by V. M. Burns
It was after midnight, but I wasn’t sleepy. So, instead of going back upstairs, I went downstairs to the lounge. I found a secluded corner and called Frank.
He greeted me the way he always did: “Hello, gorgeous.”
I smiled, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “Are you crazy busy?”
“Yes, but I always have time to talk to you.”
Frank always knew the right thing to say.
We squeezed a lot into a short timeframe. I told him about Major Peabody’s death and Nana Jo’s altercation with Prudence Habersham. Frank laughed. “That sounds like your grandmother.”
We spent a few minutes talking about nothing, but I could feel the heat rising up my neck and found my heart racing anyway. When I heard the noise in the restaurant get louder, I knew this was Frank’s busy time, and I ended the call.
Rather than going back upstairs, I went to the bar. I didn’t care for wine, even though Frank was trying to change that. We had discovered that I was partial to sweet wines. So, I asked the bartender for a glass of the sweetest white wine he had. He poured a sparkling white wine, which he told me was from West Sussex.
It looked and tasted like champagne, but I knew from Frank that, technically, only wine grown in the Champagne region of France was really champagne.
The bar would be open for two more hours. I glanced around and saw Irma in a corner with the man I’d seen her with before. Their body language told me they would prefer to be alone, so I took my glass and returned to my quiet corner in the lounge.
I sat in a high-backed chair that looked out onto the street. It was nice to be secluded from the world. I enjoyed the peace and quiet and the time to reflect on the fact that I was in England. It wasn’t my first trip, but when I’d gone before, I was on a much tighter budget and wasn’t able to stay at nice hotels and take guided tours. A lot had changed in my world in the past couple of years, but I was about to realize a dream and become a published author. Despite all the ups and downs, life was good. I sipped my wine and enjoyed the moment.
The lounge was a wood-paneled room near the back of the hotel. There was a sofa and several comfortable chairs. Guests used the room to read the newspaper and a few old dusty books that were on a bookshelf that lined one wall of the room. My corner retreat wasn’t visible to anyone walking down the hallway. I was just about to head upstairs when I heard voices.
“That old cow is crazy if she thinks she’s going to waltz in here and pass that toad off as Uncle Horace’s heir.”
“Be careful, darling. Someone might hear you.” There was a pause. “There’s no one in there.”
“I don’t care if they do hear me,” Debra hissed. “I’ve spent nearly thirty years of my life bowing to the whims and wishes of Uncle Horace. I’ll not be pushed aside while someone else walks in and stakes claim to what’s mine.”
Sebastian chuckled. “Well, there’s not much you can do about it.”
“Just watch me.”
I heard the click of heels on the marble floors and knew it was safe to leave. People often said things they didn’t mean, especially when they were angry. Prudence Habersham had given Debra Holt a shock. I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by her words.
That’s what I told myself as I took the elevator back up to my room. When I got inside, Nana Jo was still sound asleep. Of course, now I was too worked up to sleep. So, I got out my laptop.
For about thirty seconds after Captain Jessup made his dramatic exit, you could have heard a pin drop. Then, the spell was broken and everyone started talking at once.
“He can’t be serious,” Lady Penelope whispered.
Lady Elizabeth glanced at her niece, who had suddenly gotten very pale. “Victor, I think Penelope needs to lie down.”
Victor glanced at his wife and then hurried to help her up.
Clara assisted Victor in getting Penelope up to bed.
Reverend Baker stood. “I think it’s time we started making our way home.”
Lady Elizabeth smiled, grateful to the reverend for recognizing that the family would need some time alone after this devastating display.
Thompkins left to get coats, and Lady Elizabeth and Lord William said goodbyes to their guests. The Wood sisters looked reluctant to end their evening so soon, but good manners took over, and they thanked their hosts and hurried out.
Nigel Greyson announced that he too would be going to bed and went upstairs.
Detective Inspector Covington rose. “Perhaps it might be better if I returned to London tomorrow.”
Lady Elizabeth looked at the detective. “Actually, I was hoping you would stay.”
