Edwardian Murder Mystery 03; Sick of Shadows emm-3

by M C Beaton

  “You may be seated, Emily,” said Mrs. Losse. “This is Captain Cathcart. He has decided to investigate further the murder of your poor brother.”

  Emily sat down on the very edge of a chair and clasped her hands. “Oh, sir,” she said, “I was afraid no one was ever going to find out anything.”

  “Tell me about your brother?” asked Harry gently.

  “He was good and worked hard. He liked working for the agency because he said there were so many banquets and functions that there was always demand for extra footmen and he didn’t need to be tied to one master like some.”

  I wonder whether he was blackmailing the Tremaines, thought Harry. Aloud, he asked, “Did your brother say anything about coming into money?”

  She gave a sad little laugh. “He was always dreaming. I met him just before he was killed on my day off. We walked down to London Bridge. He said we would go and buy a little cottage in the country and raise hens and pigs.”

  “And was this new?”

  She sighed. “Oh, no, it was a dream he’d always had.”

  “Did he talk of any rich or influential friends?”

  “No, sir. He only talked about other servants he had met on his various jobs.”

  Harry promised that if he found out anything, he would let her know immediately. Emily was dismissed. Harry rose to leave.

  “You must come back and see me,” said Mrs. Losse as she escorted him to the door. She stood very close to him in the narrow passage, that bewitching face of hers turned up to his own.

  “Yes, I will,” said Harry.

  “Promise!” Those eyes glinted flirtatiously. Harry laughed. “Of course.”

  He went straight to Scotland Yard to find that Kerridge had gone home ages ago and so he said he would return in the morning. When he returned to his home, he told Becket of the latest developments.

  “Do you not think you should tell Lady Rose about this?” suggested Becket.

  “No, I don’t think so. She will demand again to accompany me to Scotland Yard. I am in enough difficulties there with some of them who regard me as an interfering amateur. Lady Rose is very forceful. With her along, it would look as if I was under some sort of petticoat government and life would be made even more difficult for me. Kerridge is always helpful, but he doesn’t tell me everything just because I am not on the force. I know that Inspector Judd disapproves of me and I have overheard detectives calling me ‘that dilettante.’ I shall call on her after I have talked to Kerridge.”

  “It is late,” said Becket. “You were supposed to take dinner with the Hadfields this evening.”

  “Now I really am in trouble,” groaned Harry.

  “I really think it shameful,” said Lady Polly over dinner that evening. “Captain Cathcart now no longer calls to give his excuses. I am furious with him and so I shall tell him.”

  “I hope he is all right,” said Daisy. “I am sure it was something very important.”

  Mrs. Barrington-Bruce was one of the guests. She gave a great laugh. “To be sure, for a man it was important.”

  “Do you know something?” asked Rose.

  “Only that one of my footmen was walking my little doggies round Launceston Place. He told me just before I left to come here that he had seen Captain Cathcart visiting the home of a certain Mrs. Josse.”

  “Who is Mrs. Josse?” asked Rose.

  “A certain very beautiful member of the demi-monde.”

  “Then it must be part of some case the captain was working on,” said Rose.

  Mrs. Barrington-Bruce looked at her with pity in her eyes. “Oh, my poor child. My poor innocent child.”

  Rose was so angry that she barely slept that night, but she was still determined to go to Apton Magna. She rehearsed scene after scene in her mind where she would present Kerridge with evidence that Jeremy was a murderer, and leave the superintendent to let Harry know she had solved the case.

  At five in the morning, she and Daisy crept downstairs and into the back garden. They propped the ladder against the wall and climbed up. They sat on the top and pulled up the ladder and slid it down the other side.

  Once they were in the lane, they hurried away. Beyond the square, they were lucky in finding a sleepy cabbie, and asked him to take them to Paddington Station, where Rose bought two first-class tickets.

  Once the train moved out, Daisy fell asleep, her head bobbing against the lace antimacassar. Rose sat bolt upright, staring unseeingly at a bad oil painting of the coastal town of Deal on the carriage wall opposite.

