damn thing? Not even to declare a few soft words when the time was ripe? Or solve a murder?

  ‘Why does Hiram think Swift will apprehend the killer and not me?’ I demanded.

  ‘Swift is from Scotland Yard, he’s a professional. Why wouldn’t he find the murderer? And he’s awfully sweet. We all think he’s quite charming,’ she told me, with a straight face.

  I was becoming rather annoyed by this. ‘No, he’s not. I’ll have you know he wanted to hang me, and would have done, given the chance. Really, Caroline, I do wonder about your judgement sometimes.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with my judgement.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Are you trying to tell me you don’t like Hiram?’ she accused.

  ‘Of course I like him. That wasn’t what I meant at all.’ It was time to leave, Caroline was turning decidedly waspish for no reason. She’d been like this ever since she was a child.

  ‘You always said I should look before I leap. You’re not going to play ‘Sir Galahad’ are you Lennox, and start meddling?’ She accused me.

  ‘No, I was just trying to help,’ I retorted loudly. ‘You’re always throwing yourself into things without a damn thought in your head.'

  ‘That’s so typical of you, Lennox, you think I can’t be trusted to make my own mind up. I would never have married you!’ she shouted, and flung a cushion at me. ‘Not ever, you total stinker, Lennox!’

  I opened the door and stalked out. Benson was in the corridor with a tray of tea and biscuits.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry to hear that, sir,’ he said as another cushion flew out through the door. ‘We had all hoped –’

  ‘Benson, don’t even think about it …’

  Damn it, words failed me.

  Chapter 13

  I’d had absolutely enough of talking to insensitive people who never listened to a damn word I said. And I had spent almost my entire time trying to track down a murderer, interviewing people, including that gaggle of farcical theatricals in the Dower House, and all the thanks I get is to have cushions thrown at me. I was in half a mind to return to the peace and quiet of my house, the Manor at Ashton Steeple.

  ‘Hello, Lennox.’

  ‘Um … Greetings.’

  ‘I was about to go through the gardens, would you like to come with me?’ Florence asked.

  Well, this was unexpected. I nodded dumbly and shoved my hands in my pockets. A footman opened the French windows and I followed her onto the terrace.

  She looked awfully pretty wearing a pale pink jersey, silk scarf and cream wool skirt just below the knee, with stout country shoes. Her plaited blonde hair gleamed in the fitful sunshine. I noticed the soft line of her cheek, the curve of her lips as she smiled and the blue-grey of her eyes as she glanced at me.

  Miss Busby’s advice came to mind and I thought I’d better say something – it would have helped if she’d mentioned what to say.

  ‘Do you remember pushing me out of the hayloft?’ she asked.

  ‘Um, no. I’m awfully sorry if I did. Accident, probably.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t! You pushed us all out and then declared yourself King of the Castle,’ she laughed.

  I tried not to smile.

  ‘And the hunt. It was our first proper ride to hounds and you were supposed to watch out for Caroline and me. She was thrown from her pony when she over-faced it at a fence, and you came over on your horse and ordered her straight back into the saddle and told her to get a move on because the pack was already over the hill.’

  ‘I remember that. Nearly missed the whole show thanks to her bawling. I gave her my handkerchief and she still wouldn’t get back on.’

  ‘Yes, and you said she’d never get blooded at that rate, and she was simply covered in the stuff from a nosebleed. Then we all started laughing, because it was such an absurd thing to say.’

  ‘I must have been a dreadful tick!’

  ‘Oh, you were quite gallant in your own way. You just had a strange manner of showing it, that’s all.’

  ‘Yes, Caroline just mentioned the same thing,’ I wasn’t about to say she’d actually yelled it at me.

  ‘I think she’s rather het up with everything,’ Florence replied.

  I hesitated, half a mind to open up, but decided I’d had enough of sensitive subjects for one day and sought to change tack.