The Scotland Yard detective looked surprised but quickly acquiesced. “Of course, your ladyship.”
When the guests were gone, Thompkins returned. “Would you like me to dispose of the coffee?”
“I think you better leave it,” Lady Elizabeth said.
The butler bowed. “Very well.” He turned to leave.
“Thompkins, I would very much appreciate it if you would stay.”
“Of course, your ladyship.” He bowed and went to stand in a corner.
After a few moments, Lady Clara returned. “Good. I thought you’d all still be here.”
“How’s Penelope?”
“She’s upset, but I think she’ll be okay. I do think we should have Dr. Haygood over to check her out in the morning.”
The butler nodded. “I’ll see to it.”
“Thank you.” Lady Clara sat on the sofa next to her cousin. “Now, what’s the plan?”
Lady Elizabeth smiled. “Well, I don’t know that I have one.” She paused. “Not yet anyway, but I do think we’ll need to look into these claims of Captain Jessup’s.”
“Dashed bad form,” Lord William muttered as he filled his pipe, dropping tobacco on himself and the sofa.
“It wasn’t the best timing, I’ll admit.” Lady Elizabeth reached down by her feet to the knitting bag she kept nearby and pulled out a ball of yarn and two needles. She took a few moments to find where she had left off and started knitting.
“Probably nothing but a pack of lies.” Lord William puffed on his pipe as the embers glowed and the smoke wafted up from the bowl of the pipe. “Victor Carlston has lived at Bidwell Cottage his whole life. If there had been someone else, well . . . I’m sure his father or grand- father would have acknowledged it.”
Lady Elizabeth sighed. “I tend to agree with you. However, that doesn’t change the fact that Captain Jessup is here and claims to be the rightful owner.”
Detective Inspector Covington leaned forward in his chair. “I’m not completely up to date on my understanding of primogeniture.”
Lady Clara hopped up from her seat and paced. “That archaic practice should be abolished.”
“I thought it was,” Detective Inspector Covington added.
“It’s a practice that has existed for hundreds of years,” Lord William said. “I’ll admit, it isn’t exactly fair to the younger siblings, but the reason behind it is to protect the estate.” He puffed on his pipe. “Splitting up the land, titles, and money amongst multiple children often meant that an estate became weakened. After a generation, the heirs can’t afford to maintain the properties, and they end up getting sold off.” He puffed. “Parliament abolished it as a governing rule when there was no valid will in place, but many of the old families have a will that supports the practice.”
“So, if it turns out that snake Jessup is the son of Percival Carlston,” Lady Clara said, “then he gets everything and Victor and Penelope are left with nothing?” She flopped back onto the sofa. “It’s just not fair.”
“Fair or not, that’s the law.”
Lady Elizabeth finished her stitch and then placed her knitting in her lap. “Penny and Victor will always be welcome here. That’s not the problem.”
“Victor is so proud,” Lady Clara said. “Do you really think he’d agree to stay here?”
“He may not have much of a choi
ce. Given Penny’s delicate condition, he’ll need to make sure that his wife and child have a roof over their heads.” She looked out into the distance but then shook her head and glanced at her cousin. “You have to have seen how Victor has been acting lately.”
“He’s had his ears glued to the wireless.”
Lady Elizabeth resumed knitting. “If England goes to war, he’ll do his duty. Between the baby and the war, the last thing Penny needs is to have this to worry about too.” She glanced from her cousin to the detective. “That’s why I was hoping you two could help.”
Lady Clara reached out and squeezed her cousin’s hand. “Of course, Aunt Elizabeth. I’ll do anything I can to help.”
“That goes for me too,” Detective Inspector Covington said.
Lady Elizabeth smiled. “Good. I was hoping you two might be able to do a little investigating. Perhaps you could check out the records at Somerset House.” She turned to the detective. “As a detective, I’m sure you have other resources that you can look into to determine if there’s any validity in these claims.”
“I’ll be glad to do what I can.”