  The carriage was stuffy, so she jerked down the window by the leather strap. The train plunged into a tunnel and smoke billowed into the carriage. She spluttered and choked and jerked the window shut again.

  When a waiter called out that breakfast was served, Rose shook Daisy awake and they made their way to the dining-car.

  They ate in silence. Daisy was beginning to wonder if Becket would make a suitable husband after all and Rose was eaten up with fury at Harry.

  At Oxford, they changed onto the train for Moreton-in-Marsh. It coughed and wheezed and jerked its slow way into little country stations and then sat at each for what seemed like ages before jerking forward again.

  They found a cab in the forecourt of Moreton-in-Marsh Station. Rose instructed him to take them to the rectory at Apton Magna and to wait for them.

  “It’s Sunday,” said Daisy. “They’ll all probably be in church.”

  As they got down from the carriage, they could see the congregation filing into church.

  Inside, the pews were like the ones in railway carriages. “Let’s go up to the gallery,” whispered Rose. “We’ll get a better look from there.”

  They sat in the front of the gallery and looked down. A smell of unwashed poverty rose up from the well of the church and Rose held a scented handkerchief to her nose.

  “I wonder,” she murmured to Daisy, “why the rector ended up in a poor living like this. Perhaps there is something in his past which put him out of favour.”

  They got to their feet for the opening hymn. As they sang, Rose saw the rector in his robes walking down the aisle. He climbed up the steps to the pulpit, grasped the wings of the golden eagle which decorated the pulpit and stared down at the congregation.

  “Look!” hissed Rose when the hymn finished. Jeremy Tremaine was walking down to a lectern under the pulpit.

  Jeremy began reading from the Revelation of Saint John the Divine.

  “And he that sat was to look upon like a jasper and a sardine stone: and there was a rainbow round about the throne, in sight like unto an emerald.”

  “What’s a sardine stone?” asked Daisy.

  “Shhh!”

  Jeremy’s voice droned soporifically on. “And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat upon him was Death.”

  He cast his eyes up piously and then they suddenly sharpened and focused directly on Rose and Daisy. He slammed the Bible shut and strode off down the aisle. His father looked down in surprise at his son’s retreating figure and then looked at the gallery. When he saw them, for a brief moment his face was a mask of fury.

  Then the next hymn began.

  The lady’s maid, Turner, waited to be summoned by Rose. When no summons came, she went to Rose’s bedchamber. Finding it empty, she checked the sitting-room and then Daisy’s room.

  Turner became very worried. Only the other day, Lady Polly had threatened her with dismissal if she tried to cover up what Rose was doing.

  She went down to the breakfast room. “My lady,” she said, “Lady Rose is not in her rooms. Neither is Miss Levine.”

  The earl and countess stared at her in alarm.

  Brum gave a discreet cough. “The coachman was saying this morning that the ladder that was left in the garden was now in the lane by the mews. Also there are footprints of ladies’ boots in the mud in the mews.”

  “Damn the girl!” roared the earl. “Get Cathcart!”

  As they both walked down from t
he gallery, Rose said, “This, I feel, is a dangerous mistake. I think we should leave.”

  “Me, too,” said Daisy, heaving a sigh of relief.

  They had to wait in line. The parishioners were shaking hands with the rector at the church door.

  When it came their turn, Rose put out her hand and said, “We were in the neighbourhood and thought we would visit your charming church.”

  She held out her hand, determined to give his a brief shake and move out to the waiting carriage as quickly as possible. But he held her hand in a firm grip. “You must stay and take some refreshment. Ah, here is my wife. Mrs. Tremaine, do take the ladies indoors.”

  “I am afraid we really must go,” said Rose, trying to extricate her hand. “Our carriage is waiting.”

  He turned round. “I do not see any carriage.”

  Rose stared across in dismay. “I told him to wait. No matter. It is a fine day for a walk. Come, Daisy.”

  “Now, you cannot walk,” said Mrs. Tremaine. “Do but step inside the rectory and our carriage will take you.”

  She looked her normal friendly self. I’m imagining things, thought Rose.