  ‘When was the last time I saw you?’ I asked. ‘I remember so little of those days.’

  ‘Caroline and I were about nine; you would have been around twelve or thirteen, I suppose. I think your mother was quite ill and it’s probably clouded your memories. That sort of thing often will.’

  She was right about my mother; and after she died, my father packed me off to school, holed up in the house and never went anywhere. I think it left a chasm in our lives that neither of us ever managed to cross.

  ‘So what have you been doing? Well, since you grew up, anyway.’ I asked her.

  ‘Singing mostly. During the War I joined a local concert party – I sing soprano. Recently I have been training in Edinburgh with a marvellous teacher.’ Her eyes lit up with enthusiasm. ‘It requires terrific dedication, you know, but I’m rather good at discipline. I do so admire people who are utterly single-minded, don’t you?’

  ‘Um,’ not much I could say to that as it was a complete anathema to me, although I had to admit, this sleuthing had rather gripped my mind of late.

  ‘I’d simply love to become professional,’ Florence continued unabated. ‘But I’m just not quite up to the level. The singers here are divine, I’m terribly in awe of them. When I heard about the Noble Opera from Caroline, I decided to come to Bloxford early so I could watch them at work.’

  ‘Really?’ Good God, what was she thinking? The poor girl was completely deluded. ‘One of them’s probably a murderer,’ I told her.

  ‘Yes, Andrew Dundale. I do think it’s such a shame, he’s an excellent tenor. Jonathan is going to arrest him when he finds him. He’s on his trail at this moment. He’s terribly brave.’

  ‘By Jonathan I take it you mean Inspector Swift?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied gaily. ‘I was such a twit, hurting my ankle, but he carried me up to my room. It was t
erribly gallant of him.’ She laughed. ‘And he sent one of the footmen to fetch ice from the icehouse to put on my leg. It’s much better now. Isn’t he wonderful!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, Lennox. You are funny,’ she laughed. ‘Jonathan sings Gilbert and Sullivan with a group of friends. He’s offered to take me to a show in Oxford this evening. Caroline and Hiram are coming. You’re very welcome to join us if you wish.’ She stopped to face me, eyes alight with excitement. She looked beautiful in the sunshine; we were under a couple of cherry trees, the blossoms just bursting into bloom, birds were twittering above us full of the joys of spring. It was the most romantic of settings, and yet I felt my heart sink.

  ‘Um, busy actually, old girl. Can’t be done. Sorry. My dog, Mr Fogg, needs walking, you know.’ I closed my mouth to stop myself babbling.

  ‘Well, if you do change your mind, we’re leaving early to take dinner in town,’ she said, not appearing to be in the least dismayed by my rebuff. ‘I am heading to the theatre now. The opera company are having a dress rehearsal and I’m desperate to watch. Do come, please, Lennox.’

  We were indeed near the theatre. ‘Afraid I must dash, Florence. But I’m sure you’ll have a marvellous time,’ I took her hand and pecked it lightly.

  ‘Yoo-hoo,’ a voice sang out. It was that damn woman, Lizzie or whatever she was called. The whole pack of them were following her, trotting down the path toward us dressed in the same outlandish costumes they were prancing about in earlier. Andrew Dundale wasn’t amongst them.

  I beat a rapid retreat and trod the path back toward the sanctuary of my rooms, hands shoved in pockets and my heart heavy with sadness and regret. I dropped into the chair by the unlit hearth as Foggy came to push his wet nose into my hands. I ruffled the silky tan-gold fur on his head as he gave me a lick of support. Tubbs clambered up my trousers to sit on my lap and we three sat for a few quiet moments while I silently remonstrated with myself about my utter stupidity in upsetting Caroline. And, it seems, my failure to make any dent upon Florence’s tender emotions.

  A knock on the door broke into my morose meanderings. Caroline came in with a cushion clutched to her chest. She’d change and looked fresher, though her eyes were still rather red.