Thompkins coughed discreetly.
“Ah, Thompkins. I haven’t forgotten about you.” Lady Elizabeth turned to the butler. “I was hoping you might be able to talk to some of the staff at Bidwell Cottage. I believe their butler and the cook have been with the family for many years.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
“I’m afraid the type of information I’m looking for might be considered gossip, but servants tend to know everything that’s going on in a family. Perhaps Mrs. McDuffie might be enlisted to help.”
The only indication that the butler felt any discomfort in asking another member of the staff to gossip came in a slight flush of color that rose from his neck. However, he maintained his composure. “Yes, m’lady.”
“What about me?” Lord William said.
“I was hoping you might consider going back to town with Nigel tomorrow.” She picked up her knitting and concentrated to finish a difficult stitch before continuing. “Isn’t Sir Thomas Chadwick the Carlston family solicitor?”
“Yes, he is. He’s also, as you well know, a member of my club.”
Lady Elizabeth smiled. “Wonderful.”
Clara stood to leave but stopped and turned back. “What will you be doing, Aunt Elizabeth?”
Lady Elizabeth continued to knit. “I’m going to invite Violet Merriweather to tea.”
“Violet Merriweather?” Lord William sputtered. “That woman’s the biggest gossip in the county.”
Lady Elizabeth grinned. “Yes, dear, she certainly is, and if there’s anyone in Britain who knows about the skeletons in the closets of old families like the Carlstons, it’s Violet Merriweather. If there’s a shred of truth to Captain Jessup’s claims, she’ll know.”
Lady Elizabeth, Lord William, Clara, Victor, and Detective Inspector Covington sat in the dining room enjoying a hearty English breakfast when the peace and quiet was shattered when a loud crash and a high-pitched scream split the air.
Detective Inspector Covington leapt from his chair and dashed from the room. After a few moments, Thompkins entered.
“What on earth was that racket?” Lord William asked.
“I beg your pardon, m’lord. One of the maids, Flossie, had a fright.”
Lord William buttered a piece of toast. “That noise would wake the dead.”
“M’lord, it’s Captain Jessup.”
“What about him?”
“He’s dead, m’lord.”
Chapter 10
I wrote well into the morning and went to sleep around two. So, when I heard a loud crash and a blood-curdling scream at six, I was jolted awake. I sat up in bed and looked around the room to get my bearings.
Nana Jo came out of the bathroom with shampoo in her hair and a towel around her wet body. “What on earth was that?”
“You heard it too?”
“You’d have to be deaf not to have heard that.”
“I hoped it was a dream.”
Nana Jo rinsed the soap from her hair, and we quickly dressed and made it downstairs in record time.
The tour group all stood in the lobby, along with other guests I didn’t recognize. The one person I did recognize was Clive Green. The normally immaculate Clive looked frazzled. His clothes were rumpled, and he hadn’t shaved.
I was just about to ask him what happened when the elevator door opened to show Hannah Schneider holding a visibly shaken Lavender Habersham. Ruby Mae spotted the women and waved a knitting needle to catch Hannah’s eye. When Hannah spotted Ruby Mae, she guided Lavender out of the elevator and maneuvered her toward the sofa and helped her sit.
Lavender’s face was as white as snow. The woman sat shaking like a flag in the wind. Nana Jo and I walked over to her to see what had happened, and as I got closer, I could actually hear her teeth clattering.
Nana Jo yelled across to the manager. “Hey, this woman is in shock. I need blankets and hot tea or coffee and lots of sugar.” She turned away with the confidence that her orders would be obeyed.
The manager picked up a phone, and within a few short minutes, several blankets and two large tea trolleys were rolled into the lobby.
Nana Jo took Lavender’s hands and rubbed them between her own. “Now, dear. Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.” She talked in a low, soothing voice. “Do you want tea or coffee?”
Lavender stared at Nana Jo as though she were speaking a foreign language. Hannah Schneider poured a strong, extremely sweet brew and held the cup to Lavender’s lips and made her drink.