  “Very well. Just for a few moments. Most kind of you.”

  ♦

  Harry was telling Kerridge about the murder of Will Hubbard. “That’s too much of a coincidence,” said Kerridge. “We’ll go down there and sweat it out of those servants after we arrest the Tremaines. If they see the master arrested, then I think they might talk.”

  Judd entered and said lugubriously. “Lord Hadfield has just called. He wishes Captain Cathcart to attend him immediately.”

  “I am busy at the moment. Is all well with Lady Rose?”

  “He says his daughter has disappeared. The staff believe she left during the night by climbing over the garden wall.”

  “Now what?” Harry looked at Kerridge in dismay. “Where would she go?”

  “I hope it’s anywhere but Apton Magna.”

  “Oh dear. I have an awful feeling that’s just where she would go. She wanted to come here this morning and I wouldn’t let her. Lady Rose, being as stubborn as a mule, has probably decided to investigate the Tremaines for herself.” He turned to Judd. “Tell Lord Hadfield I am sure I know where his daughter has gone. I am going to collect her. Kerridge, we’ll take my car. It’s faster.”

  “I’ll phone the Oxford police to get out there.”

  “No,” said Harry. “If the Tremaines are guilty, something might happen to them if the police go crashing in first. We’ll call on them in Oxford and get them to follow us.”

  “How kind of you to visit us again,” twittered Mrs. Tremaine over the teacups. “Such an honour.”

  The rector and his son said nothing.

  “Most kind of you,” said Rose, “but we really must leave.”

  “Our carriage will be here shortly. Have another cake.”

  Daisy’s green eyes were wide and frightened. Why did I come here? thought Rose desperately. No one knows we are here. But what can they do? I am not now going to ask Jeremy about his prison visits.

  The rector spoke at last. “Who were you visiting in the neighbourhood?”

  “We weren’t really visiting anyone,” said Rose. “The countryside here is so pretty, and after London, we felt in the need of fresh air.”

  “I am surprised,” said Mrs. Tremaine, “that a great lady such as yourself should travel into the country in a hired cab with only your companion.”

  “I do like a little freedom sometimes. Now we really must go. If the carriage is not ready, we will walk.” She got to her feet. “Come, Daisy.”

  “Just another moment or two,” said Mrs. Tremaine. “I am still mourning my poor daughter. Why, only the other day, I found a number of Dolly’s things in one of the attics. It turns out the poor girl kept a diary.”

  Rose decided this was too good a chance to miss. “Perhaps I may see her diary?”

  “By all means. Follow me.”

  “You wait there, Daisy,” said Rose.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Mrs. Tremaine led the way to the top of the house. She opened a low door and stood inside. “Go ahead. You will find her things in here.”

  Rose and Daisy walked into the room. As the door slammed behind them and the key turned in the lock, Rose realized they had been tricked.

  They hammered on the door and screamed and shouted. Surely one of the servants would hear them. But they had not seen any servants. Mrs. Tremaine had made and served tea herself.

  “Jeremy!” said Rose. “He must have run out of the church and dismissed the servants for the day. Then he must have told his mother what he planned. I don’t think she was in church when we arrived. She must have turned up towards the end of the service.”

  “The window’s barred,” said Daisy. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  They sat in silence and then Rose whispered, “Listen. I can hear voices. It’s coming from the fireplace.”

  They both crouched down beside the tiny fireplace. They could hear the voices of the Tremaine family. Jeremy was saying, “We must make sure they came on their own. I am sure her family doesn’t know she is here.”

  Then Mrs. Tremaine: “I will take the pony and trap and go to the public phone-box in Moreton and phone the earl’s household. I will say I am still distressed over Dolly’s death and must speak to Lady Rose.”

  “You will just be told she is not at home.” The rector’s voice.

  “I am a very good actress,” said his wife. “Leave it to me.”

  The voices faded.

  Rose and Daisy looked at each other in alarm. “Please God, Brum just says I am not at home without elaborating. They daren’t do anything to us if they think anyone knows we are here.”