After a few forced sips, Lavender shook her head and the ordeal was halted. “Mother is . . . I can’t believe she’s . . . dead.”
Nana Jo kept trying to warm the young woman and continued her soothing talk. “Yes, dear. I’m sure it’s horrible, but you’re going to be just fine.” She nodded to Hannah, who forced a few more sips of the tea down the poor woman’s throat. After a few seconds, Lavender slumped down in a dead faint.
Dr. Vincent Blankenship and his wife stood next to the portly man that I recognized as the doctor who had examined Major Peabody.
“Hey, you’re a doctor, aren’t you?” Nana Jo yelled. “Get over here. This woman needs medical help.”
Dr. Vincent Blankenship glanced at the other man, who looked frightened and merely stood against the wall shaking his head. Finally, Dr. Blankenship glanced from the man to Nana Jo and then quickly hurried over to the sofa. He knelt down and muttered, “For a few moments, I started to wonder if I was a doctor or not.” He lifted Lavender’s eyelids and looked at her pupils. Then, he took her pulse. He looked around. “She’s in shock.” He pushed Lavender’s head down between her legs and after a few moments, the woman sat up, but she looked about as alert as a zombie.
Dr. Blankenship glanced around and spotted the German businessman and Professor Lavington standing nearby. He spoke loudly and accented the words with arm gestures. “We need to lift her. We need to take her someplace where she can lie down.”
The doctor must have been a whiz at charades because both men seemed to catch on to what he wanted and positioned themselves to lift her. Between the two of them, they got Lavender up and started walking toward the elevators.
The manager hurried to their side. “There’s a room around the corner. Follow me.”
Just as they made their way through the lobby and were headed down the hall, the front door opened and an ambulance arrived.
Nana Jo hurried to the manager. “What’s the number?” She extended her hand, and the manager gave her a key and rattled off a room number. Then, he went to direct the paramedics toward the elevator.
Dr. Blankenship had a quick word with the emergency medical technician, while Ruby Mae, Hannah, and I followed Nana Jo. Dorothy and Irma stayed in the lobby.
The room the manager provided was a handicapped-accessible room at the back of the hotel. It was small but functional, with a twin bed a
nd a bathroom slightly bigger than the one Nana Jo and I shared.
Professor Lavington and the German businessman placed Lavender on the bed and then backed away. The room never intended to accommodate eight people comfortably. Ruby Mae and Hannah sat on the bed and spoke soothing words to Lavender and rubbed her hands and feet to try to keep her warm.
Dr. Blankenship gave Lavender a cursory examination. Nana Jo helped to unbutton her blouse and then laid her flat onto the bed.
“I wish I had my medical bag. The EMT is going to let me use their equipment once they . . .” The doctor glanced at Lavender and then took a few steps away and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Once they determine there’s nothing to be done upstairs.”
We knew he wanted to say once they determined that Prudence Habersham was dead, but no one wanted to send Lavender over the edge.
“For now, we just need to keep her warm. If you can get more of that sugared tea down her throat, that will be good.”
Nana Jo nodded. Then she turned to the professor. “Go to the front desk and see if you can get a hot water bottle or an electric blanket. If they don’t have either of those, then get some towels, take them to the kitchen, and get the chef to soak them in warm water. Then have him microwave the towels and put them in a Ziploc bag or whatever the British call them.” The professor nodded and headed for the door. He halted when Nana Jo called. “Oh, and bring me a couple of T-shirts. I’ll need something to wrap around the Ziploc bag.”
The professor nodded and hurried out the door. To my surprise, I caught a glimpse of recognition in the eyes of the German businessman, who turned and followed him out.
Hannah reached down and got her purse and took out a small bottle. She put a couple of tablets in her hand and then returned the bottle to her purse. She dropped the tablets in the teacup and gave it a stir. I was going to ask what she put in the tea when there was a short knock on the door. I hurried to open it. It was the hotel manager. “We were hoping you could come upstairs and . . .” He whispered to the doctor.