  Daisy’s voice choked on a sob. “I was so nasty to Becket. If I ever see him again, I’ll give him a great big kiss.”

  ♦

  Mrs. Tremaine asked the telephone operator to connect her to the earl’s residence. Brum answered. “May I speak to Lady Rose?” asked Mrs. Tremaine in a quavering voice.

  “I am afraid Lady Rose is not at home.”

  “Oh dear,” wailed Mrs. Tremaine. “Lady Rose has been helping me get over my terrible grief. I-I d-don’t know what to do.”

  The inveterate gossip in Brum rose to the surface. He lowered his voice. “Between you and me, madam, Lady Rose sneaked out this morning and nobody knows where she is. Always wilful, she is.”

  “Oh, thank you. I will call again.”

  “I hear a carriage coming back,” said Rose. They both crouched down by the fireplace again.

  The chimney must lead straight down to the parlour, thought Rose, because she could clearly hear Mrs. Tremaine say, “The butler said she sneaked out this morning and nobody knows where she is.”

  “Good,” came Jeremy’s voice. “We’d better wait until dark.”

  Rose looked wildly round the attic room. “We’ve got to get out of here. They must be really mad. If anything happened to us, the captain would think immediately of Apton Magna and check all the cabbies at the station.”

  Daisy went over and put her eye to the keyhole. “They’ve left the key on the other side. Maybe I can poke it out. We need a piece of paper or cardboard to slide under the door.”

  “There’s that old trunk over there. I’ll lift the lid and see if we can find anything useful.” She threw back the lid. “School-books. Just the thing.” She tore the cardboard cover off one of the books and gave it to Daisy.

  Daisy slipped the cardboard under the door and then took a hat-pin out of her hat and poked at the lock. “It’s no good,” she said at last, sitting back on her heels. “I need a straight piece of metal. I know, me stays.”

  Daisy took off her coat and frock and Rose helped her out of her corset. Then Rose took a little pair of scissors out of her reticule and they unpicked stitches and slid out one of the steels. Daisy put her corset and frock and coat back on again and set to work on th
e lock. An hour passed while Rose fretted, until Daisy said, “Got it!”

  She drew the cardboard from under the door with the key on it.

  “Quietly now,” said Rose. “Let’s take our boots off.”

  They slipped off their boots. Daisy gently unlocked the door and then locked it again behind them.

  Holding their boots, they crept down the stairs. The house was silent. “Back door,” murmured Daisy.

  They walked softly down to the basement, opened the back door and let themselves out into the garden. They put their boots on and went out through the garden gate and began to run across the fields.

  Rose finally stopped running. “We’d better circle round to the main road or we’ll be lost.”

  “There’s a farmhouse over there,” said Daisy. “Let’s go there and get someone to get the police.”

  “I don’t trust anyone,” said Rose. “The farmer is probably a tenant of the Tremaines and would tell them first. If we bear left, we should meet the road to Moreton.”

  They trudged on, always looking fearfully to the left and right.

  At last they reached the road. “Now I feel free,” said Rose as they both strode out in the direction of Moreton.

  They rounded a bend in the road and Rose let out a scream of dismay. Jeremy and his father were just emerging from a copse.

  They ran towards them. “Get the maid,” shouted the rector. “I’ll get the other.”

  Daisy shrieked in fright as Jeremy reached for her, and kicked him as hard in the crotch as she could. He doubled up and fell on the road. Rose seized a hat-pin out of her hat and drove it into the rector’s arm. Undeterred, he threw his arms round her and began to drag her towards the trees. Daisy jumped on his back and clawed at his eyes.

  The Rolls, speeding round the corner, nearly ran into them. Harry slammed on the brakes and leaped from the car. The rector released Rose and stood with his head hanging while Daisy slid off his back. She saw Becket climbing out of the back of the car and threw herself into his arms and kissed him full on the mouth.

  A carload of police which had been following Harry’s car came to a stop. Father and son were cautioned and handcuffed.

  Overcome with relief, Rose ran to Harry. “You silly girl,” he said furiously. “You could have been killed.